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Best Spiritual Poems

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

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Details | Spiritual Poem |

Indian Ink

“Indian Accent”

Hear the whispers inside

Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow

A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices falling from the sky
Rising hymns release ancient demons that cling to the soul

The darkness dwells under gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World,
Exposing Indian hands that weave native smoke into the air
Their spirits taunting burrows from the muddy Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath
Guardians of dream catchers
Smooth thread from the outer edge, bowing heads.
Luminous gems of ivory,
Chasing a florid kiss.

Through the winds of enchanted drums, voices cry out for rain.
The hollow chimes mesmerize  
An ancient rage begins to flare
Stale madness, 
The spears of the perfumed buffalo skin pierced my senses
Removing the veils that cover my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Washing the scalp that bleeds on my face
They collect tears from memories of the past.

KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!

Raven silk braids, feathers fall from my hair.
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.

I AM A BIRD!

By; PD


Details | Spiritual Poem |

I saw you yesterday

I saw you yesterday

I saw you yesterday, your features grinned,
some silken scarf was waving in the blue,
I thought of what the rains could not rescind;
our images, that in the fields imbue.

I saw tempestuous, around me shades,
the rain's persistence had engraved your name
upon the slate, around she formed cascades,
inviting flash amid the drops, and flame.

I saw flash yesterday, inside the rain,
how beautiful it was, her kiss of dew
your words became my sails on trip arcane 
the clouds, your messengers, 'mid skies to strew.

I sensed the crooked line reticulate,
the sulfur acrid smell and pale flame's hue,
transmuting to abderian road skate,
zigzagging on a water copper tube.

The flame transformed to runnel flowing laughs;
the rustling of droplets on the leaves,
combined the bright and shapely drawing graphs
with clouds to form above, celestial eaves.

I saw flash yesterday, my features grinned,
like silken scarf was waving in the blue,
I thought of what the rains could not rescind:
two images, amidst the fields imbue.

© G. V., 10-21-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic pentameter)


Details | Spiritual Poem |

Spring Fever

’Tis Spring (this is the real title, which I am unable to post this way in the title heading) Rejuvenate! ’Tis spring. Cruel winter’s lost its cling. We wake across this earth To welcome its rebirth. Give praise and with a joyful voice sing. ’Tis time of spring. Rejoice! Reverence with glad noise. In flowered meadows meet To dance with merry feet. Bring lutes, flutes, drums and resonant voice. Reflect. Again. . . ’tis spring. Robin’s on the wing. Lean upon a fruited tree. Hear the drone of honeybee. Breathe the bloom of lovely lilac sprig. ’Tis time. Reconcile. Greet each creature with a smile. As Christ for us bled tears To banish our worst fears, See everyone as God’s dear child. ’Tis season to re-grow. Heed nature’s lead below. Each gift you have to nourish Must be shared to flourish. Replenish bounties God did you bestow.


Details | Spiritual Poem |

Three Hundred

Three Hundred

The wraiths were ringing dead wrought bells
while closely passed the shady shapes
of woods in dusk, where red indwells
communion made from ghostly grapes.

He ran amidst the winds and passed
across the side where grapevines grew,
it was her presence that amassed
small leaves and droplets of fog's dew.

Inside the winds' lone strings accord,
his Bell full-face, was dropped along
the streamlets and horizon's board,
untamed his scopes, they don't belong.

The Astral Chords! He knew this debt;
the skies demand and kill and draw,
the darkened paths his thought beget,
rose thorny droplets on his brow.

Persephone shall be his wed,
subsiding dew the mist regales,
the stringing roar that reaches red,
his greatest bride resigns his trails.

Shall be the threading of winds' howls,
her plea arises from the shades,
homecoming queen from astral halls,
he harks the northern swashing blades.

Ablution's her enjoining black
"Enfold me in the rising dawn
enfold your sadness in the dark
with magistral the curtains drawn".

Acute of wounds she heals and mends
the asphalt of the mists awaits
pristine her bridal thorns amends
while passing through the Hades gates.

Three hundred reasons drew the drapes,
three hundred strings of diligence;
The winds regaled the bride's agape,
his celebration to commence.

© 10-14-2013, George Venetopoulos
(Iambic Tetrameter - Epic)

Three Hundred = 300 Kilometers per hour. The final speed a super-bike of 1,000cc engine is able to outreach.


Details | Spiritual Poem |

Cherokee


Cherokee (Tall Warrior of Tanasi)

White smoke ascends above the distant hearths
the softness of the cold, inside connotes;
while snow continues spreading on the earth,
his spotted chestnut snorts, and vapor floats.

Concerned the stalwart stares above the land
where snow flakes in the winter gust rotate
the herds of buffalo tracked down and strand
-were forced to move ahead and relocate. 

The Ag'tanahi-Anisgaya words fly
with crows' invisible fast wings and stray,
they guide his solemn spirit to reply
to calls, the sovereign woods and night convey.

The Warrior of Tanasi harks the sough,
the trees conduct to him along the slope,
what precognitions in the ether strew,
who has the wisdom will translate pines' trope.

The winds transmit the ancestors' same song
to the Tanasi of the Cherokee, Tall soul,
inside the woods they dance with snow along
repetitive crows winging and skies' call.

Inside the night he drifts along death's fare
where sacrifice redeems itself with pride
The Greater Spirit shall bestow his care,
for the Tanasi kindred, will provide.

© G. V., 11-07-2013, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic Pentameter)

Ag'ta na hi = wise
A ni s ga ya = men


Details | Spiritual Poem |

And This Rain

And This Rain

Your verse became a misty trip to distant links
maybe the reason of sun's dodging was false,
affection left behind the borderlines and brinks
reminds of your ethereal, betrothal pulse.

Our time is still, with eyes to shine, conceived,
so is your company, outside my car to stray,
a fog rescinds while slowly falls, two souls bereaved,
the arbor trees in dusky light, remote sway.

The nightly breeze becomes your touch upon my face,
conducts unknown my course to steady effuse,
our steadfast floats upon the brines that dreams encase,
a summer song of longing stills and souls' bemuse.

How many sentiments a railroad trip ascribes
beyond horizon's borderlines and faded strings,
caressing touch of fingertips by airy brides,
- your Sunday advent will become a bird that sings.

Perchance you are bending softly on my scriptures,
inside a car of an expatriating train,
while I recall on Storrow Drive, your nightly features,
- as we have missed our dreamy summer and this rain.

© 10/9/2011, G. Venetopoulos All rights reseved


Details | Spiritual Poem |

The sea-waves touch


The sea-waves touch your open palms;
along the shore, blue waters bid
when stormy sea henceforth becalms,
and tide engulfs what skies forbid.

When solemn eyes their oaths avow
and roses beckon on your dream,
reach out and find his drifting prow
aboard your trip's perpetual stream.

Cause thoughts, like boats, may drift amiss;
for those who lived in old realms,
eternal love's confession is,
the touch of sea, upon the palms.

Cause those beloved, forever pledge
since prior times,
and search those loves on skyline's edge
who kissed their eyes.

© G.V. 12.08.2013 All rights reserved
(Iambic tetrameter)
(first draft)


Details | Spiritual Poem |

Dark Grace


The asphalt of the ghost, deserted town is old and split,
my thoughts it claims upon the edges of sky's foreign moons,
I saw redemptive souls emerging from the depths of wit,
designs that winters form with interlaced on walls, festoons.

The Mistral blows (my soul), new paths defines and ridges crowns,
inside the dreams embeds the windy drawls and teenage years,
my mind foresees, its state to evolute and be renown,
while my December eyes become, reflectors of cold's tears.

Along those roads, deserted towns become a threaded toy,
of Mistral calls, a song abandoned in a bard's old tale,
unerringly be whistled by the ghosts and gusts' decoy.
alike the blowing winds (my soul), stand tall, in their assail.

She drifts in Mists! A cotton fog and mystery's versed text,
upon a sculptured bark, her promised vision I inhale,
Was I so handsome in her eyes, dimension thus convex,
a splashing wave upon her wharf and she, the night's dark veil?

I saw her form surpassing voices' amplitude and fast
on skyward billows of adjoining rains thenceforth to glide,
was pre-designed and coarse the destiny her beauty passed,
in emptiness wind-gates that led to naught, in fog to hide.

Befallen Angels then transformed time's masquerade to wings,
I saw my soul to stare at the buffoon's dark colored face
Inside the winds, a marionette he was without the strings,
- oh, her aphotic eyes that stared in me, and her dark grace!

© G.V. 10-02-2013 All rights reserved
(Iambic Heptameter - Quatorzain)


Details | Spiritual Poem |

Soul mates solace

When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender 
and exchange inestimable treasures
recollecting memories 
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised 
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece


Details | Spiritual Poem |

A Soul awakened

This battle brews inside me
The pain I feel in my heart ripping it apart
And my soul who wants to be redeemed

The movement of my pen beats in my chest
In my veins my words flow like the rage of rivers in storm 

I’m caught in these lyrics that Awaken my soul
That cry out for eternity 

Yet my heart is trodden
 at times I swear it is not beating

Our hearts rose up like kindred knights ready to defend our land
but the soul was fulfilling its destiny
it would not be beaten, no matter…
it had awakened to truth

but our hearts knew only torment
and could not understand
all that was happening,
that God had a plan

so my pain exposes itself
 in my thoughts manifesting to script
as it beats in my chest with a rhythmic pulse
that brings me to my knees

We had no time to prepare
Only to fight
Flailing around Hope
With all of our might

 as if it were the weapon that would save us from our enemy
for that’s all we had was our sword of Hope

This battle we were not prepared for.
Like a sneak attack, it caught us in slumber
when the army of death ascended upon our world

my heart said I love you
you are my universe and life has no meaning without you
I will fight till my shallow breath abates
Till your soul takes the last blow...

And I did!
We Did!

We did not surrender
We had no chance 
Our hearts fought a losing battle

My awakened soul shouts out with acceptance…
“you will one day know the reason, but not now”
For this is your time to experience 
what was lovingly bestowed upon you from our God,
who knows what we need

So now I write from my pain… It helps me to cope…

It is the sword I carry…

My only Hope


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