Altar Poems - Poems about Altar

Speaking from experience as not one to falter at the altar its no illusion why I came to this wedded bliss conclusion the institution of marriage is one I won't disparage for better or worse wedlock is the bedrock of civilisation and of course the only reason for divorce ...

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My love left me at the altar, making me cry with the tragedy. The shock, of being left at the altar, making me feel sad all over. Later, I learned that it was a gift, from my love, because he was torn between his world and mine. My love, has its ups and downs,...

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I scrubbed the shame from under my fingernails, as if guilt could be washed like dirt. Cold showers never baptized the ache; just gave it discipline, a neat little collar for the beast inside. They called me godly. I stood on pulpits of silence, hiding my hard truths in folded hands and stitched lips. “Virtue,” I said once, like it was a sword I...

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H e a r t reflective altar P e a c e supreme...

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I never learned to look at shop windows without searching for the walking shape of your footsteps. The umbrella abandoned beside a rusted bicycle resembles you more than any living body. On the wet pavements, an old woman feeds the pigeons with the same patience you once had for all the things I forgot. Someone plays Bach in an alleyway, and the notes...

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I see your face, a keen imprint in the fog of my longing. The world dissolved into dissonance, hard edges sharpened by the heat of you. I reach for you, not with hands, but with the kind of inferno that licks at the walls of the soul. Love me—just enough to stop the senselessness— to make real of the rush I drown in every time you...

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Stones, boulders of hate Our armor dented but strong Builds altars of love...

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They were sweethearts from childhood Someday wed was understood Clashing goals drove them apart Now, there’s no path to their hearts Lovely in her wedding dress At the altar, vows professed Bound ever to another What might have been was over Halfway the path to a heart Another must share that mark Where true love’s most skillful art Molds “Until death do us part” At halfway mark...

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In the cathedral of time, where seconds drip like holy myrrh on the altar of eternity, We stand, creatures of light draped in mantles of shadow and doubt, With golden hands weaving the veil of reality, yet eyes covered by scales of ignorance, While the Great Weaver watches silently from behind the cosmic curtain. Our ship of destiny sails...

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On the white altar of dreams, I twist, a butterfly caught in time's amber, The hourglass of eternity pours its sand over my inert body. The mirror of the sky leans over, a cosmic eye scrutinizing my essence. On my skin, runes dance, tattoos of destiny engraved by gods, I try to read them, but I'm blind to the...

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God isn't looking for your tears, he's looking for your faith. -Paul S. Morton She smells like the 80’s With her big hair and Levi’s That never go out of style… Seem to almost cover the centuries With their taut indigo fabric Leaving the world more sure That anything is possible, All those dreams, bleeding Through the still, cool autumn Hesitating, in peace Breaking...

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In the mystery of the ancient altar, where shadows dance in dim lights, Rituals are symbolic acts, stories written in echoes and hopes, They weave invisible threads between souls, bringing hearts together without words, In a world where communion does not need the troubled voice of speech. As the years pass, memories become incantations whispered softly, Rituals are time's fabrics,...

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First person narrative from the perspective of a mountain… Isaiah 55:12 “ For ye shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace: the mountains and hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. “ Mount Moriah Walk the path...

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The fruit juice drips momentarily beneath the alter filling the crevices and corner, while the sound of impatient traffic rolls down the street honking horns and disrupting the peace. A strange sound starts rumbling in the ground and a young woman emerge gasping for breath and a promiscuous ritual begins with a familiar rhythm. He...

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In your secret garden, let your heart be the altar, Where you summon the shadow that will become the effigy of future days, Weave shadows with the light that today envelops you, Thus, an ancient book is written where fate shall teach you to uncover mysteries. An explosion of inner growth will be your voice, You will feel it unfolding...

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