Religious Tree Poems | Religious Poems About Tree
These Religious Tree poems are examples of Religious poems about Tree. These are the best examples of Religious Tree poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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The Tree of knowledge (purportedly) of good and evil.
He had exacted from mankind the reasonable pledge:
Not to ever partake of it and to act in all things civil -
the Tree of knowledge.
In our own spiraling downfall, from the past we dredge
a wealth of experience to fashion our reasons on the anvil.
When confronted with the facets of truth, we tend to hedge.
The division between man and woman in superiority, is drivel.
We are reliant, like the roots and the blades of the sedge.
Good and evil in each of us, are around which all things swivel:
the Tree of Knowledge.
Poetry form: Roundel
Example of Paradise Lost... See my contest by this name posted on PS.
Please see the About section for details regarding this poetry form.
Are we awake or are we still sleeping?
Blind to the hurt, and deaf to the weeping.
Ashamed of religion and supportive of the new,
Aware of the lies and hidden from what’s true.
Worship the evil and turn away the pure,
Developing disease with an unknown cure.
Starving the poor and overfeeding the wealthy.
Killing the sick and drugging the healthy.
Going to war for some kind of power,
Building tall structures over all types of flower.
Cutting the trees and polluting the air,
All out of greed, with no sort of care.
Turning us against our own,
And help from up above.
Making us beings of hate,
Instead of ones of love.
Demonizing the mystic,
Criticizing the wise.
Making our own family members,
Into people that we despise.
Awaken to the torment,
Be aware of all the pain.
Those who are misleading,
And claiming that we are insane.
Upon this Tree
Written by Adam M.
Look upon this tree,
a Man hung for us to
The blood which
stains this tree,
is the reason we are
The scars and lashes
upon His back,
all for us, He did
A precious life He
gave to us,
without a fuss.
Out of love His life
this lost lamb, His
blood He save.
By His blood our
sins He lave,
the price His life
in which He gave.
Death has claimed
Him, but claimed Him
upon that tree our
sins He bore.
Conquering Hell a
victory is He, God's
Initials In a Tree
If I stopped writing poems. where would I be
Would not be able to enjoy their company
Or read over and over and then once more;
Now all of my poems people will ignore.
God in His finest hour gave me the ability
To express my love for Him and humility
High on mountain to or beside restless sea
Writing while sitting beneath a tall oak tree.
Each of my poems will take care of me
Bring me relief by setting my soul free
My soul for attention now does starve
Their initials on a tree did start to carve.
HG, HS and GG
James Thomas Horn, Retired Soldier