for him who fears God
wife will be a fruitful vine
and children olive shoots
quote by by John Celes
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Without shoots
You and your parents are
Shoot and roots of a seedling.
You and your children are
Root and shoots of a seedling.
Connectivity between
Root and shoot is original.
So is the bonding between
Shoots and root as natural.
Husband and wife are
Scion and stock of a graft.
Connectivity between
Scion and stock is artificial.
So is the bonding between
Husband and wife.
The old couple will know this.
Being childless is the one without shoots.
28.12.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Psalm 128
We shall bow down to your majesty
In awe of your beauty and grace
We shall lift up holy hand in your sanctuary
As we look into thy face
There is power and majesty and glory here
Without the Blood I would tremble and fear
But glory to the God who dwells on high
On you alone I can rely
And out of that place that's flowing with grace
The Love of God it glows on my face
This love in my heart shall never depart
The fear of the Lord is where it all starts
My wife is like a fruitful vine
A gift from the Lord my God divine
My children have learned to love you too
I'll follow you Lord in all that I do
poem by Frank McEleny
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Psalm128
We shall bow down to your majesty
In awe of your beauty and grace
We shall lift up holy hands in the sanctuary
As we look into thy face
There is power and majesty and glory here
Without the Blood I would tremble and fear
But glory to God who dwells on high
On you alone I can rely
And out of that place that's flowing with grace
The love of God it glows on my face
This love in my heart shall never depart
The fear of the Lord is where it all starts
My wife is like a fruitful vine
A gift from the Lord my God divine
My children have learned to love you too
To follow the Lord in all that they do
poem by Frank McEleny
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Psalm 128
Family blessings.
O happy man, whose soul is filled
With zeal and reverent awe!
His lips to God their honors yield,
His life adorns the law.
A careful providence shall stand
And ever guard thy head,
Shall on the labors of thy hand
Its kindly blessings shed.
[Thy wife shall be a fruitful vine;
Thy children round thy board,
Each like a plant of honor shine,
And learn to fear the Lord.]
The Lord shall thy best hopes fulfil
For months and years to come;
The Lord, who dwells on Zion's hill,
Shall send thee blessings home.
This is the man whose happy eyes
Shall see his house increase;
Shall see the sinking church arise,
Then leave the world in peace.
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Olive Of Peace
Now sheath'd is the Sword that was wild as the blast:
The Tempest of Slaughter and Terror is past;
Old ALBION her Neighbour all smilingly hails—
For the OLIVE of PEACE blooms again in our Vales!
Beam on the day,
Thou Olive gay:
'Matchless is he
Who planted thee;
And mayst thou like him immortal be!'
Divinest of Olives, O, never was seen
A bloom so enchanting, a verdure so green!
Sweet, sweet do thy Beauties entwiningly smile
In the Vine-tree of France and the Oak of our Isle!
Beam on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.
Long, long did thy envied Exotic delay,
'Till the voice of HUMANITY charm'd thee away;
And here, ever here mayst thou bloom in repose,
As firm as our Oak-tree, and gay as the Rose!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.
Let ALCIDES his Poplar of Majesty prize,
And VENUS her Myrtle exalt to the skies:
FRANCE and ALBION excell all the Gods of old Greece—
For they crown their wise heads with the OLIVE of PEACE!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.
The delicate Lily may gracefully mount,
And the Pink all her charms with the Rainbow recount;
Green, green is the Olive on ALBION'S brow,
And the Lily and Pink to the Olive must bow!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay, &c.
Thou Olive divine, may Eternity's Sun
Beam warm where thy roots thro' the ages shall run;
The Dew of Affection 'light soft where they twine,
And the Love of an Universe stamp thee divine!
Bloom on the day,
Thou Olive gay:
'Matchless was he
Who planted thee;
And mayst thou like him immortal be!'
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
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Mother is the root
.
Mother is the root.
Children are the shoots.
Roots take care of the shoots.
Shoots have no care for roots.
They have other things to care.
Roots don’t bother. Can mother?
17.07.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sonnet To Italy
FOR thee, Ansonia! Nature's bounteous hand,
Luxuriant spreads around her blooming stores;
Profusion laughs o'er all the glowing land,
And softest breezes from thy myrtle-shores.
Yet though for thee, unclouded suns diffuse
Their genial radiance o'er thy blushing plains;
Though in thy fragrant groves the sportive muse
Delights to pour her wild, enchanted strains;
Though airs that breathe of paradise are thine,
Sweet as the Indian, or Arabian gales;
Though fruitful olive and empurpling vine,
Enrich, fair Italy! thy Alpine vales;
Yet far from thee inspiring freedom flies,
To Albion's coast and ever-varying skies!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Sonnet To Italy
FOR thee, Ansonia! Nature's bounteous hand,
Luxuriant spreads around her blooming stores;
Profusion laughs o'er all the glowing land,
And softest breezes from thy myrtle-shores.
Yet though for thee, unclouded suns diffuse
Their genial radiance o'er thy blushing plains;
Though in thy fragrant groves the sportive muse
Delights to pour her wild, enchanted strains;
Though airs that breathe of paradise are thine,
Sweet as the Indian, or Arabian gales;
Though fruitful olive and empurpling vine,
Enrich, fair Italy! thy Alpine vales;
Yet far from thee inspiring freedom flies,
To Albion's coast and ever-varying skies!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Olive At Midnight
An olive at midnight
Green
shiny
globe
of
black
The size of a dirty workman's thumb
They (the olives) tumble towards me
Down hills and in still slick lakes of olive oil
I meet my dark shining olive
By suprise
It's midnight in the olive grove
My ciabatta catches him
spinning on the tastebuds together
My olive and I
Two star crossed lovers
One black
On green
Obscene nights of perpetual fulfillment
What a scene! my olive and me
My olive my heart
Oh my darling lovely one
Olive at midnight
At last
you have come to me
And together we will may a delightful
pair
my lips quake at the thought of you
quivering as you slither in a plate of oil
towards them
Olive at midnight
You have possessed me
I am yours
But too many press in
Only one is chosen
It is dark I cannot see you
Oh olive
Are you green?
Or black?
Does it matter I am not prejudice
My dear dear one
At midnight you thunder towards me
My heart is an earthquake
My brain a melting pot offondant cheese
I slice my ciabatta
A tiny onion a tomato pressed between
And you oh olive my love
I am done
Please leave
I am not hungry
It is past midnight
I must sleep
poem by Yvette Smith
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To keep the bond
Parents spend on children,
And children, on parents later.
These are not debts.
Parents scold children,
And children, parents later.
These are not scars.
Roots and shoots together
Have thetr Profit and Loss Account.
23.03.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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That's The Sum Of It
I don't know which to mourn. Both have died on me, my wife and
my car. I feel strongly about my car, but I am also affected by my,
wife. Without my car, I can't leave the house to keep myself from
being alone. My wife gave me two children, both of whom, of course,
no longer live with us, as was to be expected, as we in our youth left
our parents behind. With my car, I could visit my children, when they
are not too busy.
Before she died, my wife urged me to find another woman. It's advice
I'd like to take up but not without a car. Without a car. I cannot find
myself another woman. That's the sum of it.
poem by David Ignatow
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If there's God why I die
‘’Is there God then why I die’’
Wife of ant says
‘’ Why wife of ant says if there’s God
Why I die, filthy feminine house I will
Burn down and leave’’
God says
‘’Is there God then why my children die’’
Wife of ant says’’
‘’Why wife of ant says if there’s God
Why my children die, filthy clitorising rain giraffe, I will sow seed of hairy itching grass under her feet, will grow to waist’’
God says
Wife ant opened her head to sun
She asks
‘’ Is there anything worst on earth than
Soaking of my waist in mourning tears for years
Wuw nothing’’
God rubbed his nose, nguu….
Says ‘’I will see who’s strong
Me or wife of ant
Ninety days later
Wife of man whom God nickname as ant
Whelped puppy
Strange, horrible and unnatural
‘’O God, why my wife give to puppy’’
Man prayed
‘’ To teach your wife lesson
So tomorrow she’ll not mock me again
If she attempt, I wipe off her eyes in world
And her seed will not grow on earth
My land’’
God says
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Is man really courageous?
Is man really courageous?
He who says so
Must be lunatic.
Man fears life,
He fears death,
He fears disease,
He fears failure
And sometimes his success also,
He fears the truth,
He fears honesty,
He fears God
But on his terms,
And above all
He fears himself.
So why should he be called
A courageous?
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Lecturer
He wrote on the board
“The husband said the wife
Is having an extra-marital affair”.
He asks the class, “Who is having the EMA? ”
Shout comes up loud, “the wife”.
He takes a piece of chalk, and puts two commas
One after husband, and one after wife.
It now reads, “The husband, said the wife, is
Having an extra-marital affair”.
He asks the class, “Who is having the EMA? ”
Confused murmur of husband, wife flutters.
“Not a word has changed, but the meaning has reversed
With just two commas.” Eats shoots and leaves, eh?
May I start the lecture on grammar, he said.
The class was all ears.
D T Joseph
19.02.08
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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Children Of The Land
Written by james young
Lead vocals by james young
Children of the land
Dont wear a frown upon your face
Come on and join your hands
Were all a part of the human race
The music is here
To let you leave your fears behind
Come on along dont do me wrong
Lets see what you might find
Children of the land
Children of the land
Dont misunderstand
Were all children of the land
Dont trust anyone else
To run your life and set your goals
Youve gotta be able to live with yourself
When you are getting old
Others are getting blamed
For messing your life around
Its your own fault if you complain
For letting it get you down
Children of the land
Children of the land
Dont misunderstand
Were all children of the land
Children - come on children now
Children - yeah
Children - I said children yeah
Children - come on children now
Children - of the land
Children - of the land
Children - I said of the land
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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merry Christmas
“Merry Christmas”
Another Christmas is upon us, all the four channels, where I live,
show Hollywood movies with groomed children and fake snow.
To avoid offending non Christians, natal is called the festivities.
You may call it Hanukah for all I care especially in USA where
the Israeli propaganda is slowly strangling America’s ability to
play fair and think straight. How bizarre Christmas often can be.
I’m watching a Santa advertizing olive oil. In Palestine farmers
have their olive trees cut down by odious settlers. So much hate
the intruders want it all and they feel no charities for the people
they rob. But not all is bad, here where I live, the homeless can
come in from the cold and eat humble pie but no wine though.
And as we sing, drink and wear silly hats, children die in Africa.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Word from The I Am
Children I beseech thee, come unto me
I have come to bring greater things upon you
My Son has come for you to follow through
The blood of My Son is among you
Come children Come
For I Am the I Am
For this is the last of the last days
For I speak boldly in a strong way
Come children, and seek My face
Eternal life is what I have given you all
Come children Come
For I Am the I Am
I have sent My Son Jesus to die for you
I ask you church to bring souls to Him
I am by faith, the blind cannot see
Tell the lost about Jesus and they'll be set free
Come children Come
For I Am the I Am
For I speak unto you that I am your Father
For I love you children that I gave My only Begotten Son
Bring Me the unsaved, for you know who I am
For this is the last of the last days
Come children Come
For I Am the I Am
This I give to you in peace
You shall not fear for I am near
For I am your divine vine and you are my branches
Pray, and blessings will pour out among you
Come children Come
For I Am the I Am
by Debra Stewart, August 2009
poem by Debra Stewart
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Olney Hymn 16: The Sower
Ye sons of earth prepare the plough,
Break up your fallow ground;
The sower is gone forth to sow,
And scatter blessings round.
The seed that finds a stony soil
Shoots forth a hasty blade;
But ill repays the sower's toil,
Soon wither'd, scorch'd, and dead.
The thorny ground is sure to balk
All hopes of harvest there;
We find a tall and sickly stalk,
But not the fruitful ear.
The beaten path and highway side,
Receive the trust in vain;
The watchful birds the spoil divide,
And pick up all the grain.
But where the Lord of grace and power
Has bless'd the happy field,
How plenteous is the golden store
The deep-wrought furrows yield!
Father of mercies, we have need
Of thy preparing grace;
Let the same Hand that give me seed
Provide a fruitful place!
poem by William Cowper
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The Sower
(Matthew, xiii.3)
Ye sons of earth prepare the plough,
Break up your fallow ground;
The sower is gone forth to sow,
And scatter blessings round.
The seed that finds a stony soil
Shoots forth a hasty blade;
But ill repays the sower's toil,
Soon wither'd, scorch'd, and dead.
The thorny ground is sure to balk
All hopes of harvest there;
We find a tall and sickly stalk,
But not the fruitful ear.
The beaten path and highway side,
Receive the trust in vain;
The watchful birds the spoil divide,
And pick up all the grain.
But where the Lord of grace and power
Has bless'd the happy field,
How plenteous is the golden store
The deep-wrought furrows yield!
Father of mercies, we have need
Of thy preparing grace;
Let the same Hand that give me seed
Provide a fruitful place!
poem by William Cowper
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We Are The Children
We are the children of the sun
and the stars.
We are the children of the hippies,
who were strung out on peace and love,
and heroin when they conceived us.
We are the children of alcoholics,
conceived in blackouts.
We are the children of the punk rockers,
screwed into this world on beer and anger.
We are the children of the poor,
raised on welfare and food stamps,
and government housing.
We are the children of the middle class,
borrowing from the government to get a college degree,
to get a job with a pension from corporate amerika,
who has already fired our fathers and mothers,
before they could retire.
We are the children of the rich,
who, like our fathers and mothers before us,
care only about obtaining more wealth.
We are the children of the doctors, dentists,
and lawyers, who care more about their Porsches
and Mercedes than they do their patients.
We are the children of the American dream,
roaming the streets with a blanket,
and a garbage bag full of aluminum cans.
We are the children, who now have the children,
and we hope they won't learn racism from us,
like we learned it from our moms and dads.
We are the children who can change the inevitable,
alter our destiny, change the future from futile to
fruitful.
Amen.
poem by Mikel K Poet
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