The Woodcutter
We came behind him by the wall,
My brethren drew their brands,
And they had strength to strike him down -
And I to bind his hands.
Only once, to a lantern gleam,
He turned his face from the wall,
And it was as the accusing angel's face
On the day when the stars shall fall.
I grasped the axe with shaking hands,
I stared at the grass I trod;
For I feared to see the whole bare heavens
Filled with the face of God.
I struck: the serpentine slow blood
In four arms soaked the moss -
Before me, by the living Christ,
The blood ran in a cross.
Therefore I toil in forests here
And pile the wood in stacks,
And take no fee from the shivering folk
Till I have cleansed the axe.
But for a curse God cleared my sight,
And where each tree doth grow
I see a life with awful eyes,
And I must lay it low.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Image
The girl in the mirror stared back at me.
Unflinching.
Eyes blood shot.
Cheeks stained with tears and sweat.
Her hands dangled weakly, swollen
and splattered with blood.
Matted hair sprung from her head and the black circles
made her eyes seem all the more sunken. Desperate.
She was small. Shriveled.
All hope sucked from her soul and left a scar
across her gray face like a tree branch
reaching for the sun but anchored by the abandoned
body of a young girl whose heart
had long ago stopped beating.
the fallen soldier of a country whose world
had fought against it. A country of Purity.
And this girl raised a cut and bruised arm
and lifted the mask from her face. Hesitantly.
The scars faded.
They left tiny white lines on my arms and face.
And my eyes cleared;
Hope glistening from them
and making my skin glow.
My hair curled softly.
My hands healed and were cleansed.
A slight pink stain rested on my fingers
My flesh was watered back to life.
And I smiled.
A weak, crooked sort of smile.
My teeth were not in their places
and a few were chipped,
but I loved the sight of that broken grin.
poem by Zoe Guillory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Weep Holes
Don't take us for the wall itself
For when the earthen plank behind the wall
Gets soaked through
We'll let the sorrow of burdonsome wetness
Flow through us
The soil sucks the trees' roots till now
Till now the sorrow of waters
hasn't reached the earthen plank behind the walls
Earth has not seen the woebegone face of the sky
The wall hasn't learnt to shed tears
Wind even now expects to blow the leaves away
Empty polythene bags sputter on roads
That never had trees planted on sides
People drink blood of their own climes
And grow like germs
Bonfire conflagrations ignite every where
Smoke has turned the flowers black
Butterflies' wings look ashen
The dream's face will bend under pressure
And break into smithereens
Let the moisture come!
Let the clouds of pains burst!
Let the sky's sorrow descend to the earth!
Don't consider us the wall itself
Don't think we're but worthless
For when the earthen plank behind the wall
Gets soaked
We'll be there to let the sorrow
Of burdensome wetness
flow through us
Look! Our eyes do not have tears
But the mud of our dreams.
(Translated by Dr. Satyapal Anand)
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Power To Change
The power God used to save me, is the power that will change me,
The power of the Savior’s blood, and His grace He gives with love.
He is my friend and my Savior, my Sovereign God and my Creator,
And He, who saved my dark soul, can make a heart pure and whole.
The power of His awesome Grace, truly helps me as I seek His face,
To allow His Spirit to take control, as God changes this wicked soul.
The precious blood of God’s Son, has the power to change anyone,
Who comes to The Cross of Christ, to receive from God a New Life.
By Christ’s blood we were bought, so that change could be wrought,
In the body that belongs to Him, Christ who was crucified for our sin,
This body Christ called the Church; He did not leave here in the lurch,
But sent His Spirit, with His Light, to guide us safely out of the night.
The changes are the Father’s will, for this Church that Christ shall fill,
Filled with sinners from every nation, saved by The Lord’s Salvation,
Sanctified by the power of God, throughout the many lands we trod,
As a witness for those still lost, pointing them to our Savior’s Cross.
The changes shall continue in us, as in our Savior we place our trust,
To be all that we can be, through His blood, that flows from Calvary,
As His Grace gives us the power, for our needs, every day and hour,
Until that day, when by God’s Grace, we see our Savior face to face.
(Copyright ©06/2008)
Stars
(For the Rev. James J. Daly, S. J.)
Bright stars, yellow stars, flashing through the air,
Are you errant strands of Lady Mary's hair?
As she slits the cloudy veil and bends down through,
Do you fall across her cheeks and over heaven too?
Gay stars, little stars, you are little eyes,
Eyes of baby angels playing in the skies.
Now and then a winged child turns his merry face
Down toward the spinning world -- what a funny place!
Jesus Christ came from the Cross (Christ receive my soul!)
In each perfect hand and foot there was a bloody hole.
Four great iron spikes there were, red and never dry,
Michael plucked them from the Cross and set them in the sky.
Christ's Troop, Mary's Guard, God's own men,
Draw your swords and strike at Hell and strike again.
Every steel-born spark that flies where God's battles are,
Flashes past the face of God, and is a star.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Like a dog like a man?
I shell speak your name
even in the dark night when death has its hands on me.
I will run until I have nothing left
Until I fall on my face
To the ground to stay
Where my face belongs
For how can I show
My unholy face to you?
How can
I even lift my
Hands to worship you
When there
is so much blood
On them.
And yet I am
Like I hunting dog that wants
More.
poem by Ergo Lehman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The POET from the POEM
That lady -
whose eyes can see no ordinary eyes can see,
and desolate winds crying for her name
till truth and lies are all the same;
who knows how she ate the stars at night,
yet left the old moon sleeping in the sky?
Certainly she married that awful death
only not to die.
Out of her hands there came blood,
till blood covered her flesh.
And the blood had life...had sweeter life
till blood became her flesh.
How can you know the poet from the poem,
or sift the melody from its song?
Judge me, for I'll say
that lady -
is the poet and he being the blood, her poem.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Today... 'The Eternal Spirit
There's no need for ceremonial sacrifice
now that we have been cleansed by the blood of Christ.
For where the blood of bulls and goats could not atone
we've been saved by the precious Blood of Christ alone.
When Jesus through the Eternal Spirit offered
Himself a sacrifice to God as He suffered
entering that Holy Place standing before God
obtaining eternal redemption by His blood
Suffering the shame and ignominy of the cross
To remove forever all of our sinful dross
Our Great Prophet and High Priest cleansed us with His blood
so that we can now live to serve the living God
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Sonnet XCV: The Vase of Life
Around the vase of Life at your slow pace
He has not crept, but turned it with his hands,
And all its sides already understands.
There, girt, one breathes alert for some great race;
Whose road runs far by sands and fruitful space;
Who laughs, yet through the jolly throng has pass'd;
Who weeps, nor stays for weeping; who at last,
A youth, stands somewhere crowned, with silent face.
And he has filled this vase with wine for blood,
With blood for tears, with spice for burning vow,
With watered flowers for buried love most fit;
And would have cast it shattered to the flood,
Yet in Fate's name has kept it whole; which now
Stands empty till his ashes fall in it.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Company Of Storms
you told me the sun would always rise
and if it shouldn't shine have faith
'cause one day that great burning star's light
one once again dance across my face
I heard the roar of the parting seas
and the mourning of a blackened sun
I saw the last flower wither away
when our flesh turned to stone
I felt the frigid blood in my veins grow still
like winter's paralyzed streams
as the soil beneath our feet gave way
to iron and asphalt dreams
when nighttime stars flicker with grief and despair
and dusk threatens senses too dazed to stay clear
their heavens will beckon,
and angels will whisper my name
wings of scarlet hue, their truth soaked in blood
on wounded knees I've crawled
through the nameless streets of this world I love
my heart is heavy with burden
I'm feeling empty inside
so fill me up and give me a taste of life
give me a place to hide, mother
offer me your caress and let it last forever
let me cry in your arms
let me die in your embrace
my hands have held your paradise
your heavens blazed
from upon the highest hills,
my lonely and wanting eyes did gaze
for I was in love with life and this world
but they tried to take that from me
if this is the reward of the harvest
then I gladly give you my share
song performed by by Undying
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Foe
A Belgian Priest-Soldier Speaks;
GURR! You cochon! Stand and fight!
Show your mettle! Snarl and bite!
Spawn of an accursed race,
Turn and meet me face to face!
Here amid the wreck and rout
Let us grip and have it out!
Here where ruins rock and reel
Let us settle, steel to steel!
Look! Our houses, how they spit
Sparks from brands your friends have lit.
See! Our gutters running red,
Bright with blood your friends have shed.
Hark! Amid your drunken brawl
How our maidens shriek and call.
Why have you come here alone,
To this hearth's blood-spattered stone?
Come to ravish, come to loot,
Come to play the ghoulish brute.
Ah, indeed! We well are met,
Bayonet to bayonet.
God! I never killed a man:
Now I'll do the best I can.
Rip you to the evil heart,
Laugh to see the life-blood start.
Bah! You swine! I hate you so.
Show you mercy? No! . . . and no! . . .
There! I've done it. See! He lies
Death a-staring from his eyes;
Glazing eyeballs, panting breath,
How it's horrible, is Death!
Plucking at his bloody lips
With his trembling finger-tips;
Choking in a dreadful way
As if he would something say
In that uncouth tongue of his. . . .
Oh, how horrible Death is!
How I wish that he would die!
So unnerved, unmanned am I.
See! His twitching face is white!
See! His bubbling blood is bright.
Why do I not shout with glee?
What strange spell is over me?
There he lies; the fight was fair;
Let me toss my cap in air.
Why am I so silent? Why
Do I pray for him to die?
Where is all my vengeful joy?
Ugh! My foe is but a boy.
I'd a brother of his age
Perished in the war's red rage;
Perished in the Ypres hell:
Oh, I loved my brother well.
And though I be hard and grim,
How it makes me think of him!
He had just such flaxen hair
As the lad that's lying there.
Just such frank blue eyes were his. . . .
God! How horrible war is!
I have reason to be gay:
There is one less foe to slay.
I have reason to be glad:
Yet -- my foe is such a lad.
So I watch in dull amaze,
See his dying eyes a-glaze,
See his face grow glorified,
See his hands outstretched and wide
To that bit of ruined wall
Where the flames have ceased to crawl,
Where amid the crumbling bricks
Hangs a blackebed crucifix.
Now, oh now I understand.
Quick I press it in his hand,
Close his feeble finger-tips,
Hold it to his faltering lips.
As I watch his welling blood
I would stem it if I could.
God of Pity, let him live!
God of Love, forgive, forgive.
* * * *
His face looked strangely, as he died,
Like that of One they crucified.
And in the pocket of his coat
I found a letter; thus he wrote:
The things I've seen! Oh, mother dear,
I'm wondering can God be here?
To-night amid the drunken brawl
I saw a Cross hung on a wall;
I'll seek it now, and there alone
Perhaps I may atone, atone. . . .
Ah no! 'Tis I who must atone.
No other saw but God alone;
Yet how can I forget the sight
Of that face so woeful white!
Dead I kissed him as he lay,
Knelt by him and tried to pray;
Left him lying there at rest,
Crucifix upon his breast.
Not for him the pity be.
Ye who pity, pity me,
Crawling now the ways I trod,
Blood-guilty in sight of God.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
After Nights
I've hated to talk about it,
but there has been so many after nights.
I've needed to work out, one more story.
Trying to end, my often very sad's.
Another one, of my, the most incredibly bad's!
My heart, was shaking as I knelt on the ground.
My hands, were pressing his wounds.
Pressing hard, prayng, deeper and deeper.
Begging God, Help, Shouting, Holding back the Grim Reaper
Like his mother, my shaking hands
With a sobbing, torn chest
Held him tightly to my breast
Gently wiped the blood from his face and lips
I watched, and felt his soul, escaped my grip.
Raining tears washed the blood from his face.
Even now, I've often wished that God.
Would've let me take his place!
I couldn't bare to see my brother die!
The shouting of my heart, screaming why? God. Why?
Please! God! Why....?
I felt my buddies tears, they were hugging our backs.
Even though, I knew he was dead.
God,
I held him close, I kissed his head.
Like a mother with hurt child.
I sat, rocking him in the mud.
Filling a rice paddy with tears, and blood.
So now after all these years.
I've tried to tell, my life story. Of so many tears.
I've had enough, to make rice paddies flood?
My tears as I've relived, nights, after nights.
How I tried. To stop. My buddies blood
So, just, how, many tears, does it take to make a rice paddy flood?
I've seen that much, and his filled it with blood.
So when you read this, try to understand.
I'm doing the best that I can.
I fight every day the things that make me so sad.
But it helps to talk about it, and the many after nights!
The days and days, the nights after nights.
I've called my life stories, just incredibly bad...........
poem by Clyde Bryson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Calvary
The Cross of Christ laid on the ground
And Jesus closed His eyes,
His beating heart the only sound
That He could realise...
They held Him down and nailed Him fast
As He screamed out in pain,
His blood ran cold, for now, at last,
He knew He would be slain...
The Cross of Christ was hoisted up,
With Him, the Romans' toy,
They offered Him the drug-filled cup,
Some mercy to employ...
But He refused to dull the ache,
The horror and the fear,
He knew the sacrifice to make
And kept it pure and clear...
The Cross of Christ was where He stayed,
No angels rescued Him,
They humbly watched as Christ obeyed
Before God's seraphim...
The Father stared from Heaven's Throne,
At Christ who wore a crown,
Forced there by Roman hearts of stone,
Now gambling for His gown...
The Cross of Christ was hid from sight
As God's Love looked away
And turned that sacred day to night
As He kept tears at bay...
One angel wept, then all joined in
And God wept tears as well.
This was the sacrifice for sin...
So we'd not go to Hell...
The Cross of Christ was where He died,
That place called Calvary,
That green hill far away supplied,
That haunts eternity...
That day when Mary's heartbeat stopped
In unison yet lived,
That time the Saviour's head had dropped,
With death His precious gift...
The Cross of Christ still bore His Blood,
Though Christ was in His tomb
And God observed that holy flood,
With hatred and with gloom...
Yet Christ had prayed, forgive them all,
They know not what they do...
So God sent preachers like Saint Paul,
Because Christ died... for you...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blood on your hands sister
You said you loved him told him you cared
Promised him forever together
Instead you broke his heart into countless pieces
You drew tears of blood from the Prince of hearts
Hurt his pride with your insolent words
Blood on your hands sister
Blood on your hands
I saw the pain in his eyes
I felt the bitter tears that he cried
Kicked a man when he was down
You left him a broken man
Blood on your hands sister
Blood on your hands
From a loving giving sensitive Prince amongst men
You took your pleasure and stifled his laughter
You took your fill and threw him upon the scrapheap
Blood on your hands sister
Blood on your hands
But his precious tears are wasted
Wasted on a dry barren heart like yours
For his heart is alive and flourishing
Whilst yours is dead and lifeless
He is the victor
Whilst you the loser
You may wash your hands of him
But the stains will never fade
Blood on your hands sister
Blood on your hands
poem by Lilac Wine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Longer than Eternity
I just want the light a little longer
I want to hold your face in my hands
So I could allow my desires to grow stronger
And be ready when the moon in your eyes lands!
‘A little longer’ I always wish it to be
To see through before I read it all
From that point I would never ever be free
From the steepest plunge to the endless fall!
But it’s never greed that consumes me
Rather a craving to slow the pace
To remain frozen longer than eternity
Holding in my hands your face!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Year and a Day
Slow days have passed that make a year,
Slow hours that make a day,
Since I could take my first dear love
And kiss him the old way;
Yet the green leaves touch me on the cheek,
Dear Christ, this month of May.
I lie among the tall green grass
That bends above my head
And covers up my wasted face
And folds me in its bed
Tenderly and lovingly
Like grass above the dead.
Dim phantoms of an unknown ill
Float through my tired brain;
The unformed visions of my life
Pass by in ghostly train;
Some pause to touch me on the cheek,
Some scatter tears like rain.
A shadow falls along the grass
And lingers at my feet;
A new face lies between my hands --
Dear Christ, if I could weep
Tears to shut out the summer leaves
When this new face I greet.
Still it is but the memory
Of something I have seen
In the dreamy summer weather
When the green leaves came between:
The shadow of my dear love’s face --
So far and strange it seems.
The river ever running down
Between its grassy bed,
The voices of a thousand birds
That clang above my head,
Shall bring to me a sadder dream
When this sad dream is dead.
A silence falls upon my heart
And hushes all its pain.
I stretch my hands in the long grass
And fall to sleep again,
There to lie empty of all love
Like beaten corn of grain.
poem by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On The Wall
On the wall hangs a face, not a face of love or hate.
Not a face of expectancy hope or curiosity.
Not a face of hurt, sadness or anger.
Not a face of colour, shadows or darkness.
Not a face of life or death, but just a face, a hanging face.
poem by Jill Laughlin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
His Will, Not Mine
Friend, when I face a mountain high, I look to The Lord up in the sky,
God changes mountains into hills, as God changes things as He wills.
Friend, even if my path seems long, I know that I am where I belong,
For God has planned my path for me, it’s one that ends up in Eternity.
His will for me in this present life, is to follow the steps of Jesus Christ.
And our Lord’s earthly path my friend, had indeed a very tragic end,
“Not my will” He said that day, as His Father’s will was the only way.
This is God’s will for us indeed, as we must follow The Savior’s lead.
As I am crucified with Christ you see, I don’t live, but He lives in me.
Friend, now my life I live for God, this in each and every day I trod.
When I pass through waters friend, I remember Christ’s tragic end,
When the waters get too deep, it was on that cross He died for me.
And when they become a flood, it was for me that He spilt His Blood.
It’s the power from His sacrifice, that sustains me in the waters of life,
So that in my life men may see, that it’s The Lord Jesus living in me.
For my friend God’s will in my life, is to be for Him a living sacrifice.
Christ gives me the power to fulfill, not mine, but God’s Eternal Will.
So when I face a river or a hill, I know that it’s God’s Sovereign Will.
Soon Christ will come for His own, to take us to our Heavenly Home,
Safe at last with The Lord we’ll be, to be with Christ through Eternity.
(Copyright ©02/2005)
Path Of Glory
You squirt out red and turn so yellow
And then you made me kill my own
Im not afraid (coming)
But Im afraid
Blood in your eyes again
Bravery, the face of man
Blood on your mind again
Chivalry, the face of man
Blood in your lies again
Enemy, the face of man
Blood in your eyes, again, again, again
Is this the only path of glory?
If so then I wont go alone
Follow the trail (running)
Follow the trail
Blood in your eyes again
Bravery, the face of man
Blood on your mind again
Chivalry, the face of man
Blood in your lies again
Enemy, the face of man
Blood in your eyes, again, again, again
Again [several times]
Im not afraid, but Im afraid
Im not afraid, but Im afraid
song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Slow Hands
Track 5 - Slow Hands
Yeah but nobody searches
Nobody cares somehow
When the loving that youve wasted
Comes raining from a hapless cloud
And I might stop and look upon your face
Disappear in the sweet, sweet gaze
See the living that surrounds me
Dissipate in a floral blaze
Cant you see what youve done to my heart
And soul?
This is a wasteland now
We spies
We slow hands
Put the weights around yourself
We spies
Oh yeah we slow hands
You put the weights all around yourself now
I submit my incentive is romance
I watched the pole dance of the stars
We rejoice cause the hurting is so painless
From the distance of passing cars
But I am married to your charms & grace
I just go crazy like the good old days
You make me want to pick up a guitar
And celebrate the myriad ways that I love you
Can you see what youve done to my heart
And soul?
This is a wasteland now
We spies
Yeah we slow hands
You put the weights around yourself
We spies
Oh yeah we slow hands
Killer, for hire you know not yourself
We spies
We slow hands
You put the weights all around yourself
We spies
Oh yeah we slow hands
We retire like nobody else
We spies
Intimate slow hands killer
For hire you know not yourself
We spies
Intimate slow hands
You let the face slap around the self
song performed by by Interpol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
First Love
I ne'er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet,
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower
And stole my heart away complete.
My face turned pale as deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked, what could I ail?
My life and all seemed turned to clay.
And then my blood rushed to my face
And took my eyesight quite away,
The trees and bushes round the place
Seemed midnight at noonday.
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start --
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.
Are flowers the winter's choice?
Is love's bed always snow?
She seemed to hear my silent voice,
Not love's appeals to know.
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling-place
And can return no more
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!