Best Shriven Poems
Those good deeds can be done by all,
By young or old, by short or tall.
A smile may be the very thing
That makes a shriven heart to sing.
A tender hearted, richer man
Who writes a check because he can
Is no more blessed than is the one
Whom a much smaller deed has done.
An arm to help across the street,
A meal for homeless man to eat.
His faith in humankind restore
With food for lost dog at your door.
“The poor is with us”, Jesus said,
“In need of food, a home, a bed.”
You will find there's nothing to it.
Just see a need and then go do it.
Categories:
shriven, inspirational,
Form:
Couplet
Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
singed by sullen Sol, not stayed by Poseidon's hand;
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.
Impenitent, sky rains ash blackening the night.
Fire sends a smoky pall upon the sea and land,
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.
Fire eats: the air, snuffs man's breath; highlighting their plight,
all hands on deck, the Captain calls, out his command.
Aflame, aflame, tall ship burns, see their masts ignite.
Hell's inferno comes calling on this sun lit night,
foul winds blow, fire roars, and so the flames are fanned;
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.
Without their ship, crews are lost to a debtors blight.
Up the went like scarecrows shriven by the brand,
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.
Cinder shower catch the dock; workers run in fright.
Pain and heartache fill the wharf; still, they must disband.
Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.
Keelmen Heaving in Coals by Night' by Turner
Published by Dual Coast 2014
Categories:
shriven, art,
Form:
Villanelle
Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
singed by sullen Sol, not stayed by Poseidon's hand;
aflame, aflame, the tall ship burns, see the masts ignite.
Unpenitent the sky rains ash blackening the night
the fire sends a smoky pall upon the sea and land
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.
Fire eats the air, it snuffs man's breath, death maybe their plight,
yet, all hands come to the Captains call, his to command
aflame, aflame, the tall ship burns, see the masts ignite.
Hell's inferno's come a calling on this sun lit night
a foul wind blows, the fire roars, and so the flames are fanned
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.
Without their ship, the crew were lost, debtors they'd alight
they went up like straw scarecrows shriven by the brand
aflame, aflame, the tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.
Burning cinders catch the dock, the workers run in fright.
Pain and heart ache fill the wharf still they must disband.
Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
aflame, aflame, the tall ship burns, see the masts ignite.
See About the poem
Categories:
shriven, fire,
Form:
Villanelle
Ash Wednesday
Ash Wednesday, the day to confess and repent
As we enter the solemn season of Lent
The ashes remind us that "Dust thou art"
And one day from this world we will depart.
Worldwide, the faithful honor this tradition
With devotional hearts and sincere contrition
But, sadly, some people are not so disposed
To "Love thy neighbor" their hearts are closed.
Thus, the Russian leader is attacking Ukraine
Causing destruction and inflicting pain
Amidst the bombings and rocket flashes
Businesses and dwellings are reduced to ashes.
Today sacred ashes we wear on our forehead
But whose soul will bear the ashes of the dead?
The guilt of this burden to the tyrant is given
In the eternity to come can he ever be shriven?
Molly Moore
Categories:
shriven, inspiration, political, spiritual,
Form:
Rhyme
Y/our relationship with ecology and economics
incarnates polypathically,
multisystemically therapeutic,
like positive human relationships
and richly fertile sacred dreams
between DNA's biological unfolding and Vitamin D's
absorbing ways.
Our actively cooperating economic design,
political intent,
power assumptions,
love,
light of truth,
beauty,
multisystemic refueling therapy
for ego and ecohealing community,
Appositionally driven
shriveled by exhausting lose-lose practices
feeding shriven anger,
silos of fear and suffering,
haunted by monopolistic
monochromatic
mindless monocultural nightmares
of Black Hole entropic proportion,
socioeconomic pathology
wilting and suffocating purgation
monotheistic punishment
pantheistic imprisonment.
Black hole reverse-eco-normic competition
never ends with enough,
timelessly continues longing for infinity
of heaven at hand.
Ecological cooperation soon builds diversely inclusive sufficiency,
together,
healthy warm kinda wealthy,
but just right,
pricklygoo co-invested
muse amusing culture.
If we don't fly apart first,
we might learn to fly
and swim
and breathe together,
drinking from the same aerobic/autonomic fountain of knowledge,
in bull-bear fueled nutritional flows and ebbing markets
polyculturally optimized self-with-other resilient design.
EcoTherapy practices peaceful Earth development,
proactively nurturing
co-passionate bipartisan
notBully/notBear balanced
therapeutic EarthTribal nutrition.
Categories:
shriven, earth, environment, nature, peace,
Form:
Political Verse
Heard your shriven whine from the mountain,
Here is me, just coming so close to you;
Thirsty stone in water fall stream to go on and on;
Bloody flower on shoot serves sweet fragrance,
You don’t know me!
Me the silver shine in far azure;
Cool rain coming down through the horizon,
You are blind though with eyes, could not see me;
Me the light of firefly in darkness;
The promise of shining sun emerged in the blue of azure,
She is my untouched love of my life forever.
Love is water color on canvas drawn by artist’s brush;
Crops that farmer gain at so sweating,
Love waking in the pen of poet so living poem;
Stress of life struggler rushing all the time,
Love on the eyes of lover tearing down in waiting;
The lover’s hour of worship shrouded by shine,
Love in soil emerging green field;
The very nectar water of thirsty served by mother’s hand,
Having on bosom the illusion of the soil’s affection;
The lover forever, ancient primeval man of the civilization.
I don’t come to pick up love, but only serve;
Not I even sought to find the agony of the lover;
Who had lost his torn cottage in the early war,
Bullet embedded heart to pain making all havoc;
Nobody wiped his tear,
On the crossing of mourn shadow, I still remain standing on blur field,
Love of grasshopper to have touch on bloody flower in hand,
My eyes looking oblivion;
Standing is victorious lover with red-green flag in the air,
Breezy air off stirring his calm eyes;
Poked sway of romance in the deep of love,
Love is fragrance from muddy earth;
On the rich green field full blossomed of humanities.
Categories:
shriven, deep, love,
Form:
Free verse
'Tis in a manner far from thrasonical
That I come to you in full canonical
What I chose to do was to instill my love
On acolytes below while I was above
When the holy Church I entered in my prime
I, the Church,entered many, time after time
Those altar cherubs whom I picked out to spoil
I anointed warmly with my sacred oil
How could I resist faces so innocent
Wreathed in the swirl of the thurible's scent
To hold them close tightly and their soft flesh feel
Made my whole self dizzily tingle and reel
How truly uplifting was my fierce,fierce joy
When I had communion with a chosen boy
They knew our closeness was clearly God given
And that in confession would I be shriven
For all the worldly good I did on God's earth
Then entry to heaven is my deserved berth.
Alas,your Grace,you cannot in all conscience enter here
Too much dark concupiscence on your soul sits,I do fear
Too concentrated were you on carnal desire
That leaves you to roast now in the eternal fire
Begone! For scandalising the young
Round your neck must a millstone be hung
And into the depths of Hades will you descend
There to endure your torment without end
Categories:
shriven, addiction, child abuse, corruption,
Form:
Rhyme
so love us ’cause “I’m the hoochie-coochie man”,
not way over there, but here because we gotta' get our feet groovin'
the path of the seer-serpent probing our souls believin’ our believin’ eyes in askin’,
do you be “secret agent man?”
because they’ve taken your number and given me your name I
raise in exultation of bone-bred pain screaming for a strangling
of questions “in the shadow of the city” risen from scorched, grinning alleys
strewn with hope-seeds born in the spittle of fertility, ancient
moments still watching over the sacred egg from which we came – and
shriven of barrenness I throw back my head to yell,
“you ain’t nothin’ but a houn’ dawg”
nothin’, nothin’ but a
houn’ dawg, houn’ dawg
runnin’ tongue-led along my trail joined
to your redolent thread, us sweetly inflamed with “bad, bad whiskey – and we’ve lost our home”,
bad, bad, bad, bad whiskey, highway of liquid-burning sin and yelping salvation
from heaven and hell to the beyond of the subway station confessed with “I love you”,
and the only answer I need is redemption of the night
steeped in the beautiful, bad bad whiskey
of your eyes…
… and the whispering hymn of the wind…
Categories:
shriven, love, love,
Form:
Free verse
… scattered jazz,
haunted gnarls of
octupi-night staggering
between semen-splinters of stars
pain-fornicating in
my collective gutter, my disheveled
cells oozing your
black and
softer gold
burning silence
in a heathen writhe between my ears
dancing on the cusp: my dead-zone ecstasy
defiling
corrupting and
seduction-raping the
industry of numbness,
toilet-scream from
between legs: slave of avoidance
whore of denial
death in a vacuum
naught ever happening
until it’s time to drain
blood from the radiator
in the cross-hairs of crucifiction,
copulation of seven-inched nails
click of steel, snap of heels,
tails,
tongues flickering to embrace
the gutters of my cells
reaching for unopened chapters
strewn through sanctified pain,
and I waiting
for your drive through
the brothel of my mind,
forsaken
lashed to the altar,
my anguish screeching
our prayers,
your black, softer
gold annihilated to smoke
ravishing the reek spiraling up
from my nostrils,
your unspeaking
crawl through catacombs
whispering mouldering truths
under my fingernails scraping remembrances
from your hair
caressing cathredrals rent into
matchsticks to prop heaven
apart,
shriven thighs
toxic-anointed sighs,
poison of my ache for
the healing venom
of your eyes,
soothing darts of darkness bathing dead-zone paramids
with the musky
perfume of sorrow and
floundering celebration
dug from primordial pits
by scrabbling fingertips
clutching for a remnant of your heart
wrapped in wonder
around my pulse staggering, ragged edge of jazz
scraping across windowpanes
in a shriek freezing the soul of god
and dried ice
begging to plunge into embers of your blood
lost in my veins
running from room to room
in my house, our house,
teddy bear, knothole yawns and
oven with gaping jaws,
medicine cabinet of numbness,
sobbing pills
ceiling lowered to a stoop,
tatters
patterns
snow-crystals following a trail
through our window into traffic jams of children
cascading out of the chapel – my gutter-cell
longing to be unlocked
by the sound of your voice…
… ressurection in the
octupi-night…
Categories:
shriven, love
Form:
Free verse
Should auld acquaintance be forgiven?
Seek not dear darling, to be shriven.
With all the sweet torments of love
you once visited on my heart, the same
measure for meaure did I, on you, employ.
Call to mend; healing now the only joy.
The rapture, ripe, that we once shared,
I know (and my hope is that you do too)
with all we were, we truly cared.
The love we gave: me to you; you to me
I will always hold treasured, in memory.
Keep the best, forgive and forget
we'll take a cup of kindness yet...
Categories:
shriven, forgiveness, holiday, hope, introspection,
Form:
Rhyme
Seeking to find serenity is a task I cannot take
for most of all it seems to me a mindless missing mandate.
Buddha has achieved serenity, at least that what some say.
Yet, in my mind dear Sylvia* found death in a similar way.
To not exist, to cease to be, will bring the sought for feeling,
many find this door to out, but, it leaves my head reeling.
Can I not change, the path I'm on, can I not choose another?
Will I blame an omnipotent God, will I blame my brothers?
No, I'll accept, live and breathe, the form which I've been given,
and I'll forgive myself each step, and so, I will be shriven.
For I've been made with God's own seed, a God am I so born
I'll not blame another man or take credit from the unformed.
*Sylvia Plath (10/27/32 – 2/11/63) was an American poet,
novelist and short story writer who commited suicide.
Categories:
shriven, hope, inspirational, introspection, life,
Form:
Couplet
Lent
Malasada* Day was merrily spent
Shrove Tuesday, Mardi Gras - many names are given
To this final day before the season of Lent
When around the world Christians are shriven.
Now, "Dust thou art, unto dust thou shalt return"
Are words that are solemnly spoken
As with prayer and fasting people inwardly turn
Ashes on their head as a mindful token.
It seems this message can be taken to heart
No matter one's religion or philosophy
Self reform and reflection are a vital part
Of creating a healthy society.
So, during this Lent let us choose to fast
From divisiveness and animosity
We can foster a cohesiveness that will last
And nurture our beloved democracy.
Molly Moore
* Malasada is a Portuguese doughnut without a hole.
The Portuguese came to Hawaii in the 19th century to work
on the sugar plantations and have remained to contribute
to the rich cultural tapestry of our islands.
Molly Moore
Categories:
shriven, appreciation,
Form:
Quatrain
DREAMS
A re-occurring dream I have with such
A vivid set of sight and sound and touch
That in that other world the question’s posed
Is this only a dream soon to be closed?
The answer oft as not is: No! It’s real
What else could give such graphic sense and feel
Yet in brief course of time we soon return
To life that’s more than such a brief sojourn
Enjoined to judge this as the world that’s real
To which we must revert, the dream repeal
And so we choose to denigrate our vision
As unreality that must be to be shriven
But what, when young, we see as life unending
A climb to peak so distant we’re ascending
As years go by, perceived as finite stake
A dream perhaps from which we may awake
A difference? Brief or long the candle burn
Each IS experience for which we yearn
Therefore we may reject as test: duration
Since time itself is subject to mutation
‘Real world’, if we must judge and make decree.
Is that which we concur, we sense and see.
I’ll share with you and you - life long deems
But choose to also live in my own dreams
Categories:
shriven, dream,
Form:
Rhyme
Love so easy when stars align
One kiss one touch you are mine
We enter realm of truly sublime
What went wrong? I missed first sign
'twas the criticism you did design
no longer can I worship at your shrine
You took my love so freely given
Forget forgiveness you won't be shriven.
This started out as a vaasokht but am afraid it did not follow rules entirely.
Categories:
shriven, heartbreak, heartbroken,
Form:
Vaasokht
The day I had to force a smile,
For a moment I was imbecile,
I had to pretend just for a while,
Unable to walk; I was immobile.
Lying on that bed I was in great pain,
But for a moment I confused my brain,
After all I had undergone I had to refrain,
Like a poet I thought of writing a cinquain.
Today I can testify there is God in Heaven,
I feel His presence when having a sweven,
He is a wonder working God; I have Shriven,
He truly lives and through me He has proven.
Categories:
shriven, allusion, god, imagination, jesus,
Form:
Burlesque