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Crosses We Bare
Some days seem longer than others,
depending on how many crosses
we have to bare.
Each of us has a cross to carry,
for guilt, we call our own.
When the crosses get heavy,
days seem to linger with out end.
We feel at times,
no one can help us
with the crosses that we bare,
but there is always someone.
They walk beside us everyday,
a simple prayer of forgiving,
and he will help us on our way.
We can tell him all our sorrows,
our guilt’s and woes to be.
He always listens to us
as he walks with us each day.
We all know his name,
and how to speak to him,
if the crosses that we carry,
ever get to weighty to bare.
poem by David Harris
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Crosses Burning
black-eyed poverty,
angry negativity,
sanity or vanity,
aint nobody free...
still the wheels of life
keep on turning;
in the land of want,
crosses burning.
hate me, hate yourself,
liberty on the shelf,
worthless unless it sells,
drawing water from the well...
still the wheels of life
keep on turning;
in the land of need,
crosses burning.
black and white bleeding red,
cant feed the poor, raise the dead,
drinking water laced with lead,
nooses hung around our heads...
still the wheels of life
keep on turning;
in the land of hurt,
crosses burning.
children sold into slavery,
homeless tents, misery,
wars without victory,
governed by plutocracy...
still the wheels of life
keep on turning;
in the land of sorrow,
crosses burning.
microwave Jesus, tattered flags,
boys come home in body bags,
buildings crumble, bridges sag,
numbered souls without a tag...
still the wheels of life
keep on turning;
in the land of lies,
crosses burning.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Killing In The Name
Killing in the name of!
Some of those that were forces are the same that bore crosses
Some of those that were forces are the same that bore crosses
Some of those that were forces are the same that bore crosses
Some of those that were forces are the same that bore crosses
Huh!
Killing in the name of!
Killing in the name of
And now you do what they told ya (11 times)
But now you do what they told ya
Well now you do what they told ya
Those who died are justified
song performed by by Rage Against The Machine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monumental Mystery
A column built of rough hewn stone.
By whom or why remains unknown.
Half hidden by dense foliage.
A relic from a by gone age.
What it was for nobody knows
It served some purpose I suppose.
An enigma a mystery
A sacred site quite possibly.
But still it stands amongst the trees.
As it has stood for centuries.
I don't suppose we'll ever know
Why it was built so long ago.
Before recorded history.
Though built to last indefinitely.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Among the Trees
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for the one my heart calls for
I wonder lost among the trees
I see your light amongst the dark
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is brighter then the rest
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is out of my reach
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light comes closer
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is bright like an angel from the sky
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light fades away and leaves me alone
I wonder lost among the trees
Without a hand to guide the way
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for my guiding light
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost, alone
I wonder afraid of the world
Around me I look for the one
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost and alone forever...................................
poem by kelly Martini
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The Magic Of The Moment
She walks down a street
in Central London
on the sunny side of course
and is dumbfounded by the fact
that it is raining on the other side of the street.
It falls into her mind as if it were a dream
but a dream that's real.
She crosses over and holds out her hand.
Raindrops collect on her palm.
She crosses over again and watches them evaporate
on her outstretched hand.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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In Long Rows
Millions and millions of crosses
standing in long rows.
Standing as a testament
of man’s inhumanity to man.
Their ages range low to high,
all casualties of a war
in which they answered
their counties call.
Their kin are long dead now,
but the crosses all bare a name
of someone who had they lived
might have gained fame
in another game.
However, here they lie
where the pretty flowers grow
after giving up their life
for their country.
Some are remembered
even to this day
for their acts of courage
others knew so well.
The others are just names
carved in memorials somewhere
as falling in a battle on a foreign soil.
All of them had a life
men, women and child alike.
A life they should have lived
and lived it to the full.
Now all they remain
is names on crosses
standing in long rows.
22 January 2008
This is for all those whose lives have been stolen in wars throughout the centuries.
poem by David Harris
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From ‘The Cross’
Who can blot out the Cross, which th’instrument
Of God, dew’d on me in the Sacrament?
Who can deny me power, and liberty
To stretch mine arms, and mine own Cross to be?
Swim, and at every stroke, thou art thy Cross;
The Mast and yard make one, where seas do toss;
Look down, thou spiest out Crosses in small things;
Look up, thou seest birds rais’d on crossed wings;
All the Globes frame, and spheres, is nothing else
But the Meridians crossing Parallels.
Material Crosses then, good physic bee,
But yet spiritual have chief dignity.
These for extracted chemic medicine serve,
And cure much better, and as well preserve;
Then are you your own physic, or need none,
When Still’d, or purg’d by tribulation.
For when that Cross ungrudg’d, unto you sticks,
Then are you to your self, a Crucifix.
As perchance, Carvers do not faces make,
But that away, which hid them there, do take;
Let Crosses, so, take what hid Christ in thee,
And be his image, or not his, but he.
poem by John Donne
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The star Bethlehem born
The stardust spreading the beautiful night
The star Bethlehem being most sublime
Is being shot again and again
Broken hearted crosses we cross
Broken hearted crosses we count
Like beads of starry nights
Asleep unawake still crossing
The rivers of the first step stone
You think you could have died of shame
(The last line inspired by Franz Kafka 'Process')
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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New Crucifixions
They bring new crosses of dark wood
And begin to crucify our three brothers.
Three nails on each,
Just three shrieks from each mouth and
Three small tear drops falling apart.
Three minutes of crucifixion melt out
The sky remains white,
The sun fades not,
And the curtains of the shrines tear not.
Lamentations cease and three days of agony await.
But no resurrections ever afterwards!
Across the streams of innocence
A floating raft emerges now
And time writes its lyric of salvation
Across the sky of expectations once more!
Will these crosses become firewood once?
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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White Crosses
Well I packed all of my things into this blanket
To call this year to earn coyotes fill
Kiss my wife and kids goodbye choke back the quiver in my breath
And took my first steps into this corridor of death
If Im lucky I will make it to a drain
With 500 of my brothers, I would share the strain
Of standing in this boxcar praying for rain
Its the only the way we will quench our thirst
[Chorus:]
In these gardens of white crosses
Growing in the California sand
In these gardens of white crosses
We are the children of poverty trying to a make a stand
If we make it past the border, we will scatter
Vanish just like smoke in autumn wind
I will run until my color will not matter
Hopin I can find some work or possibly a friend
There are others who have made it here
They will show me how to find a job and a place to lay my head
And I cannot be concerned with dreams of my children
For there are 5 others in line for my bed
[Chorus:]
In these gardens of white crosses
Growing in the California sand
In these gardens of white crosses
We are the children of poverty trying to a make a stand
I will gladly pick your peaches or clean your hotel rooms
I will do the jobs American wont do
With cell phones to their heads and $700 dollar shoes
I will risk my life cause its all I have to lose
Let the devil in the mountains promise me a ride
Found an 18 wheeler and put all of us inside
And just outside of victory, 19 of us died
None of our bodies hit the floor
And so my wife she still wonders when Im coming home
The riches that I promised her for leaving her alone
I said I would send her all that I could save
But I ended up in California in an unknown grave
[Chorus:]
In these gardens of white crosses growing in the California sand
In these gardens of white crosses we are the children of poverty trying to a make a stand
[repeat]
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crosses Burning # 2
Native America tragedy,
cant escape the curse of history,
poverty has its remedies,
none of which are good.
crystal meth and crack cocaine,
Devil drives that old train,
cant fix the hole or ease the pain,
and wouldnt if it could...
still the wheel of life
keeps on turning;
in the land of illusions,
crosses burning.
small town heroes falling,
the ghosts of freedom calling,
yet the truth is quite appalling,
pawns in the game.
Wall Street ghouls in trench coats,
tax incentives, life boats,
dont know which way the wind blows,
numbers without a name.
still the wheel of life
keeps on turning;
in the land of manipulation,
crosses burning.
cant tell the truth from a lie,
you live and work and then you die,
cant take it with you if you try,
lost inside a maze.
redemption or salvation,
the train has left the station
for a greedy soulless nation,
who profits and who pays?
still the wheel of life
keeps on turning;
in the land of denial,
crosses burning.
addicted to foreign oil,
incursions on foreign soils,
enough to make your blood boil,
when enough is enough.
while children starve and women die,
paint the picture but you cant hide,
your hands are bloody, you cant deny...
stop, in the name of love!
still the wheel of life
keeps on turning,
in the land of promise,
crosses burning.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poem For My Twentieth Birthday
Passing the American graveyard, for my birthday
the crosses stuttering, white on tropical green,
the years’ quick focus of faces I do not remember . . .
The palm trees stalking like deliberate giants
for my birthday, and all the hot adolescent memories
seen through a screen of water . . .
For my birthday thrust into the adult and actual:
expected to perform the action, not to ponder
the reality beyond the fact,
the man standing upright in the dream.
poem by Kenneth Koch
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Spackling
While there are many roads
I have traveled
and random ones
where I had no control;
who I travel with
is one decision
I did have some say with.
Even as I have been swept
ahead unpredictability
I have held your hand
with which to steady myself with.
So much of life
I now realize
is not the road you take
but who you travel with.
And you my love
have
through
tumult and stickering
held my hand tight
and always
loved me
sometimes more
that I was able
to muster
for myself.
So if my courage faltered
you spackled on what
was needed
and did so so expertly
I most of the time
believed
it came from me
not you
my lover.
And isn't that the real test of love
not knowing
what came from me
and what came from you
so intertwined
are the souls? ;
one crosses over to be me
and mine crosses over to be you.
Soul Love:
indistinguishable.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Hell is paved with great granite blocks hewn from the hearts of those who said, I can do no other.
quote by Heywood Broun
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Morning Beauty :)
As I sit here all alone admiring the view of an early sunrise
I tilt my head back and close my eyes.
A soft gentle breeze crosses my face
I look around and enjoy the quietness of God's peace and the soft gentle pace
The trees are in full bloom, the leaves ready to fall
God's beauty of earth, I admire it all.
As the sun comes up and begins a new day
I sit here quietly and begin to pray.
Dear God, I begin to say, please watch over my life and keep me safe
Give me hope and show me faith.
Guide my path and let me know you are near.
Allow me to be strong and filled with love, for love conquers all fear.
A gentle breeze crosses my path, and gives me a slight chill
God answers and says: I am with you still.
I've never left you alone, or threw you aside, I am in your heart, I will be your guide.
I will show you the way to master life's difficulties, and trust your heart,
For I am with you now and forever, I shall never part.
A gentle breeze I feel again, I know my prayers are answered, God has heard my plea.
He has pointed this out for me to see.
Life has many surprises each and every day. We cannot live on regrets and sorrow.
Once again I feel a gentle breeze which means God is saying:
My child there is a tomorrow:
The sun will shine once again, the birds will continue to sing.
Memories will last forever, and enjoy life a new today, and all that it may bring.
poem by Jordan Moore
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Same Sentence
At Calvary three crosses stand,
where the rebel, Jesus, died.
With him, two petty criminals-
were also crucified.
Per legend, one man begged relief
sought pardon as he died.
The other merely mocked the Lord,
as they hung side by side.
The first rebuked the second man:
“No fear of God, you slime?
We both bear the same sentence-
just judgment for our crime.”
“But this man who did nothing wrong
with us is crucified.
The dogs will get my body
But not my heart and mind”
Jesus then forgave them both
Upon his Dad’s advice
For no one whose been crucified
should have to suffer twice.
At Calvary three crosses stand
Tenanted no more
Here good edged evil two to one-
for those still keeping score.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Lines Suggested By A Sight Of Waltham Cross
Time-mouldering crosses, gemmed with imagery
Of costliest work and Gothic tracery,
Point still the spot, to hallowed Wedlock dear,
Where rested on its solemn way the bier
That bore the bones of Edward's Elinor
To mix with Royal dust at Westminster.
Far different rites did thee to dust consign,
Duke Brunswick's daughter, princely Caroline:
A hurrying funeral, and a banished grave,
High-minded Wife, were all that thou couldst have.
Grieve not, great Ghost, nor count in death in losses;
Thou in thy life-time hadst thy share of crosses
poem by Charles Lamb
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Proportions are what makes the old Greek temples classic in their beauty. They are like huge blocks, from which the air has been literally hewn out between the columns.
quote by Arne Jacobsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Generation
untouchable that bleeds, lonely
in black sky, that haunting moon
walks gingerly on quivering sea:
lovers killed in shame in broad daylight
by gunshots before a crowd; some possessed
maniacs turning the clock back: history
lets go the leaves, the autumn,
trees stand naked, not malevolent
but want to poach upon the wrong side
of faith; my vision starts failing,
crosses the river in ancient lingua franca
joining the broken hearts
i was apprehensive, clouds come and
go, each death becomes a daisy
poem by Satish Verma
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