Feast of Stephen, Deacon, First Martyr, the man who will not act until he knows all will never act at all.
quote by Jim Elliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Martyr Stephen Was By An Angry Mob Killed
Saul actively present when first Christian
martyr Stephen was by an angry mob killed;
assumed responsibility of guarding clothes
of all who zealously to death stoned Stephen.
For is it not written?
'At this they covered their ears
and, yelling at the top of their voices,
they all rushed at him, (Stephen)
dragged him out of the city and began
to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses
laid their clothes at the feet
of a young man named Saul.
While they were stoning him, Stephen
prayed, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.'
Then he fell on his knees
and cried out, 'Lord, do not hold this sin
against them.' When he had said this,
he fell asleep. (To death Stephen
was by the mob executed.) Acts 7: 57-60.
Split imaging from the poem ‘Transformation Inquisition Saul Into Paul Of Tarsus'.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Valuation
THE old Squire said, as he stood by his gate,
And his neighbor, the Deacon, went by,
'In spite of my bank stock and real estate,
You are better off, Deacon, than I.
'We're both growing old, and the end's drawing near,
You have less of this world to resign,
But in Heaven's appraisal your assets, I fear,
Will reckon up greater than mine.
'They say I am rich, but I'm feeling so poor,
I wish I could swap with you even
The pounds I have lived for and laid up in store
For the shillings and pence you have given.'
'Well, Squire,' said the Deacon, with shrewd
common sense,
While his eye had a twinkle of fun,
'Let your pounds take the way of my shillings
and pence,
And the thing can be easily done!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Latest Martyr (Mexico 1926)
The morn is sweet and radiant with blue sky over all,
There’s a flame of Oleanders over the adobe wall,
And the birds are singing gaily – I must crush my sorrow down
Why should a woman weep whose son doth wear a martyr’s crown?
‘Tis many hundred years since Stephen knelt in the market place,
Facing the cruel heathen stones battering his boyish face,
St. Stephen, first of the martyred bans! And he, my little son,
My little black-eyed Juan, he is the latest one!
It is almost too much honour – ah! Madre de Dios, be kind,
I am only a human mother, sinful and weak and blind,
I could not say “They will be done,” on that terror-haunted day,
When he faced their coward bullets, with a “Viva Cristo Rey.”
I can see the fearless flashing eyes, I can hear the ringing cry
As he fell ‘mid the blood-stained flowers, ‘neath the cruel-smiling sky,
His young form riddled with bullets, and I ran and held him fast,
And he smiled “Adios, Madre” for comfort at the last.
The nights are long in the adobe hut as I kneel and think of my dead,
For ‘”We must not pray for a Martyr,” so Padre Felipo said,
He is throned near to Our Lord’s Dear Heart-no need for me to pray-
So I sit and hold the crimson scarf he wore on a festa day.
And I ask Our Lady for patience, for strength to bear my crown,
To smile as a martyr’s mother should, and tread my sorrow down.
I pray for our tortured country to hasten freedom’s day
When we may hail Our Heavenly King with a “Viva Cristo Rey.”
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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St. Stephen's Day Murders (feat. The Chieftains)
st stephen's day murders
(paddy moloneyelvis costello)
I knew of two sisters whose name it was christmas,
And one was named dawn of course, the other one was named eve.
I wonder if they grew up hating the season,
Of the good will that lasts til the feast of st. stephen
For that is the time to eat, drink, and be merry,
'til the beer is all spilled and the whiskey has flowed.
And the whole family tree you neglected to bury,
Are feeding their faces until they explode.
Chorus:
There'll be laughter and tears over tia marias,
Mixed up with that drink made from girders.
cause it's all we've got left as they draw their last breath,
And it's nice for the kids, as you finally get rid of them,
In the st stephen's day murders.
Uncle is garglin' a heart-breaking air,
While the babe in his arms pulls out all that remains of his hair.
And we're not drunk enough yet to dare criticize,
The great big kipper tie he's about to baptize.
His gin-flavoured whiskers and kisses of sherry,
His best crimble shirt slung out over the shop.
While the lights from the christmas tree blow up the telly,
His face closes in like an old cold pork chop.
Alternate chorus:
And the carcass of the beast left over from the feast,
May still be found haunting the kitchen.
And there's life in it yet, we may live to regret,
When the ones that we poisoned stop twitchin'.
Regular chorus repeat
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Martyr Poets—did not tell
544
The Martyr Poets—did not tell—
But wrought their Pang in syllable—
That when their mortal name be numb—
Their mortal fate—encourage Some—
The Martyr Painters—never spoke—
Bequeathing—rather—to their Work—
That when their conscious fingers cease—
Some seek in Art—the Art of Peace—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Total Body Stone
All week
the martyr
martyred himself
with work.
Thus when holy Friday came
he finally stones himself
with a stoning attaining
purely spiritual proportions.
Like faithful Stephen
he aspires to a state;
where one day Christ
will receive his spirit.
As he faithfully servant endeavours
to do Lord Jehovah’s scripture work;
striving for symbolic baptism day.
When sin will be washed clean away.
When the greedy malicious evil
will be washed clean
accepting sacrifice blood of Jesus.
When they will cleansed love
common ordinary people
like you and me. Blessed then be.
“And they went on casting
stones at Stephen as
he made appeal and said:
“Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.”
Then, bending his knees,
he cried out in a strong voice:
“Jehovah, do not
charge this sin against them.”
And after saying this
he fell asleep [in death].”
Acts 7: 59-60.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Martyr
Why, why was I born to know what I must know
I can see the sky, but I cant see the ground below
Where do I go
Falling in a trap where traitors wait
Lost love is the bait
But the martyr never knows
He is caught in a dream of his own
When its over where does he go
Who really knows
Time stands between me and my home
So long ago
I cant stand to wait
But I cant force my body to go
Where do I go
Crying, he is blind to everyone
And thats how its done
And the martyr never knows
Who really knows
I know in my heart
I could change the world
With just this guitar
Who really knows
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Feast To Eat And Enjoy
Feast!
So delicious are these offerings,
For only you prepared.
Feast and eat.
Until your heart is contented.
Relax.
And take the weight off your feet.
Unbridled and free,
From each and every discourse presented.
Whether disguised in debated argument or not,
To undermine your dining done.
With purposes to have that stopped.
Feast!
So delicious are these offerings,
For only you prepared.
Be daring and selective,
As it is your wish to nourish...
Upon that which feeds your encouragement.
Feast to eat and enjoy.
Nothing tasted to you presented,
Has been created to disappoint, displease...
Or leave you to become agitated or annoyed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wedding Feast
Brother dear brother,I came as quickly as I could
The Digital Haze is broken,The Banished Ones r gone 4 good, gone 4 good"
Now there must b a wedding/Now there must b a feast
A feast, a feast/A smorgasbord at least
A brunch, a munch/Of cake if just a piece
Not just a vat of chitlins/Or turkey meat u c
We r what we eat/So we must eat a leaf
We'll dine under a tree/Unless it snows!
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I wouldn't do go to another band.
quote by John Deacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No, we have our ups and downs, but we're all very up at the moment.
quote by John Deacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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African Monarch
Come, feast your eyes on royalty!
The Lion King and more!
As if God granted some decree
That all observe his law...
For who could doubt the lion lives
As sovereign lord of all?
His one loud roar as proof he gives!
Who can withstand that call?
It causes bravery to crack
And fears are swiftly stirred!
It sends a shiver down your back
The first time that it's heard!
All through his youth, he trains and trains,
Like one in search of prey...
To see him run across the plains
Would take your breath away!
I'd rather stroke a pussycat
Than cuddle close to him...
For if I got as close as that,
I'd be a dead pilgrim!
While it's true, some folks would quibble,
With one called royalty...
To keep a wide berth's sensible...
Quite logical to me...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'African Monarch'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have a few personal ambitions for the band.
quote by John Deacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Arguments are healthy. They clear the air.
quote by John Deacon
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Four personalities are bound to clash.
quote by John Deacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was too shy to go and meet Princess Diana.
quote by John Deacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Queen has taken the all of our time for last four or five years, you know.
quote by John Deacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lot's of marriages don't last as long as Queen have been together.
quote by John Deacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lovers Cross
Guess that it was bound to happen
Was just a matter of time
But now Ive come to my decision
And its a-one of the painful kind
cause now it seems that you wanted a martyr
Just a regular guy wouldnt do
But baby I cant hang upon no lovers cross for you
You really got to hand it to ya
cause girl you really tried
But for every time that we spent laughin
There were two times that I cried
And you were tryin to make me your martyr
And thats the one thing I just couldnt do
cause baby, I cant hang upon no lovers cross for you
cause tables are meant for turnin
And people are bound to change
And bridges are meant for burnin
When the people and memories they join arent the same
Still I hope that you can find
Another who can take what I could not
Hell have to be a super guy
Or maybe a super god
cause I never was much of a martyr before
And I aint bout to start nothin new
And baby, I cant hang upon no lovers cross for you
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Thanksgiving
It's time for Tom to lose his wattled head.
He's designated martyr for the feast.
We pluck him naked and stuff him with bread
Then roast his hapless carcass whole or pieced.
We carve, dismember, separate his flesh
and pile it high upon a festive plate.
Oh, Butterball you juicy thing, so fresh
and tasty, every bite is simply great.
Although we never heard him gobble
without a head he cannot demonstrate.
A turkeys future cannot be squabbled
his life is brief and predetermined fate.
Without a turkey there's no misgiving
there would not be a Happy Thanksgiving.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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