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
I gaze at the glinting red possession which is cemented into my palm. The shining red light lures me, The smooth touch delights me. A dark blinding shadow slowly peeks, handing the glossy fruit into my custody. “Have it, my
Your genome was climbing down. I hate to count the steps. Feathers hurt sometimes after the end of flying. How far was the moment of dust? You were still swimming in saline water. A collective guilt will pay the price.
No anchors. I was not seeking a blind spot in shadows of the wall, standing on a hot, glistening, obsidian, wearing only death-gloves of pink body, the caked fronds of a fossil-name, inviting the rain to wet the brown grass
“Alone” she said, “I wait” And I could actually relate Her to a bird with broken wings, Caged to a word with broken hope Crying out loud in what she sings, Staged against the backdrop Of blight disparity. “Alone” she
Multi-colored Orbs before my eyes… what’s going on here, are my eyes just playing tricks on me…well I rub my eyes but they do not disappear I wonder if it’s spirits in despair or the guardians of mine trying to
Robbing the silence of heights to undo the whole sky, you lean on an enigma to become reverential, elevated by an absurd system; I was still pursuing fidelity in the rubble of meaningless life; not faith, but the certain urge
I’m a little weary, I might need some sleep, Reality I’m exhausted and I can’t even speak. I am feeling fine, yeah sure I am okay, Reality, I’m screaming but being drowned out anyway. Yes I am excited and I