Willard Fluke
My wife lost her health,
And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds.
Then that woman, whom the men
Styled Cleopatra, came along.
And we -- we married ones
All broke our vows, myself among the rest.
Years passed and one by one
Death claimed them all in some hideous form,
And I was borne along by dreams
Of God's particular grace for me,
And I began to write, write, write, reams on reams
Of the second coming of Christ.
Then Christ came to me and said,
"Go into the church and stand before the congregation
And confess your sin."
But just as I stood up and began to speak
I saw my little girl, who was sitting in the front seat --
My little girl who was born blind!
After that, all is blackness.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Related quotes
Sardis
(Revelations, iii. 1-6)
"Write to Sardis," saith the Lord,
"And write what He declares,
He whose Spirit, and whose word,
Upholds the seven stars:
All thy works and ways I search,
Find thy zeal and love decay'd;
Thou art call'd a living church,
But thou art cold and dead.
"Watch, remember, seek, and strive,
Exert thy former pains;
Let thy timely care revive,
And strengthen what remains;
Cleanse thine heart, thy works amend,
Former times to mind recall,
Lest my sudden stroke descend,
And smite thee once for all.
"Yet I number now in thee
A few that are upright;
These my Father's face shall see,
And walk with me in white.
When in judgment I appear,
They for mine shall be confess'd;
Let my faithful servants hear, --
And woe be to the rest!"
poem by William Cowper
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99 Lbs
Written by: d. bryant
Twenty-five pounds of pure cane sugar
Shes got in each and every kiss
You wouldnt know what Im talking bout
If you never had a love like this
Well, I dont mean to be frank with you all
Its a natural fact
Good things come wrapped up in small, small packages now
Well you cant argue with that
Oh, oh, yeah
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul, oh, oh
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Twenty-five pounds of tenderness
She got in each and every touch
Twenty-five pounds of understanding my woman
cause I was the one running round town worrying too much
Twenty-four pounds of sunday
That I cant see, yeah
And it all adds up to ninety-nine big pounds
Oh, Im talking about a feline friend
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
Ninety-nine pounds of natural born goodness
Ninety-nine pounds of soul
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn 54
Electing grace; or, Saints beloved in Christ.
Eph. 1:3ff.
Jesus, we bless thy Father's name;
Thy God and ours are both the same;
What heav'nly blessings from his throne
Flow down to sinners through his Son!
"Christ be my first elect," he said,
Then chose our souls in Christ our head,
Before he gave the mountains birth,
Or laid foundations for the earth.
Thus did eternal love begin
To raise us up from death and sin;
Our characters were then decreed,
"Blameless in love, a holy seed."
Predestinated to be sons,
Born by degrees, but chose at once,
A new regenerated race,
To praise the glory of his grace.
With Christ our Lord we share our part
In the affections of his heart;
Nor shall our souls be thence removed,
Till he forgets his first-beloved.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Christina Sunrise
Christina means the follower of Christ,
I write poems admiring him and his life.
Now I believe we are all change agents,
I write poems that rant with tangents.
Born in the spring on April eighteenth,
I defend the underdog to the nine degree.
I even wrote a Peeve poem comparing
someone's actions to a dog's flea.
Being 4th generation Native American,
I dance to "Cherokee Nation Will Return" again and again.
Now I write poems to bring awareness and change,
to help people see another standpoint that's not the same.
The name Sunrise is Zaria in Slavic meaning Morning Star,
I write a poem to worship our Sun on Earth from a far.
I just used to live on the street named Sunrise,
middle name Christina names came together just fine.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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The ABC
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
poem by Spike Milligan
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Faithless Sally Brown
Young Ben he was a nice young man,
A carpenter by trade;
And he fell in love with Sally Brown,
That was a lady's maid.
But as they fetch'd a walk one day,
They met a press-gang crew;
And Sally she did faint away,
Whilst Ben he was brought to.
The Boatswain swore with wicked words,
Enough to shock a saint,
That though she did seem in a fit,
'Twas nothing but a feint.
"Come, girl," said he, "hold up your head,
He'll be as good as me;
For when your swain is in our boat,
A boatswain he will be."
So when they'd made their game of her,
And taken off her elf,
She roused, and found she only was
A coming to herself.
"And is he gone, and is he gone?"
She cried, and wept outright:
"Then I will to the water side,
And see him out of sight."
A waterman came up to her,--
"Now, young woman," said he,
"If you weep on so, you will make
Eye-water in the sea."
"Alas! they've taken my beau Ben
To sail with old Benbow;"
And her woe began to run afresh,
As if she'd said Gee woe!
Says he, "They've only taken him
To the Tender ship, you see";
"The Tender-ship," cried Sally Brown
"What a hard-ship that must be!"
"O! would I were a mermaid now,
For then I'd follow him;
But Oh!--I'm not a fish-woman,
And so I cannot swim.
"Alas! I was not born beneath
The virgin and the scales,
So I must curse my cruel stars,
And walk about in Wales."
Now Ben had sail'd to many a place
That's underneath the world;
But in two years the ship came home,
And all her sails were furl'd.
But when he call'd on Sally Brown,
To see how she went on,
He found she'd got another Ben,
Whose Christian-name was John.
"O Sally Brown, O Sally Brown,
How could you serve me so?
I've met with many a breeze before,
But never such a blow":
Then reading on his 'bacco box
He heaved a bitter sigh,
And then began to eye his pipe,
And then to pipe his eye.
And then he tried to sing "All's Well,"
But could not though he tried;
His head was turn'd, and so he chew'd
His pigtail till he died.
His death, which happen'd in his berth,
At forty-odd befell:
They went and told the sexton, and
The sexton toll'd the bell.
poem by Thomas Hood
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I Wanna Be the Girl
i wanna be the girl you write songs about
I wanna be the girl you can't live without
I wanna be the girl on the radio
I wanna be that girl you know
I wanna be the intimidating one
I wanna be the one you love
I wanna be the one you can't get over how she looked at you today
I wanna be that girl
I wanna be the girl you tell your mom about
i wanna be the girl you watch walk away
I wanna be the girl you always point out
I wanna be the girl who never heard what you had to say
I wanna be the girl you write songs about
I wanna be the girl you cab't live without
I wanna be the girl on the radio
I wanna be that girl you know
I wanna be that girl
You know the one i mean
I wanna be the girl
You know the one you know
I wanna be the girl who changed your life
I wanna be the girl who's not quite right
I wanna be the girl in your dreams
I wanna be the girl you beg 'be with me'
I wanna be the girl who stands out
I wanna be the one you can't live without
God, I want to be he
I'm so jealous of that girl
I wanna be the girl you write songs about
I wanna be the girl you can't live without
I wanna be the girl on the radio
i wanna be that girl, that girl you know
poem by Gabriella Franco
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I'm
199
I'm "wife"—I've finished that—
That other state—
I'm Czar—I'm "Woman" now—
It's safer so—
How odd the Girl's life looks
Behind this soft Eclipse—
I think that Earth feels so
To folks in Heaven—now—
This being comfort—then
That other kind—was pain—
But why compare?
I'm "Wife"! Stop there!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Written in a Lady's Album
Grant me, I cried, some spell of art,
To turn with all a lover's care,
That spotless page, my Eva's heart,
And write my burning wishes there.
But Love, by faithless Laia taught
How frail is woman's holiest vow,
Look'd down, while grace attempered thought
Sate serious on his baby brow.
"Go! blot her album," cried the sage,
"There none but bards a place may claim;
But woman's heart's a worthless page,
Where every fool may write his name."
Until by time or fate decayed,
That line and leaf shall never part;
Ah! who can tell how soon shall fade
The lines of love from woman's heart.
poem by Joseph Rodman Drake
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A Song About You
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You’re all I can every think about
How you flood my dreams each night
How thinking of you takes my breath away
When I look up to the satellites
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
The long lost butterflies returned
How I hope my number you’ll dial
And how your memory smothers me with smiles
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
You were the only one
Who had enough of me to break my heart
And when love took over my heart
You tore it all apart.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
I would write about how
I gave you my heart
Caught up in the thought
That we were off to a great start
But how you threw a damn dart
Right into the center of my heart
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
About how you crushed my heart
Not bothering to look back.
If I could write a song
I’d write a song about you
poem by Jess Schwarcz
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Don't Leave Christ Out Of Christmas.
Please, Don't leave Christ out of Christmas, because it is His day,
God sent His only Son, to be born in a loving and Humble way;
We cannot forget to thank others for what they do for us,
And so the same we should remember, Christ came without fuss.
Don't leave Christ out of Christmas, when you write the word,
When your mum gives you a gift, does she put exmum, have you heard?
We remember to call her mother, or mum, as we write her a card,
Just the same we should do right, to say Christmas, it is not hard.
Oh we can't leave Christ out of Christmas, so try to remember it too,
He may soon forget who you are, if you keep forgetting Him too;
We remember to write Happy Easter, and also happy new year,
If you do remember HIm, He'll let you know, that He's always near.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Mi Piedra Sepulchral
I do not write for financial gain.
I write because my poetry
may produce more than a tombstone fame.
Rather than a "b" and "d",
my poetry may better preserve my name.
It also means my creative juices flow
giving me, and I hope you, a memorable glow.
"What is your poetry about?" they ask of me.
It is about what I hear, feel and see.
It is my religion, existence and philosophy.
It is spontaneous and none is fictitious.
Distilled to its essence,
I am my poetry; My poetry is me.
poem by Nile B. Norton
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The DREAM
I went to bed the other night
And woke up with a terrible fright
I dreamed I saw Christ the Lord
And I helped nail Him to the board
Pain and agony in his eye
And me a wishing He would only die
For what kind of GOD could he be
If He even couldn't set himself free.
The hours for Christ went slowly on by
Jesus surely must wish to die,
Some people began to laugh and some to cry
This man named Christ must surely wish to die.
Then lightning shown and thunder was heard
Christ began to speak a word
My body my blood I just have gave
So your souls they all could be saved
Some people quietened and some began to cry
For our salvation Jesus Christ must die,
But now there emotions they must hide
For Jesus Christ had just then died.
The years for me went slowly on by
And I was on my death bed awaiting to die.
Then death it came into my house
It crept so quietly in just like a mouse,
Then I awoke in a terrible sweat
I dreamed GOD Almighty I just had met
He said you didn't accept Christ my Son as your salvation
So in HELL you shall burn in damnation
I began to shiver and to shake
I didn't want to burn in Hell's fiery lake
So I wrote this dream into a song
So in salvation you couldn't go wrong.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Maybe I Was Damon In A Past Life
Maybe I was Damon Runyon in a past time
he died at age 66 which was the year I began my life.
I also write about someone I call the "Guy"
who maybe is kind of shy.
Damon wrote a play with Dolls & Guys
which was acted out in NYC—very true-not a lie.
I write about a Doll
who is cute and kind of small.
Damon also named his pet _____
almost like mine.
I write about a character with letter
beginning with N—
he was only a sponsor to me—
he wanted to be more than friends—
Just like Damon-
who writes about characters where
he actually supported them
in his writing he actually defends.
Damon also writes about baseball
I don't know baseball at all.
I am more of a poet who story-tells-
I write of the doll character nicknamed Mel.
See baseball is not my cup of tea—
but to Damon he was famous for
being a reporter known around the country.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 17,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Lesson
Whenever my mother, who taught
small children forty years,
asked a question, she
already knew the answer.
"Would you like to" meant
you would. "Shall we" was
another, and "Don't you think."
As in "Don't you think
it's time you cut your hair."
So when, in the bare room,
in the strict bed, she said,
"You want to see?" her hands
were busy at her neckline,
untying the robe, not looking
down at it, stitches
bristling where the breast
had been, but straight at me.
I did what I always did:
not weep --she never wept--
and made my face a kindly
whitewashed wall, so she
could write, again, whatever
she wanted there.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Ellen Bryant Voigt
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The Heart Healed and Changed by Mercy
Sin enslaved me many years,
And led me bound and blind;
Till at length a thousand fears
Came swarming o'er my mind.
"Where," said I, in deep distress,
"Will these sinful pleasures end?
How shall I secure my peace
And make the Lord my friend?"
Friends and ministers said much
The gospel to enforce;
But my blindness still was such,
I chose a legal course:
Much I fasted, watch'd, and strove,
Scarce would shew my face abroad,
Fear'd almost to speak or move,
A stranger still to God.
Thus afraid to trust His grace,
Long time did I rebel;
Till despairing of my case,
Down at His feet I fell:
Then my stubborn heart He broke,
And subdued me to His sway;
By a simple word He spoke,
"Thy sins are done away."
poem by William Cowper
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Ever since I began to compose, I have remained true to my starting principle: not to write a page because no matter what public, or what pretty girl wanted it to be thus or thus; but to write solely as I myself thought best, and as it gave me pleasure.
quote by Felix Mendelssohn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace in the World
Only a living COSMOLOGY can bring PEACE!
The COSMIC CHRIST suffering injustice-
We suffering injustices, UNITES
A common grasp of shared pain.
Shared pain unites us all,
Holiness emerges! The Power of Holiness unleashed,
Anything can happen!
People called to Compassion.
Compassion is a Cosmic Law. An era of Compassion,
An era of Justice making,
An era of Celebration!
Globally erupted,
Deep Ecumenism will appear,
There will be Peace and Justice. The Cosmic Christ recovered,
Recovering of a living Cosmology,
Can bring about a COSMIC CHRIST MYSTICISM.
A COSMIC CHRIST MYSTICISM a basic for Church renewal. Churches coming together,
Celebrating together,
Making connections together,
Interactions of all peoples.
The "Pattern that Connects,
IS THE COSMIC CHRIST!"
Peace will only come through a living COSMOLOGY!
"COSMIC WISDOM" "COSMIC CHRIST"
poem by Sister Mary Agna Barth
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Moral Policing on Valentine's Day
The boys are haste to pull at
the heart strings of the girls.
They were reeling stories
sitting in the scarce shades on the beach.
Culture vultures and the fundamental outfits
came and scared the lovers with swinging holy cords.
" Don't you lovers have a longing for hearth and home?
You fellow, tie this holy cord around her neck", they yelled.
The boy cried: "She is already married".
" You philanderer! ", they roughed him up shouting.
Life began on this earth; then love sprouted
but now lust occupied the young hearts as they are netizens.
The women cops stood across as a wall or else
several marriages would have been solemnized.
The lovers too could not strain to remember
the date of their wedding anniversary.
But the fanatics celebrated the Valentine's Day
by engaging a dog with a donkey in a ritual
singing religious hymns. The animals stared in wonder.
--------------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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