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Spiritual Sonnet Poems | Sonnet Poems About Spiritual

These Spiritual Sonnet poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Spiritual. These are the best examples of Spiritual Sonnet poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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raindrops dance


raindrops dance

The falling
raindrops dance, a
bearing wall
retains his memories
of years before,
constructing
solitude, invite his
soul
and form continuum,
above to soar.

Reminding paragon
among beach plum,
intently they
behold, when words
indite,
a skyward calling
are the raindrops'
thrum,
the mirroring of
stares and souls'
invite.

And as the raindrops
dance around and
jump
belike she comes,
'mid silences aboard
foreshadowing the
rainfall drops that
thump,
their night defines
again the winds'
accord.

Her grandness in the
mistle's waving
forms
a solemn cause
became of diamond
storms.

© 06-15-2013, G.
Venetopoulos, All
rights reserved


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Seeking The Answer -Miltonic Sonnet


The shadows creep and faintly in the sky,
stars begin to come to us with gentle light.
And once more our fancy doth take flight
with man's eternal question " oh God, why?
What place have we when then we die,
railing against the unknown we still fight.
Often that query comes unbidden in the night
as the time of our mortality marches nigh.
Now into the  depths of sky man sails
on wings of faith, answers cloaked in mystery.
We beat our breast in anguish, try to understand
the plan that lurks there behind the starry veil.
And so it has been given through all history
that perhaps answers are written only in shifting sand...

4/18/14


Details | Sonnet | |

The Choices We Make

Walking down the hallway,
Seeing all the doorways,
And all the choices in life,
Making it difficult to choose,
The right room from all the other rooms,
Bringing you the wisdom and truth,
For the imperfection is within us all,
Which makes us all crawl at times,
On our hands and knees in the dark,
To discover what is right and survive,
In life as long as we can accept,
What life brings to us in our hearts,
Which we patiently accept the pleasures,
And push away the sacrifices much in our lives,
Yet, to correct our flaws we have,
Which causes most our struggles,
Till we open our eyes,
And see what we have and must believe,
That our lives are greater than we ever know,
Cause God created it all for us,
But the choices are ours to make,
To find the happiness,
Which is ours to be found and kept.


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Last Breath

You were a shining Star.
Few of many in the sky.
Looking up so very high,
Not knowing why you are.

Close and set you are far.
Spinning flames  knot a tie,
I note a pattern just like pi.
Colliding with me you spar.

So burn it up and burn away,
Sow your heart upon a plane.
Chart your distance in the clay.
Burn it all up then call it sane.

The explosion in the sky is His death.
All burned up He has no last breath.

(R) Registered:  2013  Ann Rich


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Love

The dialogue is love. It saturates every fiber of 
The soul. It intoxicates the spirit. Thus, evermore
I dwell at its tavern. I sip from its heavenly goblet,
Thereby, dancing in the spirit. It’s the stimulus of
Miracles—the parent of eternity. From depth the
Soul, I’ve courted love, inscribing its portrait 
Upon spiritual leaflets. I’ve partaken of its doctrine,
Inebriated in the spirit, adrift the seventh heaven.
Love is an invasion, permeating the psyche, 
Surging through the actuating-cause. I burn for the
Face of love: its depth, its width, its episode. It’s
Ever upon my imagination, as sturdy as oak, 
Intriguing my passions come sunrise. Indeed, the
Dialogue is love: its reach, its breadth, its texture.   


Details | Sonnet | |

The Beat Goes On

A beat for every step and every trade.
To dance and sing for thine soon married wife.
A guitar stringed. A harp to take you played.
A beat to drum and drive at dark is life.

A beat to string in sitting position
When singing to your newest mate. No knife
Can cut the love of your new condition.
A beat to drum and drive at dark is life.

A sailing boat. The sweetest honeymoon.
A storm approaches now causing much strife.
The beat does continue though scared too soon.
A beat to drum and drive at dark is life.

The beat of life goes on and on, but storms
Can’t shake the love of God from man it forms.


Details | Sonnet | |

An art by heart

The moonbeams of the 
silver night
Flows and sweetly kisses the 
forest
In the blue sky all-stars look 
so bright
I can't stop thinking you, oh 
my dearest.

The winds bring the soft 
aroma of the belly flower
I am standing as a lonely 
field near to my window
And see a couple of glow-
worm flying together
Ah! This every sweet thing 
carries me to you.

Suddenly in my thoughts at 
a sane island
Oh beloved! I see we both 
are so close
Sharing an eternal love by 
holding each other hand
From eyes to eyes, lips to 
lips, nose to nose.

There we are in spiritual 
love and a sacred pair
As in painting light and 
shade looks pretty together.

© Raselkhan


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Still Standing

Where were you when my world fell apart?
The Sun darkened and the Moon just fled.
All had been done and all had been said.
And ripped to shreds was my beating heart.

Even the Seas began to part.
And the Mountain tops spread.
I lay there completely dead.
Even the Stars I could not chart.

If only you knew,
If only you were there,
If only you had a clue!
If only life had been fair!

I’d turn the clocks back,
Still standing dead in my track!


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WHERE NOTHING MATTERS

Imagine a world where nothing matters
Think about it for a second, really
No questions like, was it worth it anymore
Not seeing the point of a world in tatters

Consider; if no one felt any fear
And people with confidence and no doubt
If they carried their dreams above themselves
Knowing how useless, all that they hold dear

Envision this world of variety
A kaleidoscope that creates a self
Picture each individual lonely
But deep inside there is homogeny

Day after day the cosmos continues
Then a final day where nothing matters

©david byrne jan 2013 


Details | Sonnet | |

Lonely woman

Lonely woman

The rain of winter days, repeats their words,
the messages of dusk and truths perceives,
her passing wraith the seaman's heart aggrieves,
- unspoken words percuss on festal chords.

Once at nocturnal hours the shadows link,
- that lonely woman's never sung, night song,
red wine - divine, her splendor flies fore dawn,
while eminent his sails, egress to sink.

Sea waves convey to ports two dancing forms
where tears and laughs subside, when dark distils,
with soul that gallivants, love wounds she heals,
rain priestess saves her lonesomeness in storms.

With colored rainbows flies to highs and bold,
sun's crimson spills what shoreline mists enfold.

© 02-17-2013, G.Venetopoulos
(sonnet)


Details | Sonnet | |

Set Me Free

Set me free Lord set me free,
Take this evil I lay with away.
Take this torture turn it astray.
Walk with me just let me be.

Look inside my heart to see,
Erase my mind as I do pray.
Renew my spirit all in a day.
Sign me up for a high decree.

Leave all this as dust in the wind,
Scatter past present and future,
I will not falter nor will I bend,
Send it all away with no suture.

Set me free Lord, take this madness and put it in its place.
I must warn you it wears a mask to cover up its ugly face.


(R) Registered:  2013  Ann Rich


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To Live in Heaven

The two kinds of sins are Original and Actual Sins
Original Sin is what we inherit our first parents, Mama Eve, Papa Adam
We are brought into the world with guilt on our soul
Original Sin was transmitted by natural generation to all his descendants
We are cleansed only through Baptism
The other kind is Actual sin
Actual sin is any willful thought, desire, word action or omission forbidden by the law of Eternal God
Chief sources of actual sin are Pride, Covetousness, Lust, Anger, Gluttony, Avarice, Sloth or Laziness
Actual sin or Daily Sin
We are cleansed only by the Sacrament of Reconciliation, Confession or Penance
We must first have the 3 initial sacraments
The 3 sacraments are Baptism, Confirmation, Holy Eucharist
Before the other 4 sacraments
To live in heaven with our Lord

5052014


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Simple

Simple to say I love you,
Hard to see in my sense.
Light or dark a past tense.
Sealed lips not one clue.

Collection cups are now due.
Penny's built my picket fence,
Many minds faceted or dense.
And each one I did surely spew.

I do stand here,
A bunch of mess.
You are over there,
Plenty that guess.

My hand is out and my head is down,
In my heart I hold your golden crown.

(C) Copyright: 2013  Ann Rich R.A.


Details | Sonnet | |

GHOST

      GHOST
Oh, gentle ghost, you come and then you go,
with puzzles of the past, unanswered still,
your fragrance calls to mind, things I don't know,
from every word you give, I take my fill.

Tis life's great tragedy, you'd have me wear,
for all the days and nights, I've left to hold,
but spirit brings the dark, and takes me where
I reach the all alone, not growing old.

Your beauty is my breath--my greatest sin,
and has your mother known you all this well,
to say from where you come, where I have been?
The things she cannot know, she cannot tell.

       Oh, gentle ghost, I fail deep in your eyes,
         into a death that never truly dies.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet


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festal dance


The mirror's image was a thought and wraith
their solemn instances to reproduce
Fall's auburn pictures of October eighth,
became in air the leafage of white spruce,

Her face diffused on an abandoned field
where solitude reminded of her smile,
advancing night on crayon black had sealed
their song the ferns recalled and distant isle.

The train advanced where its repeated thud
exchanged the fading lights for night's dark glance;
was their abandoned symphony's ballad
- embellished synthesis and festal dance?

Evanescent the train surpassed his stare
- befalling were the stars like vows of e'er.

© G.V. 06-03-2013 All rights reserved
(This poem has never been in a contest before.)



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Ulterior Song


Expanding lead, the songs to dome and lands unknown,
where ancient schemes and mysteries denote the search,
the foliage leaves announcers are and shadows grown
transmit to find the final ports where souls converge.

Along the cause, the reasons change on saddened dawn,
foretelling prophetess from skies implements lies,
about the souls' ulterior  route - of dark drapes drawn,
beside the will of the cold winds that spell demise.

The ghosts define with howling songs the nightly dark,
souls hark the calls inviting them where feelings flare,
and angels confer skyward trip where they embark,
while blurry visions of the tears reside in glare.

Along the sorrow of souls gone, serene and calm,
spreads up the chapels' knell salute to skies' realm.

© 03-11-2013, All Rights Reserved
(A hexameter sonnet)


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GHOST

      GHOST
Oh, gentle ghost, you come and then you go,
with puzzles of the past, unanswered still,
your fragrance calls to mind, things I don't know,
from every word you give, I take my fill.

Tis life's great tragedy, you'd have me wear,
for all the days and nights, I've left to hold,
but spirit brings the dark, and takes me where
I reach the all alone, not growing old.

Your beauty is my breath--my greatest sin,
and has your mother known you all this well,
to say from where you come, where I have been?
The things she cannot know, she cannot tell.

       Oh, gentle ghost, I fail deep in your eyes,
         into a death that never truly dies.
                      ©  ron  wilson


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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


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On summer moors


On summer moors the sea waves splash for years
the shadows draw upon the walls festoons
unspoken verse, conceived on silent piers,
the advent of our loneliness attunes.

That day of June remained our only feast
and minds' ascension to the astral reign,
blooms' multitude of fragrances released,
a purple thistle on the field and rain.

Remember me when lone stars shine and laugh,
hands held because of June's reminding call,
we celebrate this night on lonely wharf
and acanthine of solitude's dance hall.

...On every tenth of June my eyes embrace,
above the summer moors, your lines of face.

© 06-14-2013, G.V. All rights reserved



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Bending Time

Bending Time

Bending Time is an act that Spirits can do,
as easy as lifting your fork is for you.
See Time is their realm; it’s the world they live in,
each second to them comes and goes at their whim.

But Angels as Spirits know little of Space,
as they wing through the ages, unburdened by place.
Their now, and their then, and the future they see,
but touching an atom, for them, cannot be.

So too challenged is Man, from our limited view,
when we think about Time its through Space we look through.
Our world is all flesh, all matter, all things,
melding Air, Water, Earth, with a Fiery sting.

We are gifted it seems in this fabric of life,
as we carve and we cut with our own hand held knife.
 Man shapes his own space, constructing his nest,
just slaving away, pursuing progress.

Every nail, every screw, all the machines that we make,
all the air, all the food, all the forest we take,
means nothing to Time who just passes along,
bemused by the Angels and their perfect sung song.

All the things that you hold, are soon gone to the past,
what matters man makes, can never long last,
fore Time is eternal and Space it is not,
what breathes and does eat is destined to rot.

But since substance is space, it needs time to evolve,
to improve for the better, it’s man’s mission to solve.
All those visions you have as you toss and you turn,
are timeless taught teachings, God wants you to learn.

It’s with Spirit’s great mind you are guided through Time,
it’s not straight, it’s not curved, its not even a line.
It’s a dimension you see, a transfer of sorts,
where Time, Space, and Thought all open their ports.

Know your world’s always changing through the toil of your Soul,
“As You Think, So You Do,” it’s your God given role.
Quell your self-centered Ego.  Who can truly say “My”? 
Let Time talk to your essence, whispers Love to your “I”.

You must trust in the Angels that ride timeless wings,
enlightening your Soul, heed the truth that they sing.
All the thoughts of the ages, all the wisdoms so true,
are yours for the learning when Time echoes through you!

                                               Sam Shada 
                                                            2013


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Taller than the winds


The solemn lives on skyward paths ascend
their pass on fields aside the Mistral tunes,
ambrosian solitude, to skies' transcend
confreres of sweeping winds and smiling moons.

You'll live in solitude when sail boats brail
remote and strong then you'll transform to shades
expatriated on your dreams lost trail
- your unattended feasts no time abrades.

Amid the shades be taller than the winds
when slopes receive your soul's' disruptive flow
will be the carmine spring that weaves rescinds
betrothment that the runnel wraiths bestow.

The baptismal winds' mystery refrain
ascending, taller makes your soul than rain.

© 06-29-2013


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from slopes to brines


She waited on the skyline, bloom and thorn
accordment of their oaths and thoughts at night
annealed recited entity - vows sworn
- the brave ascended to the Halls of light.

War-bullet traveled through the frozen air
companion loved - his stare embraced the ferns
- the laurel and the sage ascribed his fair
the stalwart chose the path of moon and ernes.

Dim lantern's flame her thought - on peaks beseech
ornate the winds surpass the granite plate
denounced the corteges and oaths to breach,
her highness steps, adorned demise, third fate.

And in the mists when winds bemoan in pines
their solemn words will fly from slopes to brines.

© G.V. 06-05-2013


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Immortal Love

Tease, tempt and test, my love. And I shall react,
Reach and reign, my love. Give me guidance, lest
I wander, substituting lust for authenticity. 
Inscribe your insignia upon my soul. Lay claim to
Love, as if to sigh your last breath, for I’m 
Embedded in the substratum of your spirit. Thus, 
Spoil me with your matrix. Entice me with your 
Charms. And I shall titillate, tantalize, and satiate 
Your person, for mutual seduction is the art of 
Lovers, and we have loved since the days of 
Genesis. Thus, ours is immortal, my love, extant 
As an apocrypha, but hidden as the root of 
Eternity. Let manifest the fruits of love, for we are
Bonded as the pillars of a shelter, destined for love.    






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Oxford Blues


Atop the seas where mists descend and waves high meet
the flare of stars, that draw details where verses hang
and send enounced spring's sightly messages to greet
the Oxford skies of notte blue and eyes unsung,

splendiferous the ocean moons illuminate
above the passages of ships that mettlesome
advance beyond the skylines and scopes equate
multi-dimensional expand with diesels' thrum.

The nautilus become gray shades - in haze to wave
and colorful their messages on winds shall die
it is their voice in nimbus gray to fade and crave
the dancing layers of cold rains and winds' war cry.

Above the fields and seaward trips of compassed routes
on skyway paths the thoughts ascend and Oxford blues. .

© 05-10-2013, G. V., All Rights Reserved
(A hexameter sonnet)


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Crow II


He knows the fog that counts his steps tonight
So proud, the crow, stands on the wires, alone;
what made him bleed before the brinks of light,
defined by emptiness and mountain stone?

The fog surrounds the crow in early dark
what else deserved to be once more recalled
remained to warn the souls that stare and hark
"this shroud descends your being to enfold".

Ethereal, departs on his ascension trail,
stouthearted is his life's long path, my Lord;
the crow unfolds in white engulfing veil,
his stalwart wings on Mistral's wailing chord.

And infinite became his nightly flight,
above the cedars croaked his skyward rite.

© G.V. 06-11-2013 All rights reserved
(English sonnet)