Redemption poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of redemption poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on redemption are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Speak! My love to tell of how, this arc of circled light Might break upon darkness to dawn with unrequited might. Despair! Rides upon the night, unseen, unfelt, rich with life Through unwanted correspondence pain cuts with a knife To
What does it mean to be human? Are we just animal or evolving to become something more? Are we victim to our basic instincts unable to push back and mature. Do our passions control our minds or can our minds
Listening to nothing in my ribcage I see the void growing deep within Playing catch with blame and misery I bleed sense unto past memories. I am machine a part of me is a soldier enlisted to serve broken dreams.
I sat here before Back to the wall The walls spoke of sorrow and fear Now they warm my heart With sparking luminescence Firing bulbs of elegance that Soothe the soul entranced Life has come back In glorious delight Every
I picture you with clarity of vision, I picture you with faith and spirit; I picture you accomplishing the mission, I picture you with character and merit. I picture you with inner peace and stability, I picture you fighting for
You entered our landscape of suffering and suffered yourself for our sake You knew we were addicts recovering and trapped by our every mistake Our grief over goodness distorted would daily unsettle our souls And though we found routes to
A grand old mansion on a hill The stately manor stands there still In the darkness of the night Throughout the window came a light On the veranda I did creep To glowing window for a peek To filthy pane
Much can be said But we speak in hushed tones Curt with our responses Hiding behind the wall of vulnerability We hold our breaths in anticipation Who will be the first to crack ? Unsightly in the walls of protection
Freedom, you are the autumn leaf drifting to the call of the season. Freedom, you are the tune forming in a dreamers mind. Freedom, you are the paint on a wet canvas seeking it’s own path to redemption. Freedom you
A thousand ships sail towards sun each one carrying the hope of life each searching for the island of life sails set high, urgency in air cover the maximum ground or drown in the star dust burnt by sun, skin
The whistle blows to sound the charge and over the top they bustle and barge, covered from head to toe in mud and soon tainted with flesh and blood. Up the ladder with slippery rungs, a scream of rage from
At this very hour of my life I am sitting alone with a heavy headache I have neither anger nor hatred for you; But I simply pity you And I feel sinful myself; You made me venture into this impossibility
Pangs of loneliness – unholiness of worship.. Fallen gods becoming idols, idolaters seeking redemption. Crass waste of endeavor, and yet it seems like yesterday.. The silence is deafening, where once stood the revered, now stands a debauched figurine. Some folks
The unnameable voice whispers with a breath made solely from light –Its voice speaks a vocabulary uttered as vast permutations: migratory flocks, tree leaves, innumerable insects… tropes, colors, atoms and not least, the miscounted stars significantly smaller than the total
Can you see me? As I lie vulnerable on the rigid floor with you? Can you feel the fear that radiates from my trembling body? The piercing cries echoing in my mind are deafening, but my voice has lost it’s
From a biscuit crumb on your lover’s lips, to the death of a Princess, to the formation of galaxies far far away, human is our condition, life is our journey, and come agony, joy, or even world-weariness, people, let’s just
The angel of friendship rumoured of an affair with a demon; The legacy of beings of every Earth Lives through its connections. A tale of geese of the morning sky, Pose as a ‘V’, glorifying amity. Owing to misapprehension of
After a soot rain the grey fear moved centripetally, seeking centrum; thoughts, saffron colored, in the words went mute. You were still searching the head, of a nameless torso, in a heap of your failures. The river had run dry.
If I could write you a love song, I’d do it. Sitting in this cool, silent cabin, Watching through a window framed by Pines, the afternoon as it ages and dies, I’d spin a melody in notes tender and True
What do you think a redemption of a clone will work in the galaxy of stars? The hope was drying and violence refuses to decline in the valley of flowers. Orphaned moon climbs up the hill to preside over the
Early in the morning A rich continent, Culturally and financially Is getting ready for breakfast, English breakfast of baked beans On toast at Chiltern Firehouse.. Is devoured; While somewhwhere in Paris Waffles are being enjoyed With fresh coffee.. Admist all
If no hands, she had, There won’t be any bangles, The colors and sounds, attracting My attention to see and catch On the exorbitance of my love, Breaking it, with no intention, But broke; and fell down. The glass-chips, with
Music and words are the places that I hide, the solace of their sanctuary with walls, behind which to hide. But now when I sing those melodious old songs, tears are all I can find where the words should belong.
Walking beside a river, watching landscapes mirror underneath the sun Subtle colours, everyone encapsulated by the river pictures all across and along Yellow flowers, look at them for hours and the branches stretch like towers, entwining from earth to beauty
“I look at you oh cellulite Cute pinchy shins, sweet chubby thighs. I look at the last cookie next– With ever so cute little Choco chip! There’s promise for early morning gym. The world’s not ending were we to take
The flower that now captivates my heart, Become so fond of showing in my dreams, And oh, the sweet ruse that from there would start, Relates such dreamscapes of so lovely themes; Like fireworks that give memories their sheen, Excitement
lying down under the Lamppost looking up counting on stars its dark lonely midnight, falling asleep dreamy night he appears from the shadows, Misha wonders, , , , , , stranger or friend? he draws nearer cold breath shaking hands
She exists in the body, a visual myth Materializing out of stone A solitary figure carefully etched Into the mind’s eye, breathing Brooding, testing the air for its secrets Tasting the wind for things to come She is to my
Some depth, my thoughts never touched, the moonlight fades on my window. The vague gratification, falls silently on my mind. Pausing on relativity, I open the door to eternity. Vast loneliness of qualms, like the cult of dancing doubts where
I feel like a visionary Building my own theory Hidden are thoughts plenty extraordinary but still feel short of vocabulary Buried thoughts in brain’s mortuary Try to plumb up within with one or the other worry Its always been a
when life pulls as the flood, you are a rooted plant, resisting and growing by yourself! when life tempts as the apple, you are a curious eve, sinning and learning by yourself! when life turns into a battle, you are