Best Deific Poems
The sparkling spirit of your love,
merges with mine,
dwelling in passages of time, as
my heart sings symphonies of
ethereal lanterns,
beaming upon golden poppies,
while drifting across haloes of
glittering stardust.
Our divine souls flutter full circle,
when light meets dark;
a sacred union amidst
cherry blossom petals,
swirling in a helix of
devoted scintillation,
towards the sanctuary of
our blooming dedication.
This faith in you
is my heavenly glow,
a paradise of hopes and dreams,
swaying to your deific verve—
the gilded moon my spotlight, as
celestial lullabies serenade
this blissful twilight,
sheltered in your cherubic love.
SHAPE SHIFTER
-------------------
Whiter than the bright
Light at the dawn of the day
Like an angel I fly
... High across the skies
A giver of life where I can
Amidst the dying bands
God's healing hand
To suture broken lands
Nobility fluorishes as
I furiously and faithfully fly
Throughout terrestrial turf
Adhering my hierarchy's call
Not long before dusk
Sets and soon befalls me
Then my deific identity
Rises rapid to fall
As a flag fully masted
Once the day ascends
Decorating my alter
As its ego impends
Reams of robust ravens
Hover atop my haven's roof
As eery emblems exposing
My man in living proof
His character concealed
Behind his closed corridors
Capricious components conflict
Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
One way one day, then the
Succeeding day someone
Separate abides
Like Paul, wrestling knowing
The good I want and aspire to do
Yet like Peter live a lie
With depthened knowledge of truth
Loudly speak godly resistance
To demonic temptations
Yet quietly play in persistance
With their tasteful sensations
Real revelations revealed as
I trail through the night
Crying creeks and confessing
Raising rage to the light
Clearer, vivid visions unveil
What my mirrors masked
Revealing the vibrant vase
That was shattered like glass
The total truth ALAS!!!!
Has told its tragic tale
Of daytime's white angel
Who by night demon fell
No longer mimic the virgin
Who within was a harlot
No longer wear white robes
With others raided in scarlet
Transformation's tough touching
Totality's taken its course
Then tapes the truthful shape
My soul will seal and endorse
~Poetra Jah~
ADRIFT
-----------
Swallowed by waves
Intensely waged in war
A mariner swims seized
In anarchic zones
Colliding crests of clear
Currents clash/clutch
Shifting and drifting it
Further from shallow
Fluidic floors
Lingering lured beneath
Deep aqueous lands
He swims sedate a
Straight stroking lap
Embarked on his quests
To cults of creatures as featured
Foreshadowed and seen
In rippling revelation
The chilling cool
Of the seas quench
The tip of his tongue
Tantalizing his thirst
While the lighthouse bells
Roar renouncing the curse
Concocted clamantly by
Imps tightly towered ashore
In aimless search of
He who fiercely fled
Like a falcon freed
From the flooding floors
Mellow sweet melodies
Sound a sugar's energy burst
Beaming bright as the sun
Sparks the dawn's white flame
Shading the scenes a
Deific seraphim's drape
As the towering sky's
Blue clothed in white cape
How brilliantly a defunct figure
Darted deep in the distance
Shapes an empryean eel
Adrift its ocean's reticence
~Poetra Jah~
This is the day the Lord gave.
His blessing is guiding our way.
He has manifested the extraordinaire.
He is why we live.
His intervening in human affairs has brought forth humanitarian events...
Insofar, our episodic existence augments our intelligence.
Stated to be a poetic boon, god sent for sure.
Divine intervention scribe on our scrolls, we are pathfinders to fulfill our inner core.
Life formed to live, we are human beings.
Our footprints came long-ago via the Apostles and Prophets of the Lord.
Great Awakening took place and religion emerged.
No statue is limit in our theological presence.
We must keep company to our beliefs.
Therefore, a psalmist endurance becomes his or her poetic content.
We may write in prose, verse and flow, or both.
Our spirits will explore.
Our souls will be exposed.
Divine intervention is deification interference.
Interpolation defines our cause.
Wisdom sallied forth.
Pure utterance is a godsend.
We are scribes of history.
We are the writers of a holy scripture for humanity.
_______________________________________________________|
Verlena S. Walker
PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 16, 2014!
HEAVEN IS AGLOW!
Doves will fly in the sweet by and by.
The angels will sing upon entering divinity.
Chariots of the Lord's Army have brought in righteous souls.
Heaven is aglow.
The horns are glorifying the Lord.
The drummers are superlative.
Munificence is the atmosphere.
Heaven is glowing.
Gloriously they sing.
Rejoicing divine and the rapture magnifies.
Resplendent with wings, they soar.
Heaven is aglow.
The bellow of God in the most deific form delighted the universe.
His spirit is felt on earth.
Who would have known that the Gates of Heaven are open?
Heaven glows.
Sermonizing in her Cathedral, the doves came ushering in.
The voice of the Lord possesses sylph.
Via the Holy Spirit, she shouted the doors are open.
Heaven is for all to seek.
Beatify!
Beatify!
Beatify!
Beatify!
Doves will fly in the sweet by and by.
The angels will sing upon entering divinity.
Chariots of the Lord's Army will bring in righteous souls.
Heaven is aglow.
{The doors of the Church are open!!!}
_________________________|
PENNED ON AUGUST 21, 2014!
FORM: ANAPHORA
Through the slightly parted drapes
Moon light enters my bed room,
To chase darkness away
Everything is still and silent
I drive all my anxieties away,
Letting the silence of the night in
So fair is the night,
So lovely lies the firmament
I see the moon, stars and galaxies
All luminously set on display
The universe brims with the enormity
Of unfathomable wonders and mysteries
I see God the mastermind behind them all
Dwelling in that serene silence of solitude
A deific discernment dawns in me,
With the affirmation that the universe
And everything in it is a single living entity
Shackled by the unbreakable thread of love.....
And all men of caste and color, one single tribe!
Soon a vibrant blissfulness overwhelms me
I levitate on wings surreal
Leaving the mundane world behind
Feb.22. 2022
Vibrant Blissful Stillness Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Unseeking Seeker
Syncopated Soul
Voices of reason transfixed by treason, a heart murmurs in the cold
Echoes of depletion of a heart in lesion, a face in the mirror gets old
The love escaped and ravenously raped, a tired tear turns to mold
Where darkness dwells and sorrow swells, walking with a blindfold
Life a drowning drain of a punitive pain, a wailful lost in a whirlpool
With a destiny in detain a sacrificial stain, a transposable trivial tool
Shadows of silence in deific defiance, a master and his menial mule
Where winds are rampant and emotions fragment, a cunning cruel
I’ve always known and often shown, existence of a fermented futile
As I stand alone a despondent drone, spewing words a crying crucial
Idol illusions of seditious seclusions, my thoughts begin to be fruitful
Standing at the edge of time a new paradigm, a poetic pensive pupil.
Music by Sinamore~'Frozen Mile'
Sept.11.2018
Second Chance for the Unloved Poem
Sponsored by: Jesse Rowe
N/A for contest
Earlier in the month but lately begun,
(Or was it perhaps the last one, the one before-November?
I know of a surety that it was a time uncoated by congeries
Of most alabastrine snow, and that that which is blanketing
All now, it was not present then. The abundant
Cleanness and glaringly white cleanliness of snow's earthward fall:
This plummeting and deposition of the flakes that seem as
Deific dandruff, else manna or some snowlike thing that
Depends from out the pregnant, grey, ominous clouds
That encroach as a marauding soldiery does on these
Brumous days in this niveous, frore portion of the
Twelvemonth whereat and wherein man has to contend
And pit himself against the snowy flakes.
Yet, the ground being filthy with dirt,
And the cleanliness of snow being nowhere,
'Twas almost certainly in the bleak, but snowless November),
I ope narrowly the door of one of my brethren's truck,
Yet, though 'twas warm, occlusion proved impossible,
And still the door hung ajar despite all my most and best efforts to
Seize it shut and close it.
Yet now the snows are covering it, coating it...
And still it remains unvisited, yet perhaps when my brother
Repairs outside to see it, to step into and drive it,
Perhaps when he notices the ajar door,
Then mayhap he will think the snow somehow was the cause of the
Maloccluded door.
A clock keeps time by tick and tock
Unheard by dead men couched in clay;
As holy men in global robes
Kneel down upon the ground to pray.
Deific ears not there to hear;
Divinity has lost its heart,
If ever heart was part divine
Which begs the question from the start.
No grandiosity is bound
Within a shank of crumbled bone;
They now have found oblivion
As cold as ice and still as stone.
Around Orion's orbit free
A silent soul will search to gain
Eternal promises once made
By masquerading priests, in vain.
But utterly untouchable
Are fragmentations of the mind;
They float ehtereal the air
Without an ounce of truth to bind.
It's the clearest and warmest August night,
and with Sirius standing against the fathomable darkness,
one can see the awesome beauty
of other stars now visible to the eye;
this brilliant star is rarely seen in its celestial ambience,
what brings it here to display its sheer magnificence?
Is it a manifestation of deific power,
or simply an event we happen to observe?
Whatever it may be, let's praise our Creator
for shedding its light on hearts that love!.
A star as bright as Sirius is truly needed
in our sky to ascertain a danger concealed
from our poor sight: where's the wisdom imparted
to us us by a concept or belief not seldom inherited?
If doubt rejects the inexplicable mystery
of creation, then our atheism is too defiant
of a mighty hand which created this star so beautifully:
how charming is Sirius! Isn't it the design of His divine craft?
Written on 2/20/2017
Closed shattered the walking desert!
Moving airy mind in the open sky
finds the wings
Everything is there
In this universe, a full of adolescent beauty
No, I really didn't bring anything
At the wharf of primordial unearthly female genitals
In the convergence of enjoyment
I am a beggar
No, I have nothing
Being an anchorite, I am rapturous
In the verse of longer song,
In the deific rhythm of ektara
love comes, love goes
to the unknown confused noise
The poetic mind is empty with the antenatal river
So, still sings in the guise of asceticism
15.10.2020 Chattogram
The Lord is so kind to shower his bountiful blessings for one and all. It is for the the perceptive mind to realise and be thankful for them always.
Almighty aligns all atoms of a rare creation
Blessed beings beget beautious revelation
Clairvoyant clergies chant Holy hymns
Delightful deific divinity solemnly sings
Ethereal evangelics eye His secret signals
Faithful figures foretell subliminal symbols
Gorgeous glorious godly is His universe
Holy heavenly ambrosia He does nurse
Immaculate inimitable perfection He paints
Just judicious jubilate jewelled are His saints
Kindness knowlege are virtues to imbibe
Luminous lustrous light to instill inside
Merciful magnanimous He forgives faults
Never needlessly He ordains our assaults
Omniscient omnipotent He provides for all
Paradisiacal plentiful profuse bounties tall
Quenching our needs but not the greeds
Retribution rigorous He logs on sin deeds
Sacred sacrosanct sermons if we all sing
Transcendent tranquil lives He will bring
Unimpeachable universal laws if we hold
Venerated blessings we get from His fold
Winsome wondrous ways lead us to Him
Xeroxing Xraying Xanadus seemingly dim
Yearning yodling for His yielding boons
Zooming zenith vistas in Zen's saloons
16.7.2020
The singularity of my voice,
Wailing out in this dark, wild, and philistine-infested wilderness
Today; Its uniqueness alone amongst several million babbling,
Balbutient tongues, and inked pens and platitude-riddled pages on blinking
Computer monitory screens,
The intelligible and the inane,
The incomprehensible and the uncomprehending:
The pretenders to literature's throne and the
Imposters of the immortals of poetry, drama, essay and fictive literature, as well as history and verse,
None of whose utter sublimity can these modern dolts and interlopers ever hope to assay.
He who writes these words with a swiftly flagging, already dying ember of hope,
Has cried aloud in the midst of all the untamed, inky wilderness
Almost all of his life and particularly has he done so over
The course of the past lustrum, and never once was
He heeded, this involuntary
Modern Jeremiah-
Yet, if I recall my scripture aright, initially as did Jonah,
He did not wish the task, either:
That task with which the Lord charged and tasked him.
3. Though the age of the razor has for much more than an epoch,
And more like a century, been upon us, yet its mastery in
These times seems to have departed, like chaff upon the blowing wind.
Where is the clean and well-shaven face?
Where is the clearing, the meadow in all this wilderness of unkempt, untamed facial fur?
What ancient Jewishness has enthralled man so that now he
Daily practices the dubious art of the bearded?
Of all the multitudinous arts, precepts, practices,
Tenets, manners, and accouterments of the archaic Judean:
Many moral, upright, righteous and uniquely salutary:
Why has only the one betokening only the densely furred face
Has modern man sought to assay?
Even the author of this poetic, parodic
Jeremiad, even he, who is in fact I;
I say even he has felt the furry, follicular,
Hirsute hordes encroach full upon and in beleaguering it,
Make invasive inroads upon his Grecian deific countenance.
And aye, even that of his father's too....
ANd virtually every other man he knows,
About whom is this screed against shearing indolence, grooming sloth being written.
i have come to pray ...
snip, blow, extract, fold, place
in veneration of your utter authority ...
the nakedly honest appreciation
of the deific pedestal i exalted you to
all those many years ago ...
such sorry, sad observance that
this is still the one undeniably consistent time in each
day's happenings when I find myself
perfectly, (pathetically), at peace ...
i yet breathe
because of your command
the lilt of your song in my blood -
the searing of my marrow
your sour bite ...
seventeen dozen moons
have danced blue a-cheek the sea
e'er you granted me
resurrection and carelessness' cure
nonetheless, i curse your
wet waste 'neath my tongue
half a lifetime
wishing on wonders that never came
ruined receptors cackling at
my freakish folly -
imprecating dreams to happy hell for
but an essence of
your origin ...
i damn your bitter relic
your frigid, damp, fleshy husk
I despise your screeching yawns and salty seep -
hourly demons sent to mock me ...
restless reminders of my deadliest error
the neurological nanytes
that play like hammers upon my ache
and bleed vitality ...
you are a sweet lie
i, the trembling lips to give it whisper
how i beg heaven for your
cessation, yet i fear most the beast i might become
should your kiss not offend my mouth
with its caustic, melting madness
and perhaps, in deference to this realization
i am already ...
dead.
( This is a form I invented called "FREE 45", and is a FREE VERSE poem which MUST be introspective and personally revealing, must contain NO capitalized letters, and must be made up of stanzas with either an increasing OR decreasing amount of lines between one and nine, so either one-thru-nine lines, or nine-thru-one lines, simply )
Dawn of deific passion
A beacon of divine compassion
Who, to set the sweethearts free
From the yokes of the crown head's decree
Kept the flames of the loving hearts alive
With a credo that true love should always thrive
To true sacrificial love, he sowed a seed.
His body was broken, and blood was shed for this deed.
On young hearts that struggle with a life of love
He showers blessings from above.
As this day has its roots in him
Though in seas of whims, we swim
Let's not forget Valentine, a saint so fine.
This day, my Bloody Valentine...