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
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
Hatred has grown above our heads Oceans have thrown all from the beds All greens have surpassed over reds Winds and rains have thrown all sheds Humans can be seen in their real faces Animality is out in real shape
Her heart is like gold, so genuine, so pure, In the midst of upbringing, she is forgotten, Her life circles around her bundle of joy, Late night feeding, soothing, so adorable, Her morning & evening, one & the same, Whether
“I AM GOD’S CREATION – A SOUL” Can anyone tell, “Who am I?” What am I doing on this Mother Earth? I wish, someone could answer this question of mine! Can anyone tell, “where did I spring from?” And for
Panoply of mystical elements o’ breath aired per millennia times two resonated veritable pantheon of superstitions fired imagination as catalyst viz homo sapiens fore head tugging simian beard whence bygone agents provocateurs fueled tens of previous generations bred Manichaeism credo,
Fuss and confusion; At the nearby café, a woman is hanged on her high velvet hat, concealing a left crossed-eye behind a piece of texture pretending transparency. A director with two extra-ordinary long sideburns points at an old man, who
My name is Richa… Does it really matter?! It could’ve been Mala …Seema…Sita..Nirbhaya or even Chabili.. In the end I would’ve been married to a much older man.. or abandoned after impregnating in a forest.. I wash utensils …clean floors..
The Giant Banyan Tree in the country-side, Bunches of thick ropes hanging downward, Full of dark green leaves.Bats hanging from, Its branches with open wings.This ancient Banyan Tree has seen many ups and downs. Our grandmother’s village is calm and
She has opened her eyes, to feel the beautiful smile in her mind! Recollecting that he had promised… She stepped out into the world, to feel the dew filled grass Filling her with untold Love and solace… Flowers had bloomed,
Majestic is the setting Sun, Lighting the entire horizon, Crimson rays so cosily warm, Dazzling with a strange charm. Its flames are leaping high, Engulfing earth and the sky, All ablaze with red fire, Like a bedecked pyre. The dying
We walked, twinkle-toed, through the night’s hush A ‘Sherlock Holmes’ deerstalker capping my skull And the red Che-star on your beret (left of centre); Hand in hand Finger looped to finger Palms sweating, Lips twinging from a freshly chiselled kiss
In the cosmos of your arms I defy gravity float buoyantly never to return from the abyss of your love. In the ocean of your eyes I dive deep to unravel hidden pearls surfacing not an option In the sunshine