Writing Spiritual Poems

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Details | Acrostic |
Gods Of Man's Vanity Demanding Intolerance


False realities fed to the masses
Another ghost ships sails the seas
Knowing not, yet their lie passes
Escaping truth's majestic pleas
God of vanity demands intolerance
Only its hate is to be displayed
Damn morals, into deeper ignorance
Silent servitude must then be paid
Love, always a great promised reward
Yet black evil roots firmly laid
In black garden in a devil's yard
Nobody sees the beast they ride
God of darkness their faith hides

R.J. Lindley
July 12th, 1978
( Fake Gods Lying)
( Rhyming acrostic)

Note: The one true God never lies, never
steals and never abandons his only Son.


New Note- Old poem edited to shorten.-removed 
verses of 
T
O
R
U
L
E

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015




Details | Ballad |
I'M FOREVER YOUR'S

You always told me your love is like no other
the more I read I discover
your heavenly spirit is all over me
it's the most beautiful feeling 
my spirit feels deep within my soul
your love I never want to let go
I know I am only human 
just a small grain of dust  
but you love me for who I am 
your words are the flame 
that burns deep within me
even when life throws me stones
and my my spirit very weak 
you make way to clean me up 
you are my strength when I have none
you are my protector from everyone
that keeps me on the run
youre my forever friend to the very end
your love is the candle that will never burn out
you give me holy spirit 
you having my emotions in a rush
of goodness and peace 
this world will never tear our love apart
our bond will always be
I know people always seem to judge me 
because they believe they are better than me 
that is fine whatever they think
as long as you judge me for who I really am
you are my everlasting love
your love is all I need
your enough for me 
I know I lived a very painful life
where people were never nice
I became homeless and very afraid 
but you were always making way
you promise me a forever after
that you will wash my sins away
as long as I keep my faith
and walk in your path
I'm all yours forever
my love for you is eternal
you are my everything 
even in my painful dreams
you shine your light 
even in my darkest times
you are always on my mind
I love you Jesus my Lord
I love you Jehovah God
I am your's.

Poetic Judy Emery

Copyright © Judy Emery | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
Today I will write about stars-
Not the usual
Compressed galactic-gleams,
Not the speckling
In deep sky seen,
Tracked and charted
By singular-minded, bright-eyed teams-

No-I will speak of Real Stars,
Day and night stars-
Eternal Stars
Never growing dim,
Burning brightly
From star-dust within-
Not a glow in cold darkness
Between starlight above
But Mysterious Light
Deeper gazers call Love-

Stars that blink
To illumine the poor,
Have learned by faith
To persist and endure-
Stars who dry
The damp
Blanket the cold,
These warm glows
Surrounding
All of God's Fold-
Never dimming-
(A mission to give)
Preaching less-
Word what they live-
Warring on crime
Disease and despair
Never for profit
Simply to care,
Sacrifices not subject
For peddlers dealing in fame-
But God's Asterisk,
His Radiance,
Lighting each name-

This Light is always there-
When one thinks less of taking
And more, to share-
Same Light that shown
From out the tomb,
Giving earth a choice
Between Light and dark gloom-
Light seen brightly
In a new mother's eyes,
Amazed and surprised
That something so radiant
Could come from within,
Not starlight of sky, but Pure Light,
Where all lights begin

Copyright © Joe DiMino | Year Posted 2016




Details | Free verse |
Confession
  
    Author: Runping Chen 

From the peak of soul
I carry a handful of clean soil;
From the rapids of life
I scoop up a ladle of clear water,
And mix them up together.
I searched and fetched the bricks of affection
To build up a kitchen range.
I burn my life as igniting the firewood
To heat the pot of faith
So as to stew leisurely
Gurgles of the poetic thinking,
In silence.

Copyright © Runping Chen | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
5/25/17


Trying to steal from the poor
And start a global war
What good are you for?

Selling products that kill
So your pockets can get filled
Don't be flabbergasted if your own blood is spilled

No suprise
Another telling continual lies
Is always unwise
And going to decay away covered in swarms of flies
Regarding their demise

No care for the world
Too far gone and about to hurl
Can't even be there for your little girl
There's just no excuse, even if your an earl

Willing to sacrifice your own blood
And the ones you love
Is beyond dumb
Regardless of if your young

Copyright © Dalton Ogletree | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |
A ventured stroll away from talk
taking in all superfluous detail
allowing it to fill my corrupted senses
an escape from the tedium
it invites me to escape from the routine.
To open new ways of perceiving
at what has been seen before
yet never revealed afore.

Rarely a moment goes by
when the same view cannot take on a new hue
for the view is alive
pumping subtle life
into each crook and cranny
so that every microcosmic detail 
the tiniest of other earthly intelligence
are also offered the opportunity 
the same that we are given 
to flourish 
of making a worthy society.

Beneath our very feet
subtle signs are there
for us to perceive if only 
our eyes are able to notice.
Cracks and fissures around 
infrastructures hardened textures
allow glimpses of those forces
not insubordinate 
just seeking a share of living space
to echo their colourful vibrations
on our un-perceiving attentions.

An eye so keen to accept such notices
might be tempted to see
such sacred messages for us to feel or heed.
Madness may even encroach
to accept the design of such a divine creation
is at work edging around our corrosive borders.
Behind the corporal language
a communication so deep and so fine
no human sense could fully comprehend.
Unless we learned to abandon
our fleshy bony vehicles for a simpler primordial state 
surrender complete intimacy with all of creation.
Hearing unutterable whispers of shining comfort
through the cracks and fissures along 
the pavement, striding, roaming
surging up through gutters and drains.
The unsuspecting borders between nature
and our singular self-enhancing interactions. 

Life is surging,
urging us to manifest,
in joining in feeding on its royal bosom 
sharing in the feast of creation
so we, in turn, will return 
to nourish the elementary message 
of our purest love.

Copyright © Oliver Furlong | Year Posted 2018

Details | Verse |
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
"I Do Believe" 

The purpose of LIFE is to {Living In Faith Ever} 
to enrich God within us 
to an optimum level 
so that We as Humans 
can be guided by God 
to fuel out brothers and sisters 
with the same driving force 
to connect with the living God, 
to His existence and 
to See the Invisible, 
Believe the Incredible, and 
to Receive the Impossible 
to our everlasting journey 
to Heaven.

Rev. Samuel Mack
Copyright 2013

http:paladinnews1.blogspot.com

Copyright © Rev. Dr. Samuel Mack OMS DD | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words, 
and not necessarily my reality;                                     
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing

You can be who you want to be on any level 
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;  
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys,                                                                        or places that some don’t even think exist

They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry 
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart 
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses  whether they are just cases, 
or me in the absolute right here

My words exude positive intentions; 
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections 
and reversed dejection  
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul 
and temptations

Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before         
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect 
according to divine order

They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time 
because up until now, 
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time 
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside – 
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice 
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words

Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse |
Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |
>>1111>>THE AWAKENING SPIRIT<<1111<<

My analyzing subconscious telling me I have minor confidence in our people,
Full of resistance as high as church steeples,
Heads in the sand uneducated sheeple lost their ability,
Try this with consonance, question our existence,
Get it together and try it this very instance!
Neglected, Infected which brings great drama,
Buddhist monks call this negative karma,
Equip your mind with true armor,
Receive the weapon of writing stamina,
This isn't imaginary fiction,
This is an awakening conviction,
I'm trusting inner guidance for direction,
Taking my hand, introducing me to my pineal gland,
Connected to my tribal land,
I have found expressed to me internally in a sound,
Never contemplating turning around.
Find your way,
Stop listening to what government leaders say,
We need unity instead of broken community,
Unite and open up your vault,
Lets start a revolt,
But in an era of fear,
The average man inferior,
Never looking at their own interior,
Let me explain, in this society of personal gain,
It will make a human go insane,
Wealthy flying around in a private plane,
They have turned down the wrong symbolic lane,
You thinking i'm insane? Your thoughts are coming out in total vain!!!
I'm just a brother with a live spark,
With an inner vision destroying everything lurking in the dark!
A half cast mixed identity given the European surname Clark,
But I don't care, I have nothing to fear,
As I steer my life consciously aware I see clear,
Always near a book, that’s another place you gotta look!
Rookies thinking they're awake, but most cant find the time,
In psychological denial with excuse's saying its validly fine,
Working class living,
Resulting in limited self education receiving,
Which is the highest level of sinning,
In the beginning the universal consciousness was bringing,
What today I am seeking,
Connecting conscious thought together, Forever,
But individualism causing a crash of disconnection,
A world wide collapse bringing stagnation,
This is an invitation to break this current way of civilization,
Go back in time within the mind to make the connection,
Then you will receive true knowledge in a healthy neuron collection,
Listen to what the awakening spirit is saying!

Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
By my side:
The tallest mountain,
The calmest pond,
The purest stream;
My hope and strength,
Faith and love;
The Lord,
Our God,
Always by our side

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Always running late;
Just taking time to enjoy it.
Life is a car speeding fast,
But it's better to be stuck in traffic.

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Concrete |
Silly ants? 
No. Silly humans and maybe silly ants. 
So egotistical and naive to think we are the grand creation. 
We live in a world where there is hope to sell as many people on the idea that they actually have all the answers. 
If they are unable to find an answer nowadays it is assumed that well, 
someone must know it. 
Of course, this person must be wiser if they have the answer in mind. 
Who knows how much cognitive dissonance leaks out of those who assume they could know everything if they wanted to, after all, a grand creation would hold the key. 
What If someone who has not been deemed successful had the answer to their question? 
They are simply not seen as wiser than the one who asks, 
but merely, an uneducated soul. 
They want you to give into your limits. 
They want them to seep through to all who accept them in order to kill learning and thrive their tools to enslave. 
We must have belief of one's self over open belief itself. 
To be imaginative you must let your mind conjure all the possibilities. 
Considering it all, willing to learn, 
and your mind becomes an open feed to the energy of the evolution of thought. 
To continuously learn you must be open to everything that may hold the possibility of truth. 
How do you know that ant isn't your God, spying on you from the throne? 
How can you possibly think you understand the difference between the microscopic to the non-comprehensive? 
We are but an organic spec to the dominance of these barriers,
though they securely hold us to these realms. 
We must soar past it and realize that we are not alone. 
Next time you see someone looking down on those ants with their horrifying sense of might, 
remind them, someone may be looking down on us with a sure tale of remarkable power in it's true form. 
We must diminish our false sense of power and give way to sincerity to one another and allow ourselves to pick at each others brains in the hopes we learn as much as we can from this life to the next test. 
I like to think that you may have started as a simple drop in the ocean and then you were set free into the eye of another. 
And then a plant and then you died and so on until you found yourself here today. 
Finally graduated to a human. 
Perhaps it was the other way around and you have to learn what it feels like to go from the top all the way to the bottom. 
Again and again until you learn what you're suppose to.
And then, you will be allowed to go home.

Copyright © Drew Rutherford | Year Posted 2013

Details | Shape |
                     
                   ~ War Over  Now ~

                      w riting words frustrated
                        a writing unworthy
                          r emains in passing thoughts

                               o vercoming fear of judgment
                                 v alidating a soul broken 
                                   e nters a spirit of one passed
                                     r eassuring inspiration driving to continue

                                        n ew forms written
                                          o vercoming dark with light
                                            w anting to change by inspiring love forever ~ 


                            
                                       
  

















                           

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse |
I am drifting into memories.
Wasting away like a million photographs fading in the sun-
Yet with ceaseless renewal,
Staining the depths of my eyes with images
In the minds shutter ever fluttering to infinity,
Stringing together this conscious stream I play in-
My stupendous God made of dust and space
Tightrope walking existence!
And to think we too are made of mostly nothing-
Chance so scarcely gracing our atoms with a single touch
In a place so lonely when counted, 
Yet so abounding when felt!
So dance with the Dust God 
Poised miles above the earth-
Prance on your stilts, 
And peek into the great valleys beneath his skin.
Because any moment we could disappear 
Into


Jacob Reinhardt	
9/19/2013

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bio |
I stand solo, aloof in the snow, a precipitation 
                     of words cascading from a nebulous eye 
Fathoms wide, forever dripping like wax onto 
                     a punctured paper serving a Sanskrit sky,

and spreading into sibilant sentences swiftly 
                     sliding from syllable sorcery to soulful serenades 
so silent in the shunting shout of white. Poetry 
                     fills a churning void where novels cannot wade,

Phrases solidifying into idolisation of emotion 
                     itself, isolation of the isometric individuality that so 
Crushes my keeling cavern of thought, ever 
                     careering from caustic career path to another new low,

Which so seems to crumble into crazy paving’s 
                    counterpart. In this first freeze-frame we can all grasp
A fraction of the familiar, oh so fractured by the 
                    fumbling nature of enforced form. Freed by the gasp 

Of a photo-opportunity glowing phosphorescent 
                    with firsts, I am no longer framed by the festering 
Constraints of non-fiction, and folding my fond 
                    farewells carefully, I hesitantly face a vision pestering 

Me, fearing the fiend that would open maw and 
                    gnaw beneath my feet, evoking an avalanche of the 
Vernacular, but I am further past this unfed 
                    existence now, loosened from the fickle friendship of a

Winter thaw. Focus not your gaze on the grinding 
                    gauze of the greats, for the pressing pestilence of 
Perishable poetry is elsewhere pondering its parallels 
                    in posturing and post-modern pining for forlorn love. 


Praise no other; I am poetry.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |




My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.




Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse |
                    It was a moment in time 
                  a fate of inspiration gifted 
            I believe I was lifted a destiny in writing 
                I would vibrantly pursue .
             Renting a cottage once in Monterey Bay
           this cottage special in some way
          
            The very minute moving.. I felt a presence 
                      giving me no serenity , no rest 
                            feeling I were a quest ~

                 After desiring this home so                            
                      telling the Realtor ~ I made a mistake     
                     She told me be calm ~
                        many have said this before you 
                               ~ this haunt was not a new 

                  For once lived a Writer ~well respected Gent
               His cottage a distillery during the time of prohibition.

                  Many Gents and Ladies came to this cottage 
                      unlawfully gamble & drink through the night
                    Who would think , Doc Ricketts in Cane & Hat
                               it was a party by moon light  ~
                      
                              In the back a distillery hidden in a old shed
                                    many Alcoholics were fed ~
 
                         The ghost popular quite the Ladies man ~
                                I was honored while feeling displaced  

                                 For those who have not read my poems 
                                    ~   and this may be new. 
                                          This really happened ~
                      The ghost of John Steinbach rented me his home True
                                   
 

                  Yvette & The ghost of John Steinbach's  , Teamwork  9/14/2013 
    

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Classicism |
THE POEM IN MY MIND

It is all in my mind
you might say; Yes ...
everything I know and
I know everything.

It's those poems in my head
that can never be expressed
in words music or in deeds
The poem in my head that is
connected to my soul's being.

If the poem in my mind were
to be uttered, I assume – would
sound like the whirlwind
And there are no mnemonics
to allow the poem freedom to speak.

These poems are shadows of
my past and the oracles of our future.
Many poems born in my head
concerning wisdom and love.
Poems of outrage-apologies
never received or made.

Poems of empathy and compassion
Poems that have taken me
places that I have never been
or that I have visited before.
The poems in my head recite
silently the unrealized dreams
Poems inspiring faith
In the flesh of my reality.
Poems connecting me
to the human emotions
Alerting me to feel what you feel,
To think how I might come to
understand your difficulties.

Enabling me to Connect
to your Joy and your pain
The depth of life's secrets
allowing me to smile at
what you don't say.
React to the sounds
you don't make.
And to know the reason
that you smile back at me.

While the poems that we write are wonderful
and the scripts are acted out in
some awesome performance we portray.

It is when we turn our eyes away...
and Blink! It is then we think
how deeply the still waters run
in the rivers of our memory banks.

We listen to the masterpieces in our heads-
though, we cannot speak or scribe-
nor describe- The knowing runs deep;
Deep into the fibers of our roots.
The poem in my mind, I presume if heard
would sound a bit like the whirlwind.

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |
On that cloudy weekend in June 
I hear a soft and graceful tune 
from the grey bird on the tree 
branch 
Singing sweet lullabies felt 
blessed in the moment 
My body tingles of joy at sight 
Gazing out through 
my open door,
Letting thoughts fly free
Releasing love out into the horizon 
Heart filled with emotion came 
over me 
Grey bird stood playing its tune 
for awhile and on the wings of 
letting go
Then as the rain fell from the 
sky the grey bird flew away 
gracefully 
I blew a kiss to the clouds and 
utterd these simple words of I 
Love You father ( who's now in 
heaven ) and yet I hope to hear 
that grey bird sing again once 
more for me 
Farewell, love your son

Poem contest for Debbie -referential

Copyright © Brian Otoole | Year Posted 2013

Details | Acrostic |
 Am I the only one who's feeling there is something very wrong with all of this ,
I can't seem to get anybody to listen not even when I raise  my fist.
    How can they not see what I see ,has everybody lost thier mind I say,
Why can't they see what it is that is making them act this way.
   Have you taken a look around to see  there's something that has changed,
When you look into peoples eyes Lord how you can see the rage.
   No compassion  for thier fellow man as if they have never ever cared,
For the future of mankind and how we all should be  aware.
    Saw a friend of mine the other day he was acting a little strange ,
I can't help but wonder just when , how , and who's the blame.
   This power and greed is consuming us all we just can't seem to stop
Stepping on our brothers & sisters as we  race to the top.
   Where's the love ,the kindness ,the hope and faith  we use to live by,
How we allowed ourselves to sink so low I' will never know why.
    Still I will contunue to spread the word which has always been,
Be good and love one another as you are learning not to sin.
    Please don't be another wreck that has been pushed to the side ,
If you' listen to the one and only word you will know why.
    We will all band together so we can stand  tall and free,
It is one simple word and that is love how could you nor see.
TAC

Copyright © TIMOTHY CARTER | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
God Is Real/Miracles Happen
By Nate Spears


God is real, and miracles happen
Despite of his struggles 
The middle class poet kept on writing his chapters 
Times were tough 
But he didn’t give up
Unpaid rent 
Eviction notes 
His bills were overdue  
No water, no power 
He used GOD as his source; and  
kept on writing his chapters
Then came a knock 
He opened his door, but no one was there 
There was a note left behind, along with a white feather on his mat 
A rent paid receipt 
Plus full payment of his utilities
He closed the door quickly, and went back in the house to his desk
The pages in his book was flipped 
to a ending page he couldn’t miss
A inspirational piece was left behind that he didn’t write
It read this: 


For your time and effort given 
to lead and inspire, this is the final chapter in your book that I so desire.

I restored your power, to give you energy to write.

I gave you water again, for the tears shed on your writes.

I provided funding for your rent, for the priceless messages your poems present. 

Those sheets of paper have inspired many lives in need to vent.


I read the final chapter, and started to cry
I glanced out the window at a river of joy nearby
A rainbow appeared in the sky
Under covering my darkness  
There lies a ray of light 
No matter how deep life pounds
No matter how hard things get 
If you believe you can overcome
Just keep up the fight 
The battle is already won
Just believe.

Copyright © Nate Spears | Year Posted 2013

Details | Concrete |
When improving upon the inner workings of your mind 
and upon the realms within your body, 
be sure not to lose your originality in the process 
for it will become harder and harder to express yourself 
and that in which you've improved upon. 

Pride is a trap. 
Simply be grateful for your attributes that make you amazing. 
People make mistakes, people love and people hate. 
Be free within; and the world will follow. 

And as you find your flowers and swords crossed with others who do not see the beauty and infinite possibilities in you, 
keep driving your soul to the beat of your sincerity. 
Find your way out of the dark. 
Don't ignore it, shed some focus on it, for it tells you all the ways you don't want the world to be. 
There is something to be learned from everyone.
Express and listen with willingness to speak your mind to the death.  
Beauty undefined until you crawl through all the cob webs with certainty. 

Out of the dark; into bliss. 

Peace and love bring us unity. Don't be afraid to hug my soul.

<3

Copyright © Drew Rutherford | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
Non-existent God
Subject of poor poetry
Just like this one. Damn.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2012

Details | Verse |
What is it to see the soil of home again?
A welcome, snow-struck and a return
To cold; sharp white contrasts sunburn.
We converse in broken tongues to men

We know, hooked on holiday language
Comprised of wandering hand signs.
Collect the car and pay parking fines,
Drive through towns and over a bridge

Until we reach the Western gateway.
Oh when will we arrive at our house?
No camels there, only field mouse
Which are eaten by our cat anyway.

The plane flies for an age, slyly yawning
Through the stretching, pealing sky,
A knife through air; what it is to fly.
Our travels over; a new day is dawning.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |
~~~ Songs My Soul Cried Ended the Psalms of Songs ~~~

Grace was inside my soul, I’d love his grace
Please my grace travel the world, find peace please
Face of darkness of the deep grace did face
Knees freeze and their prayers had no bowed knees

Risks ensnared the soul waiting for life’s risks
Perils times, beliefs lost liar’s perils
Frisk my soul falsehood frolic death did frisk
Morals abandon humanity; dung looted morals

Known and unknown lost all grace they had known
Peace was feared in the world, they hated peace
Alone with lost faith, their soul all alone
Ceased beliefs, lost their twin towers grace ceased

Kiss of hell walked the Earth, souls did kiss
Love healed hearts on the Sabbath that was love
Bliss with no respect, cold souls mingled bliss
Above, joy of life gone; hell now above

Songs my soul cried, ended the psalms of songs
Wrongs unforgiven, no life was dead wrongs.

© 2015 DiLinda Adams, All Rights Reserved

Fourth Shadow Sonnet – As you can see this does not meet the challenge guidelines in this pen. I added an extra stanza to keep the meaning I wanted to achieve. Please join in if you like; it has to rhyme, 10 syllable count and 14 lines to meet the challenge. However, if you just want to be creative please do. I cannot wait to see what you all are going to write about.

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Copyright © DiLinda A. Adams | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
GURU

So I sent an inviting email
To a bunch of Internet Women
Asking them to join me for lunch
Set my lonely heart to sail

My Yahoo Bell rang a Lady replied
Star Heart my new Love I sighed
Her photo my future Mediterranean Bride
Feelings unleashed Love’s flood tide

I read her profile
Intelligent, Funny, Spiritual
Loves the Water, Forest, Mountains
Italian Goddess with a Mona Lisa Smile

Raven Black Hair, Ruby Red Lips, Smooth Olive Skin
A body built for sin
I need to be in
But first...Her Mind...Her Soul...I must Win


I received a second email reply
She wrote I might be her type of guy
My photo did not make her cry
She wanted to know more about my Spiritual Side...Had I ever been to Mumbai

God is this woman for real
She loves Foreign Films...She is already making me squeal
Yoga...Spirituality...She can make my soul heal
This girl might be the real deal


I woke up the next day strangely sad
I checked my email a Star Heart new message was there
Her GURU suddenly died..She said she could not talk
She asked for a break to sort things out...This was Bad

My desire, my heart on fire...cooled
Her Spiritual Leader overruled
Again Love played me the Fool
Another Lesson learned at Heartbreak School

I said a prayer to her Guru asking if I am the one for his Chela
Will Love unite our two souls
Will we come together
Will I be her Special Fella

So I drank some of India’s finest Chenin Blanc and went to bed
I dreamt of the Guru who I thought was dead
I was frozen with fear as he approached me and placed his hand on my head
I turned to run but my legs were like lead

The Guru told me in my current Life I will never find a Woman's Love
Poets are cursed from birth
The only Love they can receive is from writing about Suffering and Loss
The wife you seek was never born...She is still above

I fell to my knees and begged the Guru please give me hope
I hate being a poet I only do it to save me from the rope
I am a coward writing is the only way I can cope
The Guru warned me to be careful too much Chenin Blanc will make me a Tope

The hope I give you now is for all mankind
Love everyone and everything
Take no day for granted
Explore Spirituality and a Higher Power so your soul, body and mind will learn to be 
kind

Then the Guru struck my face and I awoke
This dream nightmare was no joke
The Guru wore a purple and yellow mourning cloak
Maybe I need more Chenin Blanc to give my soul and mind a good soak


Copyright © Joseph Elward | Year Posted 2011