Religion Poems
The Cathedral Builders
by John Ormond
They climbed on sketchy ladders towards God,
with winch and pulley hoisted hewn rock into heaven,
inhabited the sky with hammers,
defied gravity,
deified stone,
took up God's house to meet him,
and came down to their suppers
and small beer,
every night slept, lay with their smelly wives,
quarrelled and cuffed the children,
......
Hym To God, My God In My Sickness
by John Donne
Since I am coming to that holy room,
Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore,
I shall be made thy music; as I come
I tune the instrument here at the door,
And what I must do then, think here before.
Whilst my physicians by their love are grown
Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie
Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown
That this is my south-west discovery,
......
Final Thoughts
by Alana Alpres
As I stand before the gates of death,
And take my final, trembling breath
I'm filled with fear and deep regret
For all the things I left unsaid
I try to find my way to faith,
But no matter how I pray,
I remain an atheist at heart
A heathen creature with no god,
And now, as death draws near,
I am afraid.
......
Fleshwater
by Brady Stewart
Why ponder
To hell with the cold steel walls
Knowledgeably erected
Unopenable doors, locked.
“Who did it?”
Says religion
It is a combination lock,
Your new highschool locker
Manuel unentailed
......
Judas Iskariot
by Mario Odekerken
A man walks in the shadow of conviction,
silver coins cold against the warmth of his palm,
each one a small moon reflecting choices
etched deeper than the lines on his face.
His name echoes, not in triumph but in whispers,
folded into the corners of stories
where betrayal grows like vines,
tightening around memory and myth alike.
......
Faith in Dissonance
by Mario Odekerken
I sit in the pew,
sunlight stained through glass,
and wonder
why the voice inside me speaks in doubt
while the choir sings certainty.
The cross is heavy in the hands of belief,
but light in the arms of ritual.
I know the stories,
I've whispered them like prayers,
......
The Quiet Divide
by Mario Odekerken
I am a Christian with thoughts that don't believe,
I carry a Bible in one hand
and a question in the other,
walking a line between light and shadow.
The hymns rise around me
like waves I cannot swim in.
They say faith is a fire-
mine flickers,
sometimes smoke,
......
The Servant
by Mario Odekerken
Jorge Mario Bergoglio,born in Buenos Aires,
walked among the people before he ever wore white.
He worked in science, studied theology,
rode buses,cleaned floors,and spoke with the quiet.
From Argentina's crowded streets,
he rose not on ambition, but humility.
A Jesuit by calling,
he chose the margins over the center.
......
Paasgedachten in mijn hoofd 02
by Mario Odekerken
De dageraad breekt zacht en stil,
zoals de Heer het scheppen wil.
Het graf is leeg,de steen is weg-
de dood verloor,het lam was recht.
De zoon,gekruisigd, leed en stierf,
maar op de derde dag Hij triomfeert.
De hemel zingt:Hij leeft,Hij leeft!
de dood gebroken,genade geeft.
......
Paasgedachten in mijn hoofd
by Mario Odekerken
Zacht licht glijdt door ochtendmist,
een belofte die de lente kust.
De stilte van de vroege dag,
hoop die fluistert in elke lach.
De steen was weg,het graf was leeg,
een opgestane liefde,warm en teer.
Niet slechts een verhaal van toen,
maar leven dat in harten bloeit en zoent.
......
