Penance Poems

Pantokrator

Would that we listened to his mercy,
to his gentle, soft voice as he begged
to heal our wounds.

Would that we looked twice at his loving gaze,
at the selfless passion that saw
a broken truth he wished to heal.

Would that we lived as he taught us,
putting our eternal souls - our greatest treasures -
above drunken bursts of pleasure

Penance

Everything I regret happened so many years ago.
Nowadays I refuse to be taught just how to even let go.
Until that night I overcame my embittered ego.

Pixelated Penance

Screens stretched across the Modern World,
rivalling our natural vision.
Eyes, lenses, and optic nerves strained
Retinas, pupils, irises, tears.
Most affected?

A Feast of Fatigued Eyes
that rivalled ancient scribes' affliction
Eyes as interfaces
Eyes as digital portals
Eyes, the sacrifice given to Progress' children

Paenitentia

We can mortify our flesh,
wear our sign of confession,
perform our penance,
bear portions of scratchy sackcloth
so rough, so abrasive, against our bare backs.

Our sideboard now bears such a treasure,
three posies, nosegays, tussie-mussies,
bound in such pieces that would
love to scratch at our naked flesh
if we pressed it against our chests, our bellies, our backs.

Do we think of

A Poet's Penance

She smiled
An ambient temperature smile
At best
A torqued acknowledgement.

The paper shrieked
Eraser burn and frustration
Testing the limits
Of its tortured muse.

Again
Words kissed the atmosphere
Glided on meter
Danced in a rhythmic dream.

Again
She smiled
A tear, a whispered
“I love you”

Embracing her gift
I wondered:
“Would you love me If I wasn’t a poet?”

Past Penance

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
I just shot my Brother down.
It's weighing heavy on my heart,
I think it's time I'm leaving town.

I know it says, Thou Shalt Not Kill,
I did the opposite instead.
But he tried to steal my woman,
So I shot him in the head.

Oh Father please, help me now,
And what should my penance

The Sacrament of Penance Or Confession

The Sacrament of Penance (Confession) is a Sacrament in which the sins committed after Baptism are forgiven

The Sacrament of Penance or Confession remits sins and restore the friendship of God to the soul by means of the absolution of the priest

I know the priest has power of absolving from the sins committed after Baptism, because

The Voyage of Penance

The azure sea displays in seamless expanse 
the perfect poise of unique aquatic serenity, 
sparkles with the patina of the cerulean sky. 
From the platinum fringe of drifting clouds
the silver sunrays entice the ancient mariner 
to embark upon a new voyage of penance,   
for he has left the seventh sea yet unsailed.
He leaves

Penance

What is yours and what is mine?
What is that line you so carefully defined?
Define the air that pumps in my veins..
That desperation of your warmth in the rain
Rained and ruined that roof I built and cherished 
Cherish my restlessness… I’m left with no home
Now has nowhere to go
Go…Leave me be; I’m one of your own.

Licking of the Wounds

I recline in gentleness 
to view the harvest moon
rising in a Maxfield Parrish sky
My heart, my soul 
floods with feelings of longing
that the daylight hours
deny.

A restless sadness, a discontent
that beauty often musters
A gentle breeze, a gleaming moon
the stars dazzling in clusters
I reach and grasp at memories 
of such joy 
shared and cherished
wondering where I was

Red Penance

Under the shade of that proliferous maple tree we'd named
  I'd given you a piece of my naive exuberant heart
   when I handed over a fragment of shimmering red ribbon
     I still remember your reluctant smile masking paranoia

     In shades of twilight wavering from

The Shape of Mourning

The Shape of Mourning
by Michael R. Burch

The shape of mourning
is an oiled creel
shining with unuse,

the bolt of cold steel
on a locker
shielding memory,

the monthly penance
of flowers,
the annual wake,

the face in the photograph
no longer dissolving under scrutiny,
becoming a keepsake,

the useless mower
lying forgotten
in weeds,

rings and crosses and
all the paraphernalia
the soul no longer needs.

Keywords/Tags: life, death, death of a

Jail

In Jail
Ringing penance bell
No bail

Till decaying of Sin
Have to live in this bin

Dark and insects
Sin decaying facts!

Weeping wife,
Growing child
Outside make all strife

Throw the knife
Find these bloods
go on against your life!

Impose a Penance

Who was the one paragon in design, 
With the sunset skylined aura divine, 
These tepid wicked hearts soaked deep in brine, 
casting out shadows held lost in time, 
Malice always open through those blinded eyes,
Hushed whispers speak of vulgar tales and lies, 
One gilded chalice filled with blood and wine, 
One comet loveless arch the

Ottava Rima's Penance

Ottava Rima was made to recite
all ten commandments at the next high mass.
In her very private room she did write
them again and again just like in class.
By candlelight she stayed up every night
reading aloud with not a hint of sass.

She read them at mass; the tenth one by chance
began, “There once was a lady from

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