Short Blaspheme Poems
Short Blaspheme Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Blaspheme by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Blaspheme by length and keyword.
Crumbs I used to say
It was a swear word in my day
Now more blaspheme
With words obscene
I am sad that it's turned out this way
This summer, it was Jilly’s dream
to eat a sweet, chilly ice cream
A seagull it took
Jilly said, “Oh, look!”
For Jilly’s too sweet to blaspheme!
pretty pickle
by Michael R. Burch
u’d blaspheme if u could
because ur God’s no good,
but of course u cant:
ur a lowly ant
(or so u were told by a Hierophant).
Blaggard blaming the blond bloke for his blight:
Blablabla, bluster and bleat, blathering
Blob, your blue blood bleeds blotches on a black
Blossom. Blaspheme, blabber—I blast your bluff.
A pirate captain yelling orders on deck,
Was bitten by his parrot on the neck,
His blood-curdling scream
Followed by a volley of blaspheme,
Caused him to be known as Captain Peck.
Children are seen
Not heard.
Mother was our go between.
How absurd.
Not a word
To me this was extreme
Especially since adults were always in
A herd.
They reigned supreme.
To argue was to blaspheme.
This was real
No matter how dumb it would seem
To adults this was ideal.
Listen to poem:
What Am I But My Language
David J Walker
What am I but my language
Skin and hair and bone
Utterance
That which alone
Without a single sound
Has made the man
He whom you are wont
to think I am
To blaspheme against the sky
Least of all to love and live
At last to live and die
Don’t talk to me about form,
when the feeling isn’t there
Don’t talk to me about substance,
when experience is rare
Don’t talk to me about insight,
when reflection is ignored
Don’t blaspheme an epiphany
—in the presence of the Lord
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
The Bullies have reached an all time low.
Hoping for one to die? That’s a low blow.
I guess this tells of what’s to come.
Let’s see you pray your way out of this one.
Blaspheme the word and take your place.
Your credibility is gone without a trace.
For all of those who still defend.
Your righteous feeling will soon end.
When Vincent stumbled home that night through a drizzle of rain ~
what was going on inside that teeming, torturous brain?
Did he blaspheme heaven with every profanity and curse?
Or did he gaze in awe at the stars of his exploding universe,
and try to make of their blue and yellow light a poultice for his pain?
M-aker sees from sky above,
A-s He's Almighty Creator;
I-nvisible God in heaven,
D-ivine Lord and
A-uthor.
M-aker sees from sky above,
A-pril twenty-third Sunday;
L-et the world live in peace,
A-llowing war to stay away.
B-e humble and meek,
U-nder the Father's love;
N-ot for a time will you blaspheme,
G-od sees from sky
A-bove.
Testament, Revelation
This darkness creation
His dark disciples transfix
Six hundred threescore and six
His number is feared
In the world of the light
He may be the saviour
Who's wrong, who's right
Six one six
Also in history
To reveal it's reality
Open it's mystery
This numbers power
Makes people react
The righteous blaspheme
Their fears interact
Will there come a day
From Hades they feast
Six sixty six
The number of the beast
I could say she’s very lovely
Her complexion as smooth as silk
There’s no doubt in its verity
but she’s of a different ilk.
No words can express her beauty
To try would be a futile whim
The words would be a blaspheme-
To parrot them would be a sin.
Frenchmen would say vous êtes beau
A hackneyed phrase she heard before;
Italians, siete bello
Same old phrase from a different shore.
The fact is, her” beauty is truth”-
An ephemeral time of youth.
. for public domain
Sometimes we need a God to love,
to rattle the rafters up above,
to curse at, to blame,
to kneel before in utter shame,
a name to blaspheme, a name to scream,
a name to summon in a dream,
a name that withstands an insulting blast,
a name to call on when we breathe our last,
and whether this God is real or not,
a Scrooge aberration from a stomach knot,
we are made to call out, or curse our fate,
embrace in desperation what we desecrate.
I curse the night that lives in me
and turned my heart so cold.
I blaspheme the hollow gods
who failed to save my soul.
I blame the laughing crones of fate
who placed me in this cell
and bargain with Beelzebub
to pardon me from hell.
Though I burn inside the flames
of infernos I made,
I shall suffer silently,
and feign I'm not afraid.
I damn the tears inside my eyes,
for I won't cry aloud.
Although I know that I am doomed,
my head shall ne'er be bowed.