En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Benedictio Domini

Without, the sullen noises of the street!
The voice of London, inarticulate,
Hoarse and blaspheming, surges in to meet
The silent blessing of the Immaculate.

Dark is the church, and dim the worshippers,
Hushed with bowed heads as though by some old spell.
While through the incense-laden air there stirs
The admonition of a silver bell.

Dark is the church, save where the altar stands,
Dressed like a bride, illustrious with light,
Where one old priest exalts with tremulous hands
The one true solace of man's fallen plight.

Strange silence here: without, the sounding street
Heralds the world's swift passage to the fire:
O Benediction, perfect and complete!
When shall men cease to suffer and desire?

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Church Of Desire

(sambora)
Woke up in a cold sweat
In the middle of the night
Seems like a lifetime
When youre wondering whos wrong or right
One confession would resurrect the truth
Revenge or forgiveness for sins between me and you
Now we dance with the devil down lonely
Street, lonely street
Looking for a window in the house of tears
Living in hell, I pray the rain disappears
Im headed for a breakdown
And the fever runs higher
As I kneel at the altar I can feel your fire
In the church of desire
Church of desire
You never find a reason why love falls from grace
Some kind of voodoo, like a spirit you cant embrace
Theres a voice in the mirror, and a ghost in my heart
That relives the passion before we were torn apart
Now we dance with the devil down lonely
Street, lonely street
Looking for a window in the house of tears
Living in hell, I pray the rain disappears
Im headed for a breakdown
And the fever runs higher
As I kneel at the altar I can feel your fire
In the church of desire
Church of desire
Now we dance with the devil down lonely
Street, lonely street
Looking for a window in the house of tears
Living in hell, I pray the rain disappears
Im headed for a breakdown
And the fever runs higher
As I kneel at the altar I can feel your fire
In the church of desire
Church of desire

song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sundays Past

On Sunday mornings you would wear a dark suit
With a tie and shiny shoes you are ready to en route
The church bells would ring calling for morning mass
While you check the weather through the window glass
A last glance in the mirror and you are on your way
You join the church goers without any further delay

Walking over uneven cobblestones in our small town
Children would jump on the sidewalks up and down
Dressed up for church everyone is wearing their best
Thinking about the priest and what they have to confess
Men lifting their dark hats as they wish a Good Morning
Then pass by the cemetery bowing heads as in mourning

The church bells now ringing louder and more demanding
Calling all sinners to mass without misunderstanding
I always knew that right then the decision was made
And it was agreed to skip church without being afraid
Through the old alley you and others took a known detour
Heading straight to the pub on the corner that is for sure

Around noon I would go to meet my father by the church
And he would talk about mass having done some research
At home my mother would just smile and shake her head
While my father gave her a wink that was hardly misread
Joking around we would eat lunch smiling with every bite
Keeping my father's Sunday secret and the world was alright

© 2011

poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Sex & The Church

Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark End Of The Street

At the dark end of the street
That's where we'd always meet
Hiding in shadows where we don't belong
Living in darkness to hide our wrong
You and me, at the dark end of the street
You and me
I know that time's gonna take it's toll
We've got to give back all the love that we stole
It's a sin and we know it's wrong
Oh but our love keeps coming on strong
Steal away, to the dark end of the street
They're going to find us
They're going to find us
They're going to find us
Oh someday
You and me, at the dark end of the street
You and me
And if by chance we walk downtown
If you should see me just walk on by
But darling, please don't cry
Tonight we'll meet, at the dark end of the street

song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Dark End Of The Street

(penn/moman)
(c) - (f) - (g)
(c) at the dark end (g) of the (c) street
Thats where we (g) always (c) meet
Hiding in shadows where we (f) dont be (c) long
Living in (f) darkness to (g) hide our (c) wrong
(f) you and (c) me at the (f) dark (g) end of the (c) street
(f) you and (c) me (f) (g) (c)
I know time is gonna take its toll
We have to pay for the love we stole
Its a sin and we know its wrong
But our love keeps coming on strong
Tonight well meet at the dark end of the street
You and me
Theyre gonna find us, oh, theyll find us
Theyre gonna find us, theyre gonna find us
Oooooh, some day
You and me at the dark end of the street
You and me
And when the daylight hour rolls around
And by chance were both downtown
If we should meet, just walk on by
Ooooh darling, please dont you cry
Tonight well meet at the dark end of the street
You and me

song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our street light

there we would sit
under the street light
free from the dark
just you and me
having a laugh

talking bout the good times
talking bout the bad
however messed up our lives were
watever pain we were in
the street light would heal us and set us free again
it was our getaway
it was our thing

the street light brought us together
the street light brought us the end
i still remember that street light like that special glow you had my friend

the street light brought us fun
the street light brought us love
the street light brought us warmth as we lay and look at the stars above

i was happy under the street light
as i knew you were too
comforting each other was all we used to do
the street light may be faded
the street light may be dull
but lets just remember the street light kept us going strong!

poem by Brad Brown
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The Church-Bell

As I was lying in my bed
I heard the church-bell ring;
Before one solemn word was said
A bird began to sing.

I heard a dog begin to bark
And a bold crowing cock;
The bell, between the cold and dark,
Tolled. It was five o'clock.

The church-bell tolled, and the bird sang,
A clear true voice he had;
The cock crew, and the church-bell rang,
I knew it had gone mad.

A hand reached down from the dark skies,
It took the bell-rope thong,
The bell cried "Look! Lift up your eyes!"
The clapper shook to song.

The iron clapper laughed aloud,
Like clashing wind and wave;
The bell cried out "Be strong and proud!"
Then, with a shout, "Be brave!"

The rumbling of the market-carts,
The pounding of men's feet
Were drowned in song; "Lift up your hearts!"
The song was loud and sweet.

Slow and slow the great bell swung,
It hung in the steeple mute;
And people tore its living tongue
Out by the very root.

poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Holy Saturday Gains and Losses

Holy Saturday. Lulu softly rubs her
Black rosary held between fingers.
The church cold and dark. Waiting
For the light. The candle brought by
The priest and others of his ilk to bring
Light to the darkness. Rudandoff stands
Still silent in shadows watching her
Outline in candlelight's glow. Lulu feels
Smooth wood on fingers and thumb
Mutters her pure prayers watching
The candle light up the darkness.
Rudandoff smells her the scent
Touching him the shine of her hair
Caught by passing light her profile
Moves him her moving fingers stirs
His dark embers stiffen his manhood.
The holy candle brings light to the
Church. The priest and others chant
Out the long prayers. Lulu's soft lips
Kiss the crucified Christ on her crucifix
Warm lips on smooth wood. Rudandoff
Wishes those were his kisses his manhood
Between her moving fingers her tender
Body beneath his hot frame. Lulu closes
Eyes imagines her Christ blue bruised
And beaten hammered and battered
Gazing through eye slits bringing her true
Love never forsaken. Rudanoff's hot lust
Swells in the darkness his sausage fingers
Want to reach and touch to squeeze and
Fondle to greedily suck her female juices.
Holy Saturday. She finds her love's light.
He loses lust's kiss and burns in darkness.

poem by Terry Collett
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After All Said And Done.

After Friday choir practice
in the church

after the other members
had gone to the vestry

to ready themselves for home
she stood in the darkened church

looking at the altar
and the high windows

where only moonlight
shone through

and she said to you
we'll stand here one day

and get married maybe
and say our vows

and there will be
our families and friends

and the parson will say
kiss the bride and you will

and she smiled
and looked at you

standing in the quiet church
and you said

some years off maybe
we're only fourteen

and still at school
and we've got to get pass

your mother yet
like trying to get a ball

by a fat goalie
who fills the net

but she just shook her head
and smiled and said

don't be so negative
look on the positive side

look to the future
with bright eyes

and it seems strange now
and sad to look back

at that night
with you and she

standing in that aisle
in semi-dark

while outside
in the night sky

fate was working out
a different answer

where you
would marry others

and she would die
from cancer.

poem by Terry Collett
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I Cast My Net Into The Sea

In the morning I cast my net into the sea.

I dragged up from the dark abyss things of strange aspect and strange beauty -- some shone like a smile, some glistened like tears, and some were flushed like the cheeks of a bride.

When with the day's burden I went home, my love was sitting in the garden idly tearing the leaves of a flower.

I hesitated for a moment, and then placed at her feet all that I had dragged up, and stood silent.

She glanced at them and said, 'What strange things are these? I know not of what use they are!'

I bowed my head in shame and thought, 'I have not fought for these, I did not buy them in the market; they are not fit gifts for her.'

Then the whole night through I flung them one by one into the street.

In the morning travellers came; they picked them up and carried them into far countries.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Ritual

Every morning he goes to the church
though not religious, not really much
tidily dressed, looking so neat
the routine is a way, for him a habit
he prays for nothing, nothing he wants
it's all ritual, the prayers he chants
Years roll by, he grows frail and old
till he is laid in a coffin, dark and cold
the hearse carries him to the church he went
there is no prayer, he remains silent.

poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Harlem Shadows

I hear the halting footsteps of a lass
In Negro Harlem when the night lets fall
Its veil. I see the shapes of girls who pass
To bend and barter at desire's call.
Ah, little dark girls who in slippered feet
Go prowling through the night from street to street!

Through the long night until the silver break
Of day the little gray feet know no rest;
Through the lone night until the last snow-flake
Has dropped from heaven upon the earth's white breast,
The dusky, half-clad girls of tired feet
Are trudging, thinly shod, from street to street.

Ah, stern harsh world, that in the wretched way
Of poverty, dishonor and disgrace,
Has pushed the timid little feet of clay,
The sacred brown feet of my fallen race!
Ah, heart of me, the weary, weary feet
In Harlem wandering from street to street.

poem by Claude McKay
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The Young Novice

The lights yet gleamed on the holy shrine, the incense hung around,
But the rites were o’er, the silent church re-echoed to no sound;
Yet kneeling there on the altar steps, absorbed in ardent prayer,
Is a girl, as seraph meek and pure—as seraph heav’nly fair.

The blue eyes, veiled by the lashes long that rest on that bright cheek
Are humbly bent, while the snow-white hands are clasped in fervor meek,
While in the classic lip and brow, each feature of that face,
And graceful high-bred air, is seen she comes of noble race.

But, say, what means that dusky robe, that dark and flowing veil,
The silver cross—oh! need we ask? they tell at once their tale:
They say that, following in the path that fair as she have trod,
She hath renounced a fleeting world, to give herself to God.

Her sinless heart to no gay son of this earth hath she given,
Her’s is a higher, holier lot, to be the Bride of Heaven;
And the calm peace of the cloister’s walls, abode of humble worth,
Is the fit home for that spotless dove, too fair, too pure for earth.

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Blood and Fire

Think as our Church used to stand the corner of the street,
As you could hear the band and the congregation and homeless meet.

The Corps Officer would preach and go out his way,
To help anyone wanting to go on bended knee to pray
.
Hearing the sounds of them say 'Why, why, why,
Did my Father Jesus have to die? '

As the tears were dried up by the end of the night,
And do to this is why everyone could now see the Light.

Thinking of this is why The Salvation Army is my desire,
And this is why I love the Blood and the Fire.

poem by Frank Pulver
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In The Emptiness Of The Church ...

it is when i finally decide to go
to church this afternoon
after a long time of hibernation
in the world of words
in the most silent privacy
only to find out that the church
too is empty but the priest just the
same has to say mass

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The True Aaron

See Aaron, God's anointed priest,
Within the veil appear;
In robes of mystic meaning dressed,
Presenting Israel's prayer.

The plate of gold which crowns his brows,
His holiness describes;
His breast displays, in shining rows,
The names of all the tribes.

With the atoning blood he stands,
Before the mercy-seat;
And clouds of incense from his hands,
Arise with odor sweet.

Urim and Thummim near his heart,
In rich engravings worn;
The sacred light of truth impart,
To teach and to adorn.

Through him the eye of faith descries,
A greater Priest than he;
Thus Jesus pleads above the skies,
For you, my friends, and me.

He bears the names of all his saints,
Deep on his heart engraved;
Attentive to the state and wants
Of all his love has saved.

In him a holiness complete,
Light and perfections shine;
And wisdom, grace, and glory meet;
A Saviour all divine.

The blood, which as a Priest he bears
For sinners, is his own
The incense of his prayers and tears
Perfume the holy throne.

In him my weary soul has rest,
Though I am weak and vile
I read my name upon his breast,
And see the Father smile.

poem by John Newton
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Dark Street

When will it stop raining? when will these dark clouds go?
Some days I get so low, but you turn me around, you turn me around
Wont you come down to my dark street, and shine a light
cause I need your sweet sunshine
Wont you come down to my dark street, and shine a light
cause I need your sweet sunshine
You take away my sadness and the pain inside my heart
Sometimes I fall apart, but you turn me around, you turn me around
Wont you come down to my dark street, and shine a light
cause I need your sweet sunshine
Wont you come down to my dark street, and shine a light
cause I need your sweet sunshine
Sunshine
Wont you come down to my dark street, and shine a light
cause I need your sweet sunshine
Wont you come down to my dark street, and shine a light
cause I need your sweet sunshine
Oh yeah, oh come on down, come on down
And never leave my sky again
Shine your love light, love light, love light, love light
Down on me, down on me

song performed by by Fastball
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rush to me

Oh, dear children, rush to me
You should smile and feel free
Come in my open hand
Embrace me without fear like friend

I have so much love for you
You look at me and rush through
You will be at complete ease
Play, cry with me and tease

Play on my motherly ground
So much joy is awaited to be found
Leave behind all pain and anguish
How best for you I dream and wish

If you remain silent and sad
The whole world may look dark and bad
The nights may frighten with different sounds
We may be pushed away from the grounds

I wish same innocent smile on your face
It will sadden me through out in that case
I shall give you whatever you desire
I am fond of you and always admire

You hear my voice in church’s bell
It will remind you of me and tell
I stay there for you to keep well
I will catch you in my arms before you fall

You are destiny and future
I want you all to be very sure
Lead you to safety and completely assure
You stay and enjoy wherever you are

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Joy of My Youth

The morning is cold,
the moon slung low
lighting the snow
iridescently blue

In the dark, glowing church
red votives flame
throwing bright prayers
to the ceiling

Introibo ad altare Dei,
The old priest intones
“I will go
to the alter of God”

and I quickly recite
Ad Deum qui laetificat
juventutem meam

“To God,
the joy of my youth.”

The church is empty,
but still we go on,
chanting the ancient love-songs

to the One who lives
in the flickering flame

to the One who rises
in ascending incense

and hears our words
and becomes them.

poem by Steven Federle
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The Midnight Mass

An incident of the French Revolution.
The light lay trembling in a silver bar
Along the western borders of the sky;
From out the shadowy dome a little star
Stole forth to keep its patient watch on high;
And night came down, with solemn, soft embrace,
On storied Brittany.

Another night lay over all the land—
The dark of hell, and lurid with its fire.
She heard the roar of fiends; she saw the brand
Flung red and hissing over roof and spire;
She saw her golden spurs and reaping-hooks
Tossed on the funeral pyre.
She stood in calm defiance, while the flood
Swept over her;—while everywhere was seen
Her dim, majestic cities drenched in blood;
Ashes and smoke where temple-walls had been;
And high on woodland knoll and market-place,
The ghastly guillotine.

'Twas hard to tear her peasant-souls apart
From priest and liege, and clinging faith of old;
'Twas hard to bend the strong and simple heart
By fear of torture or by love of gold:
For naught those gory hands could offer them
Might consciences be sold.

“No tower or belfry shall be left to stand,”
Saint André swore, and waved his cap of red;
“You shall have naught in all this cursèd land
For sign of your superstition,—it is dead!”
A peasant heard, and raised his eyes to heaven;—
“You'll leave the stars,” he said.

True were the priests and people, each to each,
And all alike to their unlettered creed;
No violent force of sophistry could reach
Their rough-hewn faith in bitter time of need.
They died with deaf ears and dumb mouths; and theirs
Was martyrdom indeed!

Night—midnight—lay beneath her silver lamps;
Her deep sleep broken by the fitful glare

Of bivouac fires in noisy village camps,
And hoarse shouts mellowed through the listening air;
Save only where the sea-waves washed the coast—
'Twas still and quiet there:

The heave and swell, and sudden, plunging dash
Against the low rocks lying in their reach;
The hissing shingle, and the sweet, free plash
Of long-drawn breakers on the open beach;
And now and then, in momentary pause,
The curlew's mournful screech:

The soft, low gurgle in the hollowed track
Through reef and boulder; and the rippling fall
Of idle wandering waters, swirling back
From secret tryst in Naiads' rocky hall;—
Only these sounds—save that deep monotone
Which held and hushed them all.

Only these sounds? Was nothing to be heard
But voice of breaker as it rose and fell,
The kelpie's song, the wailing of a bird?
Ay, far and faint amid the restless swell,
One other voice stole whispering through the air—
The chime of a silver bell.

It came from dim mid-ocean, wild and free,
To listening ears, in silence of the night;
And watchful eyes saw, out upon the sea
And 'neath the stars, a little twinkling light—
Now lost behind a waving mountain-top,
Now shining clear and bright.

Softly the fishers' boats began to glide
From shadowy rock and sheltered cave and creek;
Bronzed men and gentle maidens, side by side,
Dipped muffled oars; no woman-hand was weak.
All eyes turned, wistful, to the beacon-lamp;
But no one dared to speak.

The scattered specks, with each its little crowd,
Drew near, converging on the distant bark;
The sweet bell rang out louder and more loud,
The light shone bright and brighter in the dark;
And soon a hundred lips burst forth in praise—
For all had reach'd the ark.

There was the priest, with whom they came to sup,
White-hair'd and holy, by his humble board;
There, amid light and darkness lifted up,

The blessed rood, by simple eyes adored.
Each head was bowed, each pious knee was bent
In presence of the Lord.

Ah! 'twas a grand cathedral where they knelt!
Grand was the organ-music—vast the crypt
Wherein its wild, mysterious echoes dwelt;
And fresh and pure the incense, as it slipp'd
Down shining floor and down wide altar-steps,
With frosted silver tipp'd.

Grand was the darken'd aisles and solemn nave—
The domèd roof, magnificently high—
The airy walls and mighty architrave—
The sweet star-tapers that could never die!
And grander still its purity of peace,
Its untouched sanctity.

The worn and weary ones came there, to search
For rest and hope in holy Eucharist;
There—in the splendour of that solemn church—
They, priest and people, communed with the Christ;
Thus—with all other temples overthrown—
They kept his sacred tryst.

With calm, grave eyes and even-pulsing breath,
They dipp'd their still oars in the darken'd space.
Strong now the hands fast rowing back to death!—
And strong the simple hearts, new clothed in grace—
The hush'd and quiet souls—ere long to meet
Their Saviour face to face.

poem by Ada Cambridge
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