Preached Poems | Examples

Two Seven Four

Dear Heart
Please start
Love grows
Suppose
You beat
Life’s sweet
We meet

God’s Grace
Silk lace
White dress
Wish blessed
Vows preached
Hands reached
Complete

One Morn
Child born
love grows
small toes
Face beams
Sun streams
New space

Live life
Glad wife
Time past
Went fast
Old lace
Fast pace
God’s Grace

Riders Beneath the Dying Wheel

Written: August 27, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori

       *********

They showed without trumpets,  
but with teeth—  
Four shadows galloping through 
the marrow of time.  
One wore famine such as a crown,  
another cloaked in fire’s deceit.  
The third preached war 
in the brother’s tongue,  
and the fourth laughed  
as the stars forgot their names.  

The wheel spun—  
not to teach,  
but to tremble, 
Dharma cracked beneath the weight  
of poisoned promises  
We raised shrines from
the threads of logic, 
We offered them our views 
and named it veridically raw.  

Yet in some distant spot,  
A silver surfer glides through 
the endless expanse 
carrying no blade, 
Just a memory— a soft whisper 
of who we once were, 
Here the shadows fell  
laid claim to our light.

Beneath the Gilding

The corrupt officer schemed throughout his years,
Amassing great wealth beyond his peers.
But once retired, his heart did stir,
He dreamed to be known as patriot and social worker.

The social worker preached to keep things clean
Yet dumped the trash where it should not be seen-
By roadside or river the rubbish he threw 
A bitter irony the people knew.

The patriots and reformers proud and tall,
As they liked to be addressed by all,
Encroached upon the public land,
Taking more than they had planned.

They speak out against corruption's blight,
Yet ask their children to thrive in its night.

The social activist, with care and knack,
Got government contracts through the backtrack,
Jobs for his kin, all neatly aligned,
Through hidden doors, deals well designed.

The society nods, though it may shove
The life one chooses to live and love,
Need not align with words they say,
Actions and truths may drift away.

FACING THE REAPER, I STILL LAUGH

One day, life will leave my battered carcass.
One day, I will no longer belong to this rotten world.
Today, my suicidal urges mock Death with laughter.
I waste the breath of life that my universal force gave me freely.

I came from the darkness, and I shall end in the furnaces of my own destruction.
Doing good is a duty, to soothe the wrath of the Creator.
I will end in the flames of my own hell.
Like all those innocent souls, I too have suffered.

I know every face of death.
I have worn every mask of misery.
I am but an ignorant man, aware of his ignorance,
Thirsty for knowledge like the builders of the pyramids.

I chose to laugh so my demons would remain silent.
Since I learned to walk, my tears have dried.
I stand for truth, justice, liberty, equality, and righteousness.
I believe fraternity is an absurd notion, drenched in hypocrisy.

I hate the racists who preached humanism and universalism
Only to sanctify racialism and supremacism.

A Directional Curse

A Directional Curse

The first time I heard
“Go to hell.”
where it seemed
not just an aimless curse
but a direction.

The empty soul
in bright orange;
couldn’t miss him,
but they aim to.

No emotions,
just a fly on the wall
on sticky tape.

He can’t escape
the familys’ words -
they will be heard.

One father moved
the lectern
to face the beast,
to chastise him
to his face.

One mother preached
with scripture keepsakes
leaving his fate to God.

One day can shatter
so many lives;
temporal tears
will be wiped away
by God.

We don’t teach
our kids to say,
“Go to hell,”
except to send the devil
back where it belongs.

Prayer Is Simply Talking To God From Your Heart

It doesn't matter how I pray.
Don't need any fancy words to say.
God already knows what's in our heart.
All you and I need to do is start.
I tell Him how I really feel.
Or what part of my body that I need healed.
I ask forgiveness for things I've done wrong.
The Sins in my life that do not belong.
When I do not know what to say.
I say what I'm thinking anyway.
Even times I do not have a clue.
God knows it all, He created you.
Sometimes I'll read a Psalm and will say.
"God please help me in this very same way!"
As for any Church that charges for Prayer.
For me it's a red flag that saying "BEWARE!"
Jesus never once said "compensate Me!"
He healed and preached. He did it for free.
In 2 Corinthians 9 they were "ASKED" to give.
So that poor church members had a means to live.
Don't trust everything the modern Church may say.
Pray and ask God to show you the true way!

T-A-L-E-N-T

The T in talent are pieces of tampered glass
Subjugated under capitalism,
And meticulously carving out worthlessness
  on the talented's carcass.

The A stands for all the crumbs of appreciation 
You collect along your way, feeding your right and just pride
Humbled by a dilemmatic correlation 
  of efforts and proudness.

The L is tricky, which maybe the love 
Or the life that seeps into you through your work,
The ingenuity dies as L extinguishes,
  and you will bear the blame of the consequences.

Once you are done loving, you get greeted with E.
The empathetic reign you have grown from flesh and dust
Withers and begs for sympathy, waiting patiently 
  for a high class judgement from the unnamed jury.

All the nihilistic N you preached,
Comes down to your questioning of moralism,
What great have you achieved with your nothingness,
  compared to someone sewing life with devotion?

The T in talent stands for the time
A soul wastes on fixing the tampered glass,
But someone like you who knows how to stand up,
  start with talent tomorrow, a journey from zero regardless.

Burma-Shave

They stood like rhymes
on fencepost spines
with wisdom scrawled
in shaving thymes—
a roadside gospel,
terse and sweet
that preached with
meter, grit, and heat.

Rosemary likes
a clean-shaved man,
if wooing her
is in your plan.
She’ll linger near
and take your hand
and proudly wear
your golden band.

Parsley hides
beside the plate—
the garnish mocked
by those who ate.
But lean in close—
she knows the names
of all who passed
and played their games.

Sage recalls
those roadside lines—
poetry caught
between the pines.
Sometimes sly
and sometimes wise,
a fleeting truth
before my eyes.

They’re all gone now
fenceposts bare—
but I still see
those rhymes out there.
Burma-Shave.

Childhood Trauma That Creates a Serial Killer

A bedroom door that never locked,
Footsteps heavy like thunderclocks,
Mother's wine glass, cracked and red,
Words that bruised more than fists ever did.

A closet full of whispered screams,
Apologies lost in fevered dreams,
Father's belt, a sermon preached,
Love, a language never reached.

A dog buried in silence deep,
Secrets traded instead of sleep,
Schoolyard eyes like hunting knives,
Laughter echoing butchered lives.

The smell of ash, of plastic burned,
Lessons no one else had learned,
The joy of breaking dolls in two,
Just to feel a shadow move.

Windows rattled by unseen guilt,
Churches built where lies were spilt,
A hand too firm, a voice too loud,
Praise withheld like poisoned shrouds.

The grin he wore was not his own,
But stitched from pain he’d never shown,
And in the attic of his skull,
He catalogued what makes life dull.

Not born of hell, nor born insane,
But carved by years of steady pain—
And now the world must guess his name.

Easter

Fear of damnation
may keep some
on the path of Straight
And Narrow...but only love
leads to Father’s door and
welcome -- 

the convict forced to obey 
rules of confinement, spirit’s
attempt at Heart’s realignment

earth is a humane  
prison – isolated, in a galaxy
of limitless, greater fascinating
mystery -- truth~ our behavior
manifests as distance --  

we have confined
ourselves in immeasurable ways; 

Divine Connection why Christ
preached Love (above all
else) – saw death as salvation,

Evil, as surface preservation

and Eternal Life of health and Joy 
(Son Relationship)

only after the Soul’s 

Transfiguring Resurrection!

my talk with god

My ego and pride look upon me with resentment.
I cry out to the sky,
"Father, everything I have done was selfless!
I helped those in need and asked for nothing in return.
I walk through life without grudge or anger,
So why do you burden me with grief?"
I stood in silence, its weight heavy on my shoulders,
until the sky opened,
and grace spoke.
"You have done well, but your heart is closed.
The ghosts of your past still weigh you down."
In defiance, I screamed,
"Father, I am not perfect!
Like every man, I am drawn to sin, yet I hold it at bay!"
"Your pride must die."
"I cast you from heaven because you were dangerous—
not for your strength, but for your desire for chaos.
You could not reside in peace.
You were my greatest poet, moving the angelic forces with your words,
bringing even the Almighty to tears.
But a snake whispered in your ear,
filling you with the hunger to control those you preached to.
And even now, that snake still lives within you.
You must kill it."
My knees struck the ground as I wept.
"Please, Father... show me how”

In the Sand

In the sand
	plastic beach
	balls beached
l
 e
  a
   c
    h
     e
      d
into the sand

cleanup
	summer season
	footsteps
			ping
		a		on the sand
	e
l

ecologists
	preached 
	beseeched
			o u t r e a c h e d
to teach the reason
of the sand

f
 e
  l
   l
	flat
	deaf ears
the sea searched
		screeched 
a silent tear
for the sand

Christian poem Jesus Lived

Jesus lived and
Jesus died,
Jesus laughed and
Jesus cried.

Jesus loved and
Jesus felt,
Jesus stood and
Jesus knelt.

Jesus heard and
Jesus thought,
Jesus prayed and
Jesus taught.

Jesus healed and
Jesus fed,
Jesus preached and
Jesus led.

Jesus lived and
Jesus died,
Jesus is risen and
He is alive.

Personal Inconsistencies

Consistency is key isn't it not?

Then why does it feel like a chore rather than a reward?

Nobody gives you a road map on life
So why are there so many pressures from wrong to right?

Inconsistency has been a part of my whole life
Whether I knew it or not

But that's the thing

Little girls and little boys are constantly told 
How to act
How to be
How to become just the thing their parents need

But never how to be free

Free from limitations of themselves and this 'such cruel world' they're preached about

"This world is a dangerous place"

Then show me what to do
Instead of putting all these things in my head of what I should want to do

Show me how to be cautious but true to myself

Because you've never done that now

Oh I'm so sorry if this feels like too much to ask
But I'm tired of not knowing who I want to be, who I could be, who I will always be

The real me

Regardless of you or this world
I'm done

For the first time in my life, I want to be me

Eccentric, silly, fun-loving me

205 Je chilo amar swapanachareenee - Tagoreweb

205. She was my dreamer weave, roaming grace in my dreamland
                      Unbridled a mystic riddle, puzzling befuddling kind
                                Days are gone by to seek , to beseech, they were
A tide met the will, and we met as wills met beyond verses, unsay-able
To garnish the scar, borrowing Scarborough next to Tucson
Then they foretold they all, the roll the call, all became a clear water in assimilation


Unsung, they sang my song
Unlearned they preached my heart song, in near and far intertwining chime
An invaluable hymn alone, sings there in a croon, nursing clues in my gone a noon, nap time
Eternally the stanza is returning back to the first my soul sings to overcome skeptic a critic
Only you dwell there to hue the twilight clouds, discernible.

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