Short Rite Of Passage Poems
Short Rite Of Passage Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Rite Of Passage by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Rite Of Passage by length and keyword.
Her serene beauty was unparalleled.
We could only watch in blessed awe.
With grace she morphed into a butterfly.
Gently she flew far beyond our realm.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
A TEEN-TIME PAST
Fairisle jumpers,short-trousers*
Plimsoles,balaclava,long socks
School-cap,blazared,with ties
Chip-butty,not stick-like fries
*a rite of passage when you were allowed to wear long trousers
transcendental energy of bliss
altered state of consciousness
her love
divination and healing
her touch
rite of passage of the
wounded healer
her embrace
retrieval of the lost soul
her kiss
11.05 am
july 19 2016
Form:
AN OBSERVATION
moribund and
spiritually dead,
in love with life,
to dejeuner wed;
A rite of passage
practique each day
all,and everything,stops
for two hours,come what may;
To worship at the altar
of fine food and drink,alas
a family communion,
taken sans mass
breathless
hate induced misery
paradise lost...olivier twisted
stinging tears & rite of passage
lust of revenge
and a lifetime in hell
Die
stifled and buried under
hon'able man? Anthony said so
bloody rivers & the price of war
thirst of kill
and a season in hell
one of us
some day
will go first
into the realm
we know as death
brave
no idea
what is to
become of us
through the process
one day
holding hands
it will be time to let go
one of us
going forth
towards the light of trust
one at a time our rite of passage
AP: 1st place 2021
You are my paper mate
Let's meet at Heaven's gate
The ink spills over on a blank page
Sometimes I am a bird in a cage
Set me free from being a wanna be
You are a game player with chi
Love is a rite of passage
Not a load full of baggage
Maybe you will change or won't
But to try to make you I just don't
We seem to have it all
As we want for nothing
In the darkness of the womb
We are evicted into the light
Sadness, then happiness
Unaware of the looming doom
We seem to have it all-
Sadness, then happiness
Cloudy-vorfreude abloom
We hustle, we jump huddles
We cry, we hate, while loving
Then the reaper to the tomb
Every season has a message
meant to stir the human reason.
Easter isn't just a rite of passage
but God speaking in due season
to a world straying from His purpose.
No time for fervent praying than now,
that God turn all eyes to the cross,
where His love for the world stands,
offering to all a life like His.
© 2017 Celestine S Ikwuamaesi
I taught my son to shave today
Whiskers only he can see
The reflection in the mirror was
A yesteryear one of me
So serious and timidly
Careful with every move
He rinsed away the remaining suds
And again his face was smooth
I taught my son to shave today
With a solidly steady hand
He walked in my bathroom a little boy
And walked out a proud young man
Last Rite of Passage
(for Elizabeth) 30th January 03:11am
Through towering colonnades of stars
She rises with the daybreak's fire,
As angels strum on lute and lyre
And frost sparkles like fractured glass;
And when dark clouds have filled your eyes
Pray do not yield to let them cry;
For she is where the white doves fly
Amid the glades of Paradise.
In this (an appropriate PS choice for a Sunday morning)abba sonneteerJohn Donne (1572 – March 31, 1631 Jacobean poet, satirist, lawyer and preacher/cleric in the Church of Englan considered the founding figure of the so-called metaphysical poetry movement dwells on this most significant rite of passage with his 'concluding couplet' a paraphrased evangelical 'revelation' quotation on this topic.
Not truly audible, visible, olfactory or tactile; Icy; Undeserving; Complicated as usual; I have faith that he is protecting me; Wheat and stars; Until I die; No matter how close I get I still want to be closer; Nobody can help me but me; L.O.V.E.; Never to be possessed; A rite of passage; The will to live; Present in a fantasy; Cold as the endless winter of the tundra; Not lustful; A mental peace that endures forever;
We shall all die
One day.
It is the way
Of this Universe.
We walk upon
The dirt of life and death.
We are but a speck
Of Cosmic dust
In comparison to the vastness
Of Space.
Our little orb appears to be unique.
The stars overwhelm the night sky
As I gaze
Into its sparkling darkness,
I can only wonder
At its brilliance,
And what could possibly
lie beyond . . .
The paradox of metaphysical conceit
optimism from the divine,finite to
infinite,two sides of vanity as eathly time
passes.Touch and taste the tender the
vulnerable time of careless youth,this
product of the moment..
elusive yet larger than life.
Hear me recite from my 4000+ PS anthology on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro..
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There was insurgency-
in white night.
Moon will stay to witness
the murder
of a golden leaf.
What was the promise of a ripe
language ? The yellow thrust ?
Keeping a date with death was not all important.
There were
lots of poems to be underlined,
preened and straightened. The dirt had
accumulated. A metaphor
will remove the stains.
Any confession will
take away the mystry. Who killed
the nothing ?
Unrelenting
the apples were crashing.
Satish Verma