You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...
PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker
on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads
while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member
and block ads forever...while getting many more great
features. Take a look!
Metaphor Baptism Poems | Metaphor Poems About Baptism
These Metaphor Baptism poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Baptism. These are the best examples of Metaphor Baptism poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.
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 :
Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013
Taunting Winter's became the seasons in life, for most of us
Various their storms have proudly brewed; running
As fast as we can within tiny circles, we have thus so ran
Innocent precious babies; oftentimes, these little eyes
Flowing with salty tears; if in fact but a metaphor could bleed ?
It's myriad of somber moments; about as around our heart's
Spiraling these rains; drenched aneath such pain; they say
That two wrongs never make a right; fires which beget flames
Burning swords still melting amid, timeless hands...
Battle cries, calling unto shadows bent; falling upon stained knees.
Copyright © Rachel St.Cross | Year Posted 2013
A demised man without
Jesus is dead.
So also living soul without
to receive hope,
To set the captives free,
With thirty pieces;he
Dark forces defeated.
Our sins forgiven,sure
Access to the father.
Breach in Adamic time,
Put in oblivion by lasting
His love is lasting.
The death of Jesus!
Lo He has resurrected!
Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013
Wrap your arms around me,
Lure me to your tower.
Voice sweet like honey can hold so much power.
Dancing with the Devil,
Such a pleasant place to be.
Let me dip my toes into the sand or just let me be.
Carry me away from all this,
Let me be free.
Let’s fly away together,
Deep into the sea.
These voices are so maddening.
Rip apart my soul.
I’m losing all control.
I’m losing all control.
Copyright © Angel Olmstead | Year Posted 2013
I arrived tonight in
With Stories to tell and
things to become
You, you remained
Adrift in your aerie,
A bright laconic moon
I have come to drink
And take from you
Take the silence you offer
A Silent cup
To all who wander
With stories buried
Here in this garden
I wait in your reflection ,
under your umbrella
In wait for word
word does not come
So I wander
through this garden
To the edge of the horizon
where water meets the night.
here, now, I see what
Illuminated of the moon
Reflected back at me
Flesh and tendon are
Twisted and disfigured
In a monstrous frame
The bones of it frighten me
Awash in new light
Unable to tell if
I've been broken free by moonlight
or merely revealed
choices to be made
Freedom on my tongue
And the wind at my back
I remember that the night is cool
And the night is young
And so with rumours of what lies ahead spinning in my head,
I run with
The forest behind me,
I run towards the fine horizon,
Thin and opaque
Copyright © Tomas Vincent Marra | Year Posted 2016
I shared an inappropriate dream and I was told that I was going to hell.
My dream was about humility and servitude.
That rather than Jesus Christ washed the feet of the poor and unwanted he pissed on them instead.
In my dream it was raining piss and some have said that this could mean that people are worried about money troubles. My Uncle who has died was in my dream but he was a devout Catholic who would kill himself and suffer a worse sin if he missed any of the masses during Holy Week.
But was he the Christ figure who pissed everywhere and said "so what" when I protest about his behavior. Why are the poor and lonely and mentally suffering only honored during the Holy Week.
If piss could be a blessing like rain.
When it rains it rains most of the year not only for one week.
Maybe hell could use a little more rain water.
Copyright © Mel Brake | Year Posted 2017