Short Contrition Poems
Short Contrition Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Contrition by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Contrition by length and keyword.
Listen to poem:
Contrition
David J Walker
help me
divine creator
fall in contrition
that I might
find favor
and rise in
Thy presence of
eternal light
The Pope said he's sorry they lost
Some children who would not be bossed
Since those who refused
Were raped and abused
But the Pope had his fingers crossed
You steer clear of society because you think it sinful
You say that the natural is not good,
Why don’t you admit to demanding bodily contrition from your kids?
Heads ache from here to Tazmania.
It’s the economic condition –
Politicians lack contrition.
Tax-mania affects the crania.
Ó November 17, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
There's no remorse for what I may have done
It's been a long day, let's just call it one
Just as well as we both know
There no place we can go
Take a deep breathe, come here let me hold you close
Form:
Trump ought to be tried for sedition
But who dares to sign a petition?
The GOP Vault
Claims Trump's not at fault
So forget all about contrition!
( Guess whom has the Vault combination?)
You’re addicted to Facebook if nightly
you are scrolling and liking contritely.
Will contrition affect
how much life you neglect?
Don’t delude yourself — not even slightly.
Overcast sky,
brings a rainy sky
to earth ...
In pronouncements of
gray and silver the leaden voice
call us all to
the contrition prayer showing that
the tenderness of the Lord
is manifested in many forms ...!
Pleasingly Plump
Obese, bloated, overwrought with contrition
Lainey hung a chart of each yoga position
Couldn’t deal with stretching
Mice she’s still fetching
She defies my lectures on nutrition
There's no remorse for what I may have done
It's been a long day, let's just call it one
Just as well as we both know
There no place we can go
Take a deep breathe, come here let me hold you close
Copyright © Alesha Roche' | Year Posted
A battalion of feeling,
a dead soldiers thoughts
A war of contrition,
last battle not fought
Distant artillery,
final shot from within
Its smoke covering over
—the most original sin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
A broken back
A svelte attack
on all that once was pure
A velvet wink
from eyes that think
flirtation is the cure
A slipping smile
Alone beguile
the wince of reparation
A mental mind
will surely find
beyond the act, contrition.
The locked door that bars contrition
When my heart of hearts knows
My word or deed
Is culpable for the pain and sadness
Of the one who loves me most
I've opened the door
I reciprocate the love…
I apologize.
Copyright 2016 Iger Rolyat All Rights Reserved
Hold up the mirror and see who are
Your inflated ego an your sports car
How dare you take it out on us
Lash out in anger an make such a fuss
Face the truth and have some couth
Repent or the pain will not lesson
An stop this aggression
We will not be Threatened......
Did you say you are sorry, my friend,
With a genuine feeling of humble contrition,
Or was your “Sorry about that!” a means to an end,
To change your ill-considered, untenable position
Without regard for my miserable condition?
written January 23, 2022
A cat pursuing mice
seems never
to think twice;
an owl swooping on prey
shows no thought
of delay--
Then enters man--
expressing volition,
a higher moral ground
of conscious
contrition--
yet kills for sport
as well as nutrition…
Oh! on occasion
for God
and country….
She humbles herself
With her lack of ambition
A stain of sadness
In all that she wears
She mumbles through life
With words of conviction
banished from gladness
by guilt that she bears
She crumbles inside
From a need for contrition
A martyr for madness
she sits and she stares
Here I am
On my knees
A humble act of contrition
For hurting the one
For which my heart dances
Tell me how I can make
Thy love smile again
Tell me how I can turn your
Sorrow into joy
Command thee
For no matter how great the feat
It will be done in your honor
Until thy last breath
Anthologies of language form, the core of man’s suppositions,
Breathing life into the Word with grace and contrition.
Counting, countless citizens mass to pray their propositions
Doubtless to postpone the day of their forewarned superstitions.
In the Beginning there was the Word and the Word was …
You feign contrition
No body for resolve
Absolute you’re dying eyes
Cocoon in silken wrappings
The inner being consoles
Obtuse mother
With her little stranger
Those counterfeit tears
Bellows no more
Lack of compunction
Halo of strife
I didn’t ask
To be born
But I was begat
To this life
We need sorrow for our sins
Means turning away from evil and turning to Eternal God
Sins may be mortal or venial sins
Mortal is gravely sins
Venial is daily that pertain 7 Deadly Sins
Perfect Contrition arises from the love of Eternal God
This loving sorrow remits venial sin or mortal sins
04052014
Form:
Suborned to serve without recourse
Bonded to fight in dissonant force
Branded as national material resource
Sanctioned to bridge political discourse.
Constrained to go on amorphous mission
Commanded to kill with cunning precision
Ordered to sacrifice without condition
Feted to die in lowly contrition.
Form:
With their guns fully loaded and pointed,
Two bad cowboys strike pose as appointed.
And, in high noon tradition,
without any contrition-
one left standing is not disappointed!
May 1, 2020
Contest: High Noon
Sponsor: Joseph May
Syllables: 10, 7
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Listen to poem:
An Ugliness of Winter Winds
David J Walker
Cold as the old north wind
may blow
Temperatures
well below
The freezing points of heaven
or hell
the tide swells without
contrition
the moon rises without
permission
snow sneers
as winter veers
well beyond a
path of tears
March winds bring an ugliness
To winter
Forgiveness
Dusted with determination
her bent old body plows a furrow
in the field of time.
She has bled into the earth,
eaten unleavened bread
with sacramental wine
Old Mother seasoned with
sorrow, proud of her pain
and the daily acts of contrition
that may bring absolution,
or that may crumble
like the gauzy wings of moths