To A Nun
Please God, forsake your water and dry bread,
And fling the bitter cress you eat aside.
Put by your rosary. In Mary's name leave chanting creeds
To mildewing monks in Rome.
Spring's at work in gardens bright with sun,
Springtime's not made for living like a nun.
Your faith, my fairest lady, your religion,
Shows but a single face of love's medallion.
Slip on this ring and this green gown, these laces -
The wood is furnitured with resting places.
Hide in the birch tree's shade; upon your knees
Murmur the mass of cuckoos, litanies
Of spring's green foliage. There's no sacrilege
If we find heaven here against the hedge.
Remember Ovid's book and Ovid's truth -
There's such a thing as having too much faith.
Let us discover the shapes, the earthly signs,
Of our true selves, our souls, among the vines.
For surely God and all his saints above,
High in their other heaven, pardon love.
Related quotes
Child's Song in Spring
The Silver Birch is a dainty lady,
She wears a satin gown;
The elm tree makes the old churchyard shady,
She will not live in town.
The English oak is a sturdy fellow,
He gets his green coat late;
The willow is smart in a suit of yellow
While brown the beech trees wait.
Such a gay green gown God gives the larches-
As green as he is good!
The hazels hold up their arms for arches,
When spring rides through the wood.
The chestnut’s proud, and the lilac’s pretty,
The poplar’s gentle and tall,
But the plane tree’s kind to the poor dull city-
I love him best of all!
poem by Edith Nesbit

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Spring Song III
HERE'S the Spring-time, Sweet!
Earth's green gown is new,
Lambs begin to bleat,
Doves begin to coo,
Birds begin to woo
In the wood and lane;
Sweet, the tale is true
Spring is here again!
I have been discreet
All the winter through;
Now, before your feet,
Blossoms let me strew.
Flowers, as yet, are few;
Will my lady deign
Take this flower or two?
Spring is here again
Make the year complete,
Give the Spring her due!
All the flowers entreat,
All the song-birds sue.
'Twixt the green and blue
Let Love wake and reign,
Let me worship you--
Spring is here again!
poem by Edith Nesbit

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In some fields of grass under the hills (sestina)
This afternoon the peaks throw a big shade
with the black cliffs shining up on the hills,
while we lay together in the long grass,
I look in your eyes that are amber-green
while under my head there is a small stone
and you smile at me like the prettiest lady.
I had once known another charming lady;
that part of my life is now left in shade,
bad churchmen were casting stone upon stone,
while I had to flee from them to the hills
to pastures were everything is green
to find the Lord in divine fields of grass.
Under your head there is a crown of grass
and your mother is a gracious, kind lady,
around us everything is lovely green
while we are still resting in the cool shade,
we are softly chatting about life’s hills,
about walls of very hard granite stone.
Your eyes are much brighter than emerald stone
while all of your words are softer than grass,
reaching higher and beyond all the hills,
the high mountain which is dangerous lady,
while from our pain nothing gives any shade,
nowhere is a place of rest that is green.
Your summer dress is lovely, is bright green,
suddenly all our ails have turned to stone
I follow you further; see your small shade,
I am seen as one that woos any lady,
we walk past some flowers growing in grass,
climbing up higher into the foothills.
Bright streams are splashing down some of the hills,
with water transparent, sometimes cold and green,
love and lust burns like in a youthful lady
while I at that moment feel cold as stone,
we notice a deer feeding on lone grass
while our garments lie under a tree’s shade.
Far into the hills you want love till dusk’s shade,
where you peep like some green moss from the grass,
are tossing me with a stone like no lady.
poem by Gert Strydom

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A Visit to Qiantang Lake in Spring
Gushan temple north Jiating west
Water surface first flat cloud base low
Several places early orioles fight warm tree
Every house new swallows peck spring mud
Disordered flowers gradually almost confuse person eye
Light grass able hide horse hoof
Most love lake east go not enough
Green poplar shade in white sand causeway Gushan Temple is to the north, Jiating pavilion west,
The water's surface now is calm, the bottom of the clouds low.
In several places, the first orioles are fighting in warm trees,
By every house new swallows peck at spring mud.
Disordered flowers have grown almost enough to confuse the eye,
Bright grass is able now to hide the hooves of horses.
I most love the east of the lake, I cannot come often enough
Within the shade of green poplars on White Sand Embankment.
A Walk Down My Memory Lane
Remember...
The day we wed.
Remember...
How we snuggled in bed.
Remember...
Walking in the oceans' sand,
Remember...
I'm in a hostile land.
Remember...
The ring, you're first surprise.
Remember...
My happy, green eyes.
Remember...
How I used to smile.
Remember...
Its been a long trial.
Remember...
My devotion.
Remember...
All my emotion.
Remember...
Christmas and Thanksgiving.
Remember...
To be open and giving.
Remember...
Our old birch tree.
Remember...
Remember me!
Remember...
The hot tub bath.
Remember...
Walking on the forest path..
Remember...
Your wedding gown.
Remember...
The love we found.
Remember...
When the war has passed.
Remember...
Our love will forever last.
poem by Philip Lore

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The Beautiful Azalea
The beautiful azalea is a woody shrub that never grows into a tree
But the pink flowers on the azalea are so beautiful to see
In the cool to warm days of October when Spring is in the air
And beautiful Mother Nature flowers on her green cloak wear,
How lovely the azalea in the cool shade of the trees
In her mass of pinkish flowers gently stirring in the breeze
Such a thing of natural beauty for to beautify the Spring
In the nice days of October when the nesting song birds sing,
In her tiny leaves of light green and her mass of bright pink flowers
The azalea she is blooming in the sunshine and Spring showers
But time it keeps on ticking and the years go quickly by
And how many more Octobers will i live for to enjoy?
The sight of the beautiful azalea in her pink flowers in the shade
A thing of such rare beauty by Nature only made.
poem by Francis Duggan

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Hearts First Word. II
And all her soft dark hair
Breathed for him like a prayer,
And her white lost face
Was prisoned to sonie far place.
Love was not denied-
Love's ends would hide,
And Hower and fruit and tree
Were under its sea.
Yea, its abundance knelt
Where the nerves felt
The springs of feeling flow
And made pain grow !
There seemed no root or sky,
But a pent infinity
Where apparitions dim
Sculptured each whim
In dame and wandering mist
Of kisses to be kist.
LADY, YOU ARE MY GOD
Lady, you are my God-
Lady, you are my Heaven.
If I am your God
Labour for your Heaven.
Lady, you are my God,
And shall not love win Heaven ?
If love made me God
Deeds must win my Heaven.
If my love made you God,
What more can 1 for Heaven ?
poem by Isaac Rosenberg

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The Lives Of The Saints Ii
The lives of the saints are very good
Because the saints takes care of their health and Hygiene very well
The saints always changes their clothes everyday because they transpire Very fast in heaven due to the heat that is turned on in the Winter in heaven
Yes it gets very hot in heaven that sometimes they have to open the Windows just a bit so they can get some fresh air
And heaven is home to the saints
But the saints love living in heaven because there is no noise or violence
During the day the saints leaves heaven and come down to earth to Help in a food bank and they get paid for their work
poem by Aldo Kraas

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The Lives Of The Saints
The lives of the saints are very good
Because the saints takes care of their health and Hygiene very well
The saints always changes their clothes everyday because they transpire Very fast in heaven due to the heat that is turned on in the winter in Heaven
Yes it gets very hot in heaven that sometimes they have to open the Windows just a bit so they can get some fresh air
And heaven is home to the saints
But the saints love living in heaven because there is no noise or Violence
During the day the saints leaves heaven and come down to earth to Help in a food bunk and they get paid for their work
poem by Aldo Kraas

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Mary Mary Magdalene
Mary Mary Magdalene,
what do all those stories mean?
Mary, Mary, is it true,
Jesus had a thing for you?
Mary, Mary – He lay with you?
Mary, Mary, tell me true
Mary, Mary, red hair wild,
did He leave you great with child?
Mary, was your love so steady,
that you had had His kids already?
Mary, Mary, at the Cross,
did it feel a gain or loss?
Mary, Mary – on that third day,
what was it like with the stone rolled away?
Mary, Mary, running there with love,
what did you think when He rose above?
Mary, Mary – what was it like, after?
Were there tears or joyful laughter?
Mary, Mary – the kids you had –
did they turn out like their Dad?
Mary, Mary, whore redeemed,
did it work out like you dreamed?
Mary, Mary – your afterlife –
was it mostly love, or mostly strife?
Mary, Mary, were you worshipped or despised
As Mary’s daughter-in-law, Mrs. Christ?
Mary, Mary, did you stay,
or feel you had to take the kids away?
Mary, Mary, with so much love,
did you, too, rise to heaven above?
Mary, Mary, in the sky,
all we ask are the reasons why…
Mary, Mary Magdalene,
What is really true? What does it really mean?
poem by Michael Shepherd

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Every Single Thing
Verse 1:
I cant understand how I took it for granted
Your love when I had it meant the world to me
But I never told you guess I thought it would show through
Should have known youd grow teary from me
So before you leave give me a chance
Ill get down on my knees to win you back
Chorus:
Like a river flowing into the sea
You touch me so deep
Like the sun up in the sweet summer sky
Its your love that shines in my life
So if you dont know what you mean to me
Cant you see youve got me down on my knees
Youre my heaven and earth and every single thing in between
Oh, yeah
Verse 2:
Took me a while but Im done with denial
I swear now its final youre the one for me
I just want to hold you be the one you feel close to
Nothing I wont do to give you all that you need (all that you need)
Cause if you should go slip through my hands
Then dont you know you take all I have
Chorus:
Like a river flowing into the sea
You touch me so deep
Like the sun up in the sweet summer sky
Its your love that shines in my life
So if you dont know what you mean to me
Cant you see youve got me down on my knees
Youre my heaven and earth and every single thing in between
Bridge:
You gotta listen to me (youre my heaven)
Im begging you please (youre my heaven)
Baby cant you see you mean everything
Cause if you should go slip through my hands
Oh, then dont you know you take all I have, all I have
Oh, yeah
Chorus:
Like a river flowing into the sea
You touch me so deep
Like the sun up in the sweet summer sky
Its your love that shines in my life
So if you dont know what you mean to me (if you dont know what you mean)
Cant you see youve got me down on my knees (down on my knees)
Youre my heaven and earth and every single thing in between
Youre my heaven, heaven
Youre my heaven, heaven
Youre my heaven and every single thing in between
song performed by by Youngstown

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Le Testament: Ballade: ‘Item: Donne A Ma Povre Mere
Item
This I give to my poor mother
As a prayer now, to our Mistress
- She who bore bitter pain for me,
God knows, and also much sadness -
I've no other castle or fortress,
That my body and soul can summon,
When I'm faced with life's distress,
Nor has my mother, poor woman:
Ballade
‘Lady of Heaven, earthly queen,
Empress of the infernal regions,
Receive me, a humble Christian,
To live among the chosen ones,
Though I'm worth less than anyone.
Your grace, my Lady and Mistress
Is greater than my sinfulness,
Grace without which, I tell no lie,
None deserve their blessedness.
In this faith let me live and die.
Say to your Son that I am His.
Through Him all my sins are lost:
Forgive me, as Mary Egypt was,
Or, so they say, Theophilus,
Who by your grace was still blameless,
Though he vowed the Devil a guest.
Protect me always from like excess,
Virgin, who bore, without a cry,
Christ whom we celebrate at Mass.
In this faith let me live and die.
I am a woman, poor and old,
I can neither read nor spell.
At Mass in church, here, I behold,
A painted Heaven, with harps: a Hell,
Where the damned are boiled, as well.
One gives me joy: one strikes me cold,
Grant me the joy, Great Goddess,
On whom all sinners must rely,
Fill me with faith and no slackness.
In this faith let me live and die.
V irgin, you bore, O High Princess,
I ssue, whose kingdom is endless,
L ord, who took on a littleness
L ike ours: to save us left the sky,
O ffering his lovely youth to death.
N ow, such is our Lord: such we confess:
In this faith let me live and die.
poem by François Villon

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Truth
They fall through time as a leaf from a tree
Trees so green
Green as life, green as death, as the souls
Souls that are lost, lost forever
Forever in time forever in truth
Truth that shall not be spoken
Spoken by only those who know the truth
Truth that only they know, only they see
See through their eyes, listen through their ears
Ears that have heard the truth, that hold it in their hands
Hands so cold, so hard from truth from hope
Hope that they have lost
Lost as a shell in the sea, the sea of truth
Truth that flows in all of us, everyone
everyone who stands in the shower of faith
Faith that some have lost, some gain
Gain all the truth, hope, faith, love
Love that haunts, love that stays
Stays with us all, stays in our souls
Souls we shall loose, in the battle of time
Time that haunts us all
All who feel
Feel the pain, all who know
Know the truth
(just fel tlike trying a format that my friend said I should try. It has what ever word that a line ends with the next line starts with the same word. EX. you sit in the fire
Fure of truth so I dicided I would try it. hope you like)
poem by Bethany Maxwell

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L. e. l.
'Whose heart was breaking for a little love.'
Downstairs I laugh, I sport and jest with all;
But in my solitary room above
I turn my face in silence to the wall;
My heart is breaking for a little love.
Though winter frosts are done,
And birds pair every one,
And leaves peep out, for springtide is begun.
I feel no spring, while spring is wellnigh blown,
I find no nest, while nests are in the grove:
Woe's me for mine own heart that dwells alone,
My heart that breaketh for a little love.
While golden in the sun
Rivulets rise and run,
While lilies bud, for springtide is begun.
All love, are loved, save only I; their hearts
Beat warm with love and joy, beat full thereof:
They cannot guess, who play the pleasant parts,
My heart is breaking for a little love.
While beehives wake and whirr,
And rabbit thins his fur,
In living spring that sets the world astir.
I deck myself with skills and jewelry,
I plume myself like any mated dove:
They praise my rustling show, and never see
My heart is breaking for a little love.
While sprouts green lavender
With rosemary and myrrh,
For in quick spring the sap is all astir.
Perhaps some saints in glory guess the truth,
Perhaps some angels read it as they move,
And cry one to another full of ruth,
'Her heart is breaking for a little love.'
Though other things have birth,
And leap and sing for mirth,
When springtime wakes and clothes and feeds the earth.
Yet saith a saint: 'Take patience for thy scathe;'
Yet saith an angel: 'Wait, for thou shalt prove
True best is last, true life is born of death,
O thou, heart-broken for a little love.
Then love shall fill they girth,
And love make fat thy dearth,
When new spring builds new heaven and clean new earth.'
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti

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Ballad: Pope Benedict XVI in US,2008
The Apostle of peace had come:
Pope Benedict by name;
To US, where he was welcome,
With missionary aim.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
In doldrums lies, world of today;
Man’s faith in God is weak;
Most think that science has final say;
So, God, most men don’t seek.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
The family in danger lies;
Now love does not prevail;
As virtues are replaced by vice;
And freedom blows like gale.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
The quest for God is dying fast;
Rely men in own toil;
‘The mole is mound’- all sins of past!
Man’s soul is on the spoil.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
With fervent prayers, send your pleas,
To God who is above;
The caring God will surely ease
Your problems, with great love.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Encounter living God in life;
Blessings will follow then;
God cares for you in any strife;
Keep eyes upon Heaven.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Though holy is matrimony,
And sacrosanct is sex,
Man sins for sake of more money,
In ways that all can vex!
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Like love of God that radiates,
Let man’s heart do like-wise;
Let’s take the narrow road to Gates
Of Heaven; Be soul-wise!
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-23-2008
poem by John Celes

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Healing Through Poetry
The content of her book is very nice
And what she writes about she knows
She tells us of her struggles so well
Her love for God and His Son just flows
I am so glad that I got her book
Faith thru her book the soul uplifts
From my heart I recommend it to you
'Healing through Poetry' is a poetic gift
I really enjoyed reading this book so much
She surely shares some of her hopes and pain
Her poetry is a true tale of faith and love
Mary's healing thru Christ shows not in vain
Wonderful author gave me another perspective
Her love for her son shines all the way indeed
Poetry content can bring inspiration to all
For my part I'm happy that her book I've read
November 22,2009
Author's note: 'Healing Through Poetry.' This is Mary Ann Duhart's first poetry book.
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter

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Crisis
I look for you in winter’s light
but your face I cannot see.
In spring I found you hidden high
in the living green of the tallest tree.
But now in winter's still, grey sky
for you with aching heart I seek.
Where have you gone? Oh, show me your face
and rescue me from my barren faith.
poem by Steven Federle

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Adjustment
The tree of Faith its bare, dry boughs must shed
That nearer heaven the living ones may climb;
The false must fail, though from our shores of time
The old lament be heard, 'Great Pan is dead!'
That wail is Error's, from his high place hurled;
This sharp recoil is Evil undertrod;
Our time's unrest, an angel sent of God
Troubling with life the waters of the world.
Even as they list the winds of the Spirit blow
To turn or break our century-rusted vanes;
Sands shift and waste; the rock alone remains
Where, led of Heaven, the strong tides come and go,
And storm-clouds, rent by thunderbolt and wind,
Leave, free of mist, the permanent stars behind.
Therefore I trust, although to outward sense
Both true and false seem shaken; I will hold
With newer light my reverence for the old,
And calmly wait the births of Providence.
No gain is lost; the clear-eyed saints look down
Untroubled on the wreck of schemes and creeds;
Love yet remains, its rosary of good deeds
Counting in task-field and o'erpeopled town;
Truth has charmed life; the Inward Word survives,
And, day by day, its revelation brings;
Faith, hope, and charity, whatsoever things
Which cannot be shaken, stand. Still holy lives
Reveal the Christ of whom the letter told,
And the new gospel verifies the old.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier

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Are They Really Brothers?
Can we call someone brother, who believes and follows another,
A different Gospel opposed to us, who believe, alone in Jesus?
Some lift up the image of man, while they follow a religious plan,
Portraying Christ on the cross, even after His victory for the lost.
Shouldn’t we help them to see, He’s no longer dying on Calvary?
But, Christ rose from the dead, and reigns on His Throne instead.
Shouldn’t we bring men to faith, through God’s unmerited Grace?
Trust in Christ’s work on the cross, without all that religious dross.
Some even believe in ritual prayer, to saints who aren’t even there,
At the place in which they intercede, for that believer’s every need.
Shouldn’t we help them understand, we are God’s Saints at hand?
That very moment we truly believe, and The Holy Spirit we receive.
What if they haven’t truly believed, then leave this earth deceived?
There’s no place called Purgatory, to suffer before going to Glory.
Apart from Christ, they will not see, that Glory of Heaven eternally,
So we must move them in love, toward the only Truth from above.
Christ Himself will say to many, even all, who knew religion plenty,
“Depart from me”, for He never knew, any whose faith wasn’t True,
Man’s religion thoroughly equips, men for profession with the lips,
But, without true faith in one’s heart, one will not enter, only depart.
(Copyright ©08/2009)
Life's Grandest Things
What is the greatest work of all?
The work that comes every day;
The work that waits us on ev'ry hand
Is work that, for us, is truly grand,
And the love of work is our pay.
What is the highest life of all?
It is living, day by day,
True to ourselves and true to the right,
Living the truth from dawn till the night,
And the love of truth for our pay.
What is the grandest thing of all-
Is it winning Heaven some day?
No, and a thousand times say no;
'Tis making this old world thrill and glow
With the sun of love till each shall know
Something of Heaven here below,
And God's well done for our pay.
poem by Jean Blewett

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