The Roman Cemetery
Abused have been the Romans
by certain scholars of more recent times
for not creating metaphysics
like other glorious nations,
but only aqueducts, roads, colosseums, forums,
the eternal city, castra, border, earthwork.
Abused have been the Romans
for building only houses, with atria
receiving daylight from above,
and with the warning on their doorsills: cave canem.
If fate would have you come to Rome some day
and deep into the countryside, my friend, along the Via Apia
you were to wander,
you would then understand, oh, how unjust the balance is
in which people and peoples weigh
each other’s hearts and virtues. For you would see a Way
unrolling on and on into the landscape,
stone after stone, all fitting,
a Way lined left and right
with urns, sarcophaguses, mausoleums
preserving ashes, relics sheltering.
Thus did the Romans see the Way, defying every limit,
into the mighty realm of life through death advancing,
laid out in rows
on either side. And those who in the shade of cypresses
in sarcophaguses are sleeping, hear the sound
of shields and lances, hear the cohorts marching,
the wheels of chariots, the horses’ neighing. In due course
all this no longer does exist
but the more ancient dead still listen to the Way
that sounds on earth.
Thus did the Romans visualize a cemetery:
a way lined with two rows of silences.
And that is Roman metaphysics: a Way.
A way advancing through the dead, not through the quick.
poem by Lucian Blaga, translated by Dan Duţescu
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Romans Twelve
I read and re-read Romans twelve.
Until it casted a spell.
And I saw myself,
And others like me.
Instantly I realized...
I was not as free,
As I chose to be.
In these times I'm finding,
Romans twelve has helped me dispel
What I believe I had to do...
To protect a truth I myself abused!
And to release what I thought I knew too well.
This is what I discovered as I read Romans twelve.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tenuous and Precarious
Tenuous and Precarious
Were my guardians,
Precarious and Tenuous,
Two Romans.
My father was Hazardous,
Hazardous
Dear old man,
Three Romans.
There was my brother Spurious,
Spurious Posthumous,
Spurious was Spurious,
Was four Romans.
My husband was Perfidious,
He was Perfidious
Five Romans.
Surreptitious, our son,
Was Surreptitious,
He was six Romans.
Our cat Tedious
Still lives,
Count not Tedious
Yet.
My name is Finis,
Finis, Finis,
I am Finis,
Six, five, four, three, two,
One Roman,
Finis.
poem by Stevie Smith
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Old World New World
Natives wearing turquoise and silver
Dirty dogs barking in the distance
People of a thousand tongues
Im learning the primitive rights
Im doing as the romans do
Mt. kalais to mt. everest
Then down to the river ganges
To follow your mighty past
Were learning the primitive rights
Were doing as the romans do
Old world
New world
I know nothing
But Ill keep listening
Cities tumble into the ocean
Cities getting built in the sky
Now were talking digital
Were learning the primitive rights
Were doing as the romans do
Millions playing at monopoly
Rolling the dice of their life
Im dancing and shaking hands
Were learning the primitive rights
Were doing as the romans do
I know nothing
Grow old look wise
Never knowing til I die
But Ill keep listening
Ill keep listening
Pan
Shambala
Judism
Hindu
Christianity
Masdic
Budism
Atman of vedies
Sun ra
Astrology
Voodoo
The great dream time
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Messiah
The messiah
He came into this world when he was needed the most
OUR FATHER, THE SON, THE HOLY GHOST
He came at a time when there was no hope
And in despair, whereas they all lived in fear.
They all were praying for the messiah to rekindle
That burning desire, to fight all the injustices
In the world and save every little boy and girl.
The Romans had all the nations enslaved
For the roads to Rome they had to pave.
To the Romans slavery was a common thing
Their only concern was the gold it could bring.
Now Moses and Aaron had taken the twelve tribes
To a land where they could live
It was something that to them GOD did give.
This was the start of what was to come
For soon he would send his newborn son.
Now when Jesus was born, only his family knew
The things that he may have to go through.
The virgin Mary knew in her heart
That sooner or later her son would depart.
He started preaching at the age of twelve
To all that would listen or he could find
The destitute, the helpless, the blind.
He preached to scholars, rabbi’s and such
There wasn’t one person he could not touch.
He never claimed that he was the messiah, but he made
Everyone feel one step higher.
Don’t you feel it, because I do, he ‘s carried me higher
How about you?
poem by Louis Rams
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No One Here Is Roman
When in Rome,
Do what the Romans do!
'Yeah...
But no one here is Roman.
And I don't understand
One thing they are doing! '
That's okay neither do they!
Pretend you are a tourist.
Everyone else does!
And they have been pretentious,
Long before you noticed them.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Barabbas
Love it or hate it, that is my name.
I fought against the Romans and I lost.
They were ready to crucify me.
They were ready to end my life.
But my hatred lives forever.
Love it or hate it, I live another day.
The Rabbi Jesus died in my place.
Another day and it would be different.
My war does not change in any way.
Not while Israel walks in chains...
Love it or hate it, here I am before you.
Look at me with my blood still flowing...
Hear me as I speak to you, one to another.
See my hands moving freely here and there,
Yet nowhere near Calvary today.
Love it or hate it, Rome let me live.
Caesar plays his games with us all.
One false move now and I can still die.
But we all die, that is the lot of Man.
Jesus would have died sooner or later.
Some say Jesus has risen from the tomb.
Would that I had been there to see it.
I could have thanked the man myself.
I could have asked for a miracle.
Take this heartache from me...
Forgive the Romans? Let them be?
Let them crush Israel underfoot?
Let God work out His purposes?
Forgive me, friend... I do not comprehend.
You may forgive the Romans, Jesus...
But love it or hate it, for good or ill...
I am still Barabbas...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2011.
Based on the film Barabbas...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Peace In The Midst Of The “Shakings” Of Life
God said, “Once again I will shake
not only the earth but the heavens also.” Hebrews 12: 26.
“This means that all of creation will be shaken
and removed, so that only unshakable things will remain.
Since we are receiving a Kingdom
that is unshakable, let us be thankful
and please God by worshiping him with holy
fear and awe”. (Beware prepare for meteor showers.) Hebrews 12: 27-28.
God uses shaking of tough circumstances
to reveal what is true eternal... His kingdom His glory.
Christians are to inherit part of God’s kingdom
an eternal city waits for you... your future is secure.
But where is our hope now you said?
What will we hold onto? Something stable!
“And I am convinced that nothing
can ever separate us from God's love.
Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,
neither our fears for today nor our worries
about tomorrow... not even the powers
of hell can separate us from God's love”. Romans 8: 38.
You can count on the love of Jesus
to never fail you, never crumble,
even in the hardest times. He said,
“Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you”. Hebrews 13: 5.
“God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear,
though the earth give way
and the mountains fall
into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.” Psalm 46: 1-3
For it was not to angels
that God subjected
the inhabited earth to come,
about which we are speaking.” Hebrews 2: 5.
“The mind governed by the flesh
is hostile to God; it does not submit
to God’s law, nor can it do so.” Romans 8: 7.
The world follows not God’s laws.
Yet as for us “Who shall separate us
from the love of Christ? Shall
tribulation, or distress, or persecution,
or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? ” Romans 8: 35.
“We do not know what we ought to pray for
but the Spirit himself intercedes for us...
because the Spirit intercedes for God’s
people in accordance with the will of God.” Romans 8: 26-27.
“I consider that our present sufferings
are not worth comparing with the glory
that will be revealed in us. For the creation
waits in eager expectation for the children
of God to be revealed. For the creation
was subjected to frustration,
not by its own choice,
but by the will of the one
who subjected it, in hope
that the creation itself will be liberated
from its bondage to decay and brought
into the freedom and glory of the children of God.” Romans 8: 18-21.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in response to the ‘Weekly Prayer Focus’ topic ‘When Everything’s Shaking, Find Something Stable’ from the ‘Weekly Global Media Outreach Prayer Letter’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Empires
Empires
On the ancient road I hear roman soldiers’ footsteps, all roads lead back to an empire;
and nothing has changed the poor die in the service of their masters. The Romans took
the elites sons of country they wanted to dictate sent them to Rome trained and sent
them back and they had vassal state. It didn’t always work, loyalty became resentment
and uprising, the kept kings demanded more power. The new empire is doing the same,
sends sons and daughters of the elite, in countries they want to control, to Harvard, we
get the royal household of Jordan. Sometime it backfires and we get Osama Bin Laden.
All empires must fall it’s written in the stars, their outpost Israel, is a sacrilege, losing her
humanity. I hear tired Roman soldiers marching on roads their foes will take when they
come to crush them. Iraq is a civil war waiting to happen, Afghanistan is a lost cause and
Pakistan will never submit to foreign dominance. I hear the footsteps, the new empires’
soldiers, the urban poor, have been promised glory, and shiny medals, as always they die
for a dream not theirs. The ghosts of roman soldiers marches on through the centuries,
nothing has changed in two thousand years.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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To Mr. Addison on His Tragedy of Cato
Too long hath love engross'd Britannia's stage,
And sunk to softness all our tragic rage:
By that alone did empires fall or rise,
And fate depended on a fair-one's eyes:
The sweet infection, mixt with dangerous art,
Debas'd our manhood, while it sooth'd the heart.
You scorn to raise a grief thyself must blame,
Nor from our weakness steal a vulgar fame:
A patriot's fall may justly melt the mind,
And tears flow nobly, shed for all mankind.
How do our souls with generous pleasure glow!
Our hearts exulting, while our eyes o'erflow,
When thy firm hero stands beneath the weight
Of all his sufferings venerably great;
Rome's poor remains still sheltering by his side,
With conscious virtue, and becoming pride!
The aged oak thus rears his head in air,
His sap exhausted, and his branches bare;
'Midst storms and earthquakes, he maintains his state,
Fixt deep in earth, and fasten'd by his weight
His naked boughs still lend the shepherds aid,
And his old trunk projects an awful shade.
Amidst the joys triumphant peace bestows,
Our patriots sadden at his glorious woes;
Awhile they let the world's great business wait,
Anxious for Rome, and sigh for Cato's fate.
Here taught how ancient heroes rose to fame,
Our Britons crowd, and catch the Roman flame,
Where states and senates well might lend an ear,
And kings and priests without a blush appear.
France boasts no more, but, fearful to engage,
Now first pays homage to her rival's stage,
Hastes to learn thee, and learning shall submit
Alike to British arms, and British wit:
No more she'll wonder, forc'd to do us right,
Who think like Romans, could like Romans fight.
Thy Oxford smiles this glorious work to see,
And fondly triumphs in a son like thee.
The senates, consuls, and the gods of Rome,
Like old acquaintance at their native home,
In thee we find: each deed, each word exprest,
And every thought that swell'd a Roman breast,
We trace each hint that could thy soul inspire
With Virgil's judgement, and with Lucan's fire;
We know thy worth, and, give us leave to boast,
We most admire, because we know thee most.
poem by Thomas Tickell
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He Came To Earth
he came to earth to rule the nations
he came to earth for our salvation
he came to earth when mankind was in despair
he came to earth when it seemed that no one cared
his mind had been awoke
from the first moment he spoke.
he had been sent from GOD above
to show this world the peace and love
the peace that always seems to slip from our grasp
because it's something that will not last.
but his love is an everlasting fire
something which everyone desires.
a love so pure, and this love so strong
that here on earth, is where it belongs.
he preached this love for his thirty three years
something which the romans feared.
for someone who could start so young
that it had to be GODS son.
it was not the romans who took his life
but the people of his own nation
not knowing that it was for their salvation.
he knew that the treachery would come
and that a finger would be pointed.
because he was the one that GOD anointed.
his time was getting short he knew
but it was something that he had to do.
for JUDE, the time had came
as he held his head in shame
thirty pieces of silver was all it took
and with his death, the world shook.
JUDE was so ashamed of what he had done
that he went and himself he hung.
he came to earth for you and i
and for us, he did die.
poem by Louis Rams
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Lincolnshire Bomber Station
Across the road the homesick Romans made
The ground-mist thickens to a milky shroud;
Through flat, damp fields call sheep, mourning their dead
In cracked and timeless voices, unutterably sad,
Suffering for all the world, in Lincolnshire.
And I wonder how the Romans liked it here;
Flat fields, no sun, the muddy misty dawn,
And always, above all, the mad rain dripping down,
Rusting sword and helmet, wetting the feet
And soaking to the bone, down to the very heart . . .
poem by Henry Treece
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Ave Caesar
No bitterness: our ancestors did it.
They were only ignorant and hopeful, they wanted freedom but wealth too.
Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.
Or rather--for we are not aquiline Romans but soft mixed colonists--
Some kindly Sicilian tyrant who'll keep
Poverty and Carthage off until the Romans arrive,
We are easy to manage, a gregarious people,
Full of sentiment, clever at mechanics, and we love our luxuries.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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The Displeasure of Selefkidis
Dimitrios Selefkidis was displeased
to learn that a Ptolemy
had reached Italy in such a squalid state:
poorly dressed and on foot,
only three or four slaves. This way
their dynasty will become a joke,
the laughter of Rome.
Selefkidis of course knows
that basically even now they've become something like
servants
to the Romans; he also knows
that the Romans give and take away
their thrones arbitrarily, as they please.
But they should maintain a certain dignity
at least in their appearance;
they shouldn't forget that they are still kings,
are still (alas) called kings.
This is why Dimitrios Selefkidis was displeased;
and right away he offered Ptolemy
purple robes, a magnificent diadem,
precious jewels, numerous servants and retainers,
his most expensive horses,
so that he might present himself at Rome as he should,
as an Alexandrian Greek monarch.
But Ptolemy, who'd come to beg,
knew his business and refused it all:
he didn't have the slightest need for these luxuries.
Shabbily dressed, humble, he entered Rome,
put himself up in the house of a minor artisan,
and then presented himself
as a poor, ill-fated creature to the Senate
in order to make his begging more effective.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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The Book of Romans
Romans was written for us by Paul, as he would heed The Lord’s call,
To be a light to each Gentile nation, beaming light of God’s Salvation,
Romans, was from Paul an epistle, to show to the Romans God’s will.
Paul wrote about God’s Righteousness, far exceeding man’s holiness,
A righteousness that men receive, when in the Savior, we truly believe.
Paul had made a personal choice, and by obedience he would rejoice,
Choosing to be a servant to Him, our Lord who saved him from all sin,
Through the Spirit, he’d receive, a letter he wrote, for all who’d believe,
The Good News of God’s Gospel, was explained by Paul the Apostle,
So the epistle was written to all, for inspiration, as we heed God’s call.
Written to the early Roman Church, some, maybe on a spiritual search,
Even for those who Paul had heard, were living a new life in The Word.
A church that truly found their place, as believers in this Age of Grace,
Living for God, they all had grown, and their faith by many was known,
And that great change in their life, was understood, to be Jesus Christ.
Written for encouragement to us, who in Christ, have placed their trust,
Penned to strengthen our foundation, and our knowledge of Salvation.
A challenge meant for you and me, men saved at the Cross of Calvary,
To be like those believers of Rome, pointing others to an eternal home,
Reaching out until all have heard, the Gospel Truth, out of God’s Word.
Helping believers to be zealous for, The Lord, Who reigns forevermore,
Who came into this world of strife, to grant all who believe Eternal Life,
Equipping all of the saints of God, to live out their faith upon this sod,
Living out everything that we learn, while we await Jesus Christ’s return,
When He will change believers instantly, to live with their God Eternally.
(Copyright ©01/2009)
Adam And Eve
God created the first man, Adam,
out of the dust of the ground
He breathed into his nostrils the breath of life,
but for Adam there was no helpmate found
So God put Adam into a deep sleep
and made a woman out of a rib of the man
In The Garden of Eden everything was perfect
until they ate the fruit which God had banned
God told Adam and Eve they could eat
from every tree of the garden except one
Then came along the serpent and tempted Eve
and the first sin to enter the world was done
Ever since that day that sin entered the world
everyone has sinned and needs a savior
That is the reason God sent his son to die for us
and only through faith in Christ is salvation's door
Romans 5: 12 Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world and death by sin, and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned.
Romans 5: 8 But God commendeth his love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
John 10: 9 I am the door, by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out and find pasture.
www.cavaliersonly.com
poem by Cindy Wyatt
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Theodora And Beruriah's Sister
The words for Handel’s “Theodora”
are not written in the Torah,
or even in the book they call
the gospels, or epistles Paul
wrote to the Romans and Galatians
and other gentiles whose persuasions
conflicted with his own. Their source
is neither classical nor Norse,
but comes from legends Christians told
about the martyrs in their fold.
Most of these martyrs met their death
with Jesus’ name upon their breath,
impressing Romans by their dying
joyfully, as if relying
on Jesus to provide them better
lodging with the First Begetter,
His Father who ruled heaven and
the still unholy Roman land.
They threatened Theodora with
a far worse fate, so goes the myth.
This fate all legends have reported
by martyrdom became aborted,
for only by her death could she
make such a fate be incompli,
since it involved the cruel loss
not of her life, as on a cross,
but her virginity within
a brothel––what a heinous sin
this seemed to her, and so she gave
her life her purity to save.
Her fate recalls that of a maid,
a famous sister Romans made
a prostitute like Theodora.
Horny men would come from fora
to visit her, sister-in-law
of Rabbi Meir, whose wise squaw
was Beruriah, who though he wedded
was, like all women, too light-headed:
this false charge led to suicide
because it caused her to backslide.
Her sister while in Rome would make
excuses like those wives who fake
a headache, thus remaining pure
till rescued by a saboteur,
the rabbi married to her sister.
In the brothel a resister
of all advances made by Romans,
she proved to him that she’d been no man’s
possession as unwilling harlot,
though widely advertized as starlet
whose famous father Romans knew
had burned because he was a Jew,
Teradyon’s son, a martyr burnt
because most of the Romans weren’t
as sympathetic as the man
who cooled him, burning, like a fan.
Like Beruriah’s sister, Theodora
avoided brothels. Was she more a
saint than Beruriah’s sister, since she died
while Beruriah’s sister lived? Decide
this question for yourself! Would Handel
for her have ever lit a candle
as he for Theodora did?
Perhaps not. He was not a Yid,
and wore a wig instead of peyos,
but did score Judas Maccabeus,
and Hannah, Jewish memsahib,
in one of his great oratorios
where Jewish heroes were victorious.
If he had known of Beruriah’s sister
as he did of the other story,
his “Theodora” might well have
been “Beruriah’s sister.” Please don’t laugh.
George Frederic was a man who could
have written both oratorio––and should
have done, but since he didn’t, I
tell both curricula vitae.
Inspired by a performance of George Frederic Handel’s penultimate oratorio, “Theodora, ” by the Bach Collegium San Diego, conducted by Richard Eggar, at the First Presbyterian Church in Santa Monica on June 28,2009. The excellent cast included Mireille Asselin (Theodore) , Darryl Taylor (Didymus) and John Polhamus (Valens) . The story of Beruriah that I discuss in the poem is mentioned in the Talmud (bAbodah Zarah 19b) .
© 2009 Gershon Hepner 6/29/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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My Chemical Romance
My Chemical Romance
By Shawn Cline
It was a Romance with no feelings for me or others.
It was a time that my Romance took my life from me.
It was the beginning of the end of my life.
No hopes no dreams just space and emptiness.
My Romance had no heart nor love, for they were locked within my deepest soul.
The chains that held me down were from my own doings that I did not want to face.
Life itself was my enemy, which I fought to the very end of my romance.
My Chemical Romans was my only love, friend and assurance to make me better.
I did not want to ask for help because I knew that someone would tell me the truth.
My Chemical Romans was sucking the very life from me, my friend that I trust.
I pray one day My Chemical Romance can be put away for good;
And I can live my life without pain, blame, denial, depression, anger, fear and shame
Just to have one day to be me, confident in My Romance for Life and Dreams
But it may be too late for me, because I am a weak soul lost for today…..
poem by Shawn Cline
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