Genuflecting Poems | Examples

Photograph

Some haunt me pleasantly,
Using the grains of dewy silence that speak loudly
Within the long, grey halls of history.
I recline on such images with smiles I borrow from
The penetralia of my soul and skin.
Behind them come lean trees denuded by the swift
Gales of re-greened winters that celebrated
Friendliness in the course of wondrous seasons.
I peer deeply at them, genuflecting to Time
For its abundance of grace and reflections.
A spell of the past descends generously on me,
Navigating genially through the winding routes of
General ancestry.
They must be black, with the silhouettes I crave —
And white —with the silky mildews that glue together
Dispersed unity of the fragile present.
They transport me back to where I should have
Been but couldn’t be, through the nostalgia for
Where I was —only on sufferance.

The Coming Andantes

you are flying on a hazy dream carpet —
floating up there, above these old streets, 
these ancient genuflecting pines and cedars,
rising above the sleeping dead on Broadway, 
soaring now through the white tombstones—
the low walnut branches that flail like hungry cats.
now the sudden rush out of death’s hand we fly,
whirring by faster than blood flow in a silver sieve,
in and out of the shadowed majesties far inside,
these soul itchers that foretell the coming andantes, 
here in this perfumed dreamland with only you, 
as we seep through the spinning pines and cedars,
the long extending blood rivers naked with stones,
of venison death and fish spasms in the final sun.

Every Man

I live in every man's struggles.
I lose myself in the crowd;
Everyone has a story of loss,
Of a childhood that ended abruptly,
Transmogrified into juvenile gods,
Worshipping, genuflecting, reacting,
Pale with the anguish of bent backs.
And every man lives in me,
As I in him, today and yesterday;
Ancestors and inheritors, possessors,
Crossing oceans, discovering realms,
Absorbing losses, sensing kinship
In the spurting blood of the enemy,
Enemy men, who say goodbye forever
To the children and mothers left behind.
I see myself in every man, even the enemy;
In the war cry, the final guttural effort
To resist the pale-faced smallpox carrier.

ADMIRATIONS a chance poem in open form

ADMIRATIONS
captivated
  by
    the imperative
genuflecting
  the polyphonetic
with
demode
  certainties

castigating
  & circumventing
pressures

entranced
    by
      the
unsettling

yet
irrepressible
  influences
of
today

The Altar of Years

Most of my flying now
is restricted to planes,
feet less able to 
“trip the life fantastic” -- 

age having slowed fast living
to delayed starts and early
finishes – 

joining the genuflecting
lines, many of us
striving for sainthood
in latter years, fingering
rosaries – chanting on knees

converts 
at Altar of years….

Faith's Chained Haiku

The living mindscape.
      Virtues stage, showing colors.
      Painting the belief.

 Sculpted in truth's form.
 A resurrect, re birthing.
 A glorious seed.

      Sunlight on our skin.
      The kiss of destiny's plan.
      Shining in fullness.

 Wade through trials' fires.
 Follow through the mire.
 Wishing, stokes desires.

     Thinking in silence.
     Genuflecting what makes sense.
     Sending confidence.

 Someone to share it.
 Truly a gift sent from God.
 Unwrapped hearts with strings.

     In living color.
    The world shows a designer.
    Of a designing.

 Urging urgently.
 Wind carries sounds, just a taste.
 As my mind swallows.

    The intentional.
    Inventional-convention.
    Dire introspection.

 Showing Cause, Aeffects.
 Righteousness spell dialect.
 Never, derelict.

   Afterbirth of hope.
   Placenta in the remains.
   Gives us its growth pangs.

 A beautiful way.
 It has its way to premise.
 In living promise.

                            In living color.
                  The Holy Spirit sends it.
                        Wisdom to gather.

Consider the Lilies

“Consider the lilies,” the wise Solomon said
They do not spend their time in worry,
Though they know they soon will fade ~~
They present themselves in all their glory,
Neither genuflecting nor saying they’re sorry. 

Written April 21, 2022

Drink the Kool-Aid

Chug-a-lug, Chug-a-lug – 
no matter the fly in our
President's mug, the bug in 
his thinking...my reflecting on
his ailing brain, and it's obvious
volume shrinking:

Those mindless, confusing rants, 
Bidden juices-up;  Psaki, drinking 
without blinking – regurgitating 
at deceptive White House briefings –  
propaganda validated by shameless, 
would-be reporters, were it not for 
their obvious conscription – their 
sacrificial genuflecting, having
sold their souls to the Golden Calf 
of Soros wealth and tyrannical 
influence – 

For Progressive compliance – securing
her high place of worship in a Marxist,
Totalitarian Kingdom – Pelosi suggesting
free ice-cream be given to all, in place
of Tried-And-True, Good Old, American 
Freedom –

If I Was As Clever As I Think I Am

If I was half as clever as I think I am
People would whisper about my whimsical wily ways.
Warlocks would warn witches about my wit.
We would be reading about me in a World Book.

If I was as humorous as I think I am
Beavers would hunch over my Hungarian hash
Begging me to bring my brilliancy into their burrows.
They would be genuflecting and paying me homage.

If I was as wise as I think I am
I would keep this to myself
So I could keep my friends who would make fun of me
If they read this poem.

A Child Leads Us

We were intimidated by stone man
Wondering why he was genuflecting
We reflected on it as only adults can do
Wesley walked over to touch him and say “hi”.

They had an intense conversation, this toddler and this statue.
We were stunned, realizing Wesley saw a human being
Whereas we had seen stone, not recognizing his humanness.
We all walked over then, grateful a child lead us.

Contextual Comrades Incarcerated

EXTRA  EXTRA

Contextual Comrades Incarcerated,

Victims of vitriols vexation 
denied the rights of their inquisitors.
Censored by the voices of shame
guilt and hubris masquerading
as righteous indignation.
Virtue’s vanity
shouting from the “bully” pulpit
concerned only with its own reflection
“gutturally” genuflecting
before a muted “god”.



©6/3/2021

No Problem Is a Problem For Me

Summersaulting on the clouds of time
Makes me thirsty for yesterday’s old ones
They were the best; their laps were soft.
Kindness was their middle name.
Their first name polite.

No one said, “no problem”.
They said, “You are welcome”.
“No problem” to me means “you are not really welcome”.
My mind growls and snarls every time I hear it.

Curtseys are weird, and never looked right.
I do not go in for genuflecting either.
Because I am not of that religious persuasion.
Then of course I might flex.

I am doing cartwheels now, reaching my toes toward Jupiter
Showing the gods and goddesses I am limber enough to show them up
They scoff at my antics, sneering at my enthusiasm.
I care not, for I am in my own world
Still steaming over “no problem”
which I guess is one.

April Calls

April calls
 some distant echo from the past
where winter sleeps,
 seeks its rest in time and space,
while April rains
 chill and recall the long winter dark 
passed;
but now, 
mid-April showers fall
 and bud and blossoms peek out and up
to touch the warmth of the sun,
 feel the soft caress of spring tease,
ready, willing, anxious, longing, grateful
 to take in the light,
to breathe new life
 and be resurrected 
from the shadows
 passing off, forgotten in the background
bending, bowing. genuflecting
 to the passage of time.



4/12/2021

April Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh

Ten Bills For Mary

"Ten Bills for Mary"



Bottles on the wall
green crystalline
numbered and marked
all thinking they are
unseen

Mary put a mirror
behind 55
and in her eyes
reflected corridors
of light and Blue Sky

and taking her hand
like manna from heaven
one man transporting
becomes Ten Bills
multi-amorphous 

kneeling like a knight
pledging loyalty
chivalrous
kind, honourable
genuflecting

Mary put a mirror
behind 55
and in her eyes
reflected corridors 
of light and Blue Sky

The woman 
from Magdala
speaking tongues 
risking all
crucified 

consorting



(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)







"Well she was
Blinded by the light
Revved up like a deuce
Another runner in the night

The calliope crashed to the ground"





Consort. v.

Who Is the Boss

in one night crystal magic covers forest 
forcing trees to bow toward ground
who is boss? Winter asks.

The trees go quietly, genuflecting
without argument, allowing her wrath
and her anger to agitate other forest components

Who is the boss? Winter repeats, wanting 
them to give up their respect and their power
The trees hold fast, bending closer to the ground

Not answering, not arguing, not squealing 
Their silence more effective than any amount
of words or screams.   Winter gets angry and goes away.

Kicking snow up with her foot as she walks through
the months of January and February.  
Trees smile at March’s sun, who heats them up
and rescues them.

I am so proud of you! She tells them; you survived
another winter.

• Short Genuflecting Poems
• Famous Genuflecting Poems
• Best Genuflecting Poems
• Read Genuflecting Poems
• Long Genuflecting Poems
• Genuflecting Quotes