Forgiveness poems

/ page 6 of 10 /

Order by :

Imaginary Suicides

© Kostas Karyotakis

They turn the key in the door, take out
their old, well-hidden letters,
read them quietly, then drag
their feet a final time.

Rivers Of Canada

© Bliss William Carman

O all the little rivers that run to Hudson's Bay,
They call me and call me to follow them away.
Missinaibi, Abitibi, Little Current-whe re they run
Dancing and sparkling I see them in the sun.

A Valentine

© Robert Graves

The hunter to the husbandman

Pays tribute since our love began,

The Abbot Of Innisfallen

© William Allingham

The Abbot of Innisfallen

awoke ere dawn of day;

Mother. Grandmother. Wise
Snake-woman who will show the way;
Spider-woman whose black tentacles
hold him precious. Or will tear off his head,
her teeth over the little husband,
the small fist clotted in trust at her breast.

Hymn XI: God, the Offended God Most High

© Charles Wesley

God, the offended God most high,
Ambassadors to rebels sends;
His messengers his place supply,
And Jesus begs us to be friends.

The Times

© Charles Churchill

The time hath been, a boyish, blushing time,

When modesty was scarcely held a crime;

The Modern Mother

© Alice Meynell

Oh what a kiss
With filial passion overcharged is this!
To this misgiving breast
The child runs, as a child ne'er ran to rest
Upon the light heart and the unoppressed.

Of Love To God

© John Bunyan

When I do this begin to apprehend,

My heart, my soul, and mind, begins to bend

The Sorcerer: Act II

© William Schwenck Gilbert

Scene-Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's mansion by moonlight. All the
peasantry are discovered asleep on the ground, as at the end
of Act I.

David's Fall

© John Newton

How David, when by sin deceived,
From bad to worse went on!
For when the Holy Spirit's grieved,
Our strength and guard are gone.

Flower Herding on Mount Monadnock

© Washington Allston

1
I can support it no longer.
Laughing ruefully at myself
For all I claim to have suffered
I get up. Damned nightmarer!

The Blow Returned

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

I struck you once, I do remember well.

Hard on the track of passion sorrow sped,

The Woman That Was A Sinner

© George MacDonald

His face, his words, her heart awoke;
Awoke her slumbering truth;
She judged him well; her bonds she broke,
And fled to him for ruth.

Forgiveness

Now bury with the dead years conflicts dead

And with fresh days let all begin anew.

Tristrams End

Tristram
Isoult, Isoult, thy kiss!
To sorrow though I was made,
I die in bliss, in bliss.

Pharsalia - Book III: Massilia

Phoenicians first (if story be believed)
Dared to record in characters; for yet
Papyrus was not fashioned, and the priests
Of Memphis, carving symbols upon walls
Of mystic sense (in shape of beast or fowl)
Preserved the secrets of their magic art.

Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book X - Karna-Badha - (Fall Of Karna)

After the death of Karna, Salya led the Kuru troops on the eighteenth
and last day of the war, and fell. A midnight slaughter in the Pandav
camp, perpetrated by the vengeful son of Drona, concludes the war.
Duryodhan, left wounded by Bhima, heard of the slaughter and died
happy.

The Quarrel by Linda Pastan: American Life in Poetry #149 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

Elsewhere in this newspaper you may find some advice for maintaining and repairing troubled relationships. Here, in a poem by Linda Pastan of Maryland, is one of those relationships in need of some help. The Quarrel

If there were a monument
to silence, it would not be
the tree whose leaves
murmur continuously
among themselves;