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Sampson's Lion
The lion that on Sampson roared,
And thirsted for his blood;
With honey afterwards was stored,
And furnished him with food.
Believers, as they pace along,
With many lions meet;
But gather sweetness from the strong,
And from the eater, meat.
The lions rage and roar in vain,
For Jesus is their shield;
Their losses prove a certain gain,
Their troubles comfort yield.
The world and Satan join their strength,
To fill their souls with fears;
But crops of joy they reap at length,
From what they sow in tears.
Afflictions make them love the word,
Stir up their hearts to prayer;
And many precious proofs afford,
Of their Redeemer's care.
The lions roar but cannot kill,
Then fear them not, my friends,
They bring us, though against their will,
The honey Jesus sends.
poem by John Newton
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Were I A Lion King
Were I a lion king of the pride how proud a lion I'd be
To think that other lions for miles around are very scared of me
In the stillness of the African night I would roar aggressively
I would not be kind to other lions or in ways act neighbourly
Of the prey the lionesses did kill I would be first to eat
The other members of the pride would have to wait for their share of the meat
The male lion who has compassion will never rule a pride
Of any honour in his life by his attitude self denied
If I were a lion king of the pride the lionesses for me would kill the prey
But if's an obstacle that always does get in the way
Human beings need some aggression in life for to succeed
The timid like the timid lion are not destined to lead
Were I a lion king in the African night I'd give a mighty roar
That would be heard by other lions for two miles distant or more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The lizard that lives high up in iroko tree does not hear the lions roar.
The Lions
The lions are tired.
Tired of runing,
tired of screaming and fighting,
tired of living,
my life,
their life,
and everybody else's.
The lions are bloody
but tired.
The lions wish,
they wish to kill,
they wish to eat,
they wish to sleep,
but
these lions are tired,
so tired.
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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Lions of the darkness
They...dark men
Working in the great power of night
They never walk by the light
Men who make darkness their joy
Woe to them
By the night they feel the happiest
As a versifier I most say the truth
The lions of the night
When the night comes, they come out of their den
With sounding teeth
And mighty claws
Rearranging the house of man
Lions of the night
Putting panic to the heart of man
Collecting taxes which they never deserve
On a faithful day the lions will be prey
By the almighty moulder
Or by men in khaki
Lions of the night...
Leroy the Lion
leroy the lion was toothless,
every elephant
giraffe parrrot and snake,
found this hilarious.
he would walk through the thick forest,
trying to look scary and mean,
he would open his wide gummy mouth,
but no animal would scream,
he really was the worst lion ever,
he was as harmless as a feather.
monkeys would throw coconuts at his weary head,
sid the snake would slither up his large lion leg,
and whisper cruel words into his ear,
and alone in his den he would release big lion tears,
then one day,
a friendly wise owl,
heard the lions sad meow,
down he flew to see the lonely lion,
the lion told the owl of his plight,
'dont worry leroy your soon cause a fright',
off his flew to brew up a plan,
just like wise owls always can.
soon he returned with a set of lions teeth,
rubbing them clean with a giant leaf,
'where did you get these dear owl'
from your dead cousin,
poor fool was crushed by a stampede of cow,
wont be needing these now,
so leroy the lion,
placed the teeth in his big eager mouth,
and roared a loud scary roar,
he thanked the owl,
and soon saw sid the sly snake,
opened his mouth,
and sid did shake,
slivering off into his hole,
then he saw the cheeky monkey,
who on sight of the lions new teeth,
screamed and run up his tree,
and from that day on,
the lion ruled strong,
he was the king of the jungle,
and this is his song
poem by Not Long Left
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Hats Are Heights
Hats are heights,
What trouble is in the cap of danger?
Hats must be worn like helmets,
Torn to shreds by the bullets that animals roar,
Like the lions of deadly nature, who fix their stare
On the lonely travellers, their survival is to be sought.
Lions are visions of the crown and kingdom,
How does a hat called a crown be called a kingdom?
Because the kings are great and ordinary with wisdom,
Loathing them will wisely conduct a thought,
Admiring them shall see you riches, this is more polite.
Hats have heights too secretly huge,
May I provoke sympathy?
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Jungle
Dense shrubbery so profound
McCaws and Monkeys playing around
While a lions roar, shakes the ground
and hyenna's are laughing like circus clowns
The hissing sound of a giant snake
competing for food by a dirty lake
confronted by crocs, lousy fate
Too late...can't escape
All the Zebras with their camoflouge
strolling the plains with their antorouge
unknown to the Tigers, whom they quietly pass
going down to the lake, where the snake just was
A mountain Gorilla with his family
teaching survival seems an eternity
avoiding poachers, killing their kind
following the silverback's conyving mind
Now the Elephants roam the land
keeping their young close at hand
strolling in herds, towards the water
using their trunks as a long grass cutter
The birds prance because they are free
they can seek safety up on a tree
they can perch on a branch and outwardly see
if an enemy is near, so they can flee
The lions march in a healthy pride
after grabbing a deer, whom by their jaws, just died
they will take their nap by the lakes other side
waiting on victims whom no longer can hide
Dense shrubbery so profound
McCaws and Monkeys playing around
a lions roar trembles the ground
and from within the jungle, echoes the sound.
Charlie Vergara
Whitetiger productions
01.12.2009
33217
poem by White Tiger
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Caesar
Pop/schermerhorn
People of america
I bring you a great army
To preserve peace
In our empire
Throw them to the lions
Darling, let us go to the banouet hall...
There will be a great feast tonight!
Who are these christians?
What is this strange religion?
I ve heard it said they turn the other cheek
Ha ha ha ha
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Thumbs down
10 pieces of gold for every man
Hail caesar hail caesar
Grapes from sicily
Silks from asia minor
All the tea in china
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Who are these christians?
Turn the other cheek...
Ha ha ha ha ha
Two thumbs down
The christians are restless
Why not let them worship their god?
No one believes in the old gods
How tiresome...attending the rituals
Paying lip service to the portents
Burning incense at their shrine
No one believes in the old gods
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Hahahahahaha
The roman empire the glory of rome
Hail all hail
Caesar...caesar...beware beware the ides of march
Who is this man?
Caesar...he is but a soothsayer...he is old
And his brain is addled... pay him no mind!
Throw him to the lions! ha ha ha ha ha ha
Hail caesar! emperor of rome hail caesar!
Caesar...caesar...beware the ides of march
Eh? ! who is this man?
Caesar...he is but an old soothsayer...addled in his brain
Pay him no mind
Throw him to the lions! ha ha ha ha
Throw him to the lions!
No one believes in the old gods...
The empire is tired...caesar will rest now.
We depart for my chambers
Come darling
Yes caesar
Caesar will rest now
Hail rome hail caesar hail
Put him in the fiery pit
Ha ha ha ha!
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lions
Lions like to eat
and to them meat is meat,
and the difference
between wild beast and man
does not matter at all.
When the Romans fed
Christians to the hungry beasts,
they ate them without
any remorse
and the difference
between Christian and sinner
did not matter at all.
When tourists leave their vehicle
in a animal park,
lions will kill and eat them
without any consideration
to chairman, president or millionaire;
like any natural prey.
Once a angel made lions
play like kittens with Daniel,
but before his enemies
touched the bottom
of the den,
they were broken into pieces.
[Reference=>“22 My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions' mouths, that they have not hurt me: forasmuch as before him innocence was found in me; and also before thee, O king, have I done no hurt.
24 And the king commanded, and they brought those men which had accused Daniel, and they cast them into the den of lions, them, their children, and their wives; and the lions had the mastery of them, and brake all their bones in pieces or ever they came at the bottom of the den.” Daniel 6.22+24
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Revealer
(ROOSEVELT)
He turned aside to see the carcase of the lion: and behold, there was a swarm of bees and honey in the carcase of the lion … And the men of the city said unto him, What is sweeter than honey? and what is stronger than a lion?—Judges, 14.
The palms of Mammon have disowned
The gift of our complacency;
The bells of ages have intoned
Again their rhythmic irony;
And from the shadow, suddenly,
’Mid echoes of decrepit rage,
The seer of our necessity
Confronts a Tyrian heritage.
Equipped with unobscured intent
He smiles with lions at the gate,
Acknowledging the compliment
Like one familiar with his fate;
The lions, having time to wait,
Perceive a small cloud in the skies,
Whereon they look, disconsolate,
With scared, reactionary eyes.
A shadow falls upon the land,—
They sniff, and they are like to roar;
For they will never understand
What they have never seen before.
They march in order to the door,
Not knowing the best thing to seek,
Nor caring if the gods restore
The lost composite of the Greek.
The shadow fades, the light arrives,
And ills that were concealed are seen;
The combs of long-defended hives
Now drip dishonored and unclean;
No Nazarite or Nazarene
Compels our questioning to prove
The difference that is between
Dead lions—or the sweet thereof.
But not for lions, live or dead,
Except as we are all as one,
Is he the world’s accredited
Revealer of what we have done;
What You and I and Anderson
Are still to do is his reward;
If we go back when he is gone—
There is an Angel with a Sword.
He cannot close again the doors
That now are shattered for our sake;
He cannot answer for the floors
We crowd on, or for walls that shake;
He cannot wholly undertake
The cure of our immunity;
He cannot hold the stars, or make
Of seven years a century.
So Time will give us what we earn
Who flaunt the handful for the whole,
And leave us all that we may learn
Who read the surface for the soul;
And we’ll be steering to the goal,
For we have said so to our sons:
When we who ride can pay the toll,
Time humors the far-seeing ones.
Down to our nose’s very end
We see, and are invincible,—
Too vigilant to comprehend
The scope of what we cannot sell;
But while we seem to know as well
As we know dollars, or our skins,
The Titan may not always tell
Just where the boundary begins.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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The Destroyed Pride Of The Detroit Lions
The Detroit Lions' legacy is destroyed,
With them having the first season ever with no wins,
It seems like the players are gigantic babies,
And after many dismal seasons,
The Lions look like history,
With almost no fans at all,
People root against him,
Their starting college star quarterback plays like a kid,
It seems like they have lost to NFL history,
It seems like they are forever invisible,
And yet, I still root against them,
Because the Lions are a team that will be forever laughed at
The Voortrekker (in answer to Tony Harrison)
A track from a kraal
goes direct into the veldt
decked in blood
from the remains of cattle.
The sick Boer walks alone,
now abandoned of dog,
children, farm labourers
with a.303 rifle wavering in his hands.
Somewhere in dense green bushes
in front of him to the right
lions roar and at speed
one, two and three more
appear with tails flashing like whips.
The rifle is still wavering in his hands
but an expert eye finds the sight
with the trigger at his finger tip,
the exploding sound of bullet after bullet
are followed by a whack and some great roars
and the lions are no more
and like his fathers protected in God’s hand,
although outnumbered many times
by natives and wild beasts
stand a lonely believing man.
[Reference: Voortrekker by Tony Harrison.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Samson & Delilah
If I had my way, I would tear this old building down.
Well delilah was a woman, she was fine and fair,
She had good looks, God knows, and coal black hair,
Delilah she gained old samsons mind.
When first he saw this woman, you know he couldnt believe his mind.
Delilah she climbed up on samsons knee,
Said tell me where your strength lies if you please.
She spoke so kind and she talked so fair,
Well samson said, delilah cut off my hair.
You can shave my head, clean as my hand
And my strength will become as natural as any old man.
If I had my way, if I had my way, if I had my way,
I would tear this old building down.
You read about samson, all from his works,
He was the strongest man that ever had lived on earth.
One day when samson was walking along,
Looked down on the ground, he saw an old jawbone.
He stretched out his arm, God knows, chains broke like thread,
When he got to moving, ten thousand was dead.
If I had my way, if I had my way, if I had my way,
I would tear this old building down.
Now samson and the lion, they got in a tack,
Samson he crawled up on the lions back.
You read about this lion, he killed a man with his paws,
But samson got his hands around that lions jaws.
He ripped the beast till he killed him dead.
The bees made honey in the lions head.
If I had my way, if I had my way, if I had my way,
I would tear this old building down.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daniel was a man,
Daniel was a man of Prayer, he prayed 3 timesa day,
And he trusted in the Lord, and as a servant of God he did obey;
One time there were others jealous, and didn't like him,
These were evil men, who did wrong and lived in sin.
Daniel was a Man of Faith, on God he could rely,
When told not to Pray, His God he couldnt deny;
And then the king was forced, by some evil men,
To send for Daniel, and throw him in the Lions den.
Daniel was a man of Trust, when in the Lions den,
He trusted all would be okay, so then;
He was closed inside there the lions mouths were shut,
And those evil men the lions took and their teeth did cut.
Daniel was a man whose life we need to follow,
As an example of Trust, otherwise ours would be hollow;
We should also learn to keep praying 3 times a day,
And stick to doing what is right, and to God obey.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Together
Two lions lounged without a care...
For neither had a qualm...
This was a moment they could share
And both enjoyed the calm...
This was a time when they could bond
Without the need to fight,
Without the need to hunt beyond
For creatures out of sight...
Two lions lounged, as time ticked by...
With other lions near,
Beneath the sky where eagles fly
And vultures may appear.
And higher still, the sun shone down
Upon the good and bad,
To make some smile, to make some frown,
Yet mostly light to add.
And higher still, God watched it all
Unfolding patiently...
A billion prayers He could recall
From folks like you and me...
Yet He observes the lions, too,
And grants each one a name...
He knows what life would make them do
As life goes on the same.
We only see through human eyes,
Yet God knows everything...
One of these lions will be wise...
He'll grow to be a king...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Together'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Sonnet to Ocean
Shall I rebuke thee, Ocean, my old love,
That once, in rage, with the wild winds at strife,
Thou darest menace my unit of a life,
Sending my clay below, my soul above,
Whilst roar'd thy waves, like lions when they rove
By night, and bound upon their prey by stealth!
Yet didst thou n'er restore my fainting health?—
Didst thou ne'er murmur gently like the dove?
Nay, dost thou not against my own dear shore
Full break, last link between my land and me?—
My absent friends talk in thy very roar,
In thy waves' beat their kindly pulse I see,
And, if I must not see my England more,
Next to her soil, my grave be found in thee!
poem by Thomas Hood
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Sunt Leones
The lions who ate the Christians on the sands of the arena
By indulging native appetites played was now been seen a
Not entirely negligible part
In consolidating at the very start
The position of the Early Christian Church.
Initiatory rights are always bloody
In the lions, it appears
From contemporary art, made a study
Of dyeing Coliseum sands a ruddy
Liturgically sacrificial hue
And if the Christians felt a little blue-
Will people being eaten often do.
Theirs was the death, and there's was a crown undying,
A state of things which must be satisfying.
My point which up to this has been obscured
Is that it was the lions who procured
By chewing up blood gristle flesh and bone
The martyrdoms on which the church has grown.
I only write this poem because I thought it rather looked
As if the part the lions played was being overlooked.
By lions' jaws great benefits and blessings were begotten
And so our debt to Lionhood must never be forgotten.
poem by Stevie Smith
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