Short Sainthood Poems

Short Sainthood Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Sainthood by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Sainthood by length and keyword.


Sainthood

1.Ain Mashaq Trataka
2.Visualizing the naqsh
3.Divine Spark(source)
4.Divine Sparks(Hub)
5.Tasarruf(influence)
A to Z of Sainthood...
Form: Imagism


Aspirations

“Greatness”…the goal of ermined kings,
“Sainthood”…nun and priest,
“Fame”…the troubadour who sings,
“Mankind”…the charnel worms who feast.
© Steve Eng  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Epigram

Senselessly Seeking

Insatiable shadows 
senselessly seeking 
spiritual sainthood.  
Stealing………. 
shiny symbols 
staged senses
swaggering sanities.
Insurmountable sorrow.

Witch-Saint

Once there was a man called witch-saint
balanced in witchcraft and sainthood
some say he is a good witch
some say he is a bad saint
bloody fellow could be from heavenhell
Form: Limerick

To Be a Saint

to be a saint 
injure your hands
with giving
torture your soul
with compassion
bruise your feet
with gospel journeys
bite your tongue
with preaching
leave your comfort
go to streets
sainthood is there


Anti Hero

I don't need the pity
Or a misery driven sainthood
I am not a champion of pain
Regretful princess
My kingdom is a dumpster fire
But sometimes I can't help loving the parts of me I find laughing in the corner,  holding the matches

The Artist

The artist builds and reveals his dream
Of the women he paints
Each woman equal on his canvas
Each woman lovely
Each woman made on Sainthood
Each woman angelic

The Artist reveals the beauty of all women
His finished canvas is his desire for them

The Artist

The artist builds and reveals his dream
Of the women he paints
Each woman equal on his canvas
Each woman lovely
Each woman made on Sainthood
Each woman angelic

The Artist reveals the beauty of all women
His finished canvas is his desire for them




"Copyright (C) Mirassou 2008"
Form: Epyllion

Premium Member After I Am Gone

My grandchildren will fight the bonfire for my paintings after I am dead.
Their parents will try to nix it, but they will insist, for I’ll be a saint then.
My paintings are stacked all over my house, in my bathtub and under the bed.
I can hardly wait for my death, when my sainthood can truly begin.
art
Form: Rhyme

The Other Woman

aches
heartbreaking
i have been misunderstood
mistakes
breathtaking
I never said I was good
pancakes
lovemaking
I will never attain sainthood
moments
so brief
Filled with loneliness
ailments
of grief
Plagued by emptiness
His existence is my bane
A fate I hate
poignantly
He leaves again
I wait 
patiently.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Altar of Years

Most of my flying now
is restricted to planes,
feet less able to 
“trip the life fantastic” -- 

age having slowed fast living
to delayed starts and early
finishes – 

joining the genuflecting
lines, many of us
striving for sainthood
in latter years, fingering
rosaries – chanting on knees

converts 
at Altar of years….

Premium Member Transfiguration

I guess, next to actual
transfiguration, writing
is closest I will ever come
to sainthood.  Not that 
everything about me
needs correcting, the 
old nun would scold me
with a suspicious smile – 
for more than once I saw 
her sneak a candy from her
top desk-draw, just before 
lunch, and the Sacrament
of Grace...

I forgave her
with a smile....

My Mister Dog

You gaze at me with
eyes described as limpid ...
so clear and pure.
You are a dog
with eyes that suggest
the idea of a great love.
Love as an idea,
or a feeling that fills
your so wise eyes?
You are more than a dog
as you sigh and snore
and sometimes ignore
my adoration.
You are seriously
in line for sainthood
here in this sanctified space
You Rule!
© Sue Mason  Create an image from this poem.

Angel Vaulting, Bowels of Madness

The bowels of madness
Trekked with dark watchful eye
Through terror and agony-
The fever of society unconscious
Vault these cliffs
With steel backed bone
Alone, dangling

Then, as the dawn shown
The most riveting surprise
Rejuvenation through soil
Rushing, penetrate the surface
Of mass hypnosis
You will soar as phoenix-
reborn in the beastly beauty
Sainthood to walk with man

Wilayat

Wilayat(sainthood)is a special spark which
God bestows upon His chosen men only by
virtue of His grace and favour.According to
me sainthood is the active stage of divine energy
which is found in divine spark also known as Huzoori
which means presence of activated divine energy.
Note.Najeeb Sultan sahib kya haal hai ap ka??.
Peeri Mureedi kaisa chal raha hai hahahahaha?
© Mortal Man  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Tazkira

Grace

She walks alone and has such airs,
though airless be the things which she desires.

She smiles throughout, as each blow falls,
with the martyrless grace that sainthood requires.

She takes such pride, though there be none,
in each and every task she is assigned.

Then bending low,
	with so much care,
                   lends grace and beauty to man’s most unrefined.

Shabey Miraj

Lailat al Miraj
The night of urooj ascent
Holy Prophet attained spiritual ascension to a higher level
His mind generated enormous amount of divine energy
Divine energy is the source of sainthood and Prophethood
The unique journey of insight and manifestation
Neither mental illness nor magician's trick.
Note.Divine spark serves as a key for access to unlock divine energy..

Premium Member The Conundrum of Adam

Listen to poem:
The Conundrum of Adam
David J Walker

Having forgone my claims 
On sainthood 

I stand naked for all of
Nature to see

I am Adam and the 
Part of me that is Eve is

Missing and may be 
Reclaimed only in 
permissive sin

and contrary to reports
the purport of my innocence 
is exaggerated

I am a willing sinner
Unaware of snakes or apples

Unable to remember 
The words of God

Only the odd meaning of the
Conundrum resonates
Form: Rhyme

Troubles Transcendance

Created brink of poverty's role
a Eucharistic pool of drool
abomination from a fool
incriminating from self rule!

Discover Faith, the sainthood tool
and rediscover self, God's yule.
No celebration need extend
or bow to legacy's pretend!

A soul's conflict with space extend
and so decipher, what we've been
to belly up, we miss the trend
of going further, losses tend!

As looking back, mistakes contend
while roads of glory ~ brighter bend!
Form: Monorhyme

Live Each Day

Every day is a page to write a new story.
It doesn't matter how many typos there
are in your story. History has a lot of typos
not only done by hap hazard folks,
but also people who were deified and given
sainthood. It doesn't matter what writing
style you use; John Lennon, Nelson Mandela,
Mahatma Gandhi....all had their own styles.
Blessed with a new day to live each sunrise,
is a moment to write a new story. A page
has to be written something....

Premium Member 15 Guns


   15 guns,
   And what do you get?
   Not much older,
   And always in debt.

   No sainthood with Peter,
   That won't do!
   And I forgot to tie,
   My other shoe!

   I woke up one morning,
   A bout half past nine.
   No change for coffee,
   Didn't have a dime!

   Peter if you're a saint,
   Why don't you know?
   Those 15 guns,
   Can't put on a show!

   15 guns,
   And what do you get?
   I owe my soul,
   To the gun owners show!
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Mother Teresa

Mary Teresa from remote Albania all the way
came as a young girl to India to permanently stay.
By chosen profession a passionate teacher unflawed,
destiny drove her to become a benign missionary of God.

Home she brought the sick and the destitute,
who got new lives under her divine care absolute.
For human service her kind heart did whatever it could
as Mother Teresa before entering the sanctum of sainthood. 

December 22, 2020
Contest : Clerihew
Sponsor : Regina McIntosh
Form: Clerihew

Saints and Sinners

Saints and sinners it

 all comes from within

 us. Showing compassion

 with a burning passion,

 helping others over there

 hurdles. Shooting people

 down with an awful frown,

 throwing nasty words of

 bitter haste around. We are

 all sinners far from Sainthood

 yet it's understood what it is

 to be terribly rude. Nasty

 deeds come from a certain type

 of breed, it's a countdown of days.

 Not caring for others is a slippery

 slope towards evil ways
© Andy Craig  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

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