Preaching Poems - Poems about Preaching

By BillMarable  He was a pastor of the third generation  who could sometimes get animated in his presentation Like last Sunday at the 11 o’clock hour The spirit took hold and he began to tower As the choir ended it’s morning song to glory Pastor begin to recite his holy story He stood at the mic all clam and composed As he laid...

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Never really know what part of Sunday’s sermon my mind’s eye will lock hold What portion of the Holy Story will ignite passion as Pastor’s lucid homoly unfolds “I DARE YOU TO PRAISE HIM CHURCH!” and Good Lawd did that church explode and I sat at the red light -Exposed. Bill Marable 12-4-22 11:00 am...

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Shallow pool Hairy wall Rainy day Rolls stacked tall Unworthy grave Where we'd stay Emotional fool Uncannily brave Streams of dreams Catch a star New name new car Lips like wine We cry at times Identify With your cry Overwhelm Fill me up, Throw me down Proclamation of pain From a smoking rift lain No security Lonely acts the cure of me Embarrassed mess Disheveled impress Like timeout at recess A ringing duress It gets dark fast And it will last Longer than...

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Guess we're born to teach, To the choirs we preach, God's love we all reach....

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A day will come—maybe not today, Maybe not tomorrow, But someday— When the concept of religion will unfold before me. Through the years, events unfold, And always, they say, "We thank God." I used to believe, I heard of Him, And so, I preached. Perhaps one day, they'll hear from me, Speaking of Him. Today in church, they said, "We trust Him." I want to trust, I really...

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he sought them and taught them, leaving hearts excited by the need for love that believes in the life beyond the night, the life that is grace’s gift, the life – eternal life he was wise, shrewder than sin, stirring up their prayers, causing them to answer to Him, the One who needs only this… the heart who trusts in His Son, the soul who listens...

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“Give me 100 preachers who fear nothing but sin and desire nothing but God; such alone will shake the gates of hell.” - John Wesley While he was at a tent revival with a friend, He gave his heart to Jesus – our Saving King. He didn’t know then that millions would attend… His sermons on the wonder of God’s...

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Some of my poems are truly inane. Screeching, preaching, a run away train.. Impulsive poetry is to blame. It's just my style. I'll sign my name. It's never racist. It doesn't seek to defame and none of my musings would ever proclaim, to "make America great again". Poetry soup is a haven, a safe space. It's certainly not a Presidential race.. If America wants a...

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I get my updates on the news From certain magazines And papers, which are quite in sync With how my mindset leans. Of course, their editorials Make so much sense to me That I can’t understand How anyone could disagree. However, there are outlets For the news which do not jibe With my beliefs, endorsing those To whom I don’t subscribe. I neither read nor listen to These...

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Trembling in the silence of a fresh snowfall, awaiting the struggle of laughter and tears, the beautiful that comes from stars shadowed by flakes so gentle they seem to speak silence into the spirit – like the voice of a vision, preaching peace ~ quote by poet Secreted beneath the gentle fragments, shivering, Blown in piles, demanding...

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croon, of the rooster, shakes awake the town. purple preaching of dawn, dibbling the dark. bittersweet cockcrow sports orange-yellow, scripts pantaloon of pink sun. thus God winks. curtain’s breach of lace - kaleidoscope, drama’s brand new coat of diverse colors. ...

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I venture out For the first time in a while And am met by a sight: A Saturday Street Preacher, His altar an upturned crate, Voice amplified by a tinny megaphone. He reads not from the Good Book, But shames those who are not like him. He calls their lifestyle sinful, Their existence a contradiction. His congregation is The cacophony of furious, raised voices Arguing against his...

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Old teachers give humans lots of lines, Preaching our messages in rhymes, Try harder, friends, for our grail, Or Peace on Earth will fail, Wars and climate change, All quite deranged, Can unite, I say, Pray!...

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Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn. -Benjamin Franklin When a teacher is teaching  , some smart students Always love so much their teacher because They want to be knowledgeable in their lives. You can ask yourselves some questions About the concern of Christ Jesus on Peter... Why was He...

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Full is the quiver when sharp is the spear Be downcast in slivers, take a huge slice of cheer Starve a harsh tongue; it withers the ear Mourn with a river of tears Shiver with joy and not fear The man who delivers, lives in the clear Good scriveners scribe in multiple spheres Be a forgiver of those in arrears Protect the liver...

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