Gospels Poems | Examples

Shadow Waters

Shadow Waters
The water-bearer leans his urn silently,
pours starlight over forsaken streets
where neon lights flash their final confessions
and shattered promises accumulate like rain.
Here in the reverse trickle of time,
where advancement is lost in its own reflection,
the era turns in, searching for explanations
in dregs of what we believed we'd gained.
Electric prophets air hollow gospels
while the crowds scroll through ghost lives,
each contact another strand that entwines us
to this tapestry of lovely despair.
The constellation turns above, unchanging
those very stars that once held out liberty
now witness us tumble into the labyrinth
we built from our own radiant ideals.
In tower suites and lower-level clubs,
the children of the future sell their souls
to algorithms who recognize their secret names
and dole them out in morsels, afterwards.
Yet, still, the water flows, unceasing,
carrying seeds of something not yet born
perhaps redemption sleeps in darkness
of this shattered, brilliant age.
The carrier's face away from us,
sloshing the future drop by drop
while we stand dry in the flood,
suffocating in our own lighted shadows.

Singing To Get A Peace of Mind A Praise To JESUS

I'm singing to get a peace of mind

In due time, overtime, sometimes near bedtime

When all obstacles are trying to distract me

So that I cannot see the full blessings

I sing Gospels songs to relax me

Songs to Jesus above

Praises with many of Gospel songs

The atmosphere can get toxic at times

I know that I shall keep a peace of mind

My joy will not be removed

Nor disapproved.

Ghoul's Lullaby

Cautious steps from the creaking door;
Like whispers, clawing nights of yore.
A shadowed fiend, in darkness stood—
Appalled, I froze, like lifeless wood.

And 'fore I screamed a frightened shriek,
At once! He drew his carnal stick;
Invaded my untainted space,
Defiled me in most twisted ways.

While tears fell fast, as swift did he
Imprint his sins inside of me;
As heavens wept, their gospels fell,
And damned my womb to endless hell.

The shadowed fiend, right there, content,
His wicked thirst brewed my torment;
And, with a grin, whispered the ghoul:
"Sleep, sweetie, sleep—or you'll miss school."

He has only just begun

"Through the Holy Gospel we are his messengers." Holy Gospels


He guides us to show others
With his love and understanding.
In each of us, He has only just begun.
I am a fledgling in His vast universe.
As an example of His love and caring
I will treat all as I would wish to be treated
The power of our Lord fills me with love.
His Son, The Lord Jesus Christ will be sent
To judge the living and the dead,
His Kingdom will have no end.
The Holy Trinity is all powerful
Those That believe, will have everlasting life.
Two thousand years is a drip in the ocean.
Our creator sent his only son to enrich us,
And forgive us of or sins, until he comes again.
God has only just begun this process
We will act accordingly to show others the way.
Until the world is saved by His Son returning

Hide and seek

I saw God, I swear I did, 
Was it a chimera or was I in luck?
Who knows? I was awestruck.

I looked again and He wasn’t there, 
I closed my eyes and He was everywhere. 
I rejoiced, embracing this connection,
It felt like a passage toward ascension.

I’ve surrendered to the scorch of vibrations 
In my deepest being,
Cosmic gospels were piercing my Self;
Couldn’t understand a word,
But I could feel what it was said. 

It was like magic, now you see Him, 
Now you don’t.
Forgotten knowledge that now I knew, 
Reminded me, that I was you.

I took a breath and I was shedding ego, 
Fear and everything that dread.
A veil of understanding 
Was lifting before my eyes.

It was God and me,
Playing hide and seek.
Glance within and have a peek.

Divinity

poets, the evergreens, 
their poems, the word
gospels that didn't make
the big book like
birds on overhead wires
accidentally perched 
in the sequence of a
Beethoven symphony
but those words divine, 
while I figure out grain
on half lit wooden floors
reduced, now, to poems
in pyjamas, oh my life, 
delayed, enforcing other 
immortalities

The Synoptic Problem

In ancient times, scholars did not agree,
On the order in which the gospels were written, you see?

Augustine thought it was Matthew, Mark, Luke and then John,
And his belief was widely accepted until Griesbach came along.

"Mark copied from Matthew and Luke," he more or less said,
But later scholars argued that Mark was the one who led.

Soon others posited the existence of someone called "Q,"
For it seemed there wasn't just one source, but two.

But this two-source theory would be challenged as well,
Did Q ever exist? They just couldn't tell.

A few scholars even applied a statistical technique,
But if a consensus exists, it remains rather weak.

The Lord Carried Me

My Lord is the single path in the sand
Heavy with my load

As I am broken and tired
And felt like I could no longer prevail

He is my Rock
My Strength
My Hope, My Salvation

He has guided me with wisdom
Spoken to me through the gospels
Shown me the way

The devil may try to lead me astray
But I will do as I’ve been told
as I sold my soul to him long ago

Published In My Book: Thoughts of the Confused and Heart broken (copyright 11/2023)

The Gospels and other writings

The Gospels

And other writings

Are narratives of

Life as seen

Through the lens of

Separation..

Includes the possibility

Of a new narrative

Of the empty nature

Of all appearances of

Separation...

Being John

It’s God has been gracious in Hebrew
with letters I have never drawn
My mom loved the Gospels’ application of being the beloved disciple 
Jesus Favorite

My dad chose it because his grandfather
his truest father figure was named Juan
And he was Juan’s favorite

It’s a lot if I think about it, but Cabascango as a last name
Stands out more, sticks in the memory of those who can
Remember it 
pronounce it 
Correctly

John isn’t so dramatic as its meaning
At least not in English
Once In college I was accused of having 
A boring first name

I guess you can’t be Jesus' favorite and everyone else’s

What Would Jesus Tweet

 What Would Jesus Tweet?

By Mark D. Stucky
What if Jesus joined
social media sites?
Would he ask people
to Friend and Follow him?
Would they then tweet,
“Oh, how I Like Jesus”?
Would some Unfollow him
if he loved the marginalized
(as he did in the Gospels)?
Would he chastise churches
for lacking love and wisdom
(as he did in Revelation)?
Would he ever post,
“Dad, bless America”?
Would we be uneasy asking,
“What would Jesus tweet?”


(First published in Agape Review, 23 April 2022. See also my poem “Tweeting the Truth in Love.”)

(Image by Souvik Banerjee on Unsplash.com.)

Be Your Own Gospel

All the Gospels have been written
and declared sacred
some are lost, others found
most are saying the same stuff
in a different story.

'I Am' said: 
Enough already!
To quote an old text:
'Everybody's talking at me
but I don't hear a word their saying.

Stop telling tales to yourselves,
for only when you tell them
to Me - as Myself
will they be the Truth.

There are hundreds of bibles,
cling only to yourself, for I Am you.
'Go tell it on the mountain',
but tell it in silence."

Conversion of Gregory Green

A Gregory Green was reached
And to him Christ's Gospels preached.
Gregory saw what he'd breached
And how trusted doors had creaked...

Some verses Green had to chew,
Reading many, not a few:
The rapid growth of a Jew
To soon offer up a ewe...

Now, Greg knows you don't say "!"
You've been in my life a hitch...

"For a  I'd meet a witch,
For her death witch's purse enrich!"

It was for full repentance:
Green's grant of God's acceptance
To one give back full substance
And cite as shinning instance.

Customers of Greed

Some men on plenty feed,
Yet customers of greed,
The rash cankerworm breed,
Never there for your needs,
Worsening them like weeds...

I know a Shameless Steed,
Who'd never Gospels heed:
Pleased with Satan's own seed:
His best point: can minds read
Plus nice Jackets of Tweed
But paupers with Steed plead 
And shake him not like reed.

Clerihew Eadfrith

Eadfrith ws an English monk
into the Gospels his artistic talent was sunk
Full of abstract coils&knots
the Word itself is never lost

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