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Religious Metaphor Poems | Religious Poems About Metaphor

These Religious Metaphor poems are examples of Religious poems about Metaphor. These are the best examples of Religious Metaphor poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 

Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013

Details | Alliteration | |

THE LAST DAYS

The days seem to go by so fast. there is a void in the air, the birds have lost their vibrant beat, the ocean has lost its luster, the soil feels solid and dry.
 
My soul feels as if it has left my body before my death, my dreams haunt my day, the tears stain my steps, my doctor says that it is depression, I say that it is reality, I am intoxicated by society,I am numb by perscriptions.
 
Why do I feel so isolated within myself? is there no one in my painfully tight shoes? can anyone understand my pain? can anyone melt in my sorrows? why am I this way? why is the world so cruel? why can't I be normal?
 
Wait! I am normal, what am I saying, I know now, the veil has been lifted, humanity is my enemy, the sins that drip from their sweat, the dread that follows their shadows, their souls of black, their intentions of greed pull a shade across their eyes.
 
They are destined for doom, they will not be saved, they will not find salvation, they belittle me, they curse me, they shame me, but they are right about one thing, I am different, unlike them, I will be saved in the last days.

Copyright © stephanie hanvey | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Money

Money money, ringing in your tills,
Calling us to worship,
The hundred dollar bills.
Bend our knees in wonder,
Bow our heads in awe,
At the power of the liar,
Who now controls us all.
From the darkest deep caverns,
To the stars in the sky,
From the infinite universe,
To the strangers passing by.

From your inner most conviction,
To your laughing in the night,
From everything you 're  seeing,
To everything out of sight.

The new God has risen,
To claim the holy throne,
The one that we have emptied,
Our hearts all cold as stone.

The throne that we have emptied,
We killed the rightful king,
Sold his crown an sceptre,
Pawned his sacred  ring.

Raised his bleeding body,
Up on that bloody hill,
The silent lamb still bleeding,
As the money fills your tills.

Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quintain (English) | |

Nevermore

  The vines of fear reap its satanic fruit
in the hot sands and cold desert winds of war,
bitten by the martyr, the henchman, the brute!
May its seeds of hate at its poisoned core
            wither and die and return nevermore.

                    
     For the Five Line Metaphor contest


                   June 2015



Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Witness and Behold the End

White Lilies,
Scattered on the ground,
Out of their element.
Witness,
Purity,
Deprived of its origin.
Behold,
Clarity no longer visible.
 
White Roses,
In the purest snow,
Frozen to the core.
Witness,
Loveliness,
Stripped away so rash.
Behold,
Beauty destroyed.

White flowers,
All around,
Trampled into dust.
Witness,
Wildness,
Stolen without knowledge.
Behold,
Endless death fighting to prevail.

Copyright © Alina Councilman | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

Brahma I

If Brahma is Brahma I also am Brahma,
then why am I wandering on a not real way 
holding something I don’t know in my hand?

I can lead my life toward good
because everything is Brahma, but I can live 
an evil life as well because everything comes from my ego.

If Brahma is Brahma I can cross over the ego 
bury myself in meditation, 
though it may be a lonely 
and a trying way.

Gather ashes from six* burnt senses 
and walk on the nonexistent way
because I am a naught substance, 
though to be in a mode to attain spiritual awakening, 
my ego, stands in the middle of good and evil
unable me to shake off tenacious carnal desire,
it compels me to keep walking on the path of evil passions

and if the terminal goal of life’s never ending circle is
an attainment of spiritual awakening,
and spiritual awakening is to walk in light, 
the brightness is the way;
however, paradoxical, in a sense, is also true

stupidity and ignorance though lay in the darkness,
it may also be the way. Yet, the problem of life is 
still laying under my foot; and that is the chain of anguish
which would never, ever, be cut off;

I, therefore, collapse on the way 
while dragging the chain of a great weight
it may be the end of anguish, a knot of a life’s circle, 
or a moment of a pause in the ever changing world,

or it may well be a renewed life in Faramita the world of Paradise,
or the beginning of another anguish in the transmigration of the soul,
and that’s why I believe the nonexistent substance is the way 
to Brahma which is one same substance.

Tat tvam asi, I am the Brahma
Tat tvam asi, That art thou


*Six senses: five basic physical senses plus soul or intellect.


Copyright © Su Ben | Year Posted 2014

Details | I do not know? | |

Brahma II

—Brahma eva idam visvam(1)— 

A life neither has beginning because beginning is Brahma
or end because end is Brahma, it rides on a wagon named Karma(2)
and goes as a wheel whirls.

I came to this very spot becoming a sun, a moon and the stars
following the stream which carries anguish, and one day
I must cross; since it’s impossible to see the past because
there is no beginning or end, I wonder how to manage a day
when everything changes without beginning or end;
I came this far becoming a sun, a moon and the stars
and wandering in a wasteland looking at the bridge
beyond eternity.

In this barren soil:
though flowers bloom, they smell of death 
that tempts to ruin me;
though there is a spring,
it’s bubbling sand seen in a mirage to intensify my thirst;
though there are fruit bearing trees,
the taste of fruit is more bitter than Eden’s forbidden fruit;
though there are snows,
they come as a blizzard and pierce the skin to tear it to pieces.

Since Brahma is on the other side of Elysium 
no matter how much you wander in this boundless barren land,
though it may seems within hand’s reach, you would never be able
to touch; because your anguish, the reality of life is nothing more than 
pursuing a pain, a spinning of a wheel of Karma.

Although my body is worn out 
I have no place to lay my body down;
although my wounded soul is wailing 
no place to bury my soul to rest,
and if this is my Karma to be accepted,
how do I untie these entangled knots of anxiety. 

I exist, therefore my six(3) senses feel and perceive reasons,
then, how do I denounce this Sabba,(4) or deliver from suffering,
for that is the reason I exist.
All phenomena, however, to undergo everyone as Atman(5) 
carrying their own Karma, because Brahma is everything 
and Karma is the footmarks of ever changing mundane world.


1. Brahma eva idam visvam: Brahman, indeed, is this world-all.  2. Karma: destiny.  
3. Six Senses: five basic physical senses plus soul or intellect.  4. Sabba: this world.
5. Atman: soul, ego, or I.



Copyright © Su Ben | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Game

My life has been one enormous charade,
A make believe game,
A play I have played, 
A story I tell myself, day and night,
Hidden from myself, out of sight,
A game of hide and seek,
While searching for something else to eat.

The game,
A cosmic game,
A comic game,
A bad joke,
A puff of smoke,
A laugh,
A bath,
A lonely path,
The Game.

I used to take it so seriously,
Think it, feel it so real, so perfectly,

So certain I that was right,
That I lived in the light,
So convinced that I knew the rules,
So obvious I had all the tools,
That I saw the truth, 
That I saw the light,
Would win the battle, win the fight.


Heard the sound of the distant drum,
Calling me to battle with the devious one.
The walls of my ego were high and mighty,
My dreams and delusions danced in front of me,
Their smooth dark surface impossible to climb,
Images I swallowed and thought were mine.


I made them alive, moving and real,
Twist and turn like a slimy eel,
Just to tell myself that I was still someone,
Playing in the game and having lots of fun,
Just to tell me and to tell you,
That I wasn't a loser,
So I wouldn’t hear the words game over.


Game over,
Check and mate,
Here's the gate,
You have to take,
Out of the Game,
The game of shame.


The game of avoiding being blue,
Of dogging the bullets they shot at you,
The atomic bomb they drop on your head,
The monsters that they put under your bed.


The game of hiding away,
Live to play another day,
Even if it's only make believe,
The prizes in plastic,
And not worth a dime,
At least I have the impression that they are mine,
At least I don't fell the pain,
The pain of shame,
In this perverted game.


So that I don't feel I'm a prisoner,
Tied to this post,
Don't even realise that I'm only a ghost,
That the truth is well hidden,
On the board of the game.

That the prizes are in plastic,
But they are shiny and new,
The paint hardly chipped,
The emptiness hardly shows through,
The laughing is loud,
The smiles are all warm and friendly,
And we are all together,
Joyful and happy.


The illusion is REAL,
And only the mad man knows,
That it's a rotten deal.

more of my poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com

Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Finding God

In life, some would say
I lacked no good thing,
I was loved and healthy,
Young and nice-looking.

Yet my soul was parched,
It was cracked, dry dirt,
A candle with no spark,
An eclipse of the earth.

Then a voice caused me to kneel,
An unseen tongue let loose,
"God is real and
the Bible is truth."

Lots has happened since 
God took me by the hand
But I still remember when
My faith in God began.

(A non-fiction poem written for Gail Angel Doyle's "Finding God" contest.)

Copyright © Kim Bond | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse | |

The Eye

The eye,a sign the 
unwise can't comprehend
  Forged from the world's 
origin,an 
illumination in darkened 
minds,for the 
enlightened ones like 
Leonardo da Vinci,Isaac 
Newton,John Milton....etc.
   The eye is a tree 
with many branches like 
Priory of Scion,Knight 
templars,I.O.G.T,United 
Nations,Masonic 
Lodge,Music industry, 
Politics,global economy, 
etc 
stretching beyond 
human imaginations-felt 
in all corners of earth.
  The world is clothed 
through wisdom from 
above.
   The eye,all seeing 
sign,an invincible 
emblem of power and 
riches to the lion hearted 
and loyal souls.
A seat of influence and 
fame.
  Creating the social order 
through men of power....
  Some see it as a 
curse,others a blessing.
  I feel it,the great eye is 
everywhere watching 
you!

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

the Rose


                 The Rose innocent white, soft pink, yellows 
                colors touch your soul vibrant red to amethyst

                enhances beauty yet a thorn awaits to break skin
                as life does piercing your heart with a thin pin.

                My life has shed drops of blood through each petal
                 as if in return for the love and beauty you feel

                hence pain underneath patiently waits the bloodletting ~

                The rose symbolizes love yet vulnerable to hold
                for when you open your heart it can be left bleeding

                The best of surgeons can not beat your heart
                It is the inner faith and God himself whom gives strength 

                whispers in your ear you shall live you will exist
                your life meaningful as the water and sun to the rose

                 For I am your God  your existence is not over yet .
                        You must Live ~You must Bloom 
                       
                 

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image
Hence... circumcision?

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

Metaphorically Speaking

Metaphorically Speaking Metaphorically speaking We find life is just as such Not giving facts precisely And meaning not as much Speaking in forms of reference Searching to define what is heard It suggestively leads us to believe It was really meant in other words For the analogy of something other A figure of speech is produced for it It is given with just so many words Even beating around the bush a bit There is such a variety of life about May be why facts aren’t given to all As some may take it the wrong way To certainly cause their downfall Every insinuation or symbolization You will find several points of view Where there are just so many others To view way differently than you So we must be careful to others Of what we say or rather imply We will be judged for our words On judgment day when we die Many times in the matter of love It is not always honestly expressed How someone’s heart really feels Then the joy is lost and depressed As we verify and clarify in life Searching to find what is true There is nothing as it really seems The bible is full of metaphors too God says we are to test all things Then to hold fast to what is good As written in 1 Thessalonians 5:21 We will then find what we should A metaphorically speaking life Must be truly meant to be For when the truth is found You will surely be set free Florence McMillian (Flo)

Copyright © Florence McMillian | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

The Parish

When the time comes we shall all gather, 
People of all walks and talks together, 
In front of the parish for the Holy Communion, 
It is here that we meet our companion, 
In holy matrimony we unite before the father, 

But this is no ordinary parish, 
We separate men from boys before they perish, 
We relish in wines and spirit, 
Just like church goers after the Holy Spirit, 
In beer we trust because its fetish, 

The parish,
I drink until i perish,
In beer my life i cherish,
I wish to make a wish,
Parish, perish, cherish, i wish,

Just like the church seeing holiness in the pope, 
In the bar tender we see drinking hope, 
We speak in tongues under the influence, 
And we never shy away from an audience, 
So don't demonize us, we don't do dope, 

Just like Jesus who walked on water, 
We keep on walking like Johnny Walker, 
On your wall the Holy Virgin Mary, 
On mine you'll find the famous Hale Berry, 
Unlike them were living our happily ever after, 


The parish,
I drink until i perish,
In beer my life i cherish,
I wish to make a wish,
Parish, perish, cherish, i wish,

We've never missed a bar gathering, 
On several occasions you've missed a church meeting, 
We pay all our dues to the bar tender, 
You hardly give two percent tithe to the preacher, 
So when we meet in hell spare me the greeting,

Copyright © Billy Simani | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet | |

Kingdom Builders

July 31, 2013



Kingdom Builders

Holy Holy Holy I must say to all.
Long day hard day I am with you.
Hot day cold day it is for me too.
Days months or years you I call.

You have displayed my visual doll.
Multitudes of truth seeds you grew.
Spoken for as spoken words abrew.
I grant you the light in that dark hall.

Never say never!
Never look back!
I am yours forever!
I am with no lack.

I am always the hands of  filters,
Observing my Kingdom Builders.

(C) Copyright 2013  Ann Rich

Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

THE PROPHECY

     You are just old man spinning wheels trying to live for a million years.
You are just an apple tree chopped down trying to re-root from the ground.
     Your hatefulness means naught because your life is facing the judgment of God.
You are just an old elderly man gambling his months when he has been told to 
     rest his heart.
You been misguided by your ministry and damned by the demons of the innocent.
     The Arabs Kings cannot save your soul from your hellhole chosen by Jehovah.
So pay for your gravesite and bid the world goodbye.
     This is the advice given to a life prophesized.

The Monks gave the gift to you.
     You refuse to follow the truth.
You were brought into a new world.
     Blessed by the chosen one, eccentric he became.
Pakistan is your brother country.
     You are of foreign blood.
Why have you thrown a stone at the righteous?
     Your hatefulness means not anything.
You will be confronted by the acumen of the Lord Jehovah God.

     Adieu…
________________________________________________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 29, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic | |

Flawless Verses

Flawless flamboyant meaningful words in written verse’s,
Never heard by nervous useless unproductive pawns within man made curse’s,
Drawn into ignorance, clueless and purposeless,
Powerless and can’t see this, sitting on the fence torn and withdrawn,
An existence lacking cognition, seen as a young child but not ever since,
Poor intellectual performance, a condition called cognitive dissonance, 
You may never understand in your time and this is why,
Incapable of holding two beliefs at the same time in your mind,
My use of vocabulary, holds validity, like the words of a well-loved Maori Chief Warrior,
A far away Eden but no atoms to create physical form,
Read everything I write, I’m coming like a thief, in the middle of the night,
Unexpected, undetected, undeniably my rhymes bring pure insight,
Bringing true light uniquely and usefully right now as I take lyrical flight,
Fearing nothing man made and conceptual, 
Fear brings trouble and makes you ill,
A mindful sightseer ultimately authentic, 
So much truth I get from playing with words,
They come to disturb, to divide, so decide, take a side,
Incomprehensible lines to those who are blind, 
You’re not ready for this life changing ride,
Collide, stop being unkind, controversial perceived ideas, do you even ask yourself why?
Received but rarely discussed openly, outrageously showing a display of no respect,
This is filthy, but still it prospers within society’s collective state, which irritates me,
Repetitive actions lacking intellectual abilities, so you don’t understand this,
Dismiss and think you know? Instead you twist it, can’t understand it,
You fitfully have wisdom, but when you do, ignorant over thinking is what you do! Isn’t this true?
Living in sin asking questions like Hopsin, majority of people unconsciously living,
So humans can’t answer them, so I’m on my own, strategy in this truth movement,
Does everything really lead to Rome? Feeling good and in the zone,
I’ll never be a simpleton clone, get out your binoculars, 
You’re all frozen and Am I the last man standing? 
Blowing mind’s ruthlessly, your hopelessly in psychological denial, I’ll defile you, consciously,
You can’t even see, I’m the calm before the storm, divine energy in human form,
Right from the start, smart with skills of semantics,
Quick thinkable quintessential schema, cautious like an old school gangsta,
Thank you, I send it out from inside where I reside, 
Beside me is wisdom, caution is also needed and it’s awesome, 
Your thoughts! Sort them! Be intellectually prepared,
This has been documented and said, a revolution of mass magnitude,
Be balanced and don’t change your mood, let’s wind this up so I can conclude,
Wake up, stop ignoring your inner self, that’s the lowest level of rude!!

Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

The Silent Lamb

The silent bell rings in the night,
Calling the devils to kneel to the light,
What once was, becomes no more,
As the light breaks through the open door.

What you think and what you feel,
What you saw and thought was real,
Is now only dust on the road,
The desolate remains of your ancient abode.

The new light is rising on the hill,
The new song is singing down in the well,
The new souls are dreaming of your face,
The new hearts are beating at you pace.

The old ideas and reasons you gave,
Are buried in the tomb and in the grave,
The rotting bone and flesh are gone,
In the morning dew, in the morning sun.

The light shines through the open door,
Casts no shadow on the old dirty floor,
The ancient laws of reason and might,
Crumble to dust in the morning light.

What once was real and certain as rock,
Is now the dream the baby forgot,
The new light coming to wake you my love,
The silent lamb and the flying dove.

more of my poems at :
http://labyrinthoflies.com

Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric | |

The Coming of the Nothing

Collegiates and learned mercenaries
Await their time to lead the willing minions
As lemmings, suicide seems ordinary
Both deaf and blind, devoid of all opinions

Ageless as time itself, she waits
An elixir of evolution
Needing no cure, no answers
No humankind solution

What stops us moving forward
What keeps us all enchained
What keeps the starving hungry
What drives a world insane

A galaxy here, a universe there
Speckled by constellations
But man it seems is content to fight
For the sake of his small nation

Black as an empty starless night
Deep as the hungry ocean
Timeless as death, on its endless flight
In a time of perpetual motion

What stops us moving forward
What keeps us all enchained
What keeps the starving hungry
What drives a world insane 

When will it end, God only knows
As greed alone inspires us
Old Earth, its very soul exposed
To MAN...IT'S LIVING VIRUS!!!

Copyright © peter walsh | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Mixed Tapes of Our Mistakes

Mistakes of our past are packaged ballads
recorded on an eight track cassette
constantly rewinding  itself  track after track
haunting us  with its infinite instrumentals
of despair ,  oppression,  and depression

No matter how many times
we turn down our audio Pandora Box
the mixed tapes of our mistakes never cease
to record the lyrics of those ballads
composed and sung in those
bitter, powerful , rhythmic
demonic voices
of Lucifer, the front man
and his backup band of dark spirits
endlessly mocking  and taunting us
of our past afflictions and transgressions
with their raging, high tempo staccato tracks
like fiery arrows  and poisonous snakes
piercing through every  fiber of our mortal souls

                                                                        Written by: Mia Pratt, 2016

 Based on the title: "Mixed Tapes of Our Mistakes” from "The Beings We Became" Poetry Challenge

Copyright © Mia Pratt | Year Posted 2016

Details | Couplet | |

Un grand pas vers le Bon Dieu

Sweet short round sadness in the mirror may grow;
He writes her name twice on the mind`s first snow;
It is the moment to find a joke and make her laugh;
If he holds his dreams and her hands ,that`s enough;
A smile of the kidness with each cup of tea, and soon
As brought by Fancy`s Fairy in the blond afternoon,
The taste of honey mealt in bitterness of broken glass;
The subtle drums in his ears violently might surpass
The horses`galoop at the purple banks of his veins ;
From the green empire, where eternal spring reigns
The romp`s steps of imagery in the Plato`s realm
Composing an ode of joy or a long lasting psalm:
Child dancing, playing with the joyous rain,
 Like Narcissus at the sides of the fountain.
That parfume of violets :her hair and her eyes
Tactile, fragile china, cold glass solitude lies
In their unwritten novel: everybody may choose
The thrill of dancing among the Greek statues;
The rustling of the two doves following Love`s call 
 In the hand of Light,with overflown tumult in one soul. 
The step towards his heart and quickly her stop;
Without the slightest hesitation, all muscles hope
 Ready to caught a falling star still hoping
The crystalline tear prolonged dropping
Transformed in advancing recollections through:
Two masters of slaves and two slaves ,thus sum two.


Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2012

Details | Romanticism | |

Prime Mover

Like the seraphs whose wings unfold,
Christ's light and glory goes not untold;
as the love of his humble grace
moves inside me all time and space,

as the planets orbit heaven's sun
and encircle it one by one--
so, too, am I caught in his sway,
beloved of him from day to day.

Through hosts of astral dimension
God's angels fix their attention
with expectancy and burning pause
around the universe's First Cause.

He, the one true Incarnation  
that begets cosmic causation,
resolves the Infinite Regress
from the pre-Socratics' egress

with his omniscient wisdom
and the archives of his kingdom
where all can come and read and know
what miracles he'll yet bestow.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

The Sculptor

I feel Him chip away at my flesh.
The vibrations shake to my bones.
Pieces that were once part of me now fall helplessly to the floor.

Every scrape of the chisel,
Every pound of the hammer,
Every piece that is broken from me stings with immense pain.

Why doesn't He stop?
Why is The Sculptor so cruel?
Doesn't He realize that each swing He takes is a nightmare to me?

I would be better off as stone that was never touched,
I would be more content without the suffering that comes apon me,
But I wouldn't be a work of art.

Each chip of the chisel is intended to remove a piece that shouldn't be there.
Each pound of the hammer is meant to force the hideous fragments far from me.
Each move The Sculptor makes, takes me closer to His plan for me.

I must trust, knowing that He never takes off too much.
I must be ready, knowing that He never leaves His work incomplete.
I must be thankful, knowing that I am being made beautiful in His eyes.

The acute pain is only a short part of His plan.
The lasting anguish fades in its own time.
Though heart, and soul, and body all grieve, the permanent state will be that of finished work.

I may not know the reason for each strike,
I may not know the fault with each sundered chunk,
And I may never know.

I know the sting of the chisel now,
I know The Sculptor has a plan,
My part is to trust that He will not work forever ... but that He will be done.

Copyright © Bradley Musgrave | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet | |

The Line Between

O God, the pangs are crushing body, soul
And spirit—working deaths where sunlight fades— 
My arms are trunks of pain and taking toll, 
While tortures, stings, and sickness hauntly raids
To close the Gates of Hell to shut me in,
And heaven bows to greet while Hades seeks
To send The Reaper with his failing grin.
And illness ruins lives while havoc wreaks
The squalored throes of daily living on—
While body wastes away and breath remains
To sing your dirge while I still carry on…
Like trampling cattle trodding broken frame,
I live between the sunshine and the grave—
Like flowers cut and dying in the vase

Copyright © J.R. Dawson | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

MLK - 1929 - 1968

MLK...
(January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968)


they shot you down
all those years ago

but

your dream lives on
and always will

for though much has been
gained since you dreamed
your dream

there is much to fight for
and much more to struggle for

and much, much more
to fight for still

so
your dream resounds in
our hearts and we pledge 
this to you today
for though they shot you down
all those years ago on a memphis day
we shall overcome
this we do believe
deep in our hearts
that
we shall overcome
someday...


(for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Sometimes

Sometimes there is silence,
Sometimes there are words,
Sometimes there is meaning,
Sometimes it's absurd.
Sometimes you are near me,
Sometimes you are far,
Sometimes there is darkness,
Sometimes guided by a star.
Sometimes we are up and 
Sometimes we are down,
Sometimes we are slaves,
That wear a holy crown.
Sometimes we are arrogant,
Sometimes we are proud,
Sometimes we are someone,
Lost in the faceless crowd.
Sometimes we are rich and 
Sometimes we are poor,
Sometimes we are angels,
Scratching at the door.
Sometimes I'm living and 
Sometimes I am dead,
Sometimes there is no thoughts
Turning in my head.
Sometimes looking forwards,
Sometimes looking back,
The circle still unbroken,
The train still on the track.
Sometimes we are caught and
Sometimes we are free,
But we always come back praying,
Under this olive tree.

more at http://labyrinthoflies.com

Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

Betwixt food and human relationship

It’s good to get together as friends and confreres
like in table fellowship or religious convocation
and then, enjoy the company of each other’s culture
as Italians, Colombians, Filipinos or Brazilians.

The day after Easter Sunday adds another occasion
for us Scalabrinians to be reunited at this point in time
sharing the gifts of food, life, humor and relationship 
with a space for fraternity, some updates and good wishes.

Truly, it shows the spirit of oneness and fraternal fellowship
sharing the commonality of our commitmment to faith
as brothers in Christ and members of our Founder’s order,
the religious congregation that cares for migrant people. 

There’s much to do and plan for what we aim to materialize
in today’s world where migration poses a huge issue
like a salad bowl with mozzarella, tomato and olive oil
a metaphor for migration that deals with human cultures.

Described in the Bible as a growing missionary virtue
hospitality as a key to open one’s heart in this journey
With fearlessness and confidence, it’s a major issue
depicting the picture of global movements raised in action.

Our days of darkness, our bickering confreres in places –
where community life matters and features one’s emptiness
in dealing with one another in our quest for human and divine.
it’s indeed a challenge and will always be a test of faith, thus far.

This helps us understand through our setbacks, pains and joys,
with friends around and those who share with us many times
those sacred stories of being called to worship God and be present
especially in the Eucharist that nourishes our souls to be whole.

Copyright © mark escobar | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? | |

Blasphemy

Blasphemy

The caustic tongues of the evangelists,
Across all creeds and faiths,
Seem as brittle as an old bone.

For they promise heaven and they spew forth threats of hell
While neglecting the words of that man who walked in Galilee

'let him who is without sin, cast the first stone'

the caustic tongues of the evangelists...

across all religions
new-age and the ones of old
baffle me even as I hear
a single simplistic sermon

for they really do, view us all
as blind imbeciles
scurrying around like faithless vermin


the caustic tongues of the evangelists...

wag on and dazzle us with visions of an eternal paradise
while here and now
their hypocrisy festers
within their earnest
well-meaning eyes...


'...dil mein hai khwaaish-e-hoor-o-jannat
aur zaahir mein shauk-e-ibaadat
bas hamen sheikh-ji aap jaise
allah-waalon se allah bachaaye...'


'...in your heart you desire the maidens of heaven
yet in the now you practice the rituals of piety
o' sheikh, may allah protect me
from the people of allah like yourself...'

is my tongue as caustic as the tongues I write about?
if so, then glad am I
for they shouldn't be the only ones
who preach and rant and continually shout

from their pulpits ever so high in the sky
from their hubris of comfort in possessing the 'truth'

from their 'knowing' that heaven or hell
awaits both the strong as well as the meek

while oblivious to the reeking foul smell
that encourages prejudice and hate
and visions not of peace
but of endless chants and prayers

which they, in their opium haze
rattle on and on
as they never seem to cease to speak

and though I’m sure that all this bile that I have spewed
will threaten
hurt
and offend

friend and
unfriend and
acquaintance alike

but...

take pity on me instead
for it'll surely be I
who'll burn eternally
impaled by a benevolent god
on a slightly warmer than normal day in hell

on a crude wooden spike.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013