Long Creationism Poems

Long Creationism Poems. Below are the most popular long Creationism by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Creationism poems by poem length and keyword.


For God's Sake

FOR GOD’S SAKE

When living "...of the world" despair unfurled.
I lost sight of heaven’s glorious pearl.
Truths shouted out from the depths of my mind.
God’s loving whispers to me stayed entwined.

Higher education became my goal.
Scientific teachings soon took its toll.
My mind strung out on various theories. 
My soul, in doubt, became very weary.

But faith persevered and earned the prize.
My trust in God was more realized.
Despite what seemed to be a worldly life,
The soul of me soon felt less strife.

A professor asked my Evolution class,
How can creationism truly be?  Alas.
Scriptures say God created…in seven days. 
Right?  Who shall rule in this duel of ways?

The Bible contradicts itself, He said.
His words from there, down doubts highway sped.
Evolutionary theory is certainly logical.
Creationism seems to be mythological.

Then came the clincher, clarity disparity.
The Bible says God created in seven days.
After the seven days, confusion starts to blaze.
First it says it’s finished; then, it starts to haze.

During that lecture, I was compelled to know.
Believing God created; what did the Bible show?
I prayed to grasp truths as man’s theories grew.
I did not choose to tell faith in God adieu.

At that moment, nothing else mattered.
I refused to let my faith be shattered.
That professor, on that day, changed my life.
My golden goal grew to be God’s true light.

Creation pondering absorbed my essence.
A lifetime flew without great wealth’s presence.
I was blessed with children; around them joy revolved.
But there was no rest until those questions were solved.

Strongly stayed upon life’s different path.
Even, when disrespect judged me with wrath.
I loved my children and bore the wait.
Seeking, the answers congealed…my fate.

My life was spent pondering this topic.
When finished, at last, truth embraced God…logic.
Then, my soul found rest from its weary state.
Thus, in the world…not of the world, I wait.


© Dane Smith-Johnsen
March 10, 2010
Poetic form:  Free Verse

The results of the pondering are posted on Redbubble.com  =>
http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3355478-genesis-decoded

For complete discussions, go to =>
http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3479742-bridging-the-gap-between-
science-and-religion-the-hypothesis
Form: Couplet


Premium Member The Patterson Film

Man or myth, fact or fiction, a primitive walking legend,
A photo vision of realism, or fraud’s conception of the
Ultimate hoax gone wrong, evolution's unseen experimental
Beast, lying in the hallow shadows of discovery.
In the tinder box of humanity vs. creationism, the
Patterson film is a spark igniting the flame of
Controversy, singeing the ends of these too
Fragile beliefs, pitting them against each other.
Anomaly belong, in the twisted trail of DNA,
Is she a Hominid unknown or a cryptid fake?
In the vast body of evidence, do we truly
Have to kill just to prove that something exists,
Life is mystery, beauties accent quality, and
Freedom is a God given right, not to be taken
Away lightly, with a single bullets flashing’s strike.
Look within the eyes of the beast, to her kind
We are the true animals, invading her kindred’s
Environments.
In the forest wilds here the screaming cries of the
Missing extinct, raging at their iron bars of the
Forgotten species, as the last one falls, do we
Not hear their bodies hitting the floor of existence.
Are we not the intelligent ape, whom climbed down
From the trees, and walked upon two legs of knowledge,
Nay do I ponder these questions?
In the linkages of legacies frame work, a divine welder
And craftsman decides the lines of survival not mankind.
A harsh fact in realism, tomorrow we may become the earthen dust
Blowing in the winds of destiny, joining the dinosaurs of yesterday.
Man or myth, fact or fiction, a primitive walking legend,
A photo vision of realism, or fraud’s conception of the
Ultimate hoax gone wrong, evolution's unseen experimental
Beast, lying in the hallow shadows of discovery.

.In the forest thicket, the hunters stalk the forests unknown,
And there huddled together are the cryptic, hugging
Their young tenderly ever closer to the bare bosom, hushing them
To remain silent, for mankind draws ever nearer.
Man or myth, fact or fiction, a primitive walking legend,
A photo vision of realism, or fraud’s conception of the
Ultimate hoax gone wrong, evolution's unseen experimental
Beast, lying in the hallow shadows of discovery.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
© Cherl Dunn  Create an image from this poem.

Christianity

My faith says I must take the Bible at face value,
     swallow it whole.
40 guys wrote it, not one woman in the bunch.
     So why must I take it as such?
What happened to the Gospel of Mary?
      Am I just being contrary?
I believe Jesus was a very great person.
      A man of peace and reason in a pagan world of strife.
But how can I believe in God the sovereign ruler,
       and the righteousness of Democracy at the same time?
If God created all.
       Does he not believe in the democratic system he created?
I believe that Jesus of Nazareth was a man, 
       the same as Gandhi, and MLK. Jr.                                                                                                
I believe that Jesus was the son of God,
       as are we are all, the sons and daughters of God,
            with God as our Creator.
Jesus preached that charity was good and avarice was bad.
        So why is the church of Rome so rich?
             With piles of golden treasure in the Vatican Museum.
                   That my eye has seen.
Why do some preachers clamor for donations?
         And dress in fancy clothes, ride in fancy cars,
              accumulate great wealth,
                    and build crystal cathedrals?                                                                                                 Are not the hungry to be fed?
         The poor to be clothed?
              The homeless to be housed?
I don’t believe in original sin,
      I don’t believe I’m responsible for the actions of people,
          four thousand years ago.
I don’t believe in Creationism
      six days doesn’t make any sense at all,
          for God is far more patient than that,
               for, after all, I’m still here.
Why does God the merciful allow the slaughter of innocents,
     I just don’t like the picture that presents.
I just don’t understand it at all,
     perhaps I am not a Christian after all.

Distressing Calls of Discontent

Distressing Calls of Discontent 



Distressing calls of discontent frowning upon my brow 

Convalescing with the fall of a malcontent who was too haughty and proud 

Coalescing in forms of consequence that are meant to be spoken out loud

Blessing the tall deliverance of being alone among the crowd



Interjections of circumspections for those crossing the civil lines

Mass contentions of introspection as we search for the divine 

Condescensions from such pretension that it stupefies the mind

Predilections of inventions that are formed from those who actively look for what they find 



Revolution from inside the homes of those who cant afford to pay their rent 

Evolution of a Darwinian theory that Creationism circumvents 

Convolution of a weary postulation that’s going around inside my head

Pollution of a planet that refuses to create a carbon dent 



Microscopic elements under review for replication 

Biopic relevance of a relative who is patiently genetically awaiting 

Some myopic recognition of the claims that they are steaking 

While I’m off the topic I’m still reeling from the borders that I’m breaking 



Incandescent reflections that imbibe a lucid dream 

Convalescent infections that permeate a populace to scream

Illuminesent interjections of light from the purity of a single sunbeam 

Reminiscent of collections that are above the creation of a common theme



Musing always soothing my mind while ceasing the debate

Grooving all the time while I try to syncopate 

Perusing all these ethical crimes that make one want to incubate 

While using the refine to give and remain hesitant to take 



Ammunition for another war that transcends national borderlines

Intuition used only for the expansion of mankind 

Premonitions that abhor everything but the expansion of the mind 

Nightly visions that store it all across the passages of time 



The End
Form: Rhyme

Tales

A large bowl, a portion of meat, and a six foot ladle were out one day on a country walk.  Playing with pebbles on a distant shore were the radiant seahorses. Dressed in hoop skirts. No time to sunbathe. No time to create sand castles and a wave is neither a weave or a web. A crashing sound is not a tinkle of bells. So be very careful when standing on stepping stones for one might fall into a crevasse. The bowl decided to carry the meat but the meat became afraid. For it had heard of marinading. And the consequence of which was to be baked at obscene temperatures in ovens or over fires. However the tall sprightly spoon gathered it's armour. And informed the meat to nit worry. The bowl smiled. It was nit to be too long before they reached the camp by the sea. And the entertainment industry of the seahorses at dusk was quite unlike anything ever witnesses. So trudging on through the headline woods, passing many faunas' fake fictions. And many a grinning pixie dancing in a toadstool ring. Lit the way through the dense and often dark woods. Sky was shy so did not appear until the clearing. From here they could see the sea shore and the ever increasing gathering of the entertainment. Wow they thought. That is a fine sight. Let us rest then we will go downhill to the sands. The laughing leaves dropped berries for the avid travellers which were received gratefully. Fashioned fashionably fabled forking fathoming feathers framed. And a single word is used by an individual dust. Good. The evening show was a s expected. Remarkable beautiful display. And as the sun dimmed and the moon shone. The intrepid travellers dug sand dwellings and lay down to rest in the breeze of the oceanic scene. Bless not a pickled pineapple then. Reach. Rave. Radius. Rigid. Righteous. Rights. Rightly. *** done. Creationism z
Form:


Premium Member Good Night Irene, Sweet Dreams

("Dreaming Gaia", 2020, original encaustic)

Good Night Irene, Sweet Dreams 

We live in a time of two competing visions;
The creation myths of sudden and gradual change,
Or monotheism’s creationism on one hand
And scientific materialism’s evolution the other.

Both spring from the same source 
Of course,
The human mind in general
And Eastern Mediterranean cultures in particular.

In this way they are part of the same continuum
Steps along a single ascending path,
Not actually mutually exclusive
But still wildly at odds.

But what about a third option,
The option of a changeless nature?
This is the view from outside of time and mind
Which being changeless has consistency on its side.

This is the door that leads to a holographic universe,
The matrix of a dream within a dream within a dream…
Being dreamed by who knows who
Who just happens to go by the name, me and you.

Really weird sh*t you say,
But as they also say, truth is often
Stranger than fiction
And it’s clear the two main competing myths are fiction.

So there it is, a 21st century view of Hegel’s dialectic
Thesis, antithesis and synthesis played out in real time
Simultaneously seeming, but actually existing 
Only in the timeless now.

An enigma wrapped in a metaphor
Pretending to be a mystery, or something like that
Waiting for the dreamer to go back to sleep
So the dream can get back to the business of unfolding.

(7/11/24)
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Comsi Comsa

What demands our attention today?  
A war devoid of consequences,  
Or a history shaped by creationism?  
A stillbirth born without shame?  
Vivid pain and haunting memories linger.  
A wedding absent of both bride and groom—  
Did we call for the ceremony too soon?  

The Gen Z lifestyle is riddled with artificial deceptions.  
An unforgettable presidential race stands as a historical disgrace.  
Did the pope truly have a closed casket,  
Or was it merely a non-cadaver?  

Platforms like Facebook are swarming with scammers—  
More than we've ever witnessed before.  
Referrals are obsolete;  
Being broke has become a norm,  
Your wallet may as well be smoking.  
Buy one, get one free—Temu’s prices tempt us all.  
This is the reality of U.S.-China trade tariffs.  

Are our lives dictated by the Bollywood Referrals Act?  
Isn’t that the truth?  
Comsi comsa.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Star-Crossed Lovers

She walked with God
and he walked alone

When they would meet 
the relationship 
became the three of them

But he would never accept
the power of the supreme

And so the battle began
of the star-crossed lovers
accompanied by the Man

"I believe in cave men"
he would say
as she would scream in horror

"We agreed our daughter would learn creationism"
she would plead
as he would look stupified

The bold and troublesome exchanges
never stopped
and it wouldn't be long that their relationship
would begin to topple over

And so the two of them, the woman and God
would leave the man to his own devices
and he would have nothing left but his tears
and confusion

But she would remain happy
as whereever she went
'He' was with her

As for the man
he has a black cat named Stella
and a Wawa supreme pizza everynight

Evolution Tool of the Creator

The debate has been raging for centuries.
Where do we come from?
Why are we here?
Where are we going?
Is there a Creator?
We look around and see created things,
intricate, complicated, sophisticated things.
Creationism, evolution which one is true?
They both are actually.
We were created in a machine we call the universe.
It had the raw materials and the energy needed to produce
the universe we see, including us.
It had gravity, the laws of physics and mathematics, the software needed to organize both. Once the machine was turned on all the elements of creation were in place, it then evolved to now.
Evolution is the tool of the Creator.
The Universe evolved from three simple gases to stars to galaxies to the periodic table we see today.
Life evolved from single cell creatures to the human race.
Evolution is the tool of the Creator.
© Jg Collins  Create an image from this poem.
art

Evol-U-Shun: a Coronavirus Poem

evol-u-shun, a coronavirus poem
by michael r. burch

does GOD adore the Tyger
while it’s ripping ur lamb apart?

does GOD applaud the Plague
while it’s eating u à la carte?

does GOD admire ur brains
while ur claiming IT has a heart?

does GOD endorse the Bible
you blue-lighted at k-mart?

NOTE: In the segmented title “evol” is “love” spelled backwards. The title questions whether you/we have been shunned by a "God of Love" or by evolution. William Blake’s poem “The Tyger” questions the nature of a Creator who brings lambs and tigers into the same world. Keywords/Tags: god, love, evolution, creator, creation, creationism, coronavirus, plague, disease, illness, William Blake, tyger, tiger, lamb, predator, prey, brains, heart, christian, Christianity, bible, K-Mart, blue light special
Form: Verse

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