Short Venerated Poems
Short Venerated Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Venerated by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Venerated by length and keyword.
Venerated of Alienated
In life we may be venerated
Or against others are alienated
Not saying what we want to hear
Wishing they would disappear
Such a shame them we have hated.
Jim Horn
Mountains on the Backyard
This mordant assignment
Is my nemesis with physical insult-
My venerated assailant
Famed for making life difficult!
(Great Zimbabwe University, Mashava Campus.)
JM
21st Feb’ 2014
Once in life time on planet earth
a stranger appears unexpectedly
often his diary of life is fairy
obscure, unpredictable, a thorn in flesh
miraculous, puzzling even frivolous
to majority, the being is an ogre
persecuted but later venerated
Endless stretches of the heavens
Across the stars, galaxies and eternal voids
Realms of gods, angels, spirits and venerated ancestors,
Thus says the LORD:
Heaven is My throne and the earth is My footstool.
~05/16/21
~Contest: Planets
~Sponsor: Matt Caliri
Life:
This adventure
This Gift
This Wonder
This miracle
This mystery
This epitome of divinity
This apotheosis of creation
Ought
To be venerated
In its every single form
For
Upon each of its manifestation
The grace of God is bestowed!
(c) Demetrios Trifiatis
07 November 2016
Here from the womb of a grave rose a carcass
Stabbed subterranean with a feudal dart
Crackled, corroded and combusted on every part
Heart seems to be sizzled and left apart.
All mighty above started crying in the clouds
Tears geared up the grimness and went gloomy
Smiles sacrificed their superiority,
saluted that venerated veteran of aspiring life.
Life on the grand stage,
an ancient drama.
From, "untouchable",
to holy, "Braman".
One chews the sandal,
one anoints the head.
One's venerated,
the other's just dead.
There's an old saying,
life is for learning.
But the villain says,
Books are for burning.
The show must go on,
the great endeavor.
The plot of a man,
that lives forever!
date:2/12/22
Crushed and pressed
Down into annihilation
Like rose petals on a page
Of humiliated substance.
Legends speak of this
The Way to the extraordinary
Like carbon turned into diamond
And alumina turned into sapphire
The way of lonely monks
to venerated saint
Of Cloistered virgins
to Doctor of the Church.
The paradox of austerity
To the luxury of heaven
Africa's venerated literary
icon with words of eloquence
esoteric to the blind.
Distinguished in letters
for ages infinite.
Unequaled in intellect,
and a gadfly of constructive
dissenting views.
Soyinka,
You are indeed a priceless
asset to the black race.
The wise grey-haired doyen
of literary geniuses,
whose genius is in a century
once seen,
and in a millennium, ten times.
Form:
THE CURE D’ ARS
There once was a Cure d’ Ars
Who wanted to visit the stars
He swallowed some sherbet
Shot off into orbit
And now he’s the Cure de Mars
……………………………………………………………..
NOTE
Jean-Marie Vianney (1786 – 1859), commonly known in English
as St John Vianney, was a French parish priest who is venerated as a saint.
He is often referred to as the "Curé d'Ars".
We are Leaves
We are like leaves that fall from trees
As wombs contract with pains of labor
And portraits of heroes are venerated
By those who weathered the storm
It’s proved young Africans are leaves
Leaves that fall but go back not
Leaves that have on destiny- the soil
Season that emerges new leaves grow
But they too shade off and disappear
Like fog in the rising hot sun of the tropics
Almighty blesses, cares, destructs every form generated.
His invisible juggle kindles lofty manifestations.
Nonpareil obeisance paid.
Quirky, reasonable, sublime traits uprightly venerated.
Wondrous X-factors yield Zen!
Alphabet Soup Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Date: 06-11-2021
Venerated priest John Almond
our brother - reprover of sin,
a good example to follow
and to give testimony to Christ.
He often had to dispute
with heretical ministers,
who came away so confused
as not to know what to say.
He went through the crucible
of life and of unjust punishment.
He was indicted
for it was a treason
for a priest ordained
according to the Catholic rite
to live in England;
so he was martyred.
If more good deeds than bad one's
Weren't to go unchecked and
rather celibrated a hole lot more
Then maybe just the holy unwashed infamous wouldn't then be venerated
half as much as they currently are
When famous those of ill repute
become then have we all indeed
not fallen victum of the virus
We live in dread and fear of being
infected with being taught neither
nor to spread yet unbeknownst to
us we pass it on regardless
I am here..To rip up any carefully concocted notions.' To stamp on obcenitys' and dis-abuse all and
Sundry of sepia toned views, of
Disgusting historical humans who
Have been hitherto venerated as
Almost God.? If not as replacements'
Indeed I will rip the rose tinted glasses
From your very noses ' And trample on
Your toes'es.' In order to wake you up.'
As indeed all heaven knows'es.)
And thats just for starters'
So help me God.!
A trip to the doctor, these days,
Is an ordeal in so many ways
Glued to their computers, it seems,
They never look at your seams.
Electronic gadgets fill the room
No personal talk unless it’s doom,
They’re always in such a rush
No time for issues to discuss.
Next appointment automatically generated
But not to see the doctor venerated,
You’ll be handed off to a nurse prac
That is, unless you don’t go back!
Written December 11, 2022
Nothing-ness fills me
again. Once visiting a funeral
home, a child asked me,
why do the people die ?
How do I explain the dark
side of life ? A blunt trauma,
makes me jaded. One collapsing
process creates the black hole.
A nude, the tall figure, stands
on the rock, much venerated,
and you cannot take off the
eyes, deciphering the skin.
In the intense pain of?
learning, a fantasy of
looking out at a ghost deity
in the vegetable, springs a miracle.
Satish Verma