Religious Poems and Poems about Religion
#religion
Here you'll find poems offering a range of different views on religion, from both believers and non-believers. This includes religions from around the world and poetry on topics including spirituality, the church, God and the afterlife.
dkzksaxxas_DanielX
Poem Published
Yesterday 1:32am
Yesterday 1:32am
Thee Allegory of a Pumpous Ass
The pump handle is broken,
(like Out-of-Order), and all
the watchman can do is stand and
laugh, having forgotten the protocol
for dealing with a prodigal pump.
(pump pump pump, tha's all i can do
is pump pump pump, Round about
and straight away, it all comes back
to the pump.
So many time-worn (out) religious idears
that i must vomit on my shoes,
while some dickhead robs the pantry,
and another primes the pump to pump
away the primary waters that have brought
so much
...
(like Out-of-Order), and all
the watchman can do is stand and
laugh, having forgotten the protocol
for dealing with a prodigal pump.
(pump pump pump, tha's all i can do
is pump pump pump, Round about
and straight away, it all comes back
to the pump.
So many time-worn (out) religious idears
that i must vomit on my shoes,
while some dickhead robs the pantry,
and another primes the pump to pump
away the primary waters that have brought
so much
...
#religion
#faith
#fate
#morality
#curse
27 reads
8 Comments
SilverBeaver_42
Poem Published
9th Dec 2019 12:14pm
9th Dec 2019 12:14pm
Gifts From the Gods
If,
a rape baby is a
Gift
from imaginary friends
Then,
Erectile disfunction and infertility
Are gifts, too
From the same imaginary friends
Just to name a few
a rape baby is a
Gift
from imaginary friends
Then,
Erectile disfunction and infertility
Are gifts, too
From the same imaginary friends
Just to name a few
#hate
#religion
#mythology
#consumerism
#inequality
17 reads
0 Comments
RByron418
Poem Published
8th Dec 2019 4:12am
8th Dec 2019 4:12am
forbidden
the Sweet Mother in a
repulsive costume of dressed illusion,
a symphony of timeless shadow
calculated within the false apparatus
of beauty.
a blue dream spoken in the
frantic, crying language
of Music. boiling lust
worshiping with a screaming tongue beneath
the constant ache of
our raw, rotting meat -
Oh, this delirium of death,
the Mad language of impossible, The Watch
and want of the drunk,
the still mist of bitter whispers, Stench
of coma, the nightmare and
Truth of
Know Thyself,
so...
repulsive costume of dressed illusion,
a symphony of timeless shadow
calculated within the false apparatus
of beauty.
a blue dream spoken in the
frantic, crying language
of Music. boiling lust
worshiping with a screaming tongue beneath
the constant ache of
our raw, rotting meat -
Oh, this delirium of death,
the Mad language of impossible, The Watch
and want of the drunk,
the still mist of bitter whispers, Stench
of coma, the nightmare and
Truth of
Know Thyself,
so...
#depression
#religion
#MentalHealth #hurt
#MentalHealth #hurt
31 reads
2 Comments
RByron418
Poem Published
8th Dec 2019 1:22am
8th Dec 2019 1:22am
LOGOS
the porcelain colored cloud, pale;
the blind of a child trapped in
the wheel of eternity -
with a slow, wet smile and
the shit heart of the son of
Dog,
there's a brilliant embrace hollowed empty to
an angelic form of transparent
glass, drinking and bleeding,
some throbbing Thing
haunting this empty space -
the broken, failed Father,
the petty god of some impossible night, preceding
a morning of Never,
poisoned breath exhaled, a false secret,
an Away, as elusive as any horizon -
young
wild ...
the blind of a child trapped in
the wheel of eternity -
with a slow, wet smile and
the shit heart of the son of
Dog,
there's a brilliant embrace hollowed empty to
an angelic form of transparent
glass, drinking and bleeding,
some throbbing Thing
haunting this empty space -
the broken, failed Father,
the petty god of some impossible night, preceding
a morning of Never,
poisoned breath exhaled, a false secret,
an Away, as elusive as any horizon -
young
wild ...
#religion
#God
#spiritual
27 reads
1 Comment
DecipherMe
Poem Published
5th Dec 2019 4:44pm
5th Dec 2019 4:44pm
The Power Thereof
The pulpit of the exalted
on the back of stained glass of a dragged heaven,
centrifuged from a global body's amygdala,
acts charity of the same exhaustion,
and the heaven is one of blood and muscle spraining.
In the courts of the Commonsense,
yogis and some seers are tried by the 40th years
if there are any secrets for the New Wave to know
for the mobocracy's confidential inquisition into matters that fulfill the empty breathing of civic norms.
The graveyards.
In the dark umbrella, the saints mourn,
but at separate...
on the back of stained glass of a dragged heaven,
centrifuged from a global body's amygdala,
acts charity of the same exhaustion,
and the heaven is one of blood and muscle spraining.
In the courts of the Commonsense,
yogis and some seers are tried by the 40th years
if there are any secrets for the New Wave to know
for the mobocracy's confidential inquisition into matters that fulfill the empty breathing of civic norms.
The graveyards.
In the dark umbrella, the saints mourn,
but at separate...
#religion
#Christian
#spiritual #philosophical
#spiritual #philosophical
27 reads
0 Comments
Ely
E.A.Rothwell
E.A.Rothwell
Poem Published
5th Dec 2019 3:35pm
5th Dec 2019 3:35pm
The Great Flood...
Then there was the great flood...
…so I hear…
God is …experimenting…
...with...
somewhat less
...messy solutions to
the population problem…
...than the ones
we hold...
...dear.
…so I hear…
God is …experimenting…
...with...
somewhat less
...messy solutions to
the population problem…
...than the ones
we hold...
...dear.
#environment
#religion
#God #satirical
#God #satirical
31 reads
4 Comments
Taurek
Poem Published
5th Dec 2019 3:30am
5th Dec 2019 3:30am
The Crutch
Can you remember
The revelation?
No?
well, nothing
Really matters,
Anyways.
Questions on
The tarmac
No more
Cadillac
Dreams
From now on
We have an
Understanding
And nothing else
Moves beyond
That
Line.
The revelation?
No?
well, nothing
Really matters,
Anyways.
Questions on
The tarmac
No more
Cadillac
Dreams
From now on
We have an
Understanding
And nothing else
Moves beyond
That
Line.
#dreams
#religion
#memories
#nightmares
#apathy
61 reads
10 Comments
Solomon_Song
Poem Published
4th Dec 2019 7:08am
4th Dec 2019 7:08am
NUDITY, THEOLOGY, FEMININITY
Did not God think it 'VERY good'
when he had made first humans nudd?
'Male and female He created',
His father heart demonstrated,
Naked and without any shame
of their divinely finished frame.
It was that pesky little snake
who got folk 'shamed of bits that shake
and would have had them cover up
the parts God made to help them 'tup'
and, in woman's case, suckle young
upon the breasts on top half hung.
To those who down the ages blame
women for man's fall, I'd cry 'Shame!
You've been barking up the wrong tree ...
when he had made first humans nudd?
'Male and female He created',
His father heart demonstrated,
Naked and without any shame
of their divinely finished frame.
It was that pesky little snake
who got folk 'shamed of bits that shake
and would have had them cover up
the parts God made to help them 'tup'
and, in woman's case, suckle young
upon the breasts on top half hung.
To those who down the ages blame
women for man's fall, I'd cry 'Shame!
You've been barking up the wrong tree ...
#women
#religion
#spiritual #rhyming
#spiritual #rhyming
25 reads
0 Comments
inechoingsilence
Poem Published
3rd Dec 2019 3:16am
3rd Dec 2019 3:16am
In the Name of Piety
Hasidic sex is repeated, ritualistic destruction,
twisted caricature of ultimate, passionate unity
Quietly despised, but completed regardless
so this woman can continue to be a good wife
From the moment of preparation to immerse
in the depths of the ritual bath, heavenly waters
until the act of returning to intimacy is over,
there is little to ease the void of romantic love
Routine has twisted to pattern elevated to ritual
Restrictions dark like the room where ‘love’ is made
No spontaneity, little affection, and less...
twisted caricature of ultimate, passionate unity
Quietly despised, but completed regardless
so this woman can continue to be a good wife
From the moment of preparation to immerse
in the depths of the ritual bath, heavenly waters
until the act of returning to intimacy is over,
there is little to ease the void of romantic love
Routine has twisted to pattern elevated to ritual
Restrictions dark like the room where ‘love’ is made
No spontaneity, little affection, and less...
#sex
#religion
56 reads
7 Comments
Neoma
edward
edward
Poem Published
1st Dec 2019 6:38pm
1st Dec 2019 6:38pm
Purple Prose part II (The Guard)
One morning, as my guard and I reposed in the shade, he pointed out a large moth, fluttering above the entrance. "Do you see it?" He marveled. "Up there."
Then he asked a different question. "Do you think you will ever be you, completely?"
"I don't know." I replied. "Do you?"
He kissed me.
The seasons that year were cold, but the nights warm.
∆
Later, as he was removing me from my cell, he said to me, 'The Austrians and the Turks are already fighting. It is more dangerous for you to wait here, an...
Then he asked a different question. "Do you think you will ever be you, completely?"
"I don't know." I replied. "Do you?"
He kissed me.
The seasons that year were cold, but the nights warm.
∆
Later, as he was removing me from my cell, he said to me, 'The Austrians and the Turks are already fighting. It is more dangerous for you to wait here, an...
#religion
26 reads
1 Comment
snugglebuck
Poem Published
1st Dec 2019 12:10pm
1st Dec 2019 12:10pm
Sisters of the Desert
Where women are chatel
Is a sisterhood of rebels
Those they kill
End up in Hell
Instead of Heaven
With 71 virgins
Is a sisterhood of rebels
Those they kill
End up in Hell
Instead of Heaven
With 71 virgins
#women
#war
#religion
#feminism
#rebellion
34 reads
5 Comments
Neoma
edward
edward
Poem Published
1st Dec 2019 5:49am
1st Dec 2019 5:49am
Purple Prose, part I (In Cyrillic Hand.)
Father of Teorist Nikopol, a consumer of lead and saliva, wrote Patriarch Arseniii Čarneich from the darkness, somewhere in Poland, with a woman quickly sown in Penza.
"You know, Your Holiness, the patriarch, that I am sentenced to theory, that my future always means. I was born in 1641 in the monastery of St. John in Nicola, on the day of the Sacred spiral, to the family of monks who surrendered the bowl. But, like in my brethren, so to in the wooden spoons in my hands, and even in the eyes that appeared to me, from the moment I noticed that the clouds had an...
"You know, Your Holiness, the patriarch, that I am sentenced to theory, that my future always means. I was born in 1641 in the monastery of St. John in Nicola, on the day of the Sacred spiral, to the family of monks who surrendered the bowl. But, like in my brethren, so to in the wooden spoons in my hands, and even in the eyes that appeared to me, from the moment I noticed that the clouds had an...
#religion
39 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Religious Poems and Poems about Religion
