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Best Pastoral Poems

Below are the all-time best Pastoral poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of pastoral poems written by PoetrySoup members

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My Love by Resty, Yatubeera
Winter's Evening by Whatley, Michael
Landscape by Feeling, True
Sedentary by mabale, lonely
Eulogy Of The Bedouin Life by Feeling, True
Eulogy Of The Bedouin Life by Feeling, True
Songs Of Shepherds Flute by Feeling, True
He is The One by Rix, Gwendolen

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The Best Pastoral Poems

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

From My Porch

After the end of a long hot day
At the end of my rope -  with nerves all frayed
I sat on the porch…to rest a spell
As the sun slipped… slowly behind the hill

Calmed…by the lingering…after glow
I watched…the summer night unfold

Crimson streaks…on a sky of blue
Melted…in a thousand…different hues
Got lost…in the dark…without the light
Leaving…just their shadows…in the night

And in fields…of clover…across the way
The crickets…began…their serenade
As fireflies danced…with sheer delight
Glowing…in  love…with this summer night

And there…ahead…at the end of the road
Above the bridge…where the river flows
It rose - like magic - before my eyes
An orange moon… so big…it filled the sky

Author:  Elaine George

Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2006

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

God's Kind of Poetry

O ever changing sky, blue-gray and maudlin
your mood and unsettled ways, meld with mine.
Clouds seem but blemishes upon horizons
as weary as the soot smudged cheeks of urchins.
Bruised in hues at once fresh with pain and longing,
not yet healed by the riper rise of next day’s bloom.

O ever changing sky, the nascent forest’s buds.
Its lashes linger in the purple poignancy of dusk
and whip thy brow with thrashing maple limbs.
Eyeless vault of heaven cry for me, release my plight
erase with thy wonders this tattered visage so forlorn.
The sky of night holds many jewels of delight.

O ever changing sky, clear to crisper shades of sapphire,
ping with shooting stars and glowing diadems of light.
Let lavender blue soften my sorrows for I like Merope* 
need Orion’s might to lift my heartache, to point the way.
May thy constant rebirth give hope which melds with mine
and brings a beauty brighter than your Venus** to the day.

*Merope was Orion’s star crossed lover.
**Venus is the Goddess of Love and the Morning Star

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

Along the Shore of Evermore

I STEP down...from the boardwalk and, into a land  moved by the forces of the universe.

I feel the earth move under my feet, as I walk on mountains, crushed to grains of sand by these forces, and the passing of time, since the birth of planet Earth.

Ringing in my ears, beating in my heart, running through my veins -  the thunder of an ancient drum, as the ocean rises  and falls to the will of the wind.

I mark my passing with footprints in the sand, while my mind  empties itself, of everything but  this moment.

 I walk toward a purple line in the distance, yearning  to know what is there...yearning to touch it.

I lean against a warm wind  that blows away, the ribbons from my hair, and all the troubles  of a world gone mad.


Moment-by-moment... time becomes a thing of the past, as I reach for that purple line. 

On and on and on - I walk to the beat of that ancient drum - through the wind and ocean brine - through the setting of the sun -  ON AND ON AND ON. Still,  its seems I'm no closer to that line.


As the moon begins to rise, I turn back.

My morning footprints have all disappeared. The forces of the universe have erased  every trace,  I was ever here.

I STOP,  and look up at the moon and all the  uncountable stars that hang there, motionless among the endless galaxies, over an ocean now at rest.



Written:  February 17th, 2016

Elaine Cecelia George of Canada

Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016

Details | Pastoral Poem | |


Looking out life’s window, Trying to find out why I am so sad and down. I don’t blame the Lord for my struggles. I know strife in life is there. If I did not live a meaningful existence, life would have no meaning at all. So maybe I am stretched to the limit but I will never give-up. Standing, I pillar because I am my self-worth. To those that suggest a difference, my earthly work magnifies who I am. Justifying my subsistence, my affluence is only a gen. The knowledge this provides is of a greater acumen. May I say that living is first and utmost privileged circumstance! The Lord is my keeper and to him I give honor and respect. In this solitary world, we seek companionship. We go through situations in our relationships and may lose focus. However, the Lord is there for us in our time of discontent. Regime is formed and we mindset. Our spirits are inner cored for fulfillment. There is no greater cohort than the Lord’s intellect. I know because this mountain I continue to peak. Without question, I am profound in my belief. That the Lord is the keeper of my faith and mankind is the persuader of a different way. In joy, I laugh aloud. I am not blind to the lies of mankind. My footsteps are admin to the all-powerful. This day is given by The Almighty God. Do I hear an Amen? ___________________________________________________________________ Penned On January 11, 2015!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Pastoral Poem | |


In Galilee, his voice was heard.
In Nazareth, he rested his spirit.
Cana is where he was first miraculous.
In Galilee, the crowds were like a flock of sheep.
But his crucifixion in Judea defeated their image.
My beloved Jesus knew his faith.
At the last supper, he told his disciples about his last days.

Oh Lord of greatness
How they hung you on the cross
Arms stretched to the limit
Not mindful (of it) at all.
The people of Galilee embraced your ministry.
In Judea, they crowded to witness your crucifixion.
Your mother cried out but
She knew that you were seeking your crown.
In Heaven, you reside.

You were raised from the dead.
Lord Jesus, you will meet your disciples once again.
Your resurrection was angelical.
An angel appeared to your disciples.
They were informed of your forgoing.
In Galilee, as promised, they would see you once more.

The prophecy of the birth of Christ is destiny that forfeited his life.
Penned March 20, 2015!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

Yesterday I was a baby on the farm
Precious being held in Mommy’s arms
Yesterday I said I was Daddy’s “kecaw”
And, smiling, I was my mother’s “doll”

Yesterday I was a little girl playing
Out in the grass where my dog was staying
We – he and I – would share the precious moments
The brown Collie-Spitz dog would follow where I went

Yesterday I played with my brother at night
In the clover with lightning bug’s flashing lights
Placing them in a jar with hole punched in lid
Watching them flash their mystery that was hid

Yesterday I watched as the men cut the hay
Piling stacks during the high heat of the day
The men would work hard but laugh with happiness
Sweating as they went about their busy-ness

Yesterday I picked big, juicy blackberries 
While June bugs buzzed around my head all merry
O’er in the field far out of sight time I’d spend
As Goldenrod and Queen Ann’s Lace waved in the wind—

Yesterday farmer’s gathered to share work
While wives prepared steaming hot meals with no shirk
Tobacco cutting was hard labor to yield
Tobacco in barn meant money from the fields

Yesterday just before twilight fell to earth
Little sister and I walked through fields with mirth
We brought the cows to the barn as our habit
We laughed and sang as our dog chased the rabbits

O’er in western sky where dreams lie far away
The brilliance of gold and red were quietly sprayed
God’s had dipped His paintbrush into His vast supply
Displaying His beauty in love not denied

Yesterday’s chores were laborious and hard
Without fancy motors or pollutants to mar,
But with Betty and Billy pulling the implements
Somehow their nearness gave natural presence

Yesterday I became a young girl tall and skinny
Old enough to do chores and there were many;
Carried three buckets of water for the night
All day I starched and ironed clothes to look just right

Yesterday within my minds’ eye sees the past
It s’ amazing how bits and pieces seem to last
Good and painful surface then regress
Down life’s road whenever -- wherever; I’m blessed

Today’s tomorrow will become yesterday
Stacked days upon days filed deep and far away
Stored within recesses of God’s fine array—
There for retrieval in tomorrow’s someday

               -Evelyn Pearl (Carpenter) Anderson               

Note:  “kecaw” was cushaw.

Copyright © E. Pearl Anderson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

The Pastors Wife

The pastors Wife

The Pastors wife strong and true,
With so many hats yet knows what to do.

Knowing she loves him with all her heart,
Always supporting him right from the start.

Supporting the Church and congregation,
a Blessed Christian leader of our great nation.

Making a difference in all our lives,
in support of our Pastor in all his great strives.

So we honor her today in every way,
with loving support on this Special day.

We Love and thank you Pastor Jamie

Copyright © Amber Youngblood | Year Posted 2013

Details | Pastoral Poem | |


The gray exhaust of  twelve warm hearths
Chased the clouds into the afternoon sky.
There stood the stalwart mansion
At peace with its surroundings
And steadfast with its environs.
Beckoning an affectionate greeting
Just beyond the bridge, it appears
To give light the sublime levity
Of being a nuance of darkness.
Its façade is as prestigious and lucent
As a librarian’s bustline in her noblest estate.
Its walls of luminous windows
Sit still in a kinetic majesty of colors,
Like the yew tree in its bounty of crimson berries.

This refuge from the current disharmonies
Radiates from its midst an unheard music
And a conviviality suggesting a vicarious ecstacy.
Here, perhaps, is that first step in darkness
Of the empire prophesized to come,
Bringing its measureless song
Of the queen of the northern lights,
Whose monarch calms the most vociferous tempest
And warms the most bitter winter chill.
Here, under the clouds of mortal brevity,
Contained are the exotic reactions
To long suppers and golden evenings
From the replenishing of early traditions,
Beyond youth’s humblest dreams.

The twelve hearths fully aglow,
Fueled with only kindling atoms,
Tell of a future only they can know
And every human mind fathoms.
Within these high stone walls,
Lit by radiant lamps’ glare,
Every place an eye-beam falls,
There is the glory of confident flair.

Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2006

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

The Farmers prayer

The Farmers prayer 

Tired days and prosperous nights
Stretching forward like an endless flight,
Towards the hour and through the night
In cascades of energy and bursts of light
My day is drained I long for night,
Give me rest from my toil
The power to rise and till my soil.

Copyright © Paul Smith | Year Posted 2014

Details | Pastoral Poem | |


A  bleeding heart sent me to bed
Tormented hot, by a lover's deception;
And in the folds of my blanket, cold as wet,
I sighed into sleep  of sad emotions.

In such momentary somnolence,
I beheld this face in a blooming garden;
A dazzling beauty, dignified opulence,
Which radiated a smile so open:

And as the doves whispered, my heart bloomed in bliss-
That smile that eased suffering for which I wept.
And from her soft and renaissant lips, words fell at ease;
" Welcome to paradise," and in such smile,I blissfully slept.


I staggered from my dream in lamentation;
Questioning its end, a sudden event;
But that powerful smile began to register,
and the words " Welcome to paradise," oh! the reminder!

Forthwith I tumbled  and wept to again behold
With a heart of bliss, that smile in  heaven's fold-
So everyday I went to bed praying in cries:
" God, permit me behold for once that smile of paradise."


Three months later in windy spring 
While I sadly tended my garden's hold,
I felt a breeze, softer than all its brothers, coming in sighs
And raising my head, I saw her plain, with that  SMILE OF PARADISE.

Copyright © Gerald Nforche | Year Posted 2010

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

Those Moments


I prefer to live in the
Ordinance of the Lord
Where truth and love
     Can be found
I long to Reverence
   In his Elegance
Where solutions' abode
In my Sorrowful Moment's
       Of need...
I-crave to see the light
    I pray to the Lord
To keep me threw the night


Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2011

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

The Banquet

There is a special banquet
that shall be held for a King
Everyone shall receive an invitation
they are sent daily 
directly to you
not to look in your mailbox
for He shall invite all
even those without an address
He says come as you are
no need to go and buy outfits 
for He shall take notice of the inside
The address will be given
when you receive your invitation
for it shall bring guidance to find His home
no device man has created shall lead you there
no need to worry about transportation 
all will be provided 
will you come to celebrate with the King
there many shall praise and sing
Once you have opened your invitation
and know this is for you
Then this is how we shall be made acceptable 
for we shall not make it on our own
but to become less of what the world teaches
and become more like the King
The King shall be at the door
at this banquet only He shall let you in
he has provided a way for all to have access 
but many shall refuse and be left wandering
Will your name be on the reservation list
to attend The Banquet
This is the one invitation not to look past
for those who enter shall be home at last 


Copyright © Stephan McBride | Year Posted 2011

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

a time to live

a time to live 
 a time to die
a time to laugh 
 a time to cry
a time to mourn
 they that died
a time to remember
 times we laughed and cried

who can recall the fullness of life
 the time when the fruit
they say has turned ripe
then time to harvest
 weather happy or sad
they pick the fruit
 and put it in a bag
it may be prepared
 for a wonderful feast
or preserved for latter
 when the harvest is weak

but to rot on the vine
 is a waste of Gods time
and sinful where usefullness
 was only deceit 
have they been missed
 by the harvesters hand
perhapes left for gleening
 their second chance

but rot on the vine
 is the devils delight
give nothing to anyone
 and stay out of sight
the time to give 
 is waning fast
we're constantly ageing
 with lives that won't last
opportunity soon becomes 
 a thing of the past
but the best come forth
 giving what they have

it seem's at times
 that they are taken from us
our gentle lambs
 we love and trust
but by Glory they are saved
 for a greater day
in the fullness of life
 they went away
from a time to live
 and a time to die
to a time to die 
 and a time to live

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2010

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

Not Alone

I am not alone 
there are many
that are on the lawn

laughing and signing
as the waters are turbulent
in the forests bells are ringing

my heart has joy
like the victors of war
celebrating in troy

yet i am not alone
when joy and laughter
is way long

i am not alone
someone is around
my heart to enthrone

Copyright © Sikwibele Simasiku | Year Posted 2007

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

Not Easily Broken

People's, people-of a *modest degree*.  Forgive me if something about this poem
is offensive to anyone, my apology to the psyche of your mind that's trying to hide old
wounds, wounds of envy, and transguility. Over and over the year's following the same
old trend of religious prosterity and made up rule's, has gotten us nowhere. Nowhere
but deeper and deeper in a state of implicable confusion that have given us the illusion
of a subject that very rareily is ever spoken.  "Not easily Broken. "Who do they they're
fooling". For the truth of some religious fanantic's is that paying your tithe's and trust-
ing good peoples(?) exspecially if they're white or are above the norm of simplicity, put
ting down the minoritie's is the only way to Heaven.
    Let his word be spoken, "Not Easily Broken", the problem with dealing with the trend
of acceptence, life and everyday occurence's, is that some-not all, folk's have not com-
pletely come to grip that we live in perilous times, times of same-sex marriages, pastors
of large churche's being caught with the infidelity of the prosterity of lust and the immor-
turity of a fallen yoken. Who thus thou think they're fool'nn, who thus think for the achie-   
ver's, the believers that hear the word of God, an aunascity of authencity and natur-
al ability.(Are you following me) Jesus is diplicted as some hippee-looking white dude and 
for  centurie's and long year's gone by, this has been the trend. The truth was and still is 
hardly ever spoken, that he's Emanuel (God of all) so whether you're White, Latino, Indian, 
Afro-American, (LOVE) is the token. "Not Easily Broken".

Copyright © John Streeter | Year Posted 2009

Details | Pastoral Poem | |


Put all your hope in Him In so doing He will transform you Into a sparkling and precious gem Be silent for a moment Only then can you hear what He is saying Answers are revealed after praying What you say you love me You died to set me free Says a small silent voice I love you I have no choice You are perfectly and wonderfully made In Him Time with out number In Him Life death and every wonder Air space all human and race Every place In Him

Copyright © Gloria Benton | Year Posted 2010

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

Life's Journey

Life is full of journey that lies ahead… 
Sometimes it goes down, sometimes it goes up, 
We never knew what was ahead of us, 
We never knew what we might be. 
Challenges that trap us in our way, 
An endless agony; a non-stop hindrance, 
And God could only help us… 
Eases our burdens in this life’s journey. 

Copyright © Gilbert Esteves | Year Posted 2006

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

Dusty Old Love

As the lovers begin to slowly slip 
from each others tightly locked grip 
out of each others arms they fall 
into the public world and all 

realizing exactly where they are 
a busy station where trains go far 
as one of them boards the dusty old train 
Im sure I can feel their hurt and their pain 

They really do look so much in love 
as one of them places a bag up above 
sits on down and looks outside
as the other looks on the old dusty ride

Soon the engines will have to start 
as the train prepares ready to depart 
their faces look like they belong
and being apart for them is wrong

Its too late now to change their mind 
the trains pulling off and ones been left behind
I watch a tear as it leaves her eye 
and she stands all alone and waves goodbye

Copyright © Dan Jacobs | Year Posted 2007

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

A New Year Prayer

The Lord be with you!

Almighty Lord, Fountain of Wisdom, Thank You for the Grace You have given 
Your children this past year. Thank You for all Your children to whom You 
have shown mercy, and brought home to Your loving Kingdom. Thank You for those who's
suffering You have ended, for our Families and Friends, whom You have watched over. I Pray
Dear Lord, that in the New Year that comes, that Your Loving Grace will envelope us in our
hour of need. Allow us the wisdom to give thanks for all that we have, no matter how small
and insignificant it may seem,
and the Love and Grace to give to those who have not. I Pray that You allow
our children see, what we have not, to hear what we have dismissed, to Love those we have
not. Hear our Prayers for Servicemen and women throughout the world,
that You Give them protection from harms way, and that they be kept safe in Your
countenance. Hear our Prayers for those who Govern, that You may grant them
the wisdom to make decisions that are just, that will better Mankind not destroy
it. Almighty and Merciful Father We ask and Pray for the forgiveness of our sins,
and that we be granted the strength and Grace to walk in Your way in this New Year.

    In Prayer we ask this in the Name of Your Son, Jesus Christ......Amen

   The Lord be with all of you this New Year......+  

Copyright © Richard Pickett | Year Posted 2009

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

a randonee francais

a chemin blanc ramble
along blackberry bramble
with buzzard on high
o'er fields prairie dry;
sunflower black,seed in the sun,
sweetcorn husks,nearly done
wild apple and pear
tempt climbers who dare;
walnut ripen in husks
as afternoon turns to dusk
Nature's early warning call
Ete's soon will be Fall

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2011

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

Wit and wisdom

in as much as men are made like God
there is one unforgivable sin
and that is eating the fruit
of the knowledge of good and evil

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2009

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

Ruthless Claim

As time reached and
Survived me
Out of the hand's of Inequity
The meaning of
   My being of
Making of the concept
Of God hath humbled
Streching all of the
Of reality


Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2011

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

Pain vs my Goal

Lord grant me the power to achieve my goal in life
To have pain and turn it into something good
I have pain of being raped 
It was such a shock that this was happening to me in such rage of these people
I never thought it would happen to me 
I had heard about millions of people getting hurt like me
All these people who hurt little ones or anybody really should burn 
Where as us all should be set free
Ones that have tried to confront these people, just turned out to be ignored
I stand where I had prove of this horrible happening
I confront these two people 
I was investigated by this whole thing
I pray that I put these two people away
Even though I had confront them I guess I was chosen to have depression
The main thing is whatever happens
The lord is here to guide me, but not just me, all of you, the whole world!
These two people was put in prison for a long period of time
What they did was a crime
I know the Lord wants me to forgive them
It will take time but someday I will
I say to all of you, 
If this ever happens to you, have faith and turn to God!
I now am in college and trying to get a job
Working on my poetry
That helps me through my depression and writing my poetry, that is one way to 
speak to God 
My goal in life is to believe in God, and keep my faith in him

Copyright © Ashley Scott | Year Posted 2005

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

My Heart And My Soul

My heart feels lonely and I am blue
I dont know what I can do, for I wonder
if I'll see the Son of God looking at me 
and if he dose will he be pleased or say 
this day go from me, Oh how I do want to
see heaven, I've been saved sence I was seven
my heart cries out from the deaths of my
soul save me God from this day on Dose he 
hear me Yes or No this lonely feeling is 
haunting my soul Please dear God make it
stop and help me see heaven in Loves pure

Copyright © sandra bailey | Year Posted 2005

Details | Pastoral Poem | |

A Painting of Words

Let the paper be a canvas and the pen, a brush
The words fill  the mind like a young girl’s blush
Every color on the palette of the imagination
Becomes a vibrant idea of luscious creation

Open a door of stained glass with swans of white
Made more brilliant by the glowing sunlight
Surrounded by a pool of sapphire blue
Water lilies afloat with teardrops of dew

Beyond the door a walled brick terrace of burgundy red 
With a gray flagstone floor in which to tread
Terra cotta pots at the edges with mixed colored flowers
Above a dogwood in blooms like a canopy towers

Wide steps lead to a large flowing fountain
Three flowing tiers sparkle like a crystalline mountain
It towers within a large oval pool
A goldfish swimming like a small orange jewel

Beyond the fountain, a cobblestone path
Followed by a fence of latticework lath
An open field on the other side of the fence
Beyond the field is a forest, dark and dense 

Two Belgian horses graze on clover patches of red
Near a large gray stone two-story shed
Nearby a pond of sparkling blue
Reflecting  the clouds of a dusky pink hue

The blue sky fades into pink streaks of sunset
Turning the forest trees to a darker silhouette
And the grass to bright emerald green
All to create  a tranquil pastoral scene

The words fill the mind like young girl’s blush
With the paper as a canvas and the pen, a brush.

Copyright © Jeanne Berger | Year Posted 2007