Rest Poems - Poems about Rest

Inspired by Bob Dylan's Blowing in the Wind Our journey takes on different roads we make our choices and our beds no rest for the weary till we're all dead Time is not our faithful ally its intentions waywardly dubious yet fate lays here in our hands Don't pretend you can't hear the many cries they're right outside your door blow the whisle sound...

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If, within the silence, you begin the play once more, If, even with a fine performance, you can no longer catch the essential lines, If, driven by life's anxieties, no matter what you do, an unwanted play is staged within your mind, If, to shield yourself from it, you try to guard with noise, increasing your friends as a form of defense, Even if the theater fears the days...

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If you don’t like the weather wait five minutes and it will change. A pitcher has pitched a shutout— he is a hero. You can bet he’s talked about everywhere. Somewhere something is on sale— it was marked up the first day. A song in the background rocks but it is lost in haste. A stitch in time saves nine but old blue jeans are thrown...

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Where oh where is Jesus in my hour of prayer Dear God I long for thee My haven of rest To be ever blessed In the hour of rest My haven of hope What wonderous arms of love and rest Will I pass the test Oh haven of rest ...

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Flapping without flying. It feels okay. Your scales of fur corrode. A foul, but sweet, but warm, but damp... Scent of something new. You're red and blue tomorrow, Yellow, pink, today. But forever, I'd say grey. You're white, dirtied, pure. Once lost, but now at home. If invaders must die, Make yourself the furniture. You can stain my doormat red, So you can see me before we part. And...

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Feeling it..to break it...to shut it down, Remembering the sight and sounds, God will bring back a memory to make you turn around, To make you see what broke you down, What ripped your heart right out of your chest, That were just too painful to see and you thought you put to rest, At that moment you must ask yourself...

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The light falls on as I fall asleep unbeknownst of what lies ahead, My eyes close shut and the darkness engulfs, Carefully wrapping me up in its warm embrace. But light comes and takes away that warmth. Leaving me all alone in the cold terrace....

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At the rise of the sun, Her day had started. Comforting kisses to her creation, Progressing to the changing place. Her lullabies like the ocean, Bedtime stories are her meditation. From bottles to sandwiches, Covering cuts with band aids. Always prepared for the field trips Carrying all the weight on her back....

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At the rise of the sun, Her day had started. Comforting kisses to her creation, Progressing to the changing place. Her lullabies like the ocean, Bedtime stories are her meditation. From bottles to sandwiches, Covering cuts with band aids. Always prepared for the field trips Carrying all the weight on her back....

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Biscuits like friends I'd like to portray Are best rediscovered On the rainiest day The kettle it steams The teabag is dry The sofa side table Is catching your eye Biscuits like friends Can combine and renew To chat or be still With some fireside brew Should I dunk and indulge Maybe snap, slurp or crunch God, for moments like these I just thank you a bunch...

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I cherish the night. Its’ silent darkness surrounds me like a soft blanket and I snuggle deeply within it. Its gentle atmosphere hovers above me and calms my thoughts like a shield of protection from the consequences of the day. Its’ quiet, calm, reassurance that the day's bustle has ended, and that peace and rest are promised in the interlude before morning. My fears are quelled, my hopes...

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If God is hateful explain where love comes from. If God is your equal, define the body and how each piece flows as one, and recreate it. If God is betrayal convince me your life is done, that you're not just undone, but unfinished. If God is pure punishment explain replenishment, recuperation and recovery. Your discovery of God is not set in stone and neither is mine. So give Him...

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Rest Today, celebrate this day. It is Sunday but it is also Easter. He is Risen ...

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In a library where time has paused to rest its heavy wings, two shadows float among the rows like phantoms lost in ink, where smoke rises like memories of a forgotten dream, two souls meet and burn like two stars in the endless night: Your coat carries the scent of absinthe and dreams that drift in melancholy, are you a...

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Sleep is a deception, a ghost wearing the garment of rest, a bloody truth hidden beneath our eyelids, an escape from the labyrinth of the mind, where light dances in the darkness, a forbidden beacon sought by dying souls, and our outstretched hands tremble, trying to grasp ephemeral illusions. At the touch of that light, repulsion flickers like silent...

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