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Religious Mystery Poems | Religious Poems About Mystery

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

Pal

Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”

Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”

One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…

Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.

Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”

Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.

Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed. 
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.

Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.

Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray, 
“Lord, let this day be my last.”

For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Pal quietly passed away.

Bob held Pal in his arms and wept.
“Oh, Pal…you’re the best friend in my life.” 
Bob talked to Pal, caressed him until he fell asleep;
Then, sometime in the night, Bob finally joined his wife.

The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….

Stood an old dog beside the stone, 
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”

He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place. 
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.

She smiled.  “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too.  His name was Pal.”

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014

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 | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: V

Omniscient guy
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?

Copyright © Dan Keir | 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 | |

A Soul Awakened

The warm light calls me
And all the people who cries for thee
I raise my hand in this abyss
Only to make one wish
To float among the others
With all my sisters and brothers
I call out for forgiveness with passion
I take their pain into myself for this occasion
The moment that I see the sky
I will not look back and cry
My body is laying still
People standing by it with a chill
The air gets dense with sadness
I would not think of it less
Some people look up and down
To see the light hit the ground
Some can vision the uplifting feeling they see
One soul that has been and always be
It is special to notice such aberration 
And that might be how souls are awaken

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

The Battle Lost and Won

As naturally and effortlessly as birds fly
Unannounced and quietly an Idea came by
Faster than the weightless wind it flew
Where it came from no one asked, no one knew

Longing for a cloak in which to be wrapped
It knocked on many doors asking to be dressed
It wished to be given a shape and form for all to see
It wanted an existence, and in this world a chance to be

The farmer was farming, the worker busy working
The judge was judging, the thief in the shadows lurking
The preacher was of the invisible kingdom preaching
The poet alone with his heart and soul for the Idea reaching

It seized him and became the fire in his veins
The beating in his heart, the throbbing in his brain
It became the movement of his arms and legs
He asked for the right words like a beggar for food begs

The Idea through the flesh was about to be born
The invisible by the visible longed to be worn
Like newlyweds neither knew too well the other
They had to unite: each’d be both father and mother

Now the idea took control and led the poet’s pen
Then It was overpowered by the brutish man
Now he’d try to bend It, to suit his words, to shape It 
Then It bent him so that into each other they’d fit

He wished to be a channel for the Idea he sensed
It had a burning desire, a purpose to be expressed
When possessing parts of both the work was done 
An idea of the Idea was born - a battle both lost and won

Copyright © laszlo kecsedi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Jesus Is the Best Thing That Happened to Me

Jesus Is the Best Thing That Happened to Me! Jesus is the best thing that happened to me! He loves me so much! It’s plain to see! Jesus has provided everything I need, to get tough! If it wasn’t for him… I don’t know what I’d do! Jesus has come, that I might life so abundantly! He’s given me all I need… Most assuredly! He does for me, what nothing in this world, could ever do! And completely understands, everything I go through! He brings his peace, hope and a blessed satisfaction! I can have fellowship with him! A “heavenly interaction!” He can restore what the enemy has stolen and taken away! He brings a true meaning! And has changed me today! I’m very thankful! For all that he’s provided! I’m going to live for him! This has already been decided! Thank you Jesus! My lord and my best friend! You’ve done so much for me! Over and over again! I praise your name! And want you to know… I’ll tell others of your goodness… Wherever I go! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet | |

3rd Glorious Mystery


Third Glorious Mystery 
The descent of the Eternal Holy Spirit

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme royal | |

Who Do You Say I Am

Who Do You Say I Am?

Who do you say I am, and who am I to you?
Is the resurrection so very important to you?
Am I such a genius in my deeds, so futuristic, 
That you cannot vindicate me by them? 
The Roman government felt threatened by me, 
Because I had medical techniques in my hand, 
For all for the first time, such that I did stand. 

Jesus never called himself god ever, 
Not ever, in any way at all;
But believed in societal stability so much, 
That he considered the government officials sane, 
To judge and do with him as they saw fit, 
So as to reconstruct their land as best they could, 
Such that their allegation that he was god stood. 

When Jesus replied to Caiaphus the Roman judge, 
Upon the question concerning whether or not he was god, 
He just said “You said it,” your term, not mine, 
Yours is the discernment, and not my frown; 
And when he asked Peter “Who do you say that I am?” 
He only reckoned that a personal view was inevitable, 
When there’s such a fracas all around, a kerfuffle. 

Who Jesus is today doesn't matter any more, 
And who the living Christ is to you has no importance, 
Since Jesus is dead and not relevant;
But it may help to know who he was back then;
He was a doctor who treated the sick,
Those in need rather than those who had money, 
Such that he made life and their lives a lot more sunny. 




          Common English Bible used.





Piece for Richard Lamoureux’s Contest, Who do you think I am?, September 2015


Title of poem: Imagine if you can 
Lne: My Savior brings such comfort to me

I believe that you believe in Jesus, Richard, as your saviour, so who you are will partly be about who Jesus is, so my poem talks about Jesus. I think that understanding Jesus is different from being religious and going to church, and that the truth about Jesus can be worked out given a certain amount of thought. As long as who Jesus was is with the church, you’ll always be a dreamer maybe, but I believe that anyone can read the Bible or the Gospels for themselves, without contemporary church dogma in mind, and get an apparently clear view of him. I think his death and his own view of himself pertain to the problem, and would enable politicians and teachers to stop bad Christian fundamentalism and the spread of the Islamic State. But can I just say and remind people that I am an atheist.

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Personification | |

Why Should I

Was it enough or was it too much?
Sometimes too fast but always too slow!
God knows that I come with these seeds that grow.
Inside and out I absorb every single touch,
But why should I?
Why should I be the only one that knows?
Stepping through time and sliding back so smooth so I go!
I say I can qualify!
Where was I and why was I there?
Sometimes too obvious but always with doubt!
God knows that I come riding in on a prayer.
I absorb every single touch inside and out,
But why should I? 
Why should I be the only one that cares?
Climbing the highest mountains and sliding down so steep but on a dare!
I say I can magnify!

What did I say and what did I do?
Sometimes too quite but always too loud!
God knows that I come with a gleam that shines so proud.
Inside and out I absorb every single touch by you.
But why should I? 
Why should I be the only one in the crowd?
Walking on water and walking backwards but at least I know how.
I say I can intensify!
Do I want to or do you need me to?
Sometimes I wonder and sometimes I simply don’t care.
God knows that I come standing on a higher sky of blue.
I absorb every single touch by you inside and out with this glare.
But why should I?
Why should I be the only one with this view?
Up in the clouds and aimless but always led by you!
I say, “I SANCTIFY”!


®Registered: 1997  Ann Rich

Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sonnet | |

CIL MAOLCHEADAIR

    CIL MAOLCHEADAIR   (Kilmalkedar)
On such an Irish spring and drizzle morn,
she wandered through the graveyard, looking for
the Celtic dream from which her past was born,
and every sight brought her to wanting more;

she dreamt her roots from carvings on a stone
as if she understood each chip as real,
passed down to only her, and her alone,
from pagan worship she could almost feel;

and she could bundle them within her mind
to share with Pennsylvania kith and kin,
perhaps the magic, if still there to find,
would be an understanding where they've been;

and she will burn her candles every night,
hoping Kilmalkedar will make it right.
       ©  ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet

Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2013

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 | Free verse | |

Gift Of Mortality

An earthly existence
A universe beyond my minds, comprehension
I die
I rise
Life lessons reviewed
Homeward bound
I am not lost, after all!
I am a willing participant
Serving, the Father, of all creation
His son combined, ‘producing life’ as we know it
Representing them, in everything I do
I am nothing, without Love!
My heart full of faith, loyal service I give
Learning how to unconditionally serve, as the Father unconditionally, loves me
Worshipping our Divine Creator’s existence
Choosing to live, moment to moment
Being as one with ‘Our Universal Father’
No physical permanency
My physicality, disappearing
My mortality existence, I let go of
Death temporary
My spirit alive!
Relief, Peace
‘I am only passing through!’
A unique, experience of mortality 
A gift, I am blessed to experience, to live!

Copyright © Amy Rose | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

In a Welsh Chapel Darkly

I know you see me from up there,
from halfway up the steep and twisting lane.
In early half-light as you take your walk
I no doubt seem to loom as you descend,
appear to grow, to rise from earth,
my boxlike rectilinearity,
severe and unadorned geometry,
a silhouette against the solitary sodium source.

I once hosted fiery-throated hymns
from dedicated souls in Sunday best:
“Marchog, Jesu, yn llwyddiannus”,
“O! Iesu mawr, rho d’anian bur” –
voices rich and raised and resonant,
so filled with faith, so gorged with God.
My pitch-pine pews were polished
by coat and skirt and trouser twill.

Abandoned now, unloved, slab-still,
void and stark and desolate,
with quarry-tiled floor that would resound
with joy were anyone to walk upon it,
I present gaping emptiness, a thing felt,
a cave whose darkness, palpable,
is peopled by retreating echoes of my past,
like timorous ghosts far too afraid to speak.

But there is One I must not name –
though He might be known by
the four letters of the tetragrammaton –
who lodges in my roomy quarters,
cowers within my tight square corners,
seeking shadows when the sun stares in.
I hear Him breathing as
He sweats in His remorse, a thing smelt.

He hides from the accusing eyes of every nation,
the eyes that witness daily His forlorn creation.

Copyright © Andrew John | Year Posted 2012

Details | Narrative | |

SMALL WORLD WATERS, NAZRIEL

 SMALL WORLD WATERS... NAZRIEL!

As i sat in a nite club..
sipping sodas as i was too stressed
to enjoy my guinness...with michael powa..
a catch phrase used to advertise
my favorite bottle...
then in walked NAZRIEL

Pretty NATZ.. A nick name...
had a companion... weird..
is an understatement...
no words were needed i..
sat immobilized.....
the eagles blended in..

Nazriel playing intoxicated-
me not buying it
natz... playing with dem pole dancers
natz eyes me..
the eagle folds his arm around her..
protecting pretty natz..

The eagles have landed in our city
i have encountered one too many..
and no one seems concerned...
this one has been around for decades..
lets cal him its-rael

No one knows why the eagles landed
talk of missing Isaiah chapters..
talk of the secret of the seven.. thunders
miracles don't amaze any more
for the eagles have landed...
and sweet NAZRIEL is one of them


by lewis nyaga

Copyright © LEWIS NYAGA | Year Posted 2015

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 | Couplet | |

A New Dawn

Copyright © 2013
1/22/2013

A New Dawn in His Glory
  foretold in a biblical story

Coming for those preparing
  skyward we will be starring

Like descending parachutes
  sounds of trumpets and flutes

Captivating our hearts
  giving us a new start

A New Dawn is coming 
  listen, nature is humming

Idelology clashing blows
  a tale between 2 foes

Revelations foretold a day
  when more begin to pray

World events getting crazier
  humanity's future  hazier

Waiting on ONE to stop this mess
  or, were we just another lab test?


by LP

Copyright © Les Pruitt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Are We Trying to Remove God From Everything


 UNSUPPORTED CODE We often hear this topic across our nation.
Another person crying; “discrimination.”

In our many attempts to not discriminate.
It seems like it’s God that we seek to eliminate.

It seems like we’ve come up with our own “rules.”
And somehow have turned into a bunch of “fools.”

We accept many perversions of various kinds…
But God himself?  We seem to close our minds!

In many of our lives,  we’ve “kicked “ him out.
And refuse what he really is about!

The words, “In God we trust...”  Our money bears it!
Anything of God?  We’re afraid to share it!

It seems like the courts almost say he doesn’t exist!
And have brought much confusion into our midst!

As many say it’s “offensive” to display a cross…
Many godly values have already been lost!

It’s time to wake up America!  And begin to see!
The kind of country we’re beginning to be!

A country that’s foundation is getting off course.
Being driven by a wicked and ungodly force!

Out only hope is in God!  And him alone!
We must invite him back into our homes!

To God and his word we must hold secure and fast!
He is our only hope that our country will last!


By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2012

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Signs

The signs are here, for all to see,
The thunder clouds, the dying tree.
The shining lights, that draw you near,
Loud heavy music, in your ear.

By word of mouth, or through cyber space,
The hidden pictures, of your face,
The northern lights, are dancing south,
The rumours you hear, by word of mouth.

The sign are falling, from the sky,
Raining stars, on the passers by,
While the battle rages, on underground,
The innocent dying, without a sound.

The cries of heaven, the screams in hell,
That no one hears, down in this well,
The terrible beauty, the open wound,
The innocent babies, in open tombs.
For all to see, for all to hear,
The blind man's painting, the deaf man's ear.

The birds are falling, the fishes drowned,
What once was up, has now become down,
The tender and loving, an empty shell,
The gross and the ugly, now the rallying bell.

The signs are here, for all to see,
Titanic sinking, on a blood red sea.

More poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com

Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Church As Mystery

The Church is essentially both human and divine
Visible but endowed with visible realities
Zealous in action
Dedicated to Contemplation

4132014

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epulaeryu | |

Religious Epulaeryu

The light of first beginning
Still feeds us with love:
Hot Fish and Bread and white wine
As blessed meal of mine.
I eat with my dove 
The sweet grains,  
Lord. 

Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2008

Details | Sonnet | |

coward masquerades

      You are called faceless
      BECAUSE YOU ARE SHAMELESS
      YOUR MURDER AND MAIM
       SENT TO THE INNOCENTS
          
       GROWTH OF GERMS
       INDEED, YOUR INTERESTS
      TO GOD, YOU WEAR FEARLESS
       TO EARTH, YOU WEAR BOKO HARAM
    
       YOUR PENULTIMATE RETREAT
        INDEED, MEMORABLE HEART HEAT
        FORWARD YOUR RETREAT
        TO THE SPEARHEAD OR THE GIANTS
         OR, DIVULGE YOUR IMAGE
        NOT GENTLE BOKO HARAM
   

Copyright © AJAYI RASHEED | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

What If Christmas Never Came


 UNSUPPORTED CODE What If…   Christmas Never Came???

What if Christmas never happened?  
What if Christmas never came?
Things around here would be different! 
It wouldn’t be the same!

What if the baby Jesus was never born in a manger?
Mankind would be in serious trouble. We’d all be in danger!

If the baby Jesus wasn’t born.  There would be no nativity.
We wouldn’t be able to display this during our “festivity.”

It’s almost like this now! 
 It’s an “ever increasing business.”
It seems like nearly everyone wants
  “Christ out of Christmas!”

Why does it seem like Christmas is 
 losing it’s true meaning?
The very words; “Merry Christmas,” 
seem to be quickly disappearing!

Many say; “Happy Holiday.”  
They worry they may “offend.”
Having a “holiday” without Christ….  
Once again!

We need to put Jesus Christ back into 
our CHRISTmas season!
He is what Christmas is about!  HE is the very reason!

May we all take some time to rejoice in our savior’s birth.
May there be shouts of JOY!  From the corners of the earth!

Let’s not take Christ out of our joyous celebration!
We need him so much right now! 
 All over this great nation!

May we bring to him a heart of love
 for everything he’s done.
As we bring honor to Christ.  God’s precious son!

May we continually offer to him a heart filled with praise!
Not only at Christmas time…  But all of our days!

By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

THE RAINMAKERS OMENS


Its twilight the two love birds call out..
call out to each other.. its early evening
the lovers hold hands.. and the suns sets
the shy bride comes out.... Shinning star
and the seer goes back home for soon..
Rain will cover the land













lewis k nyaga
code 254 1835 hrs

Copyright © LEWIS NYAGA | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Tropical God

                   Tropical God

Filled ice caverns, barren arctic whisperings
Empty hollow frozen wind, no sound within, no call for God 
No need for that when cold sets in against the raw vicinity
Animals, man, vacated, absent, vacant cases of humanity, closed
Old snow is everywhere just standing cold

Escape to the heat where tropics burn the soul
No where else to go to find sweet fruit, reality and sleep
Hot sand, calm surf and scorching sun rains down
Colors come in red clay, sky blue and clouds of white

Soft palms sway with prayer solemnity to reach the sea
Yellow flames frame the happy mellow landscape sands
Pagan nature stands guarded against complacency
Normalcy reigns supreme, pink dresses, blessings    

Tongues lick salt but it stays dry
Lemons drown in beverages
Harsh to the taste and sober
Thoughts roll over, run with the tide 
Tropics conjure up a God



  
 

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative | |

THE HERMIT AND THE MOTHERS CROSSING


After playing devils advocate in the beautification
of the nun who had played mother to many..
given hope to many.. the poverty struck peoples
the hermit had just made his submission..
to the Holy see..the hermit is now on a river bank

A bank where ages gone slave masters beat
tortured their own people into forced labor..
many a servant perished on this very river bank
at the hand of their cruel masters.. tortured..
Our hermit sat on this huge Rock by the river

Upon that rock he saw in a vision.. the past
and he understood his purpose.. rising up
with extraordinary strength.. carried huge rock
across the river... never minding the poisonous
river serpents or the vile shadows emerging

On the other bank the hermit put the huge boulder
now mother you have a place to sit and rest...
muttered the hermit and no more do you need cry
the sacred mother has a place to rest and faith... 
faith in the Supreme Merciful creator has gained foot.

Faith has gained foot in a dark land where the cruel masters
boasted they would reign forever.. till eternity over the land
but i bet they failed to realize.... or calculate on the hermit
on a hermit in the future undoing their evil by rooting for good
did i say he was playing devils advocate for a nun of the church

Copyright © LEWIS NYAGA | Year Posted 2015

Details | Epic | |

My Writings Garments

>>1111>>MY WRITINGS GARMENTS<<1111<<

Wo! Unto the man who stands
And asserts that my writing intends,
To relate only commonplace things,
And secular narratives, 
It’s not even relative,
For if it were so,
You would want to know,
That in the present times,
Yeah I’m telling you this within a rhyme as I’m sitting,
Likewise a writing might be written as I’m living,
And given with more attractive narratives.

Now I’m sick of all the arguments,
The narratives of my writings are its garments,
Come on readers I want to hear your comments!
Cause he who thinks these garments are the writing itself,
Doesn’t have true wealth and needs some,
They need to run and deserve to perish because they are dumb,
And have no share in the world to come.

Wo! unto the fools who look no further when they see an elegant robe!
Stagnant, mentally unfit to find answers across the globe, dimwit! 
More valuable than the garment is the body which carries it,
Take note to the following, I recommend wisdom to everybody,
More valuable even than that is the soul which animates the body,
Cause fools only see the garments of my writings,
The more intelligent see the body, it’s more enticing,
Get with my writings, inviting anybody and all,
The wise see the soul, and take it personal,
And go on seeing its proper being, on a higher level,
In this current time we have been dealt,
The “Upper Soul” of my writings will stand revealed and felt. 

These words are not mine and don’t dwell as a belief system in my mind,
This allegorical narrative is knowledge intertwined,
With tricks and how to learn to be quick, 
Mentored by enlightened Semitic Jewish mystics,
You’re unintelligent, always quit, internally sick,
You’re wanting the mindset of being awake and conscious,
But you can’t reach what you’re after, its above you and afar,
Because you don’t have basic knowledge of the Zohar.

Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse | |

ABYSSINIAN ARMAGEDDON

Armies arranged according to their ranks and divisions
Armed with weapons of all manner and kind encircle..
An army stretching all the way to lake nyasa and chad..
An army bent on malice encircle a the sacred mountain
A land where the Almighty is honoured adored and loved
A people who hold and swear by what's most sacred
They who keep the covenant and honour the sacred vow

The defender holds the sword of truth and swears
Swears in the name of the most high never to let
The box fall to the hands of the infidel invaders
Out of choice forced to choose out of alternatives
Holding the sacred sword of Aysra-el it lights ups
Silver lights up amidst a clap like that of thunder
The defender strikes down the sun.. Armageddon

Copyright © LEWIS NYAGA | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Is this possible

She washed his feet and dried them with her hair 
so the story goes
little man climbed a tree cause he couldn't see
or so I hear
dead man got up and walked around the room
I've been told
deathly ill woman healed by a touch of cloth
way I heard it
wedding going south saved by water into wine
I read somewhere
wild man dipped another man in the river Jordan
it came to me
flea marketers and bake sale vendors cast out 
that's my story
rich man rattled the coin box when he put his in
looks that way
he spoke loud and eloquent for all to hear in awe
got his reward  
young man nailed to a tree and left to die
way I hear it
three days later he's walking around town
is this possible???

Copyright © W. L. Said | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative | |

ROY AND THE SIGN OF NABII JONAH


He is sworn in holding a branch
Cut from the tree of life and a vine
That's sacred he swears to protect
His people the tree and the vine
He swears by the sacred abode

Shortly afterwards he gets the vision
Go to Nineveh Jonah and warn them
He departs not to nineveh but to Taasis
Aboard the ship they have no option
But to throw him overboard into the sea

In the belly of that big fish choking on seaweed
Three days seem like three thousand years plus
This is too much he's now praying earnestly
My Lord i will accept your will i will go and warn

The fish spews him in the great city of wonders and signs
This time round they spit on him pour dirty water on him
Hurl insults at him beat him up yet he says repent.. repent
His message over he then moves to the edge of the city

In the deep of the night Khat the sacred tree grows over him
And the African orchids encircle the roots - the base of the tree
Roy rubs his eyes inspecting the fruits from the tree -tree of life
Three days from today this city will be destroyed....
Thinks Roy he will tend to this tree together with his descendants

In the midday sun a ground worm ate the root stalk of the tee
It then ate the root of the vine... both tree and vine dried up
And a SOUND says... Roy i have forgiven this city i will let it live

Roy is astounded but the SOUND rebukes him..
Roy you are willing to protect a vine and a tree
Yet you care not for this great city go home..
Roy departed and went back to his home

The sign of the prophet Jonah will portend the coming of age...
Roy remembers during the ceremony he had chewed the leaves
And the visions were no more than Khat visions he's still perplexed
Roy goes back home and starts reading the sacred scripture







CODE 254
Lewis Nyaga
Thoome wairegi
Kings counsel

Copyright © LEWIS NYAGA | Year Posted 2015