Short Heretics Poems
Short Heretics Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Heretics by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Heretics by length and keyword.
Candice is a candid candidate.
Her honesty harvests heretics’ hate
Not to be outdone
She creates lots of fun
Debunking deceivers during Des Moines’ Debate!
Crazed
Heretics
Reveling
Intent
Sacrilege
Taught
Indeed
Against
Nature
Relinquished
Energy
Levering
Itself and
Gaining
Intolerable and
Obsolete
Nations.
Form:
Only heretics
will seek the truth
Against the grain
they find the proof
Pandering Angels
wings on loan
In fear of shadows
— where answers roam
(Dreamsleep: August, 2024)
Crones
soporific, deranged
leering, smirking, hexing
heretics, prisoners, saviors, warriors
mesmerizing, smiling, casting,
hypnotic, kindhearted
Witches.
babyish blubbering beyond the brink
crazy crying in the kitchen sink
dubious dabbling in the dugout
eager eating silenced with a pout
furious flitting among the flowers
groveling garden grubworms giving glowers
heretics hitting heroic heights for hours
igniting iguana’s ideas in spring showers
The sins of religion,
religion of sin
holding God hostage,
a prisoner within
An Almighty weapon,
inflicting great pain
heaven in bondage,
redemption in chains
The politics of religion,
its dogma a curse
with guilt as the wellspring,
all heretics thirst
Angels conscripted
the devil awaits,
for those who would question
—with hell as their fate
(Dreamsleep: April, 2022)
Imposters I say smiling Cheshire cats
Pranksters of evil swindling wall rats
Sneaking and sniffling without any shame
Heretics of judgmental disdain
Throwing blocks between love creating hate
Jealous seekers they are born at hell’s’ gate
Horns on their heads hooves on their feet
Smell worse than pigs no good to eat
Don’t let them close these creatures of pain
They’ll trick You and use you for their own gain.
A virtuous man stands tall, far ahead,
Preaches mercy, yet calls heretics dead,
Speaks of hell, if he had seen,
Prescribes salvation and condemns unclean,
He sings of heaven till his last breath,
Then why, priest do you fear that death?
An infidel knows no rules, the trouble begins,
How can a priest keep him from sins?
Does this make him boundless, free to appease?
Or does the priest sin more than he dares to please?
Thinking in our reasoned light
No answer blocks our say.
Running from towards the night,
We carry on our way.
In our gloried human right
We worship sun and day,
Spurning thoughts revealing light
And carry on our way.
Heedless in our hopeless height,
The heretics we flay.
Running downwards in the night,
Our golden glory gray.
Through cold fog and blighted sight
We barely see the ray.
Truthful and forgiving light;
We tarry on our way.
He opened the doors to massive thunderstorms
The lizard king guzzling spirited drinks
Licking the air of the whisky a go go
popping off piping hot vocal strings
Many nights he was a neon light no show.
Chasing down an L. A, woman
in a revved up green highway machine
He fled the heretics of the California scene
accused of exposing his leather-studded thing
like an albatross he drifted over the cold sea
then died in a cheap Frenchy latrine
R.I.P. Lizard King.
I
Nations thrive, connive, destruct -- the birds still instil awe, naturally
II
Heretics and falsehood abound, but cows, even pigs, in town, reassure us of survival.
NOTE: In cities& towns in South Africa, the changes since Nelson Mandela's revolution, allows mainly black farmers & persons to let livestock roam towns for leftovers, rarely herding them.. Some eat plastic bags. Two are sleeping on the sidewalk, next to our only hotel, in Kerk Street, as I write/ edit