Downward, Through The Blooming Roofage
Downward, through the blooming roofage
Of a lonely forest bower,
Come the yellow sunbeams,—falling
Like a burning shower:
So through heaven’s starry ceiling
To the hermit soul’s abode,
Comes the Holy Spirit,—earthward
Raying down from God.
poem by Charles Harpur
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Related quotes
To
“Who would not be a poet?” thus I read
In thy proud sonnet, my poetic friend;
And unto this my full assent was given:
“There is not, cannot be, under all heaven,
Aught happier in itself than the witch, poetry.”
But “Who’d not be a poet?” here I pause
Forebodingly, my poet-friend,—because
“To see all beauty with his gifted sight,”
To love, like him, with all the soul,
To be, when life is morning-bright
The very creature of delight,—
Delight beyond control,—
Is still to be, in like degree,
Too sensible of misery
And loss and slight, and all the weeping shapes of dole.
And this is truth too, that with saddened heart
Oft must he from his fellows live apart;
For how can men whose every breath of life
Is drawn in the hot air, and mid the strife
Of pettiest interest, have a kindred heart
With him who hath built heavenward and apart
The structures of his mind, and looking thence
Over this world-thronged universe immense,
Is wont all such embroilments to deplore
As light-obscuring vapours—nothing more?
What ladder of experience can they build,
To mount with—up, into a nature filled
With beauty, or by mighty truths inspired,
Or one even with a bold ambition fired?
But least of all in such men can there be
Devotions chiming into sympathy
With some pure soul, unsuccoured and alone,
Struggled in weariness unwearied on—
Unwearied, day and night, and night and day,
Towards the far Mecca of its faith always.
Yet thus the poet, armed only with the right,
To life’s dishonest battle oft must come,
To front instead of valour, mean despite,
With envy aye in emulation’s room,
Blotting heaven’s sacred light!
To see unblushing fortune’s minions doom
To obloguy, through some repute unholy,
Or to some vile and miserable estate,
All such as would not trample on the lowly,
And basely glorify the falsely great.
Yet if a thought like this
Should mar at times they tuneful bliss,
Stronger within thine earnest will
Be the spirit of sone, that still
Thou mayest sing of eloquent eyes
That are of sunny thoughts the every sunny skies;
Sweet dreams that swarm round honeyed lips,
Like honey-loving bees;
Glad birds, fresh flowers, clear streams, and trees
All starry bright with golden pips;
Or with a loud bold chime,
Sing of that braver time,
When world-wide justice from her Alpine chair
Shall read at length in the rich reddening skies
The gospel of her advent, and declare
The sacred sign of her epiphany there,
Amid the purple dyes;
While all true men, the bravely wise,
Shall seek her there with fearless feet and free
Where the prophet-peaks arise
Out of the shattering mist, the phantom sea
Of old iniquity!
Through dense and rare, shall seek her there,
Breathing with lion-lungs the clear keen mountain air
Of a supreme up-climbing, God-great liberty.
Then envy not the splendid wretchedness
Of Mammon’s dupes! Sing thy great rhymes
For those diviner spiritual times
Our country yet shall know, and, wisely knowing, bless.
Downward, through the blooming roofage
Of a lonely forest bower,
Come the yellow sunbeams,—falling
Like a burning shower:
So through heaven’s starry ceiling
To the hermit soul’s abode,
Comes the Holy Spirit,—earthward
Raying down from God.
poem by Charles Harpur
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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‘O Holy Spirit’ Prayer
O Holy Spirit, dwell in me,
And drive away the evil ones,
So that I’m freed from temptations,
And concentrate on work for God.
O Holy Spirit, be my guide,
All through my earthly life till death,
And fill my soul with grace enough,
That I don’t veer from righteousness.
O Holy Spirit, protect me,
From foes that plan my destruction,
And block my progress, here on earth,
And make my mind crestfallen fast.
O Holy Spirit, watch o’er me,
All night and day and when I’m ill,
And make my heart and mind steadfast,
So that, I tread the road to God.
O Holy Spirit, inspire me
To follow conscience without fail,
In matters that can confuse minds,
Despite my knowledge and wisdom.
O Holy Spirit, be with me,
Consoling when grief springs surprise,
And when my mind is much disturbed,
And drives me to sin’s ravines deep.
O Holy Spirit, be my strength,
In everything I do for God,
And earn my heaven, while on earth,
And fetch more souls for God’s abode.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-1-2009
poem by John Celes
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Travel Song
‘COME, before the summer passes
Let us seek the mountain land:’
So they called me, happy playmates,
And we left the dawn-lit strand:
Riding on till later sunbeams slanted
On dark hills and downward-plunging streams,
And the solemn forest softly chanted
Old, old dreams.
From the pass, we saw in glory
Wave on purple wave unrolled
To the cloud-encircled summit
Floating high, alone and cold:
Like that altar-stone, by men of Athens
Dedicated to the unknown God;
Waiting for some fire to touch his holy
White abode.
Then the mellow sunset dying
Passed in rosy fire away,
And the stars and planets journeyed
On their ancient unknown way.
Riders of the illimitable heaven!
Moving on so far beyond our ken,
Do ye scorn the toiling, heavy-hearted
Sons of men?
Ere we slept we heard the torrents
Rushing from that mighty hill
Join in deep melodious singing,
While the forest-land was still.
Music of forgotten wildernesses!
Would that I could hear that song again!
Song of primal Earth’s enchanted sweetness,
Joy and pain.
poem by Anne Glenny Wilson
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The Flower of Liberty
WHAT flower is this that greets the morn,
Its hues from Heaven so freshly born?
With burning star and flaming band
It kindles all the sunset land:
Oh tell us what its name may be,--
Is this the Flower of Liberty?
It is the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!
In savage Nature's far abode
Its tender seed our fathers sowed;
The storm-winds rocked its swelling bud,
Its opening leaves were streaked with blood,
Till lo! earth's tyrants shook to see
The full-blown Flower of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!
Behold its streaming rays unite,
One mingling flood of braided light,--
The red that fires the Southern rose,
With spotless white from Northern snows,
And, spangled o'er its azure, see
The sister Stars of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!
The blades of heroes fence it round,
Where'er it springs is holy ground;
From tower and dome its glories spread;
It waves where lonely sentries tread;
It makes the land as ocean free,
And plants an empire on the sea!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!
Thy sacred leaves, fair Freedom's flower,
Shall ever float on dome and tower,
To all their heavenly colors true,
In blackening frost or crimson dew,--
And God love us as we love thee,
Thrice holy Flower of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry FLOWER OF LIBERTY!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Spring's Bower
Spring’s Bower
Ah! Woe is me the veil I see
The veil of death hangs lower.
And e’re my spirit passes from me
I will see again Spring’s Bower.
Awaiting death must stay his hand
For my life has one more hour.
And tho’ I close my eyes this day
I will again see Spring’s Bower.
“Tis tho’ my life were but a thread
Of what life had to shower.
There is still just time before I’m dead,
Time enough to see Spring’s Bower
Take me I pray to the window seat,
Clutch to thy breast the flower
Which I plucked when last we did meet,
'Neath our beautiful Spring Bower.
poem by Robert Harrison
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Beautiful(An Indians Thank You)
She was'nt Native American
but she was one true to the heart
loving all things
the only way she knew how she can
she has a soul that would shine
beautiful as a dandelion
in a field of dreams
flooting in a smoke of clouds
beautiful as all life that flourish
warmed by a summer's kiss
Standing in shadow's of lonely crowds
the Great Spirit walked beside her
there by her side they walked together
guided by the Holy Light
she lite the burning sun
that burned in the sky
she was the color's of every rainbow
blessed like the star's at night
Gentle as a Butterfly
becoming one with the beauty of nature
becoming one with Mother Earth
God guided her since birth
She has a Spirit of the Eagle
like Angel's, she spreads her wing's
soaring high in the heaven's
like a Eagle she would fly
beautiful word's like a bird that sing's
sweeter than a sound of a chime
blowing in the wind
pure as a desert flower that grow's again
Yeah, she's as beautiful
as the moon shining when it's full
keeping peace from falling apart
beautiful as a river that flow's
like The Holy Ghost
that cover's you when it snow's
She roam's free forever more
glittering like the sand
on a ocean shore
beautiful as a pedal
falling from her hand
silent as a willow weeping
like Lion's laying and sleeping
(spiritwind-2009)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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A Nice Idea To Begin The Year With...
it is a nice idea to hear from you that
you are lonely, , , , tonight, i added, , ,
what is nicer than that
is that you start to think if you
will start writing a poem.....tonight, i always add that,
it is indeed nice to know that somewhere
far away from me
another lonely soul is planting some seeds in that garden of
the spirit
that somehow, sometime, more flowers will be blooming there
away from me, away from everyone
and that a soul, begins to sing a very lonely song....
tonight, and it is, as i expect that always to be...
so beautiful...so so beautiful.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Indian Girl's Lament
An Indian girl was sitting where
Her lover, slain in battle, slept;
Her maiden veil, her own black hair,
Came down o'er eyes that wept;
And wildly, in her woodland tongue,
This sad and simple lay she sung:
'I've pulled away the shrubs that grew
Too close above thy sleeping head,
And broke the forest boughs that threw
Their shadows o'er thy bed,
That, shining from the sweet south-west,
The sunbeams might rejoice thy rest.
'It was a weary, weary road
That led thee to the pleasant coast,
Where thou, in his serene abode,
Hast met thy father's ghost:
Where everlasting autumn lies
On yellow woods and sunny skies.
'Twas I the broidered mocsen made,
That shod thee for that distant land;
'Twas I thy bow and arrows laid
Beside thy still cold hand;
Thy bow in many a battle bent,
Thy arrows never vainly sent.
'With wampum belts I crossed thy breast,
And wrapped thee in the bison's hide,
And laid the food that pleased thee best,
In plenty, by thy side,
And decked thee bravely, as became
A warrior of illustrious name.
'Thou'rt happy now, for thou hast passed
The long dark journey of the grave,
And in the land of light, at last,
Hast joined the good and brave;
Amid the flushed and balmy air,
The bravest and the loveliest there.
'Yet, oft to thine own Indian maid
Even there thy thoughts will earthward stray,--
To her who sits where thou wert laid,
And weeps the hours away,
Yet almost can her grief forget,
To think that thou dost love her yet.
'And thou, by one of those still lakes
That in a shining cluster lie,
On which the south wind scarcely breaks
The image of the sky,
A bower for thee and me hast made
Beneath the many-coloured shade.
'And thou dost wait and watch to meet
My spirit sent to join the blessed,
And, wondering what detains my feet
From the bright land of rest,
Dost seem, in every sound, to hear
The rustling of my footsteps near.'
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Come on
Come on give me those cherry lips blooming
I'm cast in your dice
I'm cast to your side
And pray to my Lord
In winter's abode
My love for you
In hearth to abide
No past no future just a gift of present
Beautiful beautiful present from above
Cherry lips blooming in a cup of your love
In winter's freezing white washed desert
Your heart burning around my hearth
A gift from heaven winter joy and mirth
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Hermit Thrush
O wonderful! How liquid clear
The molten gold of that ethereal tone,
Floating and falling through the wood alone,
A hermit-hymn poured out for God to hear!
0 holy, holy, holy! Hyaline,
Long light, low light, glory of eventide!
Love far away, far up. -- up, -- love divine!
Little love, too, for ever, ever, near,
Warm love, earth love, tender love of mine,
In the leafy dark where you hide,
You are mine, -- mine, -- mine!
Ah, my belovèd, do you feel with me
The hidden virtue of that melody,
The rapture and the purity of love,
The heavenly joy that can not find the word?
Then, while we wait again to hear the bird,
Come very near to me, and do not move, --
Now, hermit of the woodland, fill anew
The cool, green cup of air with harmony,
And we will drink the wine of love with you.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Little Yellow Butterfly
Oh, liitle yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in
and let your shadow
fill the empty wall
as I watch closely
till I fall asleep.
Oh, little yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in
and change the color of my life
with your tiny yellow wings.
Oh, little yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in
I have prepared flowers for you
so you can stay with me
without being lonely.
Oh, little yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Your Potential
your potential is coming up six more seasons after now
but it won't be blooming without going through seasons
of rain falling, madly hot summer and insanely cold snowy days
you don't know your heart will haunt on the edge of cliff along the coastal line
probably you will feel lonely not having guts to vanish away
you will decide to go home
you will take a shower and go to the closet, opening the drawer
from there is a butterfly you will see
an inspirational new day will start again
Some Kinda Love
Written by al hodge, leslie duncan & tony cox
They set the wheels in motion adam and eve
The beginning of romance
He was a lonely man I do believe
So he thought hed take a chance
I know just how he was feeling
Hed been advised not to fall
But when his senses were reeling
That man he wanted it all
Honey this is some kinda love
You are my sweet temptation
Honey this is some kinda some kinda love
Like a moth to a flame all you gotta do is call my name
Ill come running to you
I was a lonely man until you came
Life was black life was blue
Without a word being spoken
I saw you then I knew
Now my defences are broken
Theres not a thing I can do
Honey this is some kinda love
You are my sweet temptation
Honey this is some kinda some kinda love oh baby
Honey this is some kinda love
Were just one step from heaven
Honey this is some kinda some kinda love
Oh girl theres a fire in my soul
Im just burning for you
Oh girl Im out of control
Tell me can you feel it too
Im burning up Im burning up
Theres a fire in my soul
Im burning up Im burning up
For you
Honey this is some kinda love
You are my sweet temptation
Honey this is some kinda some kinda love
Honey this is some kinda love
Were just one step from heaven
Honey this is some kinda some kinda love
Repeat
song performed by by Rick Astley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alankar (Decor) -11
Symbol-Temple
He makes His abode
Huge much His size
The size of cosmos
Sized full His size
That room is small
But His holy house
He makes His abode
But full His size
Dim, dumb, mute occult
Lit hearts light Him
Leaning on a measure
He sleeps wide awake
Lonely boons line lot
Like Kupera for myself
My soul's hunting quest
VaiththaMaaNidhi peeks
(On a visit to Thirukoloor
one of the 108 Vishnu-shrines)
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Two Hermits
Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.
Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.
One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, 'It is long that we have
lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide
our possessions.'
Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, 'It grieves
me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs
go, so be it,' and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him
saying, 'We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine.'
Then the older hermit said, 'Charity I will not accept. I will
take nothing but mine own. It must be divided.'
And the younger one said, 'If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast
a lot.'
But the older hermit said again, 'I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The
bowl must be divided.'
Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, 'If
it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us
now break the bowl.'
But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, 'O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight.'
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Laid me to rest and take me in your Hands
let the sacred soul return, the spirit that tired from a
bounded journey and nestle in the acumen of fresh
hyacinth of angels home, the endless paradise of the
seven heaven glows of avenue with the ONE
laid, my holy body in the engrave stone and shower
with a drops of the sacred fume of incense; with
the harmony of notes in the altar park to stand, glow
and wind the candle chandelier, with the angel's
choir in every ladder i step in the garrison of soul,
where I come from
let me speak of the language of the angel, and seat
a side with the judge as i remain calm, silent me in
the midst and wait till, the sun will lead me to rest,
touch me dear Holy One, for my aching soul fall me
down, leaving my wounded spirit to lay my head in
the soil, for i forever return
rise me at the end of the day; a second, a minute, an
hour, is just a longing to see, tears dropp wouldn't
hold me to be in the heaven i permanent stay, melted
candle and scented silent prayer will only appease
your mercy in me, may the grace and mercy pity my
poor soul for the judgment will always be with me
live no regret; humble your heart and leaving no
souls stray; pure every moment with your love one
and take each day that seems you leave with nobody
want you to be free
be ready and leave with full of joy and happiness in
your heart........its everybody's Journey...
poem by Antonio Liao
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Two Distant Worlds
who does not like to put some
yellow daisies on your black glossy hair?
you become so beautiful with a chain of yellow
daisies in your hair
where i can possibly touch them and caress them
and how would you know that this is more than just putting a chain of
daisies in your black hair?
you shall never know and that is good enough for me
for i am the simplest man that puts those chain of yellow daisies in your hair
no prince charming for you, nothing special
just another common friend putting those usual yellow daisies in your hair
when our hands touch by accident
how would you know that i have become a forest burning?
this burning fire that is softly killing me
how would you know? your world is open and mine is closed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Soul-care Prayer!
Release my soul from devils’ grip, O Lord!
And give me peace and health of mind and heart;
Remove diseases of my body fast,
O Holy Spirit, come and dwell in me!
Restore my piety and love of Thee,
And free me from all temptations henceforth;
Remind me of thy love and forgiveness,
And let me live for Thee in servitude.
Rebuke me Lord when I dare go astray;
But take my earthly burdens and my woes;
Renew my soul with constant grace, O God,
I want to walk with Thee eternally!
God, guide my purified soul to Heaven-
Abode of holiness from whence it came;
Give me no chance to tarnish soul again,
Shepherd me Lord, though I be your lost sheep!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-15-2006
poem by John Celes
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Art Encompassed
Michelangelo carved poetry
into purest marble
painted it across ceiling
of adorned Sistine Chapel.
Leonardo Da Vinci
cunningly imprisoned it
within magnetic eyes
of portrait Mona Lisa.
Vincent Van Gogh ground pigment
mixed fresco artistic paint
then splashed poetry upon heaven’s
eternal Starry Starry Night.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Expected Change
Only God above changes hearts; The One behind as one departs,
From a life that is filled with in sin, when God’s Spirit, lives within,
But, many have only a head belief, and from sin there is no relief,
From their present sinful life, not personally knowing Jesus Christ.
They just struggle day and hour, never sensing The Spirit’s power,
Acknowledging Truth as they hear it, but, not indwelt by The Spirit,
God’s Holy Spirit sent to men, but, only when they are Born Again,
Born of God from Heaven above, by God’s Spirit Christ spoke of.
Many men acknowledge The Lord, but day by day God is ignored,
Living every day, on their own, ignoring Authority of God’s Throne,
God’s Power, that changes a life, who truly comes to Jesus Christ,
God’s Authority to make one whole, as the Spirit indwells that soul.
So professed believers do stumble, as their heart was not humble,
When they professed knowledge of, our Lord God reigning above,
With their present spirit of pride, God’s Holy Spirit wouldn’t reside,
In the heart of the professing soul, so in life they’ll continue to fall.
A Truth that comes with Salvation, is God’s Work of Regeneration,
As God’s Spirit changes everyone, who truly comes to God’s Son,
Change that Scripture makes clear, that in each believer will appear,
But, if change you do not see, you may not know Christ personally.