Amen poems bring the best collection of short and long amen poetry. Poems for him and her and every poetry lover. These great amen rhymes are so amazing they will touch your heart and keep you craving for more. Hope you find your own deep meanings in these amen poems. They are decent, rhyming, free spirited and true. Thoughts on amen are here for you.
I would give anything to die in you, in your belly, innocently. My voice of dissent should hold the wings atop the kisses. The wards in between fall on choked Eustachian. A global grief encircles the fallen gods, prophets of
Its spring again, Cherry blossom’s new young a ‘showing Brings on to my mind, your true love a ’glowing As the flowers bloom bright, send away all the gloom We’ll always have, the knowing It’s spring again, all birds sing
When I think of you Lord I am happy you are there always following the path that I travel…and your hand is a guiding light that helps in the life journey. There is strength in prayers there is strength in
Violence !Bloodshed ! Massacre ! Hatred and callousness having its nasty play across the globe, inflicting myriad miseries on innocent people here and there, every now and then . And all these insane acts in the name of God !
“HASAN MUSTAFA” my Sweet Valentine You always glitter you always shine Allah may shower bounties on you Always adopt the way that is true you abstain from that what is bad That is natural in you to never be sad
I am a helpless abject soul, Poisoned by my own karma. I kneel down at God’s threshold Fully aware God will surely hold. God, I have nothing to offer you, Except my being an aficionado. Knowing of your popular benedictions
The study of history is one of the greatest resources for models and lessons of life. History records a runaway slave who went on to finished college in Ohio. He relocated to Mississippi and became a wealthy planter. He later
I thank you my Heavenly Father, it’s a brand new year and I’m still here by your Heavenly Grace and that’s perfectly clear Still there’s fear, I’m stuck in first gear, so in 2017 with so much unseen, on you
A difference in the style of the work More lines maybe less in an ordinary word. Still learning and grasping at my views like sounding like a thunder storm in early summer. A sun is shining like an image of
I did not want anything from The Almighty Sacrificed untouchable realization Which is symbol of myself And dedicated emotions, silence. I did not demand anything from the woman Allowed her into the corner of my mind Which is the center
I live…..wanting to see the world …through your eyes; To see the colors swirling around us, to see what you saw…. I follow your eyes,as you told me things… …the mystery and You… Your eyes are my mirror, of what
To regret nothing It is so well known that most regret Not using their bodies enough yet When they must eternally rest Yet every strain with every sweat Adds up and wears and tears And if we did not ever
I am a freak sitting by a creek, listening to the meek plan a revolt. We are weak, we will sink, and we will drink what we are told. Peel back illusion, reel in confusion, do not accept manipulated intrusion.
Of words and meanings Of lives and then some A word spoken. A new life with no end. A new piece of soul. Ice, fire or water – coexisting anomalies. Some words scar lives. Some heal them. Some words draw
Through the window pane I see, A drenched delphinium, A mortal enjoying intoxicating debauchery, An ensign in tatters, A hot blood growing cold in the storming jitters, And me, in the rear view-still “sedentary”. Hushed!!! For the carousel taking away
Oh beloved! My gloomy eyes are searching for you. Through the vague fog and the dew. Beyond the touch of the ocean and the sky. Farther than the “Arctic tern” fly. Beyond the bounds of the snowy fields. Over and
And then March arrives. Summer again. The neem trees smile, They have to flower, Only they can defeat the sun, And remind us, Once again, ‘I bear this for the earth to cool somewhere’ While others dry, droop and fall,
The coming of a that to dismantle the comb, unstilling trees under tracer bullets swaying in embrace for moonmilk. The unzipped planktons in sea open their mouth to supermoon for a night dive in a green passion. Does it need
I was on the road to revolution; when I met- The childless mother beating her chest in sorrow, the widow shredding tears of solitude, The motherless child crying for company, the father who had lost his son… For the road
Just an observation, To the moment close by; Your eyes sneaking out of window, But mine are stuck to thy. A strange feeling, Afraid, don’t know how to make a move; Waiting to get a glimpse of your Ming, Just
You look at your reflection and see it disintegrating with every movement; an illusion by time, it appears, to trap you in life’s abyss. Try as you may to hold every grain; blinded by the fickleness of it all, you
Silver-green feathers of foxtails, nodding lazily through rusted wire fences, The orange-gold chalice of a single poppy in a sea of tender grass, Meandering sidewalks—charcoal-gray ribbons of asphalt, fractured by weedy cracks— Palm trees and fir trees and the spreading
Liars are them who say aren’t afraid of the dark. Monsters under them bed they fear… The howl of wolf at a distance they hear… Liars are them who say they aren’t afraid of the dark. Marshy creeks. Silence shrieks.
It was a beautiful day after the storm. Fever was rising in branches. Severed moons on road started listening to explosive-laden snow. I went for the jugular. Why poisoned goats were set free for the cougars? Existence was a positive
From the Rose: Blooming in a bed of thorns Rich colors imbued with jazz Heady fragrance in a sinful dance Riots of confusion crowding the senses Alluring, tempting, trapping… Final swirls into a web of guilty fragrance Can only see
The pain in my brain and eyes, Is nothing compared to the torture of hearing your incessant cries. Nor me having to invent lies to hear your swooning sighs. How depraved I must be to repent this on a keyboard Rather than your holy
Through the elements of fear in faith you become vulnerable to conversing legends. The reclining god was stolen from the temple for a weeping skull. Red clover will interrogate the blurred sky for domestic violence of dark themes. Ashes in
My room was the old garage attached to the house festooned with posters and dirty underpants my father’s Mercedes was a sacred relic with a flavor of old leather upholstery. It rested in its own building. there must have been
Eyes are better than heart. Heart cannot scan, But eyes can see good and wrong. Heart can be broken. But eyes provide tears, That makes you regret to love. I was told not to fall in love. The deeper it
Young days start with a nostalgia for a lost freedom Anxiety was the prime suspect. As the age moves on, truth consumes the virtue. I hold this insult in the throes of conscience with tears. The dreams did not last
This is the place, a city average Where he frequents. Here lies another memory lurking on A fairy of delight, lived as a lovely lass. Now it is his place of work Where destiny brought him alike A fading odour
The space shrinks when moon breaks the black night. An aching flotilla does not reach home. The wait ends in your poems. Clutching at floating truths you help to save the words of predicament. Ultimately a temple walks free without