Short Prophecies Poems

sweet kisses linger
on my mind and on my soul
prophecies to come...

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odd
woman
proclaiming
weird prophecies
crazed...

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Prophecies of the second coming of Christ 
our meeting with our creator...

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Branches spread Thy word,
Prophesying over stones:
Prophets of the wood....

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elder's spirit born
white fur roams among brown capes
pale face prophecies...

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keen orphic reader
cabalistic tendencies
mystical and keen

enigmatic strong
a master of the occult
lively prophecies...

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autumn’s rusty ghosts
haunt the naked cherry trees – 
memories of fruits...
torpid mists enshroud the sun
with prophecies of winter......

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Happy birthday, dear Aisisu, 
The Almighty's words have power; 
His prophecies have all come true, 
Nobody can stop the Father. 

Topic: Birthday of Aisisu Neyamageshi (March 19)...

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The era of mass surveillance
Is upon us
1984 prophecies fulfilled
But so many more big brothers
Watching us everywhere
The eyes in the sky monitor us
24/7 no one can escape the police state....

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linear constellations
publish prophecies
bereft of precision
birthing brand new eyes
like boomerangs they oscillate
across nimble currents
though once momentum surmounted
factualism had begun to trickle...

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Know thy faith
before it's too late
Go to the land where trees are filled
and there the prophecies are fulfilled

Seek for the one
...a blind man

Keep your faith
and close your eyes
for all are not lies...

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A prophet is no longer recognized, in his or her own time.

So many ring the warning bell; it’s unheard by preoccupied ears.

Prophecies fulfilled are too late to control; doom cannot be reversed!

...

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Fools Think That This Is a Fib

God's prophecies are a preamble
Things to come and child in a stable
And there had been born in a crib;
Only fools think that this is a fib.

Jim Horn

Motivated by poem written by:

FUNOM MAKAMA...

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Damp energy descends
from skyline prophecies
an irresistible souvenir
laced with infatuation
the gentle, yellow moans
the way they mirror
streetlights and flies
the friction of blue moons

By Glenn McCrary

© 2012 Glenn McCrary (All rights reserved)...

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Plato said in Phaedrus that the first 
prophecies were the words of oaks. 
Those that lived at that time found 
it rewarding enough
to listen to oaks 
or stones, so long
as they would
tell the 
truth!



Plato was referring to shamen in general, I imagine....

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Teasing us with its cover,
  darkness dances with itself 

Deep within the shadows
  of its blind self-indulgence

Prophecies unwritten
  die in murky condemnation
 
Giving birth to another lie
  —hiding from the light

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2013)...

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"MABAS"



Meant to create famine & war> prophecies of 
Armageddon caused by this plague called man.
Deemed, foreseen as the
Anti-Christ< in death, becomes a martyr.
Said to jump start World War three...

[mabas--------sadam]


Jared Pickett
11/17/09
Asavvy1...

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...inspired by M by Seamus Heaney


Her cranium, its bumps and hollows
cradles secrets stored beneath,
neurons firing, never tiring
of their journeys to belief.

Thin vibrations mold, embolden,
prophecies, cunabula
suffuse the soul, engage the spirit
of the tortured Akhmatova....

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Religion becoming meaningless
when propriety goes away
Nothing to sit atop the lies
nothing to lead astray

Claiming the title to prophecies spun
each figurehead stands tall
To augment the legend of what never was
—as Divinity still calls

(The New Room: January, 2023)...

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Sleeping giant,formless,not yet born,
You will awaken as poison.

Rising up from retention ponds,
Dragonflies with nephilim wings.

Writing prophecies on liquid scrolls,
Your iridescent words we'll eat.

The fire,raining down to earth,
Feeding the mandrakes, of old eden....

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...inspired by 'M' by Seamus Heaney


The cranium, its bumps and hollows
cradle secrets stored beneath,
neurons firing, never tiring
of their journeys to belief.

Thin vibrations mold, embolden
prophecies, cunabula,
imagine then the soul and spirit
of the wondrous Akhmatova!...

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Crawl out from your crevice, young one. 
The atmosphere rains a vomitous path  
divulged, displayed before you in  
christening malaise, ending between  
your pointless therapy sessions and  
my overworked kidneys. 
  
Tally the score, or be a bore. 
Our favorite whore is no more....

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...dedicated to the Russian poet Anna Akhmatova.

Her cranium, its bumps and hollows, 
cradles secrets stored beneath, 
neurons firing, never tiring 
of their journeys to belief. 

Thin vibrations mold, embolden, 
prophecies, cunabula 
suffuse the soul, engage the spirit 
of the tortured Akhmatova....

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Except for these bars I look
Through given info to stare
At my promise or vow or lack
There of fro where I took 
What wasn't mine to take care
Of the water that created that

Signs of obligatory confidence
Shattered prophecies
Clobbered honestness 
    with patience
in eleven lines...ends clear....

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...dedicated to the Russian poet Anna Akhmatova.

Her cranium, its bumps and hollows, 
cradles secrets stored beneath, 
neurons firing, never tiring 
of their journeys to belief. 

Thin vibrations mold, embolden, 
prophecies, cunabula 
suffuse the soul, engage the spirit 
of the tortured Akhmatova....

Read More