Without any effort, let go of whats tormenting you... No doubt it's a thought or perception. Watch it come and go on its own... Notice when it next leaves. Locate the space it was in, and silently merge with that space. Place all your attention there. - Just for five minutes...
The cold November wind blows through the pine trees .. an Erie feeling comes over the fog covering the park, deer are huddled down, perhaps they too are hurt..
The creek calm like glass, only the ducks feet glide across like a knife through butter.. but no noise dare they mutter…
Darkness overcomes us, street lights luminate the path leading through Sunnybrook park..everyone is asleep..
My aching body lays down upon the grass, thus is my happy place, away from people who had no time for me, you had your chance to listen, now only the deer, look into my soul, we’ve made thus place our home..
For GOD created thus place for us.
The sky upon which to seek HIS wisdom,
Deer in which to graze on grass He sowed,
Tall Pine Trees in which to give us Shelter,
Sun from which to warm us.. .
My body is at peace,
my breathing slows,
Winter will soon be amongst us; blankets of white, seeking food will be a chore, but HE who created the earth will provide; for THOSE who seek with an Un righteous heart..
I seek and GIVE to HIS heart to others in private as THAT is what HE taught; in my own way with out fear of judgement..
From the first breath IT ever took,
till the last day IT was still of life,
IT and Him were always one.
Together they loved, cried, and screamed,
feeling each other's pain like their own.
IT and Him were always one,
having a feeling of completion, joy,
and never-ending love.
However, one day IT met That—
a dark, mysterious thing That was.
He loved the smell of blood and tears,
giving IT a lemon tree, hoping to deceive IT.
IT was thrilled, happy for now,
forgetting all about Him
and their long-lasting relationship.
He slowly grabbed a lemon to eat,
with That watching vividly.
The second he bit the lemon, though,
he fell—
Fell from love, joy, and freedom,
ending up in the valley of hate,
tears, and misery.
Love Is Who We Are
Love is the breath within our soul,
The quiet force that makes us whole.
It lifts us high, it lights the way,
It holds the night, it shapes the day.
God is Love—our truest name,
A sacred fire, a living flame.
When love is strong, we feel its rise,
When love grows faint, we sense the skies.
Love is the gauge, the guiding star,
The barometer of who we are.
It carries us through storm and strife,
The pulse, the rhythm, the song of life.
So let it in—don’t turn away,
Admit its truth, let love have sway.
Accept its gift, let hearts rejoice,
For Love is One, the endless voice.
In the Quiet of the Fold
I have knelt where the weary come,
and heard the hush beneath their grief.
No cry of self, no bitter lament—
Only hands reaching for a steady hand.
I have carried the small wounds of the world,
the secret sighs that tremble in the dark,
and offered nothing but presence,
and the quiet, patient light of God.
There is no room for pity here.
only love that listens,
and a heart that bends
without breaking.
O gentle Lord, let me be
a shelter for the lost,
a cup for the thirsty,
a soft voice for the forgotten.
And when the day falls silent,
I shall not measure my own burden;
I shall only know
that every step I have walked
has been beside your children.
I have stood beside the broken bread,
felt the ache of every soul that knelt.
Yet never once have I wept for my own hunger—
For Love fills what flesh forgets.
The sparrow falls, and I do not mourn;
It's a small death that teaches flight.
In the frost of another’s sorrow,
My hands remain warm with prayer.
To serve is to vanish quietly,
like incense into the light—
not out of loss,
but out of belonging.
O Lord, let me be the branch that bends,
never the heart that complains.
Pity is too small a cup
to hold the wine of grace.
And when my breath becomes the last amen,
I shall not say: I have suffered,
but only this:
I have loved, without self.
Two were killed that day
One on top of Calvary hill
The other on a tree
At the bottom of the dell.
The first became the King of Heaven
The second passed into Hell.
To one we pray to save our soul
The other we pray never to meet
Even when we are done and old.
Yet if this tale be true
The second one is easily met
In our broken world’s encircling net
The second his face we have to seek
Hidden in the crowds of the meek.
Red Rocks
Sweat socks
Foot pain
Worn brain
A desert of love I have crossed
Feeling alone and always lost
Sandy tears flooded my sad eyes
Recalling choices, most not wise.
Limping
Slowly
Along
My path
Reached a
Crossroad
With signs
Pointing
Left for
Satan
Right for
Jesus.
Everyone thinks they’re heaven bound
Who’d want a trip to hell underground
We figure despite faults and sins
We will be forgiven and allowed in
We choose to be orange optimistic
Despite red actions being pessimistic
We really aren’t kind to our fellow man
But want God’s grace, in a bigger plan
I too am a product of human sin
Satin has a contest I don’t want to win
Turning away from sandy selfish ways
Striving to grow my soul strong in faith
Prayer and a dare to just be kind
Seems it is rare to give to find
Whenever I see a crescent moon phase,
I picture the crescent crowned on His hair,
For He clears my mind when it is in a haze,
As I chant to Him, Mahadev who's so fair.
Whenever I see the big open blue sky,
I picture the beautiful blue hue of His skin,
For when He appears I'll know it is not a lie,
As I chant, I shall recall my divinity within.
Whenever I see a deep and very still lake,
I picture Him in His ascetic state meditating,
For He has the deepest mind for our sake,
As I chant to Him, I too begin ascending.
Whenever I see anyone's genuine smile,
I picture Him and His serenely content face,
For He brings me joy for longer than a while.
As I chant, I see life's something to embrace.
Your Word, O Lord, is loveliness.
Thus it is fitting that your Gospels
are clad in shining gold and silver
Made to gleam and impress and remind us
that your living wisdom is a treasure beyond all else.
Yet - fair and proper as it is -
I think of the humble, well-worn
simple and plain Bible of a saint
Tattered cover and crinkled pages
Borne through sweltering jungles
Stained by rain and sea and sun
And my heart burns at its beauty.
And even lovelier still is that
which I cannot see -
Your holy Word known so well by your saint
Imprinted upon their very heart.
2025-10-26
written ~1:50 PM
One step at a time Lord Jesus
guide me on my way
One step at a time Dear Jesus
lead me not astray
There are paths where the flashy lights glow
temptations a many pleasures they bestow
But a life of regret and heartache they sow
leaving you broken and with nothing to show
There are paths where troubles grow
Worry and strife overflow
Hate and war is all that you know
Failure and falling with no hand to hold
One step at a time Lord Jesus
guide me on my way
One step at a time Dear Jesus
lead me not astray
Let me walk in your footsteps above
Fill my life with your holy love
Give me direction I crave and need
Show me the path to follow as you lead.
One step to repentance with your love profound
One step to salvation by your blood sins drown
One step with faith to lead my way
One step a journey by Grace we are saved.
sermons lasting years
deeds never duplicated
Sunday morning smiles
In a deep pit I awake and wonder how I got here
Scanning every blurring memory but nothing is clear
Fighting the impressing hysteria and gripping fear
Failing to see a way out as I shed more than a tear
In a dark pit I claw the walls searching for a way free
Trying every idea that had ever come to me
Hoping against hope that one will open a path to flee
Sinking deeper in despair as there is none that I see
In a hushed pit I hollered out for help from anyone
Searching the opening rim for rescue but I found none
Wishing that someone left a single bullet and a gun
Crying falling deeper with the dread feeling I am done
In a cold pit I clasped my hands turning to God to pray
Breaking through the gloomy sky was a glimmering light ray
Reaching out toward me the Son spoke out I am the way
Freeing He took me into the dawn of a brand new day
She screams—
and the world cracks open.
Her body, a battlefield
and a cradle
all at once.
Bones shift,
skin stretches,
time stops.
Pain like no other—
a flood,
a fire,
a tearing of heaven
through flesh.
And then—
a cry.
The cry.
And in an instant,
it all unravels.
The agony dissolves
into awe.
She holds the child
to her chest,
and all she can feel
is love—
wild, uncontainable love
that pulses stronger
than memory.
She should remember.
She should swear
“never again.”
She should count the cost
and close the door.
But already,
somewhere deep inside,
a whisper stirs:
I could do that again.
I would.
I want to.
What strange grace is this—
that the worst pain
is buried
beneath the weight of wonder?
What mercy
wipes the memory
clean with just one breath
from a newborn's mouth?
This holy forgetting—
it must be divine.
A miracle wrapped
in flesh and tears.
A mother’s heart,
made
to break
and love again.
Specific Types of Religious Poems
Read wonderful religious poetry on the following sub-topics:
autumn, beautiful, christmas, easter, faith, friendship, funeral, joy, love, mothers day, sympathy, thanksgiving
and more.
Definition | What is Religious in Poetry?
Poems Related to Religious
spiritual, clerical, holy, sectarian, moral, devout, sacred, pious, theological, pontifical, devotional, divine, supernatural, believing, canonical, ecclesiastical, god fearing, godly, ministerial, orthodox, pure, reverent, righteous, sacerdotal, sacrosanct