Altars Poems - Poems about Altars

... They called her Alice, but perhaps her true name was Smoke, rising slow and silent from letters never sent, from altars crumbled beneath the cold gaze of forgotten saints, from lips that kiss......

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...Give me one last night of silence in the cosmic temple of ancient memory, Where shadows dance with light in circles of fire and hidden divine grace, To touch with trembling fingers the stars from t......

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...They do not know I name them— the trees blackened by exhaust, asthmatic, stoic gods lining pedestrian bridges that never forget. Each leaf is a reluctant confessor. Each trunk remembers how I......

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...Behold the time is no longer near; It is now. I have shouted, I have whispered, And still, you do not hear. Let the one with ears listen For when I and My grace depart, There will be no more d......

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...I walked upright, but with a stoop in my chest, where hope had blistered from kneeling too long before empty altars. If you were made first, then I was a second draft in blood and rot, the ......

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...They came with robes and golden rings, Not to heal — but to own sacred things. With Bibles bound in blood and silk, They turned living water into poisoned milk. Altars became ATMs, Forgiveness......

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... THE CHOICE here I arrived, breath away boldly stepped out of a Blue Train, not waiting for fellow passengers with tedious conversations about Hemingwa......

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...I have loved like windows love the morning- quietly, without asking to be noticed, just hoping someone would open them. There were nights when the moon knew more about me than anyone ever woul......

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... I cracked the olive pit between my molars— bitter pod, black shrine. The sea came through my teeth, settled brine, at the root. They said do not name the god, so I lit her symbol with h......

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... In the beginning, there was salt. It hung in the air like unfinished scripture, gathered in the throat of the sea, waited for a mouth dumb enough to mistake thirst for an invitation. Then......

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...One early autumn morning, before the sun awoke, before the moon had disappeared, or any robin spoke. I opened up my window to feel the breezes play and let a breath of beauty in before the hect......

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...You who worship yourself, listen carefully. I won’t shout. I don’t have to. Truth cuts deeper when it’s whispered. You raise your hands high, but not to the God who made you. You worship the......

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... (A lone voice whispers) Did no one tell you that true Magic exists Just hidden somewhere deep In most societies Sought after by convicts of the mundane Profane addicts, who cry out i......

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...Through the narrow window of time, I see fleeting shadows of lives that remain unfulfilled, Men bound to desks like to foreign altars, captive in routine and silence, Souls enclosed in a shell of p......

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...I press my hands into the ruins of you, fingertips cut in the quiet rot of ancient wounds that have never quite been touched. Beneath splintered ribs, your earth is sulfurous in suffering— your......

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