En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Agony

Ever wonder how He felt?
Praying in the garden
His students asleep
Could not watch for an hour
He knew He had to die
Even if it's just for me
He would be scourged
He would sweat blood
Even if it's just for me
Agony!

There He was, fixed
Nails in hands and feet
For a moment
Abandoned by God
Agony!

They pierced Him
Blood and water gushed
Mom at His feet
Brothers vanquished
Head bowed
Breathed His last
How He felt?
Think you have it hard?
Think about Him
Agony!

He was wrapped
Buried and left
Thought it was the end?
Not so fast!
Three days later
He got up
Just like that
Now He reigns victorious

Today knees bow
Eyes close
Agony?

poem by Buxton Shippy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Prayer of a Soldier in France

1 My shoulders ache beneath my pack
2 (Lie easier, Cross, upon His back).

3 I march with feet that burn and smart
4 (Tread, Holy Feet, upon my heart).

5 Men shout at me who may not speak
6 (They scourged Thy back and smote Thy cheek).

7 I may not lift a hand to clear
8 My eyes of salty drops that sear.

9 (Then shall my fickle soul forget
10 Thy agony of Bloody Sweat?)

11 My rifle hand is stiff and numb
12 (From Thy pierced palm red rivers come).

13 Lord, Thou didst suffer more for me
14 Than all the hosts of land and sea.

15 So let me render back again
16 This millionth of Thy gift. Amen.

poem by Joyce Kilmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Who's Next?

with every swing of the hammer
that drove the nails,
into His feet, into His hands,
He felt...

the hunger of starving children,
the pain of those sick,
the lost agony of the homeless,
the shame of the beaten...

the repentence of the fallen,
the last hope of the downtrodden.
the dignity of the poor,
the torment of those in chains...

take Him off of that cross!
it's our turn to be human.
time to be who we are,
or to be nothing at all...

who's next?

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Agony Of Waiting

the agony in the garden of Gethsemane
the sweat turning to blood
Jesus asking for the will of God

this waiting has been dragging
judgment suspended, i am sleeping.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Escape Mechanism

I was in pain, in agony
and saw no way to gain relief.
Then all at once I seemed to be
beside myself quite literally.

Some how I had escaped my pain
just left my agony behind
so I was comfortable again.
I thought at first I was insane.

And yet I knew I was still me
but by some magic of my mind.
I had escaped I’d struggled free.
Although it felt quite strange to see.

My body sitting in my chair.
To see myself from the outside.
As though I was both here and there.
I found it rather hard to bear.

I wondered then if I had died
and that was how I came to be
Observing myself from outside
I understood I must decide

I had a choice to be pain free
and leave the life I knew behind.
I chose somewhat reluctantly
and I returned immediately.

Back to the inside looking out
I don’t pretend to understand
what happened but I have no doubt.
Although I rarely talk about.

The day I found that I could be
in two places at one time.
Experience simultaneously
to be pain wracked and be pain free.

I sometimes voluntarliy
decide to take a holiday
from aches and pains which distress me.
Be pain free temporarily.

All men must die and so will I,
I do not let it worry me.
But until then I can but try
to bear my suffering patiently.

When it gets to much to bear
I close my eyes and I escape
to somewhere else I‘m not sure where
nor do I think I really care.

1-Oct-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Burning Ashes

Of tears and the sweat in the day of agony,
A virtuous woman is not easy to come by;
Like our legs to war without a clue.
What was that all about?
Of an immunity but not impunity,
Of an impresssive but not impassive,
Like two from a country to uncover where the gods spew fire!
Of their mysteries,
One from a tribe;
Who? Why? What? Where? When? Whom? Whose?
To name the country of this child like,
Our tears and sweat in the day of agony;
Like the clouds of burning ashes.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Agony

Am I gonna be alright?
No, I'm not gonna be alright
nothin' is alright now
am i gonna see the sun come up?
or am i goin' down?
'cause everyday i'm here
all i feel is sheer
agony
Friends tellin' me
that maybe i need
some pychiatric help
yeah, they're always so quick to tell you
just how to get on with it
I look into the mirror
and all i see is ancient fear
and agony
If i could just remember what it was like
when i was younger
oh, the joy and happiness
replaced with hunger
and all i've got to show
for the seeds that didn't grow
is agony

song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

I Had A Dream...

I had a dream
A vivid scene
My funeral
A beautiful white chapel
candles burning
silence...
Ave Maria started playing
I saw my family
saw their agony
But my eyes were drawn to your face
your haggard look
your fall from grace
And I knew you wished you had told me
wished for once that you could hold me
save yourself the agony
of growing old in misery
I woke up crying and thought of you
and how this love story
would never come true...

poem by Chantelle Ribeiro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Can There Be A Title?

we laugh
we weep
strangers to ourselves

in the puddle
wearing a garland of hope
a crown of thorns

a moment of agony
unfathomable
the depth of destiny

refuge in one another's agony!
a saga of suffering
a smile thrown here and there

ah, in installments
drain traces of life!

poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Reminisced As Gifts

Constant was that pain grimaced,
In those loved faces missed...
I knew.

So close to them I cherished each moment.
Even down to the seconds,
When death took them away.
To leave me numb and staring.
With emotions drifting...
Out of touch.
Taken away...
By those I loved so much.

And agony did stay with me for a while.
Until one day I felt them all,
Smiling.
And I knew then,
It was okay for me to do the same.
As I keep them reminisced,
As gifts.
From a sharing treasured!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Crucifixion [The Light of The World]

They sunk a post into the ground
Where their leaders bade them stop;
It was a man’s height, and they spiked
A crosspiece to the top.
They bound it well with thongs of hide,
To make it firm and good;
Then roughly, with His back to this,
Their enemy they stood.
They held His hands upon the piece,
And they spiked them to the wood.
They mocked Him then—the while He rocked
In agony His head—
With things that He had never done,
And He had never said—
With that which He had never been—
And in His face they spat.
They placed a plank beside the post,
And they spiked His feet to that.

They pelted Him, but not with stones,
Lest He should die too soon;
They stayed to mock His agony
All through the blazing noon.
They did not pelt with stones, lest they
Might kill Him unaware,
But with foul things that lay about
The filthy hovels there.

And this was how they murdered Him
They killed Him in his youth
Because He had been good to men,
Because He told the truth,
Because they did not understand
The things He felt and knew:
He only said the world-old words,
“They know not what they do.”

The flaunting harlots taunted Him;
He only bowed His head,
And prayed for public women then,
While “Save Thyself!” they said.
They went with soldiers to the camp,
And the rest went by-and-bye,
When they were weary of the sport—
And they left Him there to die.

He lingered yet, for He was strong,
But He shut His blighted eyes,
And shuddered oft, for round Him swarmed
The loathsome desert flies.
His throat was parched, His temples throbbed,
And when He drooped, the pain
That shot from all His wounds tenfold
Would draw Him up again.

Two thieves were nailed beside Him there—
They raved, their wounds they tore,
And though they both were stronger men,
They seemed to suffer more;
And while with agony great beads
Of sweat stood on His brow,
He’d comfort them in words like these:
“’Twill soon be ended now.”

His friends had all deserted Him—
They fled in deadly fear
(As friends desert a friend to-day,
Afraid of jibe and sneer):
The same poor human nature now,
As it has ever been—
Small credit to be crucified
Beside a Nazarene.

But when the people in the town
And the drunken soldiers slept,
From some mean huts that stood hard by
Three wretched women crept;
Like thieves, across the stony ground,
They came with stealthy tread,
And they had water in a gourd—
But they found that He was dead.

They brought some still more wretched men,
And O their hearts were good:
In terror, and with pains, they wrenched
The strong spikes from the wood;
They washed His body hurriedly,
For they had lives to save,
And they bore it off and hid it well,
Where none might find his grave.

His name is known where’er the foot
Of Christian man has trod.
They worship in cathedrals now,
They call Him Son of God.
They ask for aid in His dear name
When they suffer care and pain,
And if He came on earth to-day,
They’d murder Him again.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

O Father

Thus, upon the ground did my body walk
and across the lands did it roam and talk
but O father of my tearing eyes tell me now
what happened to the earth and my old folk

Did my heart astray alone in the darkest way
or did my humble soul denied to remain and stay
but O father of my crying heart tell me then
what happened to the earth and the old way

I see as if my eyes got dropped down on the cheek
or it may be like my sorrows and agony reaching a peak
but O father of my broken back in the dusty past
what happened to the earth that I used to seek

By my own hands my blood did I share freely
in the tubs of wisdom in the rage of the daily
but O father where did my blood now astray
what happened to the earth of the lovely

O father my body got the agony now and then
and my soul tired of roaming and the time is when
O father the time is here and it came to me
where I can raise up and roar outside the den

O father, who was my father through in time
how I wonder what you are and how am I
but O father no time is left to say no time
verily, that's my tomb here, and then I, to goodbye

poem by Taher Shemaly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Lust

How should I know? The enormous wheels of will
Drove me cold-eyed on tired and sleepless feet.
Night was void arms and you a phantom still,
And day your far light swaying down the street.
As never fool for love, I starved for you;
My throat was dry and my eyes hot to see.
Your mouth so lying was most heaven in view,
And your remembered smell most agony.

Love wakens love! I felt your hot wrist shiver
And suddenly the mad victory I planned
Flashed real, in your burning bending head. . . .
My conqueror's blood was cool as a deep river
In shadow; and my heart beneath your hand
Quieter than a dead man on a bed.

poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!

Libido

How should I know? The enormous wheels of will
Drove me cold-eyed on tired and sleepless feet.
Night was void arms and you a phantom still,
And day your far light swaying down the street.
As never fool for love, I starved for you;
My throat was dry and my eyes hot to see.
Your mouth so lying was most heaven in view,
And your remembered smell most agony.

Love wakens love! I felt your hot wrist shiver
And suddenly the mad victory I planned
Flashed real, in your burning bending head. . . .
My conqueror's blood was cool as a deep river
In shadow; and my heart beneath your hand
Quieter than a dead man on a bed.

poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Agony Of The Long Waiting

i understand fully well
what is this agony of waiting

i'd been there
six months, and some false alarms
there were rumors
and bad news

i waited for the good news
it did not come
what arrived was something unbearable
father hid the knife
and mother asked me to listen to her

i know the agony of waiting
i know the pain of arrivals (and departures too)

i was once there
and no amount of comfort was enough
neither balm nor herb
neither drug nor injection
no amount of psychiatric treatment did cure

yet i survive
i am still here with you
silent and strong

it is our agony
and we understand.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Only Wish

My pulse races, beating through my ears
My blood gathers in a divot beside me
My screams echo through the night

My agony pierces every part of me
My arms hang limp at my sides
My tears run in rivulets down my cheeks

My muscles shake in fatigue
My adrenaline sends my system into shock
My laboured breathing slows

My screams turn into hoarse whispers
My blood congeals as time passes
My heavy heart slows down

Time seems nonexistent
Memories no longer there
Thought is erased from my mind

I see a shadow coming towards me
I feel my body being carefully lifted
I know this is the end

My breathing stops
My heart stops
My whispers stop

My blood is gone
My adrenaline is gone
My agony is gone

My only wish was for it to end
My only wish was for no pain
My only wish was granted

poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

In Evil Long I Took Delight

In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopped my wild career.

I saw One hanging on a tree,
In agony and blood,
Who fixed His languid eyes on me,
As near His cross I stood.

Sure, never to my latest breath,
Can I forget that look;
It seemed to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke.

My conscience felt and owned the guilt,
And plunged me in despair,
I saw my sins His blood had spilt,
And helped to nail Him there.

A second look He gave, which said,
“I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid;
I die that thou mayst live.”

Thus, while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,
Such is the mystery of grace,
It seals my pardon too.

With pleasing grief and mournful joy,
My spirit now is fill'd,
That I should such a life destroy,
Yet live by Him I kill'd.

poem by John Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Gangrene

So often in the mid of night
I wake me in my bed
With utter panic of affright
To find my feet are dead;
And pace the floor to easy my pain
And make them live again.

The folks at home are so discreet;
They see me walk and walk
To keep the blood-flow in my feet,
And though they never talk
I've heard them whisper: 'Mother may
Have them cut off some day.'

Cut off my feet! I'd rather die . . .
And yet the years of pain,
When in the darkness I will lie
And pray to God in vain,
Thinking in agony: Oh why
Can doctors not annul our breath
In honourable death?

poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Reckoning

(Chorus)
Destiny spawned us, it's the reckoning
This time it's our blood, don't tread on me
Revenge is not justice, it's the reckoning
This time it's our blood, yeah don't tread on me
You went too far this time, for this heinous crime
You will know defeat, begging on your knees
One by one you'll fall, your back against the wall
Nowhere to turn, your sure to burn
(Chorus)
Destiny spawned us, it's the reckoning
This time it's our blood, don't tread on me
The hours close at hand, I'll make my final stand
Justice shall be done, nowhere to run
True evil grows in you, you're just a brainwashed fool
The coward close that hides, spewing forth his lies
(Chorus)
Revenge is not justice, it's the reckoning
This time it's our blood, yeah don't tread on me
Born of destruction, bred in agony
Is this my salvation?
From these ashes of your devastation
If it was up to me, eye for an eye I say
With a hammer we will take, Lady Justice is asleep
The Judgement has been made, in blood it shall be paid
Death knows what to do, the horseman comes for you.
(Chorus)
Destiny spawned us, it's the reckoning
This time it's our blood, don't tread on me
Revenge is not justice, it's the reckoning
This time it's our blood, yeah don't tread on me

song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

True

one of Lorca's best lines
is,
"agony, always
agony ..."

poem by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Her Lovers Play.

Beatles tunes
And deep maroons
Swirl in my head.
As dancers
Under crescent moon
Twirl round my bed.
As symphony
In a sky blood red,
Starts to play.
And
As I am asking why
Stars just look the other way.
Teardrops
Never dry
Until sun is born.
And love
Will never die
But float alone
Forlorn.
She took a lancet
To my soul.
At first
I felt no pain.
Now waves of agony roll.
Her lovers play,
In which I lived a role
Faded.
With midnight train.
And now I lay
Within this room
A new today.
Another flower to bloom.
Another lovers play.

poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!