Grace poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of grace poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on grace are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
I am a Christian, that fell from Grace, Yet I have not, forgot my place. The battles from within, and without, Took me, to a place called doubt. I fell, but not all the way, Straddling the fence, is what
Petals are unfolding Soft crisp leaves are emerging Wonder is their lustrous green aura Milder is the mellow wind’s persona The wind is whispering love longs Into the ears of the emerging beauty The earth is holding on her roots
Thou bare beauty’s bride of immortals Thou enrapt silence of mystery, who can’t tell thy flowery history And Fair Youth? And unstinted admiration thou bear, All profuse versifiers to thy truth begotten, They lie; of thy mystic gracious beauty, swear.
YOU UPSET THE GRACE OF LIVING WHEN YOU LIE: LETTERS THE DEAD DISPATCH ‘the singing of the song sustained an echo of the life…’ (Tim Hardin 1940 – 1980) you say you hear voices in your head, and that one
I think about the soft velvety eyes, Wet in wait- Of a resolve of distance. Yonder do they stare at- Looking for the clouds the eyes love. Blue sky gazes down at him too, Benign and protective of his space.
Her dark skin and youth took the ironic decripitude out of the bargain store pictures tacked all across the wall fabric hung like proud vulvas declining to hide anything declining to invite – they were just soft walls rippling in
O’ Holy Mother have heart on a broken soul tonight Surround me in your divine and graceful love light Cleanse me of my sins in the blood of your all mighty Powerful son…help me be the man God would like
The pencil chose the steed, Who traipsed in her glory across, Perfectly shaded monochromatic forests, Painted with scattered copses of grey moss. Along the white parchment, It glided along the curve of her crest, To the indentations of wither. The
The mindless monsters of darkness have bared their faces in naked daylight; With the poison of wasps in their bleeding lips, they have concealed their hate under the tattered skin of empty religion. These ravenous wolves have thumped through a
On my path to age gracefully, I realize, I’m captive to impulses, My greed triggers expectations, My ambitions drag me by head, I sense my pursuit for perfection sweeping off my honest efforts.. I fumble as an open book in
Love is a treasure chest. Nestles in the chest, Holds kindness, and care. Soft as flower, Often weeps, and wilts. Yet, strong as steel. Weathers winds of storm A wonder it becomes! The Taj, an emperor’s dream. His queen’s home!
I dived into empty space, exhilarated, arms outstretched mimicking wings, I flew like a bird. Embracing the thrash and lash of the wind, which flapped the flesh on my cheeks, and froze the tip of my nose. The echo of
Nature …God’s eternal artisan knows not the language of consistency… every second it… sketches …the grace of a flying seagull etches …the silence of the dark moon eclipsed by the cotton clouds paints ….the vibrancy of the morning sun on
There once was a boy from this place, Where nature gleams with glorious grace. Though all seemed right And the sun always bright, He dreamed of someday travelling through space. In school, The only thing he ever did do was
Tied at the four corners, Knotted so tight, Unable to disentangle, Nauseated they feel, The Four feathers. Flowing tresses in the wind, Blowing in the wondrous spring, Balancing toes with the sing, Spreading arms to enfold, The moments to devour;
Who can question flower’s beauty That in exquisite splendour Blossoms of life’s passion A sign of grace and pride Worth a thousand words. With a pure innocence Opens to the flirtatious butterfly Gazing in intense admiration Enamored by its presence
From a subdued, quiet daughter, To an unruly boisterous teenager, Accepting the transformation with a straight face, Whilst, trying hard to find my space. The hectic turbulent college days, The intermingled greed for love and appraise, Wanting to be a
She drags her tired heels across the tainted floor Her poise held taut though her back is sore She holds on her face a cold marble stare A hard life engraved upon cheeks once so fair Her movements; once grace
Of beauty, culture and history you are the perfect paradigm, As you resonate through our hearts like a gentle chime. It’s your birthday for the sixty fifth time, We belong to you, just as words do to a mime. Many
The symphony of you serenades I feel for the sound of touch My fingers caress the piano keys that are the gentle ridges descending your spine Violin strings resonate in the silk strands of your scented hair Your warm eyes
It’s nice in here, warm and cozy And dark and oh-so-quiet Except for the strange ‘thump-thump’ And the occasional words of love. I’ve heard mama talking to me Telling me of the world out there She talks about squirrels and
‘T’was a fine morning when she cameMy cherished passion and true flameA moment I can hardly waitAlong this road and near the gateShe walks in grace and flawless styleA breathtaking sight when she smileThat leaves was turned from dark to
Overwhelmed, the sky precipitates, pouring its guts out; luckily I sit on the dry side of the pane, snugly… smugly… till… A pigeon flits, looking for its 6 inches, as all around birds fight for every inch; a dog dives
One summers day in mid-July, I sauntered down a rocky path, secluded and forbidding; the trees and vines were on all sides, entangled, strong, and hidden; I trudged along the darkened path with fear for one full hour, with help,
Wonder do I at your grace- At your all encompassing ace! Luminous is the horizon now, Admirably euphoric,I wonder how! Strokes a few on a paper white Diffuses that beauty with painter’s might What has remained unspoken forever A complete
Ghosts dance dark in hallowed places, see them wear familiar faces? With their art my calmness chases and I can quit them not at all. Whirling to some music haunted, dancing while my mind is taunted I bolster but they
Does your fancy wander in the moonlight, To grace my sleep and loiter in my dreams? Since then, your memory usurped that right, Such that my very fantasies it creams; My musings all converge on your aspect, To leave just
Hail to you o majestic mountain Bedecked with the crown of snow-capped peaks You seem to dominate the landscape beneath Like a mighty monarch seated in the sky . Blessed with heavenly grace and charm Surrounded by an aura from
How soon can you stop walking in my dreams, Though you lavish me there with everything, In dreams that make real what only seems, Awake a pauper, but in sleep a king With kingdom in the clouds that truly boasts
Who is the shepherd of fate? Nobody knows the answer to date A rhetorical question that provokes hate Seven out of eight Feel we are the masters of our own fate They say we control our mates They say we
Dreamers differ in dream they dream, From heart to eyes they speak of dreams, Dreams of love, words and strings they dream. A little boy dreams of bright sky, To see his dreams flying high like kites, A dreamer dreams