An Epitaph [Hangman's hands laid in this tomb an]
Hangman's hands laid in this tomb an
Imp of Satan's getting, whom an
Ancient legend says that woman
Never bore-he owed his birth
To Sin herself. From Hell to Earth
She brought the brat in secret state
And laid him at the Golden gate,
And they named him Henry Vrooman.
While with mortals here he stayed,
His father frequently he played.
Raised his birth-place and in other
Playful ways begot his mother.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Story of Christmas in Verse
Two thousand years ago on earth,
God’s love was born in baby form
By Bethlehem town’s boy king’s birth,
In freezing cold of stable warm!
A virgin turned Mother of God –
The Holy Spirit’s miracle!
The boy was King, Redeemer, Lord;
He talked to all by parable.
God’s son had chosen poverty;
The news was told to shepherds first;
Sinners could get eternity,
If they were sorry, took to Christ.
Divine love fleshed in Mary’s womb!
The man named Jesus would be great;
Death could not lock him in a tomb;
He was satan’s final defeat!
The sinless man grew up all wise;
He learnt the Scripture’s words by heart,
And took Pharisees by surprise,
From tender age, right from the start!
God loved His only Son begot;
The Son obeyed His Father’s word;
Both peace and joy on earth, He brought;
He was the Good Shepherd and Lord!
‘Merry Christmas to all on earth! ’
From parishners of Holy Family Church, Perundurai
Copyright by Dr John Celes 25-12-2011
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Born On Earth
How many have you given birth,
Mother earth, Mother earth?
Bore them here to drink your rain,
bore them here to feel your pain?
You cannot count them though you try,
not until you feel them die.
One by one they came to you
and one by one they left your view.
They plowed your fields and reaped your seed
and ate of you to fill their need.
Some were kind and pure of heart,
some foolhardy from the start.
How many came and breathed your air
and offered thanks and gave you prayer?
Did you keep a record of each brave soul
or just use yourself to cover the hole
that waits and observes their destiny
and accepts their bodies with sympathy?
How many more will you give birth
to stake their claim upon your earth?
Too many, too many I'm afraid
and for most a terrible price will be paid.
How many have you given birth
Mother earth, Mother earth?
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 20)
It was the day one of the week;
When dawn broke, Mary Magdalene
Came early to the tomb, though dark
And saw the stone large, set aside!
She hurried to Simon Peter,
And other one, whom Jesus loved,
And said, ‘The Lord has been taken.
We don’t know where they have put Him.’
So, Peter with the other one,
Both ran towards the tomb at once;
The other disciple reached first,
But did not go into the tomb.
He bent down, saw the burial clothes!
Then Peter went into the tomb and saw
And saw the burial clothes lie there;
The cloth that covered Jesus’ head
Lay rolled up in a separate place.
The other disciple went in
And saw, believed the state of things;
For, they didn’t know the scripture say:
‘He had to rise from dead, third day! ’
The two disciples returned home.
But Mary stayed outside the tomb;
Bending over the tomb, she wept;
She saw two angels in white there:
One at the head, one at the feet,
Where Jesus’ body had been laid.
They asked, ‘Woman, why do you weep?
She said, ‘They’ve taken the Lord away!
I don’t know where they have laid Him.’
At as she said, she turned around,
Saw Jesus but didn’t recognize.
Jesus asked her, ‘Woman, why weep?
Whom are you searching for right here? ’
She thought it was the gardener.
She asked him, ’Sir, please tell me where
You’ve laid Jesus and I’ll take Him! ’
Then Jesus called to her, ‘Mary!
She said in Hebrew, ‘Rabbouni! ’
Then Jesus said, ‘Stop holding to me;
I’ve not ascended to Father.
But go and tell my brothers all,
I’m going to my Father, God! ’
Then Mary Magdalene went back,
Told all disciples, all she saw.
While disciples stayed with doors locked,
For fear of Jews and evening came:
Then, Jesus stood in their ’midst, said,
‘Peace be with you, peace be with you!
As Father sent me, I send you.’
He breathed on them and said to them,
‘Receive the Holy Spirit now!
Whose sins you forgive, are forgiv’n,
Whose sins you retain, are retained.’
Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus came;
The others told, ‘We’ve seen the Lord.’
He said, ‘Unless I see the mark
Of nails in hands and side, and put
My finger into them, I’ll not
Believe in whatever you say.’
When Thomas was with disciples,
A week later, again inside,
Then Jesus came, though doors were locked,
And said to them, ‘Peace be with you! ’
He told Thomas, ‘Put your finger
Into my hands, into my side;
Don’t be unbelieving, Believe! ’
Then Thomas said, ‘My Lord, My God! ’
Then Jesus asked, ‘Do you believe
Because you have all seen me now?
Bless’d are those who haven’t, yet, believe! ’
Then Jesus did many more signs,
In presence of his disciples.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-27-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Second Birth
Through faith, to God we show true worth
His Lamp then leads to second birth
But not a birth as most presume
We need no more a mother’s womb
The Lord Himself will dwell within
His Holy Flame convicts of sin
The eyes of God compute each thought
In all who trust His true report
With peace and joy He comes from high
The answers to what, to where and why
Power; through grace that none should boast
God’s Guiding Lamp His Holy Ghost
This second chance to live, is free
The price was paid on Calvary
In truth; Christ came to die on earth
That man may live through second birth
Upon the tree Christ bore all shame
That man may bear a brand new name
God’s blood seeped neath the cursed ground
So guilt in man may not be found
In Jesus’ death is Heaven’s door
God opened wide when curtains tore
His precious blood cleans spot and stain
So God may hear from man again
When Christ man laid within the tomb
It served God’s purpose as a womb
When Christ arose from neath the earth
He stood as first with second birth
In Jesus Christ, the same we’ll share
When all life’s cares to Him we bear
When humble hearts see Heaven’s Door
We’ll enter through and die no more...
poem by Michael P. Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Candidates For Hell
Many are the ways of Satan hidden with many colours!
But only the wise can easily identify the bad things around us;
Because the ways of mankind on this earth are full of troubles,
And many have set ready candidates for hell! !
For all that they do rather honours the Secret Ways of Satan.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mary Of Magdala
Mary of Magdala came to bed;
There were no soft curtains round her head;
She had no mother to hold of worth
The little baby she brought to birth.
Mary of Magdala groaned and prayed:
'O God, I am very much afraid;
For out of my body, by sin defiled,
Thou biddest me make a little child.
'O God, I have turned my face from Thee
To that which the angels may not see;
How can I make, from my deep disgrace,
A child whose angel shall see Thy face?
'O God, I have sinned, and I know well
That the pains I bear are the pains of hell;
But the thought of the child that sin has given
Is like the thought of the airs of Heaven.'
Mary of Magdala held her breath
In the clutch of pain like the pains of Death,
And through her heart, like the mortal knife,
Went the pang of joy and the pang of life.
'We two are two alone,' said she,
'And we are two who should be three;
Now who will clothe my baby fair
In the little garments that babies wear?'
There came two angels with quiet wings
And hands that were full of baby things;
And the new-born child was bathed and dressed
And laid again on his mother's breast.
'Now who will sign on his brow the mark
To keep him safe from the Powers of the Dark?
Who will my baby's sponsor be?'
'I, the Lord God, who died for thee.'
'Now who will comfort him if he cry;
And who will suckle him by and bye?
For my hands are cold and my breasts are dry,
And I think that my time has come to die.'
'I will dandle thy son as a mother may;
And his lips shall lie where my own Son's lay.
Come, dear little one, come to me;
The Mother of God shall suckle thee.'
Mary of Magdala laughed and sighed;
'I never deserved a child,' she cried.
'Dear God, I am ready to go to hell,
Since with my little one all is well.'
Then the Son of Mary did o'er her lean.
'Poor mother, thy tears have washed thee clean.
Thy last poor pains, they will soon be done,
And My Mother shall give thee back thy son.'
Frozen grass for a bearing bed,
A halo of frost round a woman's head,
And pious folks who looked and said:
'A drab and her brat that are better dead.'
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Canada
England, father and mother in one,
Look on your stalwart son.
Sturdy and strong, with the valour of youth,
Where is another so lusty?
Coated and mailed, with the armour of truth,
Where is another so trusty?
Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone,
He is yours alone.
England, father and mother in one,
See the wealth of your son.
Forests primeval, and virginal sod,
Wheat-fields golden and splendid:
Riches of nature and opulent God
For the use of his children intended.
A courage that dares, and a hope that endures,
And a soul all yours.
England, father and mother in one,
Hear the cry of your son.
Little cares he for the glories of earth
Lying around and above him,
Yearning is he for the rights of his birth,
And the heart of his mother to love him.
Vast are your gifts to him, ample his store,
Now open your door.
England, father and mother in one,
Heed the voice of your son.
Proffer him place in your councils of state:
Let him sit near, and attend you.
Ponder his words in the hour of debate,
Strong is his arm to defend you.
Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone,
Give him his own.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hymn 107
The fall and recovery of man; or, Christ and Satan at enmity.
Gen. 3:1,15,17; Gal. 4:4; Col. 2:15.
Deceived by subtle snares of hell,
Adam, our head, our father, fell;
When Satan, in the serpent hid,
Proposed the fruit that God forbid.
Death was the threat'ning: death began
To take possession of the man
His unborn race received the wound,
And heavy curses smote the ground.
But Satan found a worse reward;
Thus saith the vengeance of the Lord
"Let everlasting hatred be
Betwixt the woman's seed and thee.
"The woman's seed shall be my Son;
He shall destroy what thou hast done;
Shall break thy head, and only feel
Thy malice raging at his heel."
He spake; and bid four thousand years
Roll on; at length his Son appears;
Angels with joy descend to earth,
And sing the young Redeemer's birth.
Lo, by the sons of hell he dies;
But as he hung 'twixt earth and skies,
He gave their prince a fatal blow,
And triumphed o'er the powers below.]
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
First Teacher
First teacher is Mother
Next comes father
Mother gives birth
Mother is the earth
After five years
Father takes care
No substitute of
Father and mother
And they are ours
Life's newspaper.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Rape Of The World
Mother of us all
Place of our birth
How can we stand aside
And watch the rape of the wold
This the beginning of the end
This the most heinous of crimes
This the deadliest of sins
The greatest violation of all time
Mother of us all
Place of our birth
We all are witness
To the rape of the world
Youve seen her stripped mined
Youve heard of bombs exploded underground
You know the sun shines
Hotter than ever before
Mother of us all
Place of our birth
We all are witness
To the rape of the world
Some claim to have crowned her
A queen
With cities of concrete and steel
But there is no glory no honor
In what results
From the rape of the world
Mother of us all
Place of our birth
We all are witness
To the rape of the world
She has been clear-cut
She has been dumped on
She has been poisoned and beaten up
And we have been witness
To the rape of the world
Mother of us all
Place of our birth
How can we stand aside
And watch the rape of the world
If you look youll see it with your own eyes
If you listen you will hear her cries
If you care you will stand and testify
And stop the rape of the world
Stop the rape of the world
Mother of us all
Mother of us all
Mother of us all
Mother of us all
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Birth and Renewal
The womb that brought her forth gave birth to my attachment to her, a cold night may give birth to a warm day, but brighter and more rarely seen is a woman of virtue relieved of unclean ways.
In my path many flowers I have picked, inhaled of their various scents and have since considered insufficient, worthless is the soil of unfertile ground, but the raised land is beloved by me accentuating the sun's rays as it wanes in its round.
Many were the days when comfort eluded those without crop, but one cannot cultivate when the fertile embrace of love has escaped.
poem by Dijon Noble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Planting A Sequoia
All afternoon my brothers and I have worked in the orchard,
Digging this hole, laying you into it, carefully packing the soil.
Rain blackened the horizon, but cold winds kept it over the Pacific,
And the sky above us stayed the dull gray
Of an old year coming to an end.
In Sicily a father plants a tree to celebrate his first son's birth--
An olive or a fig tree--a sign that the earth has one more life to bear.
I would have done the same, proudly laying new stock into my father's orchard,
A green sapling rising among the twisted apple boughs,
A promise of new fruit in other autumns.
But today we kneel in the cold planting you, our native giant,
Defying the practical custom of our fathers,
Wrapping in your roots a lock of hair, a piece of an infant's birth cord,
All that remains above earth of a first-born son,
A few stray atoms brought back to the elements.
We will give you what we can--our labor and our soil,
Water drawn from the earth when the skies fail,
Nights scented with the ocean fog, days softened by the circuit of bees.
We plant you in the corner of the grove, bathed in western light,
A slender shoot against the sunset.
And when our family is no more, all of his unborn brothers dead,
Every niece and nephew scattered, the house torn down,
His mother's beauty ashes in the air,
I want you to stand among strangers, all young and emphemeral to you,
Silently keeping the secret of your birth.
poem by Dana Gioia
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Krishna Complains About His Older Brother
O mother mine, Dau (Balram)forever teases me.
you never gave birth to me,
and I was bought in the market.
this is what he tells me
o mother mihne, Dau forever teases me.
fed up of his teasing ways,
I don't go out to play.
who is your mother?
and who is your father?
again and again he says.
Yasoda's fair, so also Nanda,
how come you're so dark?
Dau provokes, the gopas laugh,
and all have such a lark.
me, mother, you want to beat,
but Dau you never even scold,
seeing the anger on Mohan's face
Yasoda's joy was untold,
listen Kanha, Balbhadra is naughty,
wicked from his birth,
you're my son, and I your mother,
I swear by mother cows worth!
poem by Sant Surdas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Nativity
1914-18
The Babe was laid in the Manger
Between the gentle kine --
All safe from cold and danger --
"But it was not so with mine,
(With mine! With mine!)
"Is it well with the child, is it well?"
The waiting mother prayed.
"For I know not how he fell,
And I know not where he is laid."
A Star stood forth in Heaven;
The Watchers ran to see
The Sign of the Promise given --
"But there comes no sign to me.
(To me! To me!)
"My child died in the dark.
Is it well with the child, is it well?
There was none to tend him or mark,
And I know not how he fell."
The Cross was raised on high;
The Mother grieved beside --
"But the Mother saw Him die
And took Him when He died.
(He died! He died!)
"Seemly and undefiled
His burial-place was made --
Is it well, is it well with the child?
For I know not where he is laid."
On the dawning of Easter Day
Comes Mary Magdalene;
But the Stone was rolled away,
And the Body was not within --
(Within! Within!)
"Ah, who will answer my word?
The broken mother prayed.
"They have taken away my Lord,
And I know not where He is laid."
. . . . .
"The Star stands forth in Heaven.
The watchers watch in vain
For Sign of the Promise given
Of peace on Earth again --
(Again! Again!)
"But I know for Whom he fell" --
The steadfast mother smiled,
"Is it well with the child -- is it well?
It is well -- it is well with the child!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Prayer-song to Mother Mary
Queen of heaven and of earth,
She was virgin until birth
Of Lord Jesus, Son of God,
Through humbleness, faith and nod!
Hail Mary filled with God’s grace,
Raised above all men on earth;
You lived with a heavenly gaze,
Until assumed to God’s mirth.
Mother Mary, pray for us;
Get us divine forgiveness,
For the sins that we had done,
Crucifying Christ, your son!
Mother Mary, tell your son:
Keep the devils on the run;
Free our souls from every sin;
Against satan, help us win!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-17-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The poet some called him Eccentric
Hey! You asked my Religion very frequently
My Father is a Buddhist and Mother
A Baptized Protestant.
In my certificate of birth they registered me as a Buddhist.
But my religion is Humanism!
I am sure you all laugh and tell;
'There's no Religion by such a name in the World.'
Sorry, this may bitter for you,
When Adam eats the forbidden fruit
Eve's shy and covered her secret place with a Maple leaf?
And the invisible Gardener kept quiet.
That's called Humanism the oldest Religion!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Will This World End?
With this world so unstable friend, just how will this world end?
Although not God’s first desire, this world friend will end in fire.
God first desired fellowship when in His image He created men.
He even made Paradise friend, that for them would have no end.
However the fellowship went awry when that ancient serpent lied.
The serpent cunning lied to Eve and she and Adam fell deceived.
That dreaded sin brought a curse upon Adam, Eve and this earth.
Satan has been eternally cursed but man can experience new birth.
At God’s own appointed time Christ renewed God’s initial design.
And at the return of The Lord all things in Christ will be restored.
Even creation groans in expectation of The Creator’s Revelation.
And all things will be made new, all the earth and the heavens too.
The older things will pass away with Righteousness here to stay.
When with fire the earth is purged, it will remove Satan’s scourge.
But Satan who will be chained my friend will be loosed at the end.
Set free to deceive once more, but quickly cast away forevermore.
Because Satan was the father of lies he will face an eternal demise.
Since deception was his desire, he’ll be cast into The Lake of Fire.
Along with Satan, Sin and Death will be cast into The Fire’s depths.
Their smoke rises forevermore while The Kingdom of God endures.
(Copyright ©08/2004)
Henry and Woman Servicing
You don't want to go
With that kind of woman,
Henry's mother said.
What kind of woman
is that? Henry asked.
The kind that offer
themselves to men
who are not their
husbands, his mother
replied, sitting back
in the soft chair by
the fireplace, joining
her fingers, forming
what she used to call
her church. Henry watched
her church form of finger
forming, his eyes sliding
over his mother's dyed
hair, the grey streaks,
the nose, the thin red
painted lips. But isn't
that kind of women
providing a service?
Henry asked, walking
to the window, watching
his father mowing the
lawn, sweat on the brow,
the eyes dead looking.
Service? His mother said,
her tone icy, Service?
She repeated, that's not
service, Henry that's sin.
S.I.N. Henry raised his
eyebrows, there was in
the pocket of his pants,
a pack of fives, unused
as yet. Oh, Henry said,
Duncan Smold had this
woman in the back of
his car, he called it hard
smooching or some such
word. Henry's mother
eyed him closely, her eyes
narrowing. Then he sinned,
Henry, he sinned, she said,
pushing a hand through
her hair, her features going
red. Oh, right, Henry said,
I'll tell Duncan next time
he's in his car with some
woman in the back, that
he's sinning, Henry turned
away, he didn't want his
mother to see him grinning.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I owed it to my father that I was elected to Parliament in the first place, but I owed it to my mother that I stuck it out once I got there.
quote by Agnes Macphail
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
From The Autobiography Of A Famous Man 2
i was born in a cradle
made of gold
my father was the king of Tut
he married the princess of Tat
and the bore eleven children
all named Tat 1, Tat 2, Tat 3,
Tat 4 for the girls
and Tut 5, Tut 6, and so on
and so forth for the boys,
I was named Tut 8
King Tut thinks that I am a lucky child
being the 8th
everything in me goes up
but Queen Tat believes otherwise
like Tat 2 my name as Tat 8
sounds like a
bad toothache.
This is the story of
my birth.
(Proceed to the next Chapter
for the Story of my Childhood)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!