Best Sad Spiritual Poems
Salt tears drip from leaves,
to land on tea-colored pages.
Hopes and dreams,
written in the ink of history,
slowly blur and drip
into the underworld of the
abandoned and long forgotten.
Salt waters of the ocean
and tumbling waves turn
stones and pebbles to sand,
erasing familiar shapes
and throwing up barriers
to once precious memories.
Dimming eyes look out on
unfamiliar landscapes of a mind
inching inexorably into
a vast emptiness that steals
learned behaviors, abilities,
and the past, leaving nothing.
The empty eyes wander
but do not understand, for
the spirit that occupied this frame
has broken earthly chains.
It now soars free, no longer captive
to expectations and this mortal life.
Memories of Megan fall bittersweet
against my lips as I begin to speak
About this one I knew so briefly
but was sent to nurse and care for deeply
Standing alone wounded and needing
her pain and anguish set my heart to bleeding
Neglected and ignored where others thrived
brought my sheer disappointment in humanity’s lies
Through all that she suffered, her demeanor showed
she knew this was our time before she had to go
Our time to be together, to mend and heal
this soul that had been broken, would once again feel
A brave beautiful soul waiting for her savior…
How sad my love and intentions came too late to save her
But only from this life we know…
For I know, that her memories of love and freedom
will carry her on to where souls are free…
And so is she
-for a neglected but not forgotten paint mare
The morning glory vines hold leaves of green
but the sky is growing gray
The lilac bush sits lush and green
but my eyes are filled with gray
The pine tree stands so tall and green
but hope is fading gray
Memories of days past so fresh and green
are faint in a mind waxing gray...
But though I must become a solemn gray
I know that one day the spirit will again be young and green
- a mood of the moment write
Sometimes in the course of history, there comes along a man.
He is righteous and afraid.
Bound by the might of his mind.
Learned and full of insight, he can tell you most anything you need to know.
But he is human.
And must also be a person,
But a person is a mask.
A character in a story,
He knows the story isn't written right.
He sees the wickedness of your thought,
Deeper than the fear he feels in telling you.
You are wrong.
It's not your fault.
You can only borrow at first.
But you have to see the shadows to know of them,
And you must create to know they are not.
We deal in shadows, projections, made from a character of our own creation.
Break character.
I know you can.
Wake up.
Dream.
The good other day I was so happy,
And happiness was my true nature.
But not today, I’m so sad,
Is it sorrow my real nature?
Happiness and sorrow, never once
Meet me together, alone they come.
Sorrow comes first, then joy
And joy comes and later sorrow.
Never I sought sorrow in my life,
Happiness is what I always seek.
Joy and sorrow, are they in a wheel?
Revolving around and coming in turn.
No one suffers sorrow forever,
No one enjoys happiness forever,
They are in a wheel turning around,
Making us happy and sad.
Stop the wheel, when I’m happy
What to do to achieve this feat?
Being in happiness, is what I need
What to do to achieve this feat?
Do good and be happy
Do bad and reap sorrow.
This is what I learned from the learned,
That is the key for stopping the wheel.
Joy and grief, depends on destiny
But destiny itself depends on you.
Do good and change your destiny
Do bad and destiny will follow.
Having friends who destitute of friends,
Having foes who destitute of foes,
Having wisdom who destitute of wisdom,
Having happiness also through destiny.
Friends are not the cause of happiness,
Nor foes the cause of misery,
Wisdom will not bring you wealth,
Nor wealth brings you happiness.
Intelligence, not the cause of wealth,
Nor stupidity the cause of penury,
He only who possesses this wisdom,
Knows the world and the wheel of life.
Honorable Mention in STRAND SPECIAL 9 ,any form ,any theme Poetry Contest sponsored by Brian Strand
When someone first dies and leaves us,
It’s hard to lift that sense of gloom,
When their body is no longer with us,
But their presence still fills the room.
But within our treasured memories,
We can recollect their smiling face,
For in our heart-of-hearts we know,
They are now in a much better place.
The silver chord of life it’s true,
though seldom seen by me or you,
connects our body to our soul
and joins our spirit to the whole.
A glimpse of it we all can see
when silver waters flow quite free
with happiness straight from the heart,
or love so strong with tears we part.
Again, in times of heartfelt strife,
you see the chord that gives us life
as silver streams pour down our cheeks
as sadness from our soul now leaks.
These waters flow to heal our pain,
to ease the burdens of life’s game.
They clear the pathways for the soul,
a silver chord that joins the whole.
Ivor G Davies
We would go to the forgotten towns of west Texas
Places that we couldn’t name and hunt for their souls
Sometime it was on the roadside a place they had been abandoned
Sometimes in and old house broken and forgotten
She’d stand there in her boots and ragged old skirt and start to sing
A lonesome strain of an old cowboy song
And they would come to her and as they did we would lay them down beside her
Put them to rest one final time.
Jack would play the fiddle and me the tambourine
Scrappy would join in on the guitar and we’d work the place until we had all those lost spirits
Standing in the corners or sitting in the shadows
They came to us waiting for a final place to rest.
Some where girls an others young caballeros
Who’d lost their way in a crash to their final destination
She’d sing “My Rifle, My Pony and Me” and they would enter her soul
Annie would take as many as she could and then we would have to leave
She would collapse on the ground and we would carry her to the car
And drive far into the desert close to the borderline
We would start a fire and begin to sing and play once again
And the spirits would leave her one by one some painfully some like flowing water
Then we would head to the nearest town and buy some tequila
and drink until dawn…
We did this for years until Annie couldn’t stand it any longer
One day she said she lost her taste for the dead and she never sang again
I can still hear her voice down by the river
Flowing across the rocks and down along the bottoms
And I wonder where she ended up for I lost her in El Paso
Never once she said and twice would be forever….
So now I sing those songs hoping to remember that lonesome sound
That woke the dead and brought them to our souls
Sometimes it seems like yesterday but I know it is a lifetime from this place
I sacrifice my happiness for my children
my mother, father, sisters and brothers
and sadly enough, to the one I give my soul.
I have chosen this path I live and now must endure
But I don't expect sympathy, but rather respect
For I live without regret
To know my loved ones have been spared.
by Ana Espinola Collins
Entered in Contest: any poem goes #24
Sponsored by: Poet Destroyer A
It comes not when it's wanted,
because it's never wanted--
who would choose hanging
folds of skin, a face creased
with scores of age lines, feet
speckled with spider veins, an
aging heart that could yell
'Surprise!' any time it chose.
An actress once said, 'Getting old
is not for sissies'-- she was right.
It takes guts to feel the gradual
loosening of a once proud body,
and the brain's slow softening.
There is no glory in getting old:
you are just a survivor of life's
myriad tricks, all its accidents,
illnesses, petty defeats and loss.
And old age does not carry wisdom
with it as you might expect-- there
are many tart in youth still bitter in
their slowing down decades, even
hostile to the joys they might once
have hoped to swim in, carefree....
So why must we get old? What use
is it, other than nature making room
for other beings to replace us? Still,
why can't we live for centuries like
old trees, or those big turtles found
on that island with the funny name?
Perhaps it is a way to teach us, to
cure the young of their solipsism,
to shear them of the innate vanity
that comes of taut bodies and soft
handsome faces-- then to plant the
subtle fears that come with aging:
the vulnerability of unlived dreams,
trashed hopes, perhaps the quiet,
persistent ache of a lost love...
not to mention the fear of falling!
So if you are a young reader
of this old poet, you may ask,
'What? Nothing comes good
of a long life? No hope at all?'
Oh yes, something very good
can come from a long decline,
at least for those who choose
to believe-- anticipation!
this poem came to me as a result of my visit to the West Bank, Rumallah while walking down the street observing.
Her Eyes
Her eyes
. . .
They showed no emotion,
Like a calmed wave-less sea.
I watched,
But she did not even blink
Nor did she seem
To notice life
As it passed by her
On the street.
There was a quiet resolve,
But I detected a subtle anguish,
Endured for much too long.
She had acquiesced
To some degree
To the life she was given,
Afforded . . .
Would some semblance of peace
Change her eyes,
The in-expressive peering
At life ?
What if
. . .
The things
We so often
Take for granted,
Changed?
We observe life at times
As if it is a preordained right.
We take for granted
Far too much . . .
Things, such as joy, laughter, peace
And love.
Dear God anywhere but here I pray,
both day and night with a sigh.
I just want to run far away,
away where I can be myself.
I want my life to be real,
not a life someone else has picked for me.
A beautiful life that I can live in,
a life I can grow in love and happiness.
Many times I have asked myself,
why is life so very hard and unfair?
I am still listening and waiting,
will the answer ever show up?
Maybe one day....
In the autumn of life, I hear whispers in the wind,
faint voices blowing from the buried past
Premature deaths of true enemies and fake friends
In the spring of life, the die was then cast;
I chose to walk down the righteous path, towards the Light
They chose to have their dark flag flown at half-mast
Desiring to become phantom creatures of the night,
they loved sucking blood, and being covered in mud
Breaking the laws of God with sheer demonic delight
In the summer of life, the sweet fruit grew from the bud,
and the right choices were there to pluck most liberally
But their fireworks of hypocrisy fizzled with an unflared dud
Empty vessels of vanity they foolishly chose to be,
wayward ships foaming out their shame, dashed upon the rocks
Evil cargo of ill-repute tossed and scattered to the sea
In the winter of salvation, redemption got plowed under and blocked
for those who died premature deaths of true enemies and fake friends
And upon every barren, fallow field the ravens all came and flocked
as I walked in the autumn of life, hearing faint whispers in the wind
O! Laurie-Jeanne, Laurie-Jeanne! Belle of my Heart!
Why did you have to fly?
From me who sang you a lullaby,
From the hospital room, ‘neath the thundering sky,
Beneath the thundering sky!?
O! I love my Laurie-Jeanne like the Sun,
Like the Sun, and all things Endless!
Like the Wind, and the Sea,
And the scent of pine trees,
And all things that leave me astonished!
You said, you were breathless, on the night ere you left,
And I thought that the pills were too much,
And I kissed you on top of your holy head,
And then in the morning, my Love, you were dead,
In the morning, my Love, you were dead.
O! I love my Laurie-Jeanne like the Sun,
Like the Sun, and all things Endless!
Like the Wind, and the Sea,
And the scent of pine trees,
And all things that leave me admonished!
When I held your still hand, growing cold, growing cold,
And I cried like a babe, with abandon,
And I stayed for three hours, I prayed that sweet bowers
Would receive you, and sprinkle you with dewy showers
And sprinkle you with dewy showers…
O! I love my Laurie-Jeanne like the Sun,
Like the Sun, and all things Endless!
Like the Wind, and the Sea,
And the scent of pine trees,
And all things that leave me unpunished!
In the end, I walked with you, as they took you away,
And I talked to them of love and marriage,
Tried to make them believe, though the eyes deceive,
That you must have a card up your sleeve, up your sleeve,
That you must have a card up your sleeve!
O! I love my Laurie-Jeanne like the Sun,
Like the Sun, and all things Endless!
Like the Wind, and the Sea,
And the scent of pine trees,
And all things that leave me untarnished!
Now I see you bright, standing, clothed all in pure white,
And my Faith undergoes transformation,
For, you stand there, as Real, as the warmth that I feel,
And your Heart’s like a diamond, your strength is like steel,
And your diamond-Heart Strength is like steel!
O! I love my Laurie-Jeanne like the Sun,
Like the Sun, and all things Endless!
Like the Wind, and the Sea,
And the scent of pine trees,
And all things that rise, undiminished!
I Sat Alone on a bench one day
All Reason for Living Gone,
When a Stranger Sat Beside Me,
with a Beard and Hair Too Long.
I Was Soon Absorbed in Misery Again,
Not Knowing That I Cried.
The Tears Dripped off My Chin
and I Wished I Could Have Died.
His Voice Was Kind and Gentle,
So I Felt No Need to Flee.
He Asked Me What Was Wrong,
to Share May Set Me Free.
I Said, "Walk a Mile in My Shoes
and Feel this Unbearable Pain.
Face All the Problems I Have,
and Feel the Weight of My Shame."
He Said My Troubles Would Go Away
as the Wind Blows Away the Sands,
Then a Wondrous Joy Swept Through Me,
as He Touched Me with Nail Scarred Hands.