Sonnet: Do Utmost Good
God, wring my heart and drain my emotions,
And let me turn them into poetry!
But let me guide people with solutions;
What’s the use of growing a fruitless tree?
God, milk my veins and let out drops of blood,
Or let it turn into my forehead sweat!
But let me leave my poems ‘fore I’m dead;
Let me thus clear Thee off my parents’ debt.
God, wring my soul: bring out my good deeds all!
Remove all stains of sin and mistakes made;
Let it be pure and ready for Thy call;
But let me do things as Thou bade/ forbade.
God, wring my mind and leave it with thoughts good;
Let them become for good deeds/ acts, a food.
6-1-2001
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ommission
What man has not betrayed
Some sacred trust?
If haply you are made
Of honest dust,
Vaunt not of glory due,
Of triumph won:
Think, think of duties you
Have left undone.
But if in mercy hope,
Despite your sin,
The gates of Heaven ope'
To let you in:
Pray, pray that when God reads
Your judgement due,
He may forget good deeds
You did not do.
Ommission sins may be
The bitterest,
And wring in memory
A heart opprest;
So when sweet pity pleads,
Let us not rue
Too late, too late Kind Deeds
We did not do.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grotto Story
I am found
in the Story Grotto
with millions of others
grappling with a tale
to tell;
holding it
in the dull light
hoping for a clue
to it,
wrestling it to the grotto ground
trying to understand it.
I and it
merge too much;
I am much more than my Story
yet
now
it is all I have.
I draw blinds over parts of it
can't bear to see aspects of it;
sad sad visions there.
There are lighter moments, of course,
but not enough to light the grotto.
I grapple with my Story
good parts and bad;
trying wring from it
emotion juice
wring it all out,
neuter it
so I can leave
its bloodless hulk
on the grotto floor
and go back
out into
the
sunlight.
I am not my Story alone
and should not let my life
leave me alone
with it
in
the
dark
dark
grotto.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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An upright soul
Thoughts must conform to words
And words to deeds to give peace.
Good thoughts and bad words: one is
raw.
Bad thoughts and good words: one is a cheat.
Good words and bad deeds: one is
cruel.
Bad words and good deeds: one is a
barker.
Thoughts, words and deeds must not
be
In conflicts to ensure an upright soul.
25.11.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Parents Are Always Ours!
wonderful universe
Wonderful are sky and stars
Wonderful are sun and planets
Wonderful are Earth and moon!
Wonderful are ocean and land
Wonderful are forest and deserts
Wonderful are flora and fauna,
wonderful are you, me they, wonderful are body of all living beings,
Wonderful are words,
Wonderful are thoughts,
Wonderful are brain and heart!
When God has put all systems together,
One system work for another,
Or one system work for all,
All should be well and healthy!
All has to go together
and what is wrong,
And who is wrong,
The one who gave thirst,
Himself created water,
The one who has created hunger,
Has created food,
The one who has created one,
Has created Everything for him!
But the thirsty is wrong if want milk alone!
one who is hungry is wrong eats for taste alone,
Or Eats more than hunger
need will be fulfilled,
greed will be punished!
one has Everything ready here for his need,
For the greed things ready
are pain and agony!
Every senses and systems are there,
But it is left to one's choice,
How to use!
Parents work and bring things for children,
And children are good if they use and keep every thing
Good!
If not they try and play to break,
As man is doing with nature!
Ages may change, people may change,
But the absolute remain absolute,
The one started and stared in the play,
The one started his drama,
Know how to play it,
Know how and when
Where and why!
Knows how to change the scene and acts!
Those who brought you are real parents of your soul,
Those who borrowed you,
are your parents of body and mind!
Both parents are good and to be respected,
Those who taught what love is,
They should be loved,
they are your blood running through your heart and brain,
Our parents are our parents,
They gave their all to us,
Shared our fate,
Our children may not be our children,
As they come with their own taste and fate!
If any of our child can share our pain,
And give more love, more than what it take from us,
Is greater than,
Our heart and brain!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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51 Psalm
Look mercyfully down O Lord
& wash us from our sinn
Cleanse us from wicked deeds without
from wicked thoughts within
Lord I Confess my many sinns
that I against thee doe
Each minute they're before my face
& wound my soul anew
So Great my god my ills have been
Gainst thee & onely thee
Thy Justice tho' I were Condemnd
would good & righteous bee
For att my birth I wickedness
Did with my breath suck in
But thou shalt teach me in thy ways
& keep me pure from sinn
Thoult me with hyssopp purge who am
all over soil's & stain's
Thou with thy sanctifiyng grace
shalt wash & make me clean
Thoult bless my days with peace no sound
But Joy shall reach mine ear
That where thy Justice wounded Lord
There Gladness may appear
Blott from thy thoughts past faults & from
The present turn thy face
O make my spirit right & good
Confirm my heart with grace
thy Presence & thy mercy lett
Me ever Ld possess
Me with the comfort of thy help
& with thy love still bless
Then shall the wicked know thy pow'r
& turn ym from theyr wayes
Deliver me from blood my god
& I will sing thy praise.
Unseal my lips & to ye Bad
I will thy mercy shew
For since thou lovest not sacrifice
Tis all that I can doo
A heart that is with sorrow pierct
My God thou wilt receive
this is ye sweetest offering
that we to thee can give
On Sion Graciously look down
Preserve us still we pray
& hearts upon thine altars Lord
Instead of beasts we'el Lay.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Getting Good Deeds Done
The best of good deeds,
Are not the ones discussed to be done!
The best deeds that are good...
Are those deeds lived,
And done by the ones who know
When and how to give!
Getting deeds done
Without discussions,
Weaken good intentions...
With diminishing attention given!
And spoken words without action,
Provide no satisfaction.
Although distracts with attraction,
That gets everyone talking...
And then walking away,
Just to say,
They promised they would come!
They promised to provide support...
But not get involved,
With getting good deeds done.
They see deeds as no lasting remedy!
But distortions of their involvement,
In the eyes of everyone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Don't Think So-The Rationale of Robert
I am a bad person
At least I have done bad things
I admit it.
Lied, hurt others, cheated
and things worse.
yes, I know.
All bad.
But I don't really believe that I
am a bad person.
I am a good person
who has done bad things.
Most I am sorry for;
some I am not as much
as I should.
But what am I to do?
A good person
trapped by my own bad deeds.
Should I flagellate
repent, confess?
But why?
The deeds were bad, not I.
A really good person could see that
and forgive me.
A bad person can not and will not.
So, I guess they are bad just like me.
Now that leaves the good people
who see that bad deeds are not me
and forgive.
They even may forget.
But the fact they able to do that
makes me feel inferior.
They think they are better than me
and that is bad.
So, if they make me feel bad
then they are not really good people.
So, you see the whole world is just like me
even if they don't think so.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have Decided
I have decided,
Im gonna live like a believer,
Turn my back on the deceiver,
Im gonna live what I believe.
I have decided,
Being good is just a fable,
I just cant cause Im not able.
Im gonna leave it to the lord.
Theres a wealth of things that I profess,
I said that I believed,
But deep inside I never changed;
I guess Id been deceived.
cause a voice inside kept telling me,
That Id change by and by,
But the spirit made it clear to me,
That kind of lifes a lie.
I have decided,
Im gonna live like a believer,
Turn my back on the deciver,
Im gonna live what I believe.
I have decided,
Being good is just a fable,
I just cant cause Im not able.
Im gonna leave it to the lord.
So forget the game of being good,
And your self-righteous pain.
cause the only good inside your heart
Is the good that jesus brings.
And when the world begins to see you change,
Dont expect them to applaud.
Just keep your eyes on him and tell yourself,
Ive become the work of god.
I have decided,
Im gonna live like a believer,
Turn my back on the deceiver,
Im gonna live what I believe.
I have decided,
Being good is just a fable,
I just cant cause Im not able.
Im gonna leave it to the lord.
I have decided,
Im gonna live like a believer,
Turn my back on the deceiver,
Im gonna live what I believe.
I have decided,
Being good is just a fable,
I just cant cause Im not able.
Im gonna leave it to the lord.
I have decided,
Im gonna live like a believer,
Turn my back on the deceiver,
Im gonna live what I believe.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet - Most Men Are Selfish
One state refuses water for the next!
But when it rains, the excess it must let!
Some people like to xerox-copy text!
Some force the state to write off all their debt.
Why can't one limit one's selfishness first?
Why can't one share the excess wealth one has?
Why can't one give water for men who thirst?
Who can prevent the growing of the grass?
Man becomes great by loving his neighbour;
Man turns greater when he helps him in need;
Man should not try to without reason err;
Good men avoid misdeeds but do good deed.
No Man doth bring anything when he is born;
His sins and good deeds, his soul shall adorn.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Untitled 8
Thou sinless and sweet one - thy voice is a strain
Which yields solace to sadness, and balm to my pain,
From thy unsullied spirit it comes to me here,
Like the music of Eden - soft, holy, and clear.
The storm-stirring thoughts o'er my heart holding sway,
At the charm of its gentleness vanish away!
For its melody, teeming with gladness and love,
Seems the song of the seraph to lure me above.
Beautiful prattler! - that music of mirth,
Yet unchecked by the cares and the sorrows of earth,
Mingles strangely where anguish and retchedness reign,
With the sigh of the captive, and the clank of his chain.
Yet I love to hear it, though captive I be,
Gushing pure from thy young heart all joyous and free.
There's a siren-like sweetness pervading its song
Which can woo me to virtue, and win me from wrong.
Play on then, - play on, then - for thou dost not know
What it is to be wretched and burdened with woe:
There's the fair world around thee, and blue sky above,
Ever seeming to breathe on thee beauty and love;
And the waters that flash in the suns golden beams,
Dance beneath thee as bright as thine own fairy dreams;
Yet here, there are hearts sank in ruin and crime,
Which once was as gleesome and guiltless as thine.
Beware! then - beware! - when seducingly gay,
Vice with counterfeit smiles, would beguile thee away
From the good and the lovely, from virtue and joy,
To the pleasures of sin, which debase and destroy.
Those holy emotions and pure thoughts which dwell
In the bosom of childhood - oh, cherish them well!
For if there's a true joy this world can impart,
It surely exists in the innocent heart.
Though remorse wring my soul, and
though care clothe my brow,
I once was as sinless and joyous as thou;
And knelt, too, like thee, by a fond mother's chair
With tiny hands folded in faith-hallowed pray'r.
Play on, my sweet child! there's a penitent tear
Stealing down my wan cheek as I list to thee here:
There's a prayer in my heart to the wise one above
To be made like a child in belief and in love.
O ever when gladly this gay world would win
With its tinselled allurements thy young heart to sin,
Turn away from the light of its illusive glare,
And seek in temptation thy refuge of pray'r.
Uncorrupted in heart and a stranger to woe.
With the garland of love green and bright on thy brow,
Mayn't thou journey through life and thy voice still retain
Its heav'n-given sweetness to sooth grief and pain.
poem by Owen Suffolk
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Prayer, Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish
O Thou Great Being! what Thou art,
Surpasses me to know;
Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
Are all Thy works below.
Thy creature here before Thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;
Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey Thy high behest.
Sure, Thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath!
O, free my weary eyes from tears,
Or close them fast in death!
But, if I must afflicted be,
To suit some wise design,
Then man my soul with firm resolves,
To bear and not repine!
poem by Robert Burns
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Under The Pressure Of Violent Anguish
O Thou Great Being! what Thou art,
Surpasses me to know;
Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
Are all Thy works below.
Thy creature here before Thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;
Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey Thy high behest.
Sure, Thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath!
O, free my weary eyes from tears,
Or close them fast in death!
But, if I must afflicted be,
To suit some wise design,
Then man my soul with firm resolves,
To bear and not repine!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Are My Poems Made?
I get a theme like bolt from sky;
I rack my mind to word aright;
I write it down by scribbling first;
I type it when I find the time;
I wring my heart to add feelings.
I check the rhyme and rhythm fast;
I read aloud to check the flow;
I edit flaws and tinker it;
I read / redo till they look good;
I thank the Lord for His kindness;
That’s the way my poems are made!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-25-2006
poem by John Celes
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Prayer
I ASK good things that I detest,
With speeches fair;
Heed not, I pray Thee, Lord, my breast,
But hear my prayer.
I say ill things I would not say -
Things unaware:
Regard my breast, Lord, in Thy day,
And not my prayer.
My heart is evil in Thy sight:
My good thoughts flee:
O Lord, I cannot wish aright -
Wish Thou for me.
O bend my words and acts to Thee,
However ill,
That I, whate'er I say or be,
May serve Thee still.
O let my thoughts abide in Thee
Lest I should fall:
Show me Thyself in all I see,
Thou Lord of all.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Drops Of Poetry
Drops of Poetry,
on my mind,
soaking in memories,
of things I remember,
of long ago.
Pouring down drops
on to my heart, releasing
my inner thoughts,
from this soul I have,
to write things that
must be told,
love that escaped
from my life, never
more to be seen.
Hurt, tears, broken
dreams torn away
from me, like a falling
star that becomes
just dust in the air.
Drops of Poetry so
clear is it now,
my body so wet,
from these drops
of poetry that stands,
all around me,
in the mist that
i now see,
my whole body
has been cleansed,
from all of these
drops of poetry.
wrote 3-15-07
A Love Song
Ah, love, my love is like a cry in the night,
A long, loud cry to the empty sky,
The cry of a man alone in the desert,
With hands uplifted, with parching lips,
Oh, rescue me, rescue me,
Thy form to mine arms,
The dew of thy lips to my mouth,
Dost thou hear me?--my call thro' the night?
Darling, I hear thee and answer,
Thy fountain am I,
All of the love of my soul will I bring to thee,
All of the pains of my being shall wring to thee,
Deep and forever the song of my loving shall sing to thee,
Ever and ever thro' day and thro' night shall I cling to thee.
Hearest thou the answer?
Darling, I come, I come.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Blood Stained
Atrocities
Made every day
Religiously
Their sins
They hide
Can never disguise
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained deeds
Blood stained lies
They wage their wars
Such profiteers
Will nail us all
Their crimes
Concealed
Despicably reveal
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained weapons
Blood stained lies
They fire at will
Intent to kill
They have no conscience
They have no conscience
Ethnic cleansing nothing more!
Blood of nations blood of war
Turn blind eyes
From all your crimes
You bare our souls
Show no remorse
You cannot wash
The bloodstains off
They turn their backs
While others
Commit grisly acts
Were scared
For life
By politicians greedy
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained weapons
Blood stained crimes
Blood stained lands
Blood stained minds
Blood stained deeds
Blood stained lies
And while such predators
Stalk this earth
Disguised as saints
They kill our faith
Obsessed by greed
Lying through their teeth
They cannot wash
The blood stains off
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good From Far, Far From Good
(myles goodwyn)
Published by mfg sing sing music/socan - ascap
I dont go thinkin its right, for somebody else
I know how it is, I can see for myself, yeah
Look left, right, and make up your mind
If anyone tells you different, well theyre wastin your time
Yet its alright
Hey baby, whats a man to do
He says nothin, but he aint no fool
Hes just lookin, but its understood
Looks good from far, but its far from good
Good from far, far from good
Dont bring it around my door
Good from far, far from good
I dont care no more
She feels out of place, but it isnt a dream
She looks round and she knows that its all too extreme, yeah
And meanwhile, a party is beginnin to stall
And now shes ready to turn, and get away from it all
It dont feel right
Hey baby, whats a girl to do
You feel hurt, cause you play by the rules
Your friends tell you youre misunderstood
Looks good from far, but its far from good
Good from far, far from good
Dont bring it around my door
Good from far, far from good
I dont care no more
Good from far, far from good
You must accept that all, you turn and walk away
You live your own life, you get stronger every day
Good from far, far from good
Dont bring it around my door
Good from far, far from good
I dont care no more
Good from far, far from good
Baby, Im feelin alright
Good from far, far from good
No more no more no more no more
Good from far, far from good
Dont bring it around my door
Good from far, far from good
I dont care no more
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is better to leave the child's nose dirty than wring it off.
Often Awed
A doer of good deeds,
Isn't sitting to receive accolades...
Heard,
In thunderous applause.
Thinking what is done is deserving of it.
A doer of good deeds done to do...
Is often awed,
That what is done naturally...
Gets any attention for those deeds done,
That pleases the giving of the doer...
Whose choice is the choosing,
Of the doing of those good deeds to do.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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