Raise The Dead Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Premium Member Terrified When she Gets Down to Biz

her power is in her finger tips
she is concentrating, with closed lips
there is intent in her half smile
if you are scared, better run a mile
for witchy woman flies on a broom
she can catch you with a simple zoom

her eyes are black, her hair is red
she can conjure a spell to raise the dead
her incantations are right and strong
she has the force, she can’t go wrong
witchy woman, you scare me a bit
your familiar Cat stares me with a hit

you are formidable, not unassuming at all
Your cauldron is full, your spells are a call
I am terrified when you get down to biz
Your incantations better than a whiz
your power is vast, your stare is lighting
frankly, woman, you are a bit frightening.

Haunted Cemetery

for-A Spooky Haunted Poem 8-12 Lines Of Rhyme Poetry Contest-Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin

summoned from the underworlds brimstones and fires;
nightmare beast howl to midnights lustre light-
fangs drip with a lust to bite.
 
summoned from the underworlds brimstones and fires;
an unholy choir echo a demons song-
from inside deaths memorial, shadows long.

summoned from the underworlds brimstones and fires;
the chants of mystical incantations to raise the dead-
releasing souls from eternal slumber, their forever bed.

summoned to the underworlds brimstones and fires-
dark, lost souls, feeding hades funeral pyre.

Extraordinary Love

One person
Only one heart
A heart can only hold one person
Loving a person is ordinary
It's a normal human feeling
Someone I know one person
Having one heart like the sea
He can accommodate all people of the world
He heals the sick, raise the dead
He turn water to wine, walk on seas
He multiply two fishes and five loaves
He preach repentance and good tidings
He forgives those who made sins
He carry the cross and died for you and me
His life is ordinary turn extraordinary
He become a history, a living gospel for us today.


For my sis

The world inside of me 
Is huge.  
There are trees with twisted, open branches, 
Like a thousand mom's, 
Reaching for a hug.  
There is music, and art, and 
A tsunami of words, 
Sent down stream, 
To be plucked and absorbed 
Like the most fulfilling 
Breath of air.  

The world inside of me 
Is huge.  
There is a tender heart, 
And a healing soul 
That wishes he could 
Raise the dead.  

There is also a secret place 
Where a million dreams come to rest.  
(A dream never fully dies...)  
These dreams spin around 
Our conscience 
Like the earth, 
Spinning on its axis, 
Rotating around the sun.  

We rotate and
Gravitate towards 
Each other too.  
Like the thousand prayers 
That are grafted from 
Person to person.  
All of them have a purpose.  
But somehow it means more 
When I can pray 
For my sis.

To You My Lord I Call

I look at the earth and all the space, of your divine creation I see a trace.

I pray to you Lord of Grandeur, to grant us wisdom and life secure.
We seek your mercy and generosity, without your bliss we remain in poverty.

Who else but you has all the will, to raise the dead and heal the ill?

When lights are out and all asleep, in who but you my faith I keep.

When doors of hope close in my face, I turn to you and seek your grace.

For the day we meet I do long, in the halls of heaven where we belong.

Where in houses of light the maidens dwell and all the evil shall perish in hell.

Saleh Ben Saleh

Premium Member Prayer For the Broken Hearted


                               Softly breathe on weary soul

                      Your breath, my King, Who paid our toll

                        Rest now, Your Hand, on weary head

                       Renewed, in hope, You'll raise the dead

                            Speak, I pray Thee, Father God,

                       A dream of Heaven, of where You Trod

                            Hold the broken, dry the tear,

                        To those who cry, oh meet us here!

                              Softly Jesus, over each head,

                      Your gifts, sweet dreams, upon each bed.

                        Oh, Lord, please lift the gaze to You

                        And gently light the pathway through

                           I pray You lift the broken heart,

                     Of peace, love hope, You would impart.

                        Be with my friends in dark of night,

                   Please hold them Abba, let shine Your Light.

                                              Amen


Possibilities

But Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible.
Matthew 19:26 KJV


One might look at this picture
And think this is impossible
One might look at a person
and think there is no hope
But within this person a soul is seeking
For something to spark a fire
Seeking a presence of love within
Somewhere, within all it's there
Sadly, the world makes it harder to find
When trying to learn from mankind
With mankind this is impossible
But through Christ spirit
This newfound love overfills
So then one must remember
It was Christ spirit that put off old self
Not to fall back into a world of no hope
It's not mankind that can raise the dead
Put on these new clothes of
Love , patience, humility, gentleness,
Forgiving, caring, unfound joy, peace,
And rest of vain labors in own path.
To see the impossible come to life
Firsthand, witness of the beauty of God's majestic power
When all else had failed one.
Then one will understand this picture
How could a tree grow here 
To think how could God create within
One ,a new creation within
 out of that old self : )
One might say where does this faith come from: )

Feeling Its Weight

Waiting with answers
to questions unasked,
a vacuum state appears

Smelling the ozone
feeling its weight,
all time reduced to tears

A newness reborn
a prophecy filled,
the words await unsaid

As what was created
before it was made
—returns to raise the dead 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2023)

Premium Member My Eyes Are Playing Tricks On Me

My eyes are playing tricks on me
I cannot believe half of what I see
There is a devil pumpkin head
I feel it can raise the dead

My nose is picking up an odor foul.
Something dead – a mouse or fowl?
There is a devil pumpkin head.
I feel the buzzards can smell the dead.

My heart is beating much too fast.
I wonder how long this craziness will last.
I am terrified of what might be seen.
This is not my favorite Halloween.

The Power of the Blood

Author Dana Redricks
July 16, 2022

The blood of Jesus has the power to save, and it has the power to raise the dead from the grave. The blood of Jesus shields and protects. The blood of Jesus has the power to heal and deliver. His blood is powerful like a mighty river. It brings joy to our souls. His blood is more than able to heal the brokenhearted. There's nothing more precious than the blood of Jesus Christ, who loved us so much He was willing to suffer and lay down His life for us.

Premium Member Emptied Moon

Emptied Moon
David J Walker

And the end will come
When it comes

As the never-ending
End begins

Empty minutes measured
Against
the past
of an unknown someone

Dizzy 		Empty 
Unassured to the last

We both were drunk on dark
and contrasting light
To study 
and discuss
	Emptiness

and the end will come at first flight

As another lie
unverified
occupied 
another emptied life 
too soon

Before we could learn to
Walk on water
Raise the dead
Or tread the moon

And what have we
Done today
She asked to soon 

And anyway
I’m Blown away

By eversion to an empty
Conversation
Filled to the brim with
With the emptied moon

Premium Member Listen You Might Just Hear

You can conjure up a smile
I freeze dry my tears
You can go back in time 
I skip forward a few years
You can raise the dead 
I hunted them with spears 
You can shock to life 
I might stand clear 
You can hit the brakes 
I go through the gears
You can break a leg
I excelled in the drear
You can be circumspect 
I prefer the linear 
You can hobble and hide
I keep enemies near
You can be conventional 
I changed to nuclear 
You can deplore my methods 
I see the pretext of fear
You can pen free verse 
I hold rhyme so dear
You can eulogise Poe
I whisper this to his ear
In the end nothing matters 
Poetry won, or so it appears

By
David Kavanagh

Funeral Slash Wedding Singer

If I we're to be a wedding singer

The bride would obviously have
to be dead and wearing a black dress

And I am sure they would not only
ask for their money back

But I would never be asked back either
or be able to use them to provide me
with a glowing reference

I then would have to go away and 
reinvent myself as a funeral singer

The sullen ilk of Johnny Cash 
at a cremation service

Whaling a rendition of
Ring of Fire 
And 
I did it my way 

So out of tune and with lyrics you
have never heard before

Until everyone is looking at each other
so confused they are now no longer
sad but laughing out loud instead

And thinking to themselves this
has to be the best funeral I have
ever been to in my life

So much so I might just laugh
myself to death

And if I do please promise me or
grant me this my dying wish

When I die you will book him to sing
at my funeral

Because if anyone could he could
raise the dead

Premium Member My Reflection

The mirror never lies but we do to ourselves and others
A reflection that speaks louder than our conscience
Smothered by denial so the ghosts of our past disappear
The mirror casts only what it sees past or present
Meanwhile the rain ends the growing ends
the warm colours a frigid memory
And then the falling snow paints with shades of black and white
Sleep sweet dreamer with many shadows playing hide and seek
The mirror casts only what it sees past or present
Resurrection forgiveness awakens re-birth rejoicing in the soul
Brings peace like autumn winds that paint heavenly colours 
That no one on earth can duplicate 
Sun sets only to see the Artist creating the night sky 
Then the sun arises
From nowhere somewhere a divine wind and rain revives
A reflection smothered in courageous love
And joy is the outburst composed by the excitement of the dancing sun
A welcome alarm clock to raise the dead and the dreamers

Frank Black Blacharczyk

Poet Or Sinner

You knew me when I built monsters
Before the days when you bled
You knew me when I surrendered
To the nightmares in my head

You were just a child
Nothing's ever changed
I see the child in you
Like some eternal flame

Come take my hand
Share my lonely dinner
Tell me if you think
I'm a poet or sinner

Poet or sinner
Tell me what I am
Poet or sinner
Be the angel who can

Raise the dead
While marshmallow dreams
Drown in the tide

Change my world
With the taste of ruin
Flowing from my eyes

Turn back time
Soaked in bubbles
Of our reckless lives

Poet or sinner?
Don't know what I am

You knew me when I fought demons
In your tangled hair
You knew me when I marked you
With my stain of despair

You were just a child
Nothing's ever changed
I see the child in you
Like some eternal flame

All I know
I'll love you in shadows
Till the sun disappears

All I know
I'll love you in shadows
Till His Light reappears

Poet or sinner?
Don't know what I am

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