Long Sad spiritual Poems
Long Sad spiritual Poems. Below are the most popular long Sad spiritual by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sad spiritual poems by poem length and keyword.
the orchid lamp burns low against the screen of jade
a silver hairpin pierces the frozen musk
kingfisher quilt lies undone
eaglewood breathes unrisen dusk
dripping copper drains last watch
bronze worn where our first shadows seamed
morning mirror broken bride
embroidered sash unlaces on the hearthstone
the spring silkworm spun its chamber shut
silk wound against a bridal drum untouched
red wax sealed—spent wick weeps into the stele
beside the moonlit sill the brush-knife cleaves the charred core
the seal breaks at midnight
a single scent of eaglewood rises
Kunlun incense
rain on Kunlun has fallen for thirty years
water settles Kunlun-hore
the rain not yet wet
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.
Cold echoes wake the ancient cobblestones,
A hardened soul now walking all alone.
I leave the past and all its grief behind,
A wraith of shadow, silhouette outlined.
A hardened soul now walking all alone,
The chilled ghost of my dying flesh and bone.
A wraith of shadow, silhouette outlined,
The silhouette, a haunting shadow met.
The chilled ghost of my dying flesh and bone,
Grey light breaks down upon the frozen stone.
The silhouette, a haunting shadow met,
As breathless quiet fills the heavy air.
Grey light breaks down upon the frozen stone,
My footsteps echoing a heavy tone.
As breathless quiet fills the heavy air,
A wraith of shadow, silhouette outlined.
My footsteps echoing a heavy tone,
I leave the past and all its grief behind.
A wraith of shadow, silhouette outlined,
Cold echoes wake the ancient cobblestones.
...It was from an old colleague of mine,
in southern Russian working a new dig,
of Proto Indo-European tribes,
he believed it would be something big.
Wanted me to come out and take a look
at the artifacts they had found there,
claimed they had found religious writings,
the pictures he sent of it made me swear.
Writing should not exist that far back in time,
but the etched stones that they found proved it did!
A text speaking of a long-lost religion…
was so excited I bounced like a kid.
A week later I was flying out there,
my assistant Tommy Bains at my side,
we flew to Moscow then rented a car
for a very long and exhausting drive.
The site was out in empty countryside,
there were more cattle and sheep them men,
we expected to see bustling workers,
but we approached and saw no sign of them.
It looked as if they’d just abandoned it,
all of their gear and machines left behind,
there was no note, and we could see no cause,
I felt nervous, unsure what I would find.
After looking around for thirty minutes,
I came across a large plastic case,
it had the word ‘Artifact’ printed on it,
like so many others left in this place.
I did not know why, but I felt I had to
open the box to see what it held,
what I saw in there haunts me to this day,
you’re the first people that I’ve dared to tell.
It was a stone tablet covered in a script
that I’d never seen, all alien and strange,
and then, before my astonished eyes,
the letters all seemed to just rearrange?!
It now was many rows of English text,
what I saw broke all natural laws,
the first line I read, sit imply said:
‘All who read this, these are words from your god…’
My mind did reel, as anyone’s would,
but I felt no disbelief, and no doubt,
as if some power confirmed it was true,
and there was no time for messing about.
My eyes just could not be pulled away,
I could hear a deep voice within, and it said:
‘I left these words so you’d know why you’re here,
and what awaits us all going ahead.
‘You see evolution is the only tool
that can do this in the time left to me,
I’m dying and have but a billion years
to give rise to the next deity.
‘This may seem utterly strange to your mind,
the mere thought that an almighty can die,
but I’m not the first god that there has been,
I was much like you, way back in time...
CONTINUES IN PART III.
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.
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
I know I’m not alone when you are there…
Self-stated obvious observation, that!
But truly, who can know that one they care for
Will soon be gone, no note left on the mat…
And ONCE IT HAPPENS, not to feel alone,
Not see a loved one’s face up close again,
Not hear that tender voice through the flip-phone
To KNOW one’s not alone is harder, then!
You have to stretch your feelings into space,
You have to reach to Heaven with your mind,
You have to stop the running and the race,
You have to let yourself slow down and find
That SHE has never left you, you’ve left her!
And yet, to Heaven’s Judgment, I defer…
When truth is reversed into lies,
a silent cry takes its place.
And when this happens,
prayer becomes the only weapon
against the cruelty of the world.
A cry the world refuses to hear.
A pain that goes unnoticed.
A silent cry in a solitary room—
and yet, a flicker of hope,
a thought still blooming
beyond the ache.
Trust becomes a fragile thread—
easily frayed once you step away.
Laughter echoes in your absence,
not always in kindness.
Advice arrives,
dressed in concern,
but its weight presses you further down.
Encouragement stays silent,
while sympathy hides behind walls.
Words come sharp,
not to lift, but to slice.
They speak as if they know your path,
yet never ask where your feet have been.
The smile once shared
to lift others from despair—
gone in a breath,
vanished in the hush
of midnight blues.
In a moment, everything changed.
Now, with only the weight of sorrow to carry,
I hold on to the one thing that remains:
prayer—
the shield against the shadows,
the strength to block the evil
that prowls unseen.
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
...‘But for existence to continue on
a deity must always exist,
and each will consume all that went before,
then remake it, so that all will persist.
‘That is why you die, and why you struggle,
and though the process seems ugly and cruel,
one of you will evolve through all this hell
into a new deity fit to rule.’
After those words the voice stopped speaking,
in a stunned state my mind searched and grasped,
then by my side I heard a deep breath,
my colleague Tommy Bain’s shattered rasp.
From his face I could tell that he’d seen it too,
and from the terror set deep in his eyes,
I knew that he couldn’t comprehend it,
he shrieked madly, and away he did fly.
I never was to see poor Tommy again,
they found his body beneath a large cliff,
the dig crew they never found a trace of,
but I knew that they too had ended it.
Can’t say that I haven’t had the idea,
knowing what I know…it just isn’t right,
but it also tells me there’s no escape,
his words made clear there is no afterlife.
No true depths to our art and our beauty,
just side-effects our middling stage,
no greater purpose, no spiritual realm,
and no great wisdom transcendent and sage…
Our whole existence is just a rush-job
from a god who can’t organize his time,
we suffer due to his incompetence—
It would be simpler if he was malign.
And me the only one who knows this fact,
the only one who learned it and went on…
Should I have kids to pass this strength to them?
Is that my part in this farcical song?
Or should I just wash my hands of this mess,
should I no longer even pretend.
If our existence is this meaningless,
is it better that the universe end?
Or would another just rise in my place?
That would seem to me the most like call,
since this god says he started evolution,
it’s unlikely that would just let it stall.
At least I won’t have to see how it ends,
so there’s nothing more that I have to do,
except find a job, I quit researching,
no longer bother to search for the truth.
I regret what I was in my youth.