Best Genuflection Poems


Premium Member Sipping Coffee

Line of enquiry:
“God within me is the enjoyer of the aroma
As also this dopamine boosting flavour I taste
I surrender all pleasures to the dweller of my heart
Breath by breath thus that my soul presence be chaste”

When ego controls a soul's mortal direction,
some remain asleep without a spiritual connection.
I count my blessings upon dawn's resurrection,
as an orchestra of robins compose with affection.
But curse of Seasonal Affective Disorder infliction
leaves a heart feeling melancholic in rejection.
Pills can take time to ease hormonal dejection,
so a tongue is mute when mirrors show dull reflection.
Some turn to the universe in times of retrospection.
Some prostrate in faith through silent genuflection 
Some seek nature or vitamins to aid meditation.
Some clear angst through powers of intellection.
There's a sacred solace in morning contemplation,
soothed through the aroma of dark elixir elation.
Intense notes with sweet tones to relax abjection.
Each sip of potion is a symphony of perfection.
A clay chalice acting as a vessel for protection,
holding liquid nectar of your desired selection.
Awakening senses to transmute a mind's complexion,
igniting your spirit with wings of phoenix projection.
Toxic thoughts plagued from internal interjection,
now flow in smooth positive harmonic introspection.
In a brief existence a heart struggles from imperfection.
Brewed philosophies are a bridge to divine intervention.
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Monorhyme

The Road Ahead

The road ahead,
  opens up before me,
  suddenly, wide and wondrous and untraveled;
The trees rise high, stretching, inching higher,
  touching the sky and unseen horizon.
It is a blend of indescribable color,
  flowing profusely in the path along the way.
The air is thick with the incense of fall,
  dry leaves and burning, outdoor fires
  hanging in the air.
The scent is of a changing season,
  a bow, respect, a genuflection
  in awe of God's superior gifts.
The roads less traveled awaits,
  setting in place a path,
  an unplanned journey to newness.
Breathe in the color hues of reds, oranges, yellows,
  brushed and painted lovingly
  with all the signs of autumn.
The scent of change,
 take the ride
 set by the hands of God.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.

Barefeet

"Barefeet"



Let sleeping cats lie
velvet dreams licking
skeleton keys

passed on kisses
passed on fire tongues

sketchy
scratchy

curled around
warm blanketed whispers

laughter tickled
by whiskers

tales twisted
paws softly scratching

skin forgotten, 
dormant 

covered safely
under blanket

out of life
out of tune

in over-heated 
lonely poet-hung rooms

barefeet in benediction
crouched naked waiting

ready
in position

on knees 
elbows follow, genuflection

cats, black hearts
all feral

stalking futures passive
inside pheromones all growling

aggressive wants
demanding latent love

A Prayer 
for the wild at heart

dancing naked
seeking some kind of love 

souls on
hot tin roofs

very forward
purring darkly 

come

(Ladylabyrinth / 2020)


Premium Member Stone Throwers, Love's Release

"Stone Throwers, Love's Release"



Cages
come in all shapes
and sizes
all different ages

the ones
who circle their
little locked rooms
counting time
in calm rages 
steel bars 
dissolving lives
scream please 
release
pray for their 
safety daily

for daughters 
mothers
fathers
sons

Some never find
peace, freedom.
Love and kindness
somehow if 
it remains and
Forgiveness
are the Key.
Hand them your
Love always -
no matter how hard -
Love's Release

Simon 
Peter 
3 Times Rooster
will crow

Cages
come in all shapes
and sizes
all different ages
throughout history 
living in 
different pages

Simon, Peter
Love’s Release
Simon, Cephas, 
Petros, Petra
One man, 
different names
IXOYE
Ikhthýs

Genuflection
Down on my knees


(Leanne Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)


"Stone Throwers" / Johnny Hollow
https://youtu.be/2rKylLMdqtk

Roughneck

You marketing types love us.
Blue all over, fear of nothing a man can throw,
Quick to bow down when the boss come by...
not the one paying me...., 
but the one who rules my roost. 

Day breaks looks nice,
especially because the roads aren't covered and filled with the yuppie douche bag lawyers, bankers and brokers all on phones missing the opening of the days first gift. 
you know these soft handed men!

Your commercials applaud our ethic, 
our muscles,
our attitudes, 
our jacked up 4 X 4 
Our dick swinging genuflection to manhood's blue collar ways.  

Toughness is forged by the cold weather winds, 
Sun baked and burned backs, 
Red tipped noses from over drinking the days end the night before 
while being educated at H.K.U. 
Not Hong Kong University...its Hard-Knock University

We learned in fields where sweat meets will 
'cuz you cant fail. 
Blood and callused hands complete the job, 
the well, 
the pipeline,
the boat,
the building,
 
Grown in fields of corn, 
on oil rigs surrounded by the deepest blue oceans,
as blue as the collar around the neck.
tight, knowing there is nowhere else to go 
and nowhere you would rather be. 

Women feel the attraction, and we see it in your eyes...
Awakening the primal sense in you. The roughnecks and dirt covered crew. 
You know your manicured husband just don't have this....or could do that! 
You may want a well put together,
prepared and pampered over, 
buffed and polished man,  
but your desire fixates on men in blue who can do it all, 
from fixes of the sink,
to kissing you tender pillow top lip,

Big and small, blue collard boys do it all!

Premium Member Proof In Her Prowl

She is a Battle Babe
make you mouth her as a FAV. ,
all her work an automatic save, a rage'n rave,
getcha cravin the ultimate poetic shave
makin demons a quick grave and enticin angels to misbehave,
She's a Battle Babe, no chance her style fades, she got genius in spades,
covert clout leavin you shamed with sheer doubt, livin to learn her upshot ways,
offend ya with a biting wit, pen ya witha whip whetted on the blood of your best days,
love ya like a lionized legionare, waste ya like a puny prisoner pinned against her spiked legs,
wicked wrath and affectionate genuflection the perfection of the Battle Babe's barbarous pathways,
the Patron Poetess of the Lady Ink Crew not fearin you, not hatin you, 
she's just beatin every ounce of you

You say she's crazy, lazy and hastey
some sort of Prima Donna in distress lost in lunacy pastey,
but this is simply a rumor reflected from your own filthy and phony majesty,
she prepares for battle settled and seasoned
like a lioness in love with the last hour of hunger
quiet and confident, instincts infallible in Society's saddistic scramble,
pupils green aglow, piercing the pale lies of this business' infatuation with profit's ramble,
the salt of twilight stings her senses, your stunted reaction she will savor
thoughts of your company falling from her K-9's kill of what was once friendship once reasoned,
she will annihilate facts in the false traffic of your tabulated fantasy,
she will destroy you for assuming truth in sunshine made from touted travesty -

J.A.B.


Premium Member Paris

"PARIS"


Her perfume follows him
from room to room
Lily-of-the-Valley-Roses
lingers in the corners 
of his mind, the hollow of 
his neck
a soft kiss some hot moment back
in time, a vintage tune

Breeze blows her curtains
wide open 
her streets of soft pink velvet
pulsating
Cherry Blossom,
her Empress Trees
all her rapturous city's noises
sway in time to 
all his heart’s 
crying voices

Her Church steeple, 
his place of worship
god’s altar
drink her wine
his hair ruffled
genuflection, 
Choir of Angels sweet cry.

Spring rain softly caressing
his Winter window panes
stained glass
Cognac Kisses, sweet
nude vertigo
luscious dream, 
wanton blisses,
his last golden
Libertango


(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)



1.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vaXNdVTGT0k

2.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h02LY6KnyoI

We Forgot To Pray

Prayer

We forgot to pray today,
Our mutual supplication,
Benefaction via genuflection,
The midweek start to day,
And we forgot to pray.

We forgot that perfection,
Become a broken situation,
That our human condition,
Was of our own volition,
And we forgot to pray.

We forgot that God’s promise,
Was not to be controlling,
But in a relationship evolving,
That God needs constant permission,
But we forgot to pray.

We forgot to see the simple things,
The rise of sun and dimple things,
Birdsong on a frosty mourn,
The breath of life that does adorn,
And we forgot to pray.

So as we forgot to pray,
Dear God thank you for this day,
Thank you for all that we survey,
That we are fearfully but wondrously made,
And sorry we forgot to pray.

@Andrew Carnegie, Apologetic in Wiltshire, January 5th 2017.


If you would like to know a bit about me and my poetry please click this link below:
https://youtu.be/Ic_V7aX4xbk

Premium Member Fighting God

Taught when young, eyes raised skyward, to speak
on my knees, to the ether, Sundays every week.
Thanks for the gift of life and length of days,
lined up along the pew the family prays.
Sunday school and learn the book by rote,
'ask and you'll receive' the promise quotes.
The years went by, still praying for some answers,
clutching at manger straw for any chances
that Divine Grace would save my Dad and Mum and brother,
invoking Mary, Queen of Heaven, perfect Mother.
But.......
Silence from the one we're told will save.
Three names etched out in gold, all on one grave.
No more.....
One last goodbye, one final genuflection.
I'll bend a knee no more to this deception.
Hush the choir now, close your pearly gates,
I'll walk alone now, master of my fate.
The Citadel of me, strong, solid walls
but inside, darkness- nothing there at all
except an icy longing, tinged with pain.
Pews creak, and I'm kneeling down again.
Can't tell you why I'm here, no reason why
but once again the newborn Saviour cries.
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Leading Behind

the painting of pictures in the minds of readers of words 
Needs wetlip brush stroke consonants as complementary colors
Rhythmic connotation rhymed alliteration as wet accentuation 
so their lack of concentration will allow initiation 
by sleight of hands of invitation to let forgiving magics fluidic
flow in streams of splashing dashing flashing activation 
that lets the wetness of the darkness whisper slithery reactive
to the  painted light of reason reflecting faintly wetly on the wall
Is it really there at all? A shiver of sensation a tingle in a fingertip
That empty tasteless hollow feeling behind or in the ears 
some words are hard to follow and harder yet to find
Using them is easier than leaving them behind
In the walled wet halls of darkness 
By the looking glass of fears
Instinctive genuflection
Self reflective tears
Salty recollections
Chill cold years
Sharp honed
A shiver
Pain
It's gone again 
Or was it really
There
Form: Imagism

Premium Member Can You Feel It



~~Can You Feel It~~


The rainbowed bubbles of hope in the air?
God's hands cupping the earth during
these days of a great scare?

It's time to realize that peanut brained scientists 
and  deceptive politicians,
Need a date soon with great-famed morticians!

Time to get your groove back, poets dear.
Your morning prayer include you promising to God, 
you have had enough and give Him all your fears.

It's perfectly fine to bend your knee in the humblest 
of a genuflection.
And realize we truly live in a world headed for peace 
and perfection!

Good signs, dear poets, are seen everywhere!
But it's up to you to acknowledge the reality of them 
actually being there!

Now, get out of the darkness and your hibernation.
It's up to each of us, to be freed from-madness~
sttart living yout life in full satisfaction!

                    4/22/2023
Form: Couplet

Who Knows

She feels the urge to ask,
And in a different time she would have,
I guess it’s just another mask,
Removed by hands of time.
A child asks a mother in attempts to understand,
A fool asks a brother for the faintest hope of what he’d planned,
But what’s become of her?
She, who feels that urge to ask,
But every ‘magined scene evaporates because at last…
She knows a thing that needs no validation,
Her heart and head align for once in pure determination,
And in every situation,
Her conclusions flow the same,
Like the ocean from the river from the highest snows from whence it came,
Desire o’re the years and years
Shaped through all the tears, the tears,
They form a being needless of a voice to tame the proof
That’s found,
In every tingling nerve and heartbeat dancing to the truth
Around,
A fire lit within,
She won’t believe it anymore
That what drives her is a sin.
 
The sin of resolution,
The futility of absolution,
Oh, so heavy lies the crown
Upon a cool prevailing head,
No more in need of sought or proffered
Whispers of the ones who led
Her
Much too often to the stagnant pool of false reflection,
Softening the empty burn of grudging genuflection,
At the base of some familiar altar,
Asking far too much,
A sacrifice of every smile,
Every notion,
Every touch,
Of every single fiber weaving who she’s born to be,
Fraying all the threads,
Blurring all the lines,
Convincing her she cannot see
The Self that’s in her eyes,
Prompting her to ask
~ Like a fool, like a child ~
Which parts of her are good to keep,
And which are remnants of the wild,
Ancient,
Gorgeous,
Magic,
Sane illogic,
Pieces of her soul,
Mold them,
Shape them,
To this thing called reason…
Expectation…
White picket fence of civilization.
 
Does it make her a good woman to conform to this?
I guess that depends on the meaning of “good”,
And whether she gives a $h1+,
She asks now only as a curiosity,
Offering her story, but never an apology,
And truthfully,
What she came to see,
Is an answer that,
From the mouth of another,
Placates like that from a brother,
Or a mother,
But that answer heeded from deep within,
In all its frightening truth,
Relentless and unabashed,
Yes, that answer heeded from deep within
Is the one that caused HER life to begin.

10 Story Love Song

"Ten Floor Love Story"



Blue Sky 
breezes through 
the windows
clouds carry 
the never-ending 
piercing 
genuflection 

Cry 

Scavenger Seagulls
form a halo
angels barricade 
the honour guard
circling round 
the Sister for stoning
holding hands 

with the Resurrection 

Man


(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)







“Love Spreads” / Stone Roses
https://youtu.be/0tb_c_EsPnA

“Breaking into Heaven” / Stone Roses
https://youtu.be/95jHGhIamN4


“10 Story Love Song” / Stone Roses
https://youtu.be/5rwbLYOmPDA







“Let me put you in the picture
Let me show you what I mean
The Messiah is my sister
Ain't no king, man, she's my queen
Let me put you in the picture
Let me show you what I mean
The Messiah is my sister
Ain't no king, man, she's my queen…”







"When I wonder and when I roam
I'll find a soul I can trust
I'm coming home"








LYRICS. Stone Roses.

“Breaking into Heaven” / Stone Roses
https://genius.com/The-stone-roses-breaking-into-heaven-lyrics

“10 Story Love Song” / Stone Roses
https://genius.com/The-stone-roses-ten-storey-love-song-lyrics

“Love Spreads” / Stone Roses
https://geniuslyrics.net/the-stone-roses/love-spreads/








1. Ascended Masters
https://www.kaliana.com/blogs/eatdrinkthink/the-ascended-masters-who-they-are-and-how-they-can-help





2. Is God a Woman?
https://www.thesun.co.uk/archives/news/72651/back-from-the-dead-priest-says-god-is-a-woman/

Essence of Love

As I bow in heartfelt genuflection
to think upon the Greeks
who divined three words
for Love and it's reflection
Agape is the hightest form divine
with selfless care for those who are mine
It's fruit is known by what I do
and building all the parts of you
phileo is brotherly affection
the natural friendship and it's connection
the love that resides in family
within instinct and it's propensity
Eros seems to be most appreciated
never have I found it one who's hated
Two sides to Eros have manifested
both sides has mankind ever tested
Lust and the table of the self
or love of mate and pleasure in it's wealth
All of us has been given this in measure
the dispensing of it can give us pleasure
But rapture is contained when all three live
when we with complete heart choose to give
all of us the truth within resisted
but knowledge of it ever has persisted
to teach us which we are to excercise
the breath of spirit which within us lies
will direct upon us our course and path
and when we pass love is our epitath
 
 
 
May truth ever be gleaned from Noble Men

Please note I accidently left out storge
family love in greek and that may not be
the correct spelling...

 
COPYRIGHT © 2011 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Form: Rhyme

An Act of Love

An act of true love
He fingered his breast pocket
A genuflection
Love letter sheds pure tears
Echoes heard across the years
Form: Tanka

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