Travel God Poems

These Travel God poems are examples of Travel poems about God. These are the best examples of Travel God poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | I do not know? |
My eyes can see
That the sand is like sea
And it stretches to the end of my mind
On a ship set to sail
with four legs and a tail
Tishmandu I set out to find
Now the wind is of sand
and can lend a hand
in tearing the flesh from your bone
So your head you keep wrapped
your snaps keep snapped
and you never travel alone
The heat at midday
is to kill and waylay
if the body and soul are not one
So you pray to the east
and prepare for slim feast
begging passage under full sun
Caravan of the seed
born on camels that breed
in an endless march between wells
Over lost count of dunes
under God and full moons
blessing passage with incense and bells
At the end of the day
when gold turns to grey
and the stars brighten the skies
A device is brought forth 
to determine true north
and the path where Tishmandu lies
On the fortieth morn
pressing lips to the horn
a signal beckons us wake
Leaving water behind
on a course now refined
the final leagues we must take
Tishmandu is a place
where a white mans face
has never been seen or allowed
But the people have need
and my service agreed
in a land under sky without cloud
Like feathers of blue
in the distance I view
the flags on top of the walls
Though my limbs are worn
my very fabric is torn
I move towards Tishmandu halls
At last in the shade
a walled shelter is bade
I meet with the maker of rules
A service I bring
but to rules I must cling
or a tortures price must be paid
Twenty days and seven
in the passes of heaven
I treated the sick and the lame
With rules on my mind
the medicines I grind
The devil of Tish for to tame

As I washed the sick
and avoided blunt stick
the God of the desert did smile
For the people made well
in this fortified hell
where spirit is subject to trial
In the end I am paid
for the journey I made
and the healing and medicine new
On my camel back
salted meats in my pack
I Bid farewell to Tishmandu

Copyright © Ray Mattos | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
A time to travel
The time to see
A space full of destiny
Through eyesight long and far
The distance that once divided may gather
Sensing the most small and microscopic in detail
A universe of galaxies with infinite matter
To notice the warmth and difference after a solar flare
Life and the amount of time in between
To travel or to see all things never seen
The beyond reality and escape of where none have been
Space a place where we encapsulate
Where did we begin?

Copyright © Kristina Whitmore | Year Posted 2017

Details | Lanterne |
Path lead us from our home find universe path heart’s mystery reaches peace in God path

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
Entering into the future therefore entering into the unknown . At the heart of this unknown lay a mist so denies the mind wonders , echoes run wild has you are left in dismay . In my bewildered state my mind drifts into fear , doubt which in turn makes me back track from the mist toward the known . Midway in the midst of this mist I hear a serene voice . With this voice I am serene , and with no more fear I return on my path deeper in the mist . My path is darker than before has the fog grew thicker with depths to great to fathom . But I am still serene , in the depths of my serenity revelation is born . Revelation that illuminates that brings light to this fog which lifts the veil from my eyes . Insight is given to me to see the truth which blocks my sight so I may see . I gain knowledge after a time . Knowledge which gives rise to power . My power laid the foundation for dominion . Dominion makes me master of my surrounding . That which was unknown and in a mist , but now is plain to see . For god illuminates our way .

Copyright © James grant | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |
Of bus stations I have known, this is by far the worst
A post Victorian folly that's a post Victorian curse.

A waiting room that's cold and dark a room ground down with grime
A fire bricked up no form of heat a floor all wet with slime.

A tiny little bus station behind the old town hall,
Six tiny little bus stands beside a red brick wall.

Built for smaller busses to host sightseeing tours,
For transport to the seaside or the rugged northern moors.

Congestion in the timetable brings many busses in,
To squeeze into the bus station like sardines in a tin.

December winds are blowing hard bring snow in from the north
The crowds just praying for their bus so they can sally forth.

The "Counties" bus at bus stand six is driver-less once more,
It's passengers stand huddled up outside the tight shut door.

The wind still blows the snow gets deep and piles up in the gutter,
The bus can't move the drivers lost the crowd are in a flutter.

At long long last a "rep" appears his clip board boldly waving,
All services canceled for the day it's time to hit the paving.

All services canceled can't get to work I'm wasting my time remaining,
For an act of God is an act of God and there's really no point in complaining.

Copyright © Peter Brown | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epithalamium |
The soul shatters upon death. Sentience fractures into a million variables that swirl chaotically into piercing eyes that melt into the color sadness, spinning into galaxies that shrink to the size of ants and you twirl in a blender of being for eternities until finally, at long last, something sticks. Perhaps it may be as simple as a strand of hair, nonetheless all possibility spins around it, flashing contradictions of rainbow transparencies, empty solids and polka dotted space, continuing until a second hair joins the first, clutching to the nothingness and refusing to move. Soon thousands of hairs arrive and synchronize above a scalp unto a face, torso, limbs… materializing ever faster… and at once you are born. And just as the memory of your trial and error experiments and prior life evaporate, you embrace the arms of a stranger, gazing into her eyes, hung between this world and the next… sobbing in a fit of omniscience, in awe of your hard earned shape.

Jacob Reinhardt

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ballade |
Cry me an angel to help me fly high
Take me to the places where I can go wild
Life is beautiful and I would surely not cry
Today is a reason and not a question to ask why

Let my strength be filled with glory
Taking every step to be a new story
While tomorrow recreates history
Leaving the past to be a mystery

So fearlessly I heave thy soul
Gazing with vigor to reach my goal
Let the heavens behold as darkness folds
For my faith in God will never be cold

So cry me an angel to help me fly high
Take me to the places where I can go wild

Cry me an angel to help me fly high...

Copyright © Sherwin Fernandes | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
As I walked down the street.  I caught myself looking for a sign.
Of an old familiar road that had become lost to me.  
I could not stop thinking about my directions, and my choices.
My mind was not settled, I had thoughts,
What about this?  Should I go over there, or around here?
How about down over there?
As I began looking for answers to questions, I had not yet even asked yet.
Was I trying to find a destination that did not exist?
Because the road I was on was coming to an end.
Was this just a puzzle for me, a maze?
Was I seeing things?
As I continue to travel down the road, I could no longer see clear.
Was it because my destination was shaken?
That I could no longer find my way?
Is this a symbol for my life?
Just when did I let go of reality?
I feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.
Just then the wind blew, and a car came to a screeching halt.
I found myself right back where I had begun, I had waked in a circle.

When our destination becomes cloudy, and unclear
That’s when we try to find a better way to reach our destination.
And we end up walking around in a circle.
In the journey we take, why not follow God’s plan for our lives.
Because when we don’t follow his plan, we end up walking around in a circle.
Life’s too short to keep going in circles.
But maybe that’s just me.

Copyright © F. Darlene Mack | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Looking down, I am pleased to see
Youthful pilgrims from St. Joseph’s and Francis of Assisi
In this Year of Faith
Making a journey toward many a sacred place

Mother is happy
As they proclaim a decade at each Holy Place
Giving Glory to her multi-ethnic face
She fills them each with her grace

It is glorifying to hear their wonder and awe
As they enter each prayer room and chapel, to their knees they fall
Complete with Apostles and Saints, each portrayed through time
Carved in stone, pieced in mosaic and painted detail, so fine

Blessings, I shall provide these
Pilgrims worshipping at the Immaculate Shrine
Our Lady of LaVang, Saint Tekawitha and Mary Queen of Ireland
Grant to them their heavenly presence divine

My life in replica at the Franciscan Monastery
Of the Holy Land
They glare at the cave of my son’s birth
Till death, where his cross did stand
They Kiss the spot where he lay, before interment to the earth

Grateful they are to Father Mark White
Carrying them on Spiritual wings
Like one of my Angel’s in Flight
And worshipping in a new comfort zone
Sounds of the Holy Spirit erupt, as they journey home

Copyright © Richard J. Long | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
this view is stunning
money cannot buy this peace
i give God the Praise....

Copyright © Marty King | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse |
Roaring engines, wheels on tarmac
Flight 82 is running late
Pilots push the throttle forward
Flight 82 disappears into the black

The nose rises, the speed quickens
G-forces push you through your seat
Inkiness outside the windows thickens
The planes’ destination silently beckons

The plane reverberates with a steady hum
Passengers unclasp their belts
A little girl looks into the eyes of her Mum
As this huge metal object gathers momentum

The pilots are weary, they’re working overtime
Their minds and focus drift
When the birds’ big nose begins to climb
And red lights flash and alarms chime

Something’s wrong. Pilot’s now wide awake
They go into survival mode
But the plane takes on a deadly shake
As they try to figure out their mistake

Panicking passengers silently say their prayers
Praying for God to watch over them
Others confused with frightened stares
Sit motionless in their chairs

Flight attendants jump into action
Trying to calm the passengers down
Giving out emergency instruction
Disguising their fear, showing no reaction

They’ve done this drill, in class, on the ground
But it’s so different miles high in the air
Surrounded by chaos all around
Where crying and screaming is the only sound

The Captain speaks over microphone
Stammering, stuttering, and trying to sound calm
Saying “Get into crash position as shown”.
“Stay that way til more is known”.

One engine’s gone, another is dying
As they radio to the tower
“Mayday, Mayday”, the Captain is crying
As the co-pilot shakes his head, sighing

Heads between legs as the passengers wait
Bewildered and confused
To hear the Captain tell of their fate
Praying hours from now they’ll celebrate

The pilots stick rigidly to their role
But their hopes have quickly faded
Cos they have lost all control
They can’t save anyone, not one soul

As the plane falls from the sky
Minds going ten to the dozen
People on board keep asking, “Why”?
“Why me”? “Why today”? “Why did I fly”?

Pilots in the cockpit, tracing the sign of the cross
As the Earth races up to meet them
Making their peace, with their maker, the boss
Why would God allow this devastating loss?

A deafening silence encompasses the plane
As they come to terms with the inevitable
People writhing in excruciating pain
Suffering in silence, going surely insane

The impact is like a nuclear explosion
Metal disintegrates, body parts strewn
One hundred souls begin their next excursion
A leap of faith, hoping heaven’s no illusion

Flight 82 lies crumbling in its grave
The once intense fire, peetering out
Poor old bird, not a one could it save
It failed in its purpose as a human slave.

Copyright © Juanita Thorn | Year Posted 2013

Details | Couplet |
God Gave Us Southern Living

Many great things to us, God is giving
One such a thing was Southern living
Preverbal place  and always in style
Don't put self through period of denial.

In South much and a lot has occurred
With their luscious living are reassured
Can live like a King or a Queen for a day
When willing to do things Southern way.

Flowers everywhere will forever flourish
And great food is guaranteed to nourish
All awaits and for you it will all befall
Must meet and greet South's beckon call.

When you want shade where you can slumber
See cantaloupe and watermelon with cucumber
Down your rapid pace should start to slow
South truly is perfect place for you to go.

James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran

PS. So area can establish a Southern connection,
In local paper should put a poetry section.

Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |
Many times I’ve longed to give up when tribulations did corrupt my life when I was 
But then you told me I would be unworthy of your only son

So from that day on I traveled along that old yet rarely used path
And I was surprised to see that for centuries, people started out here then 
suddenly turned back

And by and by I began to understand why they left this dark and perilous road
For what lies ahead, more problems more dread, was only for God to know
Yes the path is scary but I need not tarry, for I desire to see what’s in store for me
And as I look about, I see the many mouths of the wolves snapping at my feet
It was a horrific sound, but I stood my ground just as Jesus told me I should
They gnashed their teeth and their eyes burned holes through me, yet they dared 
not move an inch from where they stood
It didn’t dawn on me what held fast their feet until I felt the presence of his 
comforting rod
And before I was overcome with fear, He whispered in my ear saying I am your 
protection and your Lord your God

And on and on as I travel along that old yet rarely used path
Many years the Devil hath preyed on my fears and tempted me to turn around and 
go back

He told me how silly I was to fall so many times and still haven’t had enough
And I said take thee leave for I know that surely God only count those times I got 
I had passed many tests with complaints from the flesh, which time and time I 
had to abate
But I had made a vow and no matter how or what I had to do, that promise I will 
not break
I told you Lord that I will give of me wholeheartedly and accept my persecution for 
your name’s sake
And though at times I may cry my steadfast spirit will not die as long as I know 
you’re worth the wait
And while I wait for that day I’ll offer up my praise just as the trees and the 
mountains do
And with your help I will forsake myself to take up my cross to follow you
And I will continue your way until I hear you say that I am to be no more	
For I’ve pleased the Lord’s son for having done what I was indeed brought here 
Until you appear and take up your dear ones to the King’s dwelling place
I’ll tell those with ears to repent for the judgment is near as I ponder when I will 
see your face

And on and on I will continue to travel along that old yet rarely used path
And though I may not know where my feet are to go, as long as you’re leading 
me, I’ll never turn back

Copyright © Lakisha Williams | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
I never travel without my diary,
One should always have something sensational to read
I am so glad I took it along
On my travel over the sea
As I opened its pristine pages
I knew I had to write.... this ancient legend
That touched my heart and soul
January 19, 9.30pm.
Oh Diary,
 I wish you had read the legend of Kamadeva
The God of carnal love, decked with flowers
And ornaments, armed with a bow of sugarcane
Sitting on the wings of a parrot.......
With dancers all around---
Can you feel his lure
His ever shinning green eyes
His body, a carving in marble
As he enjoyed the dancers around
I sat lost in dreams....
When the pages fluttered in wind
The diary had caught the lure
Of this great God and his charms
When the sun woke me up in the morning
I saw the page of the diary open
It was reliving the ancient legend
As if our fates had been sealed
With this living myth...............
By- Tahera Mannan
For Constance La France’s contest, ‘The Diary’

Copyright © Tahera Mannan | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |
My desicion was made. I wouldn't allow myself to be controlled. If that makes me a rebel, then let it be. I'm a Rebel. At least I can Make my own choices now. I can love and care about others. "You are here by stripped from your wings." Then it was like someone had bound my wings and pushed me off a cliff. it felt like forever. til finally i reach the ground. When i hit, it felt like everybone in my wings had shattered. I had fallen. and It hurt so bad. but it was worth it.

Copyright © johneta ohler | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
Eternity is endless, but time is measured by a “beginning” and an “end”
But from the beginning of creation, male and female made he them
Historical parenthesis within eternity the flow of time
Preparatory, Fulfillment, Consummation three distinct phases of time
Time, the historical framework in which things happen, yours and mine
Creation, Regeneration, Redemption, the nature of time
Soothing wounds of the heart, body healing accommodation of time
Time was given for our "benefit
Don’t look at oneself as timeless misfits
Our real home is in the heavenlies, "outside of time
Make haste all ye men it’s God’s time, seek refuge this present time
From events and occurrences shadows of what to come end –of- time

©Copyright November 16, 2013 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Brian Pierre-Alexander | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
God Has Always Blessed Me
By Franklin Price

God has always blessed me
Has always shown the way
Didn't say I always followed
Sometimes lost from day to day

Thought I knew a little better
Of the places I should be
Of the ways that I should travel
Of the things that I should see

Of what I should experience
Now I better understand 
That what God had to offer
Was a gift without demand

He let me have a little rein
To see what I would do
But tightened up when needed
For he was coming too

“Watch out where you're going”
More than once I heard him speak
“Let me do a little steering
I will take you where you seek”

That's how I got to where I am
Think often how I've gotten here
And where in life I would have been
Without my God to steer

Have everything I need in life
Would like to live it for awhile
Won't ignore the pulling on the reins
As he guides me mile to mile

And  when the trip is over
When all is said and done
We'll sit and talk of how we did
Until the setting of the sun

Copyright © Franklin Price | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
By a stone near Saqqara 
Sand blown from the Sahara
Mixes with dust from Ankara

Particularly near a pyramid
it peculiarly disappears amid
Two ascetics on a pilgrimage 

They observe the strange vanishing
With great verve while brandishing
A saber at a passing Saracen 

They wondered if this was transcendence
And blundered towards repentance
Hearts thundered in this Presence 

Copyright © Trey Hamner | Year Posted 2016

Details | Pastoral |
Don't do all the talking
Give God a chance to 'speak' to you
"Acquire the habit of speaking to God 
As if you were alone with God
Speak with familiarity 
Confidence as to your dearest and most loving friend

Speak of your life
Your plans
Your troubles
Your joys
Your tears
In return
God will speak to you

Not that you will hear audible words in your ears
But words that you will clearly understand in your heart
These may be feelings of peace
Interior joy, or sorrow for sin
(St. Alphonsus Liguori, Doctor of the Church)

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

sometimes the gods throw me into the 
bottom of their 
at the bar, 
at my expense, 
the gods have had many laughs, 
I wouldn't have it any other 
the great lines come out of my 
drowning right onto paper
and I love it when 

By: Chicano Eddie

Copyright © CHICANO EDDIE | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
World’s dark
Noah hark
To embark
Build an ark
Some in shock
Others mock
Creatures flock
Door did lock
Floating stock.
Gopher wood
It was good
Flood withstood
As it should.
Judgment vast
Boat held fast
Rains forecast
Cease at last.
What a trip
Quick as zip
Depart ship
No more drip
Yeah, hip hip!

Copyright © Carol Connell | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
Moving roadblock below the speed posted,
Death, hurt, and evil blaring on every FM station,
Daily planner shifting underneath, nearly toasted,
Gray skies, dark earth, frame mid morning's creation.

Now minutes late for an important meeting,
Neither bumper losing, or gaining ground,
Cell phone abuzz with opportunities fleeting,
Heart hastens, numbed head starting to pound.

Last chance for alternate route passes,
Glimpses of freedom, between, offers hope,
A ray of sunshine through dirty glasses?
Eyes become fixed for this stranded myope.

Attention is drawn to that which is not,
Gleaming letters below Penske in gold,
Swiped clean in a deliberate thought,
"God is Good" shines for all to behold.
If confused, look again at the snapshot.
Hidden within, are God's words foretold


Copyright © Michael Vacek | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
Walk with Lord Jesus

I am your Genie and here are three wishes,
I cannot grant love, chattels nor riches.
Use my gifts wisely and bear this in mind,
Whatever you ask, there is no rewind.

Dear Genie, the first thing I wish of you,
To walk with Lord Jesus and ask what is true.
Show me a miracle and endow me with faith,
Enlighten my spirit with God’s holy Wraith.

The Genie was pleased and spoke out aloud,
I grant you all three, of you I feel proud.
Feeling bemused thinking my wish was one,
Not heeding the warning, all wishes were gone.

Two thousand years I travelled back in time,
Through pages of New Testament, one line by line.
Walking with Lord Jesus and aware of my fate,
My final destination with Peter, at Heaven’s gate.

Copyright © Kevin Shaw | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |
I'm not running races but like most people, I'm going places.                                                                                   I've been gone too long; so I'm coming home from many places.                                                                                        I go away for a while, and then I roam; but I always come back home.                                                                                      I  don't take heavy loads of unnecessary cloths when I hit the road.                                                                                   No, it's just me, a small suit case and a back pack, cause I travel light.

I drive a fast car with a big V 8 engine, and take nothing to slow me down.*                                                             Those big tires and high powered engine making a fuss are heavy enough.                                                                         

From the Pacific,  it's terrific across the Rockies to the big mid western city.                                                               From Chicago to the Big Apple in the summer time, I'm travelling fast and light.  My fast driving is within the limits of the law, because I respect the highway rules.

I like going to and coming from places, but I don't like planes, and trains are too slow.  My car is old and bold, and when it's time to go, it never folds on me if we travel light.

From New York City in broad day light, to the bottom of New Orleans at the Gulf of Mexico; I then head west back toward the Pacific where the eagles build their nest and the sun always sets. For me, west is best because home is there; and home is where we find the sweetest rest.

There's a story about you and me that only we can write.  Part of that story is the light that God shines on us, and no one feels that light shinning on us more than us.  Home is where our story begins, and no matter where we've been, home is where our story ends.  So travel heavy or travel light, near or far, by plane or by train, by bus or by car, you'll see like me, there's no place like home. Home is always there waiting for me; and no matter how long I'm been gone or how far I may have roamed, I can always count on home.
09192017 PS Contest, Travelling Light, K.M. Neumann

Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |





          BECAUSE OF JESUS NAME.......


          COPYRIGHTED,JAN 21 ST 2002,,,


Copyright © ANN HART | Year Posted 2008

Details | Rhyme |
Highway sixty-one and forty-nine

Highway sixty-one and forty-nine
Another crossroad made of fire,
On this legendary blues highway
The devil bargains with desire.
Dreamers journey into darkness
for a handshake in Clarksdale,
Trading souls for fame and fortune
And a one-way ticket to hell.
As I focus on the righteous path
Temptation whispers in the dark,
Life’s reward is found in heaven
And through God I leave my mark.

Copyright © Troy Snyder | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |














Copyright © Jerry Wells | Year Posted 2017