Sunday School Poems | Examples
These Sunday School poems are examples of School poems about Sunday. These are the best examples of School Sunday poems written by international poets.
There’s a farmers market near campus.
A young couple has a pizza oven on a trailer.
They make a breakfast pizza - bacon, mozzarella
some egg and green peppers. It’s SO crispy and delicious.
ALL I had to do this morning was say “breakfast pizza!”
and six of us were ready to head out fifteen minutes later.
Let’s wax poetic, shall we?
There are some young ladies who live in a dorm
sometimes it seems like they only have studies
but once and a while on a Saturday or Sunday
if we have our druthers, we get out, in swarm
and find ourselves some pizza-like brekkie.
.
.
Songs for this:
PIZZA by Oohyo
Le Breakfast Club de Paris by Gabrielle Chiararo
Palm branches waving,
symbolizing the coming
of eternal love:-
Rebecca was three years old when Isaac took her for a wife
Nineteen years later, no children, but still pro-life
Finally pregnant, Rebecca’s joy was short-lived, with twins inside
tossing and turning tumultuously in the embryo of Isaac’s bride
Rachel heard of this and learned her lesson
Meeting Jacob at age five, her brother Laban said: ‘No messin’
Seven years (and one week) later, they finally got hitched
Thoughts of kids at five, ‘unceremoniously’ ditched
There’s a peace that whispers soft
when I step beneath the open sky,
trees stretching in green prayer,
branches swaying like the hands
of a thousand saints, lifting their weight
toward something higher.
In moments when I’m alone,
that wide sky pulls me in close—
a blue blanket tucked around shoulders
on a night lit only by stars.
Crickets keep time, their gentle song
finding rhythm with my heart.
I think of the quiet crack of a baseball bat,
the ball arcing high, a promise carried on the wind,
a flight so clear it feels like love.
In a way, it's the same—a swing of hope,
the reach for connection,
the leap toward something more.
And isn’t that like a prayer, too?
Those small moments when I feel Him,
like sunlight slipping through autumn leaves,
or in the crisp warmth of pajamas fresh from the line,
or the sacred stillness of a Sunday afternoon.
Nature wraps around me like comfort,
reminding me I am never truly alone,
even when no one’s near—
because in each bird’s song, each gust of wind,
each blade of grass bending beneath my feet,
there is something holy, something here.
I was in the hospital at only five,
the medicine gave me a big hive.
Sunday school taught us to be alive,
my spirit soared and wanted to drive.
When I was seven I got really sick,
they gave me ice cream to lick.
I loved warm soup with a cheese breadstick,
my spirit loved it and soared with a big kick.
Now older with aches and pains yet wiser,
my spirit soars like a heavenly geyser.
We learned the books of the Bible in order when young
Almost nigh impossible to do, not really any kind of fun.
The Sunday school teacher was named Mrs. Marrs.
Rewards she gave us were those sticky tiny aluminum stars.
Was it worth it? You ask me.
It was at the time.
I had no idea they hardly cost her a dime.
Now I dream of these stars sometimes in my sleep
They are poured onto my brain and I do not make a peep.
Remembering how much I wanted them at one time.
When we could get things that only cost a mere dime.
Sunday’s an auspicious day to suggest
that you, as a student, take a recess
In order to try and decompress
from our studying and stress
Now, of course, if you’re so possessed,
or some might even say obsessed,
you could study for a test,
we all want to do our best
but some work habits can oppress
and leave one all depressed
Just take a needed rest
and if your needs are unaddressed
get caressed when you’re undressed
some would have that thought suppressed
or simply left it unexpressed
but under oath I would attest
and to a priest I have confessed
all my roommates acquiesced
that for relaxation it’s the best
and quickest way to get unstressed
there a hundred things I could suggest
you type “A”s tend to make everything a contest
in this, there are no professors for you to impress
this isn’t a competitive, academic trap, trick or jest
I just know that, on Monday, this girl will be refreshed
His life as risky as a goldfish swimming in a bowl
As a bunny living with momma in a rabbit hole
Never crossed a street without looking both ways
An angel in school, drawing teachers' praise
One morning he awoke in a cold sweat
His trusty alarm clock he'd forgotten to set
School would start in less than half an hour
Without a balanced breakfast, his future looked dour
So he skipped the meal, threw on some clothes
Caught a bus without fanfare or fuss
But as he got closer and closer to school
He saw it was Sunday ~ Was he Mr. Cool
I startled awake, early Sunday morning,
fraught - my mind, darting like a panicked animal
because my assignment calendar
is wet, smeared and illegible!
Total darkness - I fish for my phone by it’s cord - it reads 3:08am.
I flop back onto a cloud of thick, memory foam.
Ahhh, jeeez, it was just a DREAM.
Of course, my assignment calendar
is safe, digital, redundant, cloud backed up.
“THAT was a little morbid.” I think,
as I drift back out of consciousness.
When Jesus was teaching Pre-School
He taught them all The Golden Rule
But none would comply
Since the other guy
Was much more in need of that tool!
My heart wants to commit.
Oh such despair!
But who will repair!!
I desperately cling on to hope
Waiting until faith shows up.
Church bells chimes from afar
Scriptural rhymes
Long forgotten, but tucked in
In the hidden crevices of my heart
Comes to the fore.
Scriptural verses
Forcefully recited
Sunday school valour
Has finally paid off
Despair no more!
Verses to the rescue!
My heart races like a Knight
In shining armour
Victory over despair!
Victory! Victory!! all the way.
Triumph on the inside
Fear of demons banished
As scriptures line up
Like cannons in array
Waiting to be fired.
A wiry creepy smile
Caresses my face
The two edged sword
In my hand and the
High praises bubbling
To come forth!!!!
Triumph so real
Fear banished
Victory is mine!
Victory at last!!
Forever! and ever!!
(Written on the 28th of November, 2015, my First Poem ever.)
They restricted celebrations,
forget your relations.
They restricted travel,
watched families unravel.
They restricted purchases,
no provided services.
They closed the schools,
those were the new rules.
They closed the churches,
no Sunday soul searches.
They closed the gyms
and the flab begins.
They closed the restaurants,
forget sweet tooth wants.
They closed the theaters,
no full-length features.
They closed retail stores,
no welcoming doors.
They closed the bars,
murmurs of wars.
Society accepted it as well as they could,
as everyone felt the need to be good.
But then they closed the brothel –
an act so heinously hostile –
What? You call that a plan!
That’s when the fight began.
Homie hoppers are all over the young adult Sunday School Class
Five couples, and they have all been married at one time or another
To at least two other people in the class.
It is the weirdest dynamic in the world, but it is what I have to work with.
There are so many knowing looks and inside jokes.
Lots of laughter. I have never taught such a class.
I am eighty-two years young, and have learned to keep my mouth shut.
Never referring to “your husband” or “your wife” or even “your partner”
for things change so swiftly.
I went to Sunday school to be taught right from wrong
Taught not to question; told it was a sin to be headstrong
Differing of opinions were highly discouraged during our cultivation
So I silenced my protests; fearing their god's damnation
As the years became decades, my fear of hell grew less
I learned the meaning of hypocrisy when they laughed at the way I dress
So I taught my children to love and always give respect
To stand up for their truth, and the weak they should always protect
12/04/2021
Morality Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Koplin
I stood
at the century-old gate
of my high school Alma mater
on Sunday morn last summer;
Excited as if I had a date.
I saw
people passing by;
The old folks recalled me,
Yes, they recalled me with glee.
And I humbly knew why.
I gazed
at the benches made of stone
beside the Marcos building,
where we used to sit and sing
as if the place was our own.
I smiled
as I set my eyes at the hall
where we performed comic plays
that brought laughters in many ways
to the audience, big and small.
I recalled
the honours on us bestowed,
the medals -silver and gold;
the warm applause of young and old
that gave our parents something to behold.
I pondered
these things in my brain,
the changes from places,
to people's faces;
Only memories remain.
BRIAN'S SELECT 2,any form,any theme
Contest Judged: 6/3/2020 5:58:00 AM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
1st Place