The Pure in Heart Shall See God
They shall see Him in the crimson flush
Of morning's early light,
In the drapery of sunset,
Around the couch of night.
When the clouds drop down their fatness,
In late and early rain,
They shall see His glorious footprints
On valley, hill and plain.
They shall see Him when the cyclone
Breathes terror through the land;
They shall see Him 'mid the murmurs
Of zephyrs soft and bland.
They shall see Him when the lips of health,
Breath vigor through each nerve,
When pestilence clasps hands with death,
His purposes to serve.
They shall see Him when the trembling earth
Is rocking to and fro;
They shall see Him in the order
The seasons come and go.
They shall see Him when the storms of war
Sweep wildly through the land;
When peace descends like gentle dew
They still shall see His hand.
They shall see Him in the city
Of gems and pearls of light,
They shall see Him in his beauty,
And walk with Him in white.
To living founts their feet shall tend,
And Christ shall be their guide,
Beloved of God, their rest shall be
In safety by His side.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Resting-Place
“Because I live, ye shall live also.”
Calmly the Paschal moonlight now is sleeping
On mossy hillock and on headstone grey,
Where still our Mother holds in faithful keeping
Such as, while living, in her dear arms lay.
Ah! loving and beloved, we know ye rest,
E'en in the grave, upon her hallow'd breast.
Where is the cumbrous robe—the flesh—the matter
Which held the spirit in such painful thrall?
A little dust that scarce a breath would scatter,
Darkness, and void, and silence—this seems all.
Yet somewhere, safe, the waiting body lies,
While the freed spirit is in Paradise.
Ah! in that day, when earth is all refinèd
From death and sin, the darkness and the stain;
When Eden's perfect beauty is enshrinèd
In unmarred purity and light again;
Transfigured, and “exceeding white as snow”—
But still that body—it will rise, we know.
The self-same lips that hymn'd the Easter story
With heart of Easter gladness, here, may sing
The song of angels, in the angels' glory,
Around the throne of our Almighty King.
The same feet, which this ancient pavement trod,
May walk for aye the temple-courts of God.
O blessed day, which saw the Saviour risen!
Which told to trembling man that wondrous news—
“The grave is not thy body's endless prison,
Thy soul no more in vain for pardon sues.
From Adam's curse, by Christ's death, thou art free—
The Lord accepts this sacrifice for thee.”
“Peace be with you”—by Him those words were spoken
After the glorious victory was won—
After the angel gave that blessed token
To her whose favour'd lips had called him “Son.”
Ah! where were peace, if every trembling breath
Strengthen'd the fetters of an endless death?
Where were the peace, if that dark cloud of mourning
From Calvary's hill had never pass'd away?
If our deep night had never known the dawning
Of that mysterious Resurrection-day?
O Christ our Lord! Thou didst indeed release
Thy sinful children, and didst give them peace.
And now we know that Thou art throned for ever,
True God, and yet true man, in heaven above;
That now no power our life from Thine can sever,
That naught shall rob us of Thy gift of love;
That Thou, within the veil, dost intercede
For all who suffer and for all in need.
That Thou art with us here, too, in our sorrow—
With us to help in every time of strife,
Dost give to each dark day its joyous morrow,
Dost make us strong with Thine own love and life.
And we may love, and we may come to Thee
In heaven, and share Thy great felicity!
Ay, when the grass upon our grave is sighing
In the cool wind and Easter moonlight fair,
The mortal dust, beneath the violets lying,
Shall rest in hope and rest in safety there,
Till Thou shalt come with Thy celestial train,
And our bright spirit take its own again.
“After Thy likeness,” in its sweet perfection,
Shall we awake in that eternal day;
All—save the sin—shall have its resurrection,
Clothed in Thy glorious immortality.
And we shall stand Thy radiant throne beside,
Blessed for evermore, and—satisfied!
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Transformation
We were just married a while,
The world had yet not been invaded by mobile.
So there was lot of laughter and smiles
Early morning we would walk for miles.
Chinaar trees, Tulips, Daffodils, cherry blossoms-
The beauty of it was truly awesome.
On an indolent noon, a shikara ride
With the boatman working as a tourist guide.
How effortlessly the hours passed,
As we slowly waded through the calm waters and went past,
Dal and Nishaat Lake, in utter awe.
Pristine beauty of the hills for the first time I saw.
Young girls in boats selling local ware,
So calm, serene, gentle and fair.
In just ten years all hell broke loose,
Blood all around in place of soft hues.
All was desecrated with irreverence.
The valley was shorn of its very essence.
Those who forever had lived in harmony,
Overnight became sworn enemies.
What not are we driven to for self preservation.
People were fleeing not knowing their destination.
Countless became paupers and homeless
And fled to the safety of refugee camps.
How many lives lost over a piece of land?
Politics of war made me sad.
Terror affected psyche of one and all.
On reading the news, i felt appalled.
I still dream of those days gone by,
When the valley was alive, i thought with a sigh.
Why can’t we live in harmony and peace?
And bring back those days when every one was at ease.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Christ Is Life
We have peace and God’s presence, wherever The Good Lord sends us,
Even when no peace can be found, Christ sets our feet on stable ground.
God gives our feet a steadiness, through The Lord’s own Righteousness,
The Righteousness of Jesus Christ; this through His Spirit and New Life.
The Lord, who sets us on our course, will be for us, God’s faithful source,
Of His Peace and Light along the way, even in through life’s darkest day.
God’s Peace shall comfort any heart, which trusts in Christ from the start,
Anyone who calls upon Jesus Christ, to lead them through their daily life.
Daily Christ Jesus can give to you, the Grace of God to see you through,
He’ll see you through each day and hour, with His Grace and His Power.
My Friend, even in the darkest night, Christ will guide you with His Light,
In this world The Lord Jesus Christ, is for all men today, The Light of life.
Christ can guide all men my friend, from their beginning to the very end,
The Lord can guide both you and me, from earth’s beginning to Eternity.
And God above can guide everyone, through Jesus Christ His Only Son,
For His One and Only Son, Jesus Christ, is the very Author of every life.
Jesus Christ is Creator and He’s God, of the very earth that all men trod,
God who placed you upon this earth, in Christ can give you a New Birth,
To be born again and live forevermore, with our God and Christ our Lord.
Today come to God through Jesus Christ, and you will have Eternal Life.
(Copyright ©01/2007)
Early In The Morning
Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Early Her Sunset
Oh, so much of drowning regrets!
When faced with too early a sunset
Time seems to have been cheating
And the Future is just disappearing.
Life becomes fast drifting sands
We fail to hold in our weakened hands
Dreams and plans like mists are set
To fade like fog in too early a sunset.
Too early to think of sleep and rest
Too early for having Death as guest
Why does it seem that Fate forgets
Not to come early, too early for sunset?
It pains and grieves my frail heart so
Words to comfort, how? I don't know.
She hangs on there till the End is met
No choice but to go, too early her sunset.
For Eden, my friend. (Brain cancer victim at 38.)
Cynthia Buhain-Baello
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Gentle Morning Rain
You are as the gentle morning rain
Giving life to all that here below remain
Your scope unlimited across this earth’s terrain
Each speckled spot of moistness
Alights on my face with a gentle wakefulness
Awakening me to your love and gracefulness
In the gentle morning rain.
Your mid day sunlight melts the gentle rain
Your warmth over all of us does reign
The light by which we see and then attain
Each blessed ray of light illuminating
And revealing all that needs our understanding
Even in the dark your eternal light reflecting
You melt the gentle morning rain.
Your afternoon wind carries the gentle rain
Your breath gives us all our life to sustain
Our minds are cleared as you breathe again
Each gasp of breath breathed with life’s zest
How many breaths are measured for this chest
Before all my worldly goods I must bequest
You carry the gentle morning rain.
And when the evening comes that gentle rain
Is still present here, as love it does remain
In the twilight of this day it never goes away
Your love that is the gentle morning rain.
poem by David Taylor
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Maceo
Maceo dead! a thrill of sorrow
Through our hearts in sadness ran
When we felt in one sad hour
That the world had lost a man.
He had clasped unto his bosom
The sad fortunes of his land --
Held the cause for which he perished
With a firm, unfaltering hand.
On his lips the name of freedom
Fainted with his latest breath.
Cuba Libre was his watchword
Passing through the gates of death.
With the light of God around us,
Why this agony and strife?
With the cross of Christ before us,
Why this fearful waste of life?
Must the pathway unto freedom
Ever mark a crimson line,
And the eyes of wayward mortals
Always close to light divine?
Must the hearts of fearless valor
Fail 'mid crime and cruel wrong,
When the world has read of heroes
Brave and earnest, true and strong?
Men to stay the floods of sorrow
Sweeping round each war-crushed heart;
Men to say to strife and carnage --
From our world henceforth depart.
God of peace and God of nations,
Haste! oh, haste the glorious day
When the reign of our Redeemer
O'er the world shall have its sway.
When the swords now blood encrusted,
Spears that reap the battle field,
Shall be changed to higher service,
Helping earth rich harvests yield.
Where the widow weeps in anguish,
And the orphan bows his head,
Grant that peace and joy and gladness
May like holy angels tread.
Pity, oh, our God the sorrow
Of thy world from thee astray,
Lead us from the paths of madness
Unto Christ the living way.
Year by year the world grows weary
'Neath its weight of sin and strife,
Though the hands once pierced and bleeding
Offer more abundant life.
May the choral song of angels
Heard upon Judea's plain
Sound throughout the earth the tidings
Of that old and sweet refrain.
Till our world, so sad and weary,
Finds the balmy rest of peace --
Peace to silence all her discords --
Peace till war and crime shall cease.
Peace to fall like gentle showers,
Or on parchéd flowers dew,
Till our hearts proclaim with gladness:
Lo, He maketh all things new.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Rocky Acres
This is a wild land, country of my choice,
With harsh craggy mountain, moor ample and bare.
Seldom in these acres is heard any voice
But voice of cold water that runs here and there
Through rocks and lank heather growing without care.
No mice in the heath run nor no birds cry
For fear of the dark speck that floats in the sky.
He soars and he hovers rocking on his wings,
He scans his wide parish with a sharp eye,
He catches the trembling of small hidden things,
He tears them in pieces dropping from the sky:
Tenderness and pity the land will deny,
Where life is but nourished from water and rock,
A hardy adventure, full of fear and shock.
Time has never journeyed to this lost land,
Crakeberries and heather bloom out of date,
The rocks jut, the streams flow singing on either hand,
Careless if the season be early or late.
The skies wander overhead, now blue now slate:
Winter would be known by his cold cutting snow
If June did not borrow his armour also.
Yet this is my country beloved by me best,
The first land that rose from Chaos and the Flood,
Nursing no fat valleys for comfort and rest,
Trampled by no hard hooves, stained with no blood
Bold immortal country whose hill-tops have stood
Strongholds for the proud gods when on earth they go,
Terror for fat burghers in far plains below.
poem by Robert Graves
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Early Mornin'
Early mornin'
All right, I was out real late last night
Got a little messy
Early morning
Can't be like that anymore, oh
I was shaking my ass in the streets this morning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Passed out on the couch I'm yawning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Wanna talk to
When he walked up someone grabbed him
But I liked him to come here
Kinda cool
Baby, we can make plans
Where ya live
Does your mama live there
We can hook up at the hotel
Hands down so
I told him, let's go
But waht happened next, guess?
But you don't wanna know
I was shaking my ass in the streets this morning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Passed out on the couch I'm yawning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Oh, in love
So I approached him
We gotta give him his friends
There's something bout him that show
So I said, what the hell
Let's go
Got up, got on the dance floor
Hooked up with a guy named Joe
When the music was fast and slow
But waht happened next, guess?
But you don't wanna know
I was shaking my ass in the streets this morning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Passed out on the couch I'm yawning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, b
song performed by by Britney Spears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Carbis Bay
Out of the night of the sea,
Out of the turbulent night,
A sharp and hurrying wind
Scourges the waters white:
The terror by night.
Out of the doubtful dark,
Out of the night of the land,
What is it breathes and broods,
Hoveringly at hand?
The menace of land.
Out of the night of heaven,
Out of the delicate sky,
Pale and serene the stars
In their silence reply:
The peace of the sky.
poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christ Is The Light
Revealing shadows of the night
Dispersing doubtful haze
When Jesus comes Salvation’s Light
Brings faith that will amaze
The faith to stand, to rise and shine
Move mountains to the sea
Turn normal water into wine
And set the captive free
Yet Light’s not all that Jesus brings
God’s Son is so much more
He is! The Light the bible sings
That leads to Heaven’s door
He’s hope, He’s joy, He’s Heaven’s grace
The strength of God’s elite
The radiance on Moses’ face
And Lamp unto our feet
When Heaven’s brilliant Light arrives
When Jesus reigns within
We’ll see the church not only thrives
But lives to combat sin
“I am! The Light” said Christ quite plain
“I came on earth to give
I came to die and rise again
In order that you live”
Walk not by night and fall astray
Be clad in robes of white
Believe in Christ God’s Son today
And walk within The Light
The Light in ever flowing streams
The Light of God divine
The Light fulfilling wildest dreams
The Light that now is mine
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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I'm A-waiting and A-watching
I'm a-waiting and a-watching for the day that has no end.
For the sun that's ever shining, for its rays that ever blend;
For the light that casts no shadows, for the sky that's ever fair,
For the rose that's ever blooming as its fragrance fills the air.
I'm a-waiting and a watching for the land that knows no night;
Where the terrors of the darkness are dispelled in morning's light,
Where the murmurs of the breezes blend themselves into a song,
And the silvery carol echoes to the heavens, soft and long.
I'm a-waiting and a-watching for the song that's never o'er,
For the joy that's never ending on that light-emblazoned shore,
For the peace that shall enfold me with the heaven's holy breath,
For the glory that shall greet me, for the life that knows no death.
poem by Joseph Seamon Cotter
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The Sea Hold
THE SEA is large.
The sea hold on a leg of land in the Chesapeake hugs an early sunset and a last morning star over the oyster beds and the late clam boats of lonely men.
Five white houses on a half-mile strip of land... five white dice rolled from a tube.
Not so long ago... the sea was large...
And to-day the sea has lost nothing... it keeps all.
I am a loon about the sea.
I make so many sea songs, I cry so many sea cries, I forget so many sea songs and sea cries.
I am a loon about the sea.
So are five men I had a fish fry with once in a tar-paper shack trembling in a sand storm.
The sea knows more about them than they know themselves.
They know only how the sea hugs and will not let go.
The sea is large.
The sea must know more than any of us.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The White Pearls From Me
as the gray, thick clouds
of Jose Dalman bring forth
the wild, heavy rain and as
the blown mahogany leaves
look for life on the grass
and the plain
as the intensity of the storms
of the Marupay's fierce winds brings forth
the strong pleas of the
workers of the land
proud of the green orchards
asking to be spared
and when the eyes of the typhoon
meet the eyes of the
monkeys and the parakeets and
python
so in me, shall come the arc of the rainbow
the subsiding side, the stopping of the rage, and the
cool white pearls of the morning dew.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
A rose-bud, by my early walk
Adown a corn-enclosèd bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
All on a dewy morning.
Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
In a' its crimson glory spread,
And drooping rich the dewy head,
It scents the early morning.
Within the bush her covert nest
A little linnet fondly prest;
The dew sat chilly on her breast,
Sae early in the morning.
She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,
Awauk the early morning.
So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,
On trembling string or vocal air,
Shall sweetly pay the tender care
That tents thy early morning!
So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,
And bless the parent's evening ray
That watch'd thy early morning!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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On a perfect day
You begin it with a morning walk
Moments of reflection on God’s
Wonders, his creations, an
Early fresh air brushing your hair
Some dews on grass glistening
Some scents on early flower blooms exuding
Some new leaves on the tall trees sprouting
In a while you see the break of dawn
The sun finally breaking out gently
From the crevices of clouds on a wide horizon
Seeing a new light,
Then breakfast with the family
Some prayers to bless simple food
Early morning news, a little talk,
Some crack for jokes,
Then
It is office time
You work, you make judgments
On people’s grievances, they want
Something from you
To be done, swiftly and rightly,
They are thirsty and hungry,
And you have to feed them
Right away, you always think what is
It that is best for all and must
Be done, no matter what,
Then you go back to your home,
You sit on a chair facing yourself
On a mirror for some reflections,
You smile, you are proud, you did
Not yield to the wiles of this world,
You have asserted yourself on some
Principles to no compromises,
You look again at another closing sunset,
Seeing a new promising light,
Then you pray and sleep soundly
Another day has ended again,
Your head rests on a soft pillow
Feeling light like being reborn
Your conscience is clear
There is no stain in your hands
An unblemished heart
Beating for God for humanity
Seeing a new fading light
On such a perfect day…..
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Changing Light
The changing light
at San Francisco
is none of your East Coast light
none of your
pearly light of Paris
The light of San Francisco
is a sea light
an island light
And the light of fog
blanketing the hills
drifting in at night
through the Golden Gate
to lie on the city at dawn
And then the halcyon late mornings
after the fog burns off
and the sun paints white houses
with the sea light of Greece
with sharp clean shadows
making the town look like
it had just been painted
But the wind comes up at four o'clock
s weeping the hills
And then the veil of light of early evening
And then another scrim
when the new night fog
floats in
And in that vale of light
the city drifts
anchorless upon the ocean
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God’s Lights
Morning’s painting on the sky above, covers this earth like a glove,
Clouds covered by the sun’s rays, filling earth with abundant praise.
With yet another day to unfold, of God’s wonderful Glory to behold,
The beauty fills hearts and minds, with awe for God’s grand design.
Before the sun is overhead, God paints the clouds a gorgeous red,
This as He moves earth out of night, into the brightness of daylight.
At times the sunlight He shrouds, hiding the sun behind the clouds,
Clouds God paints upon the sky, as wide and vast as they are high.
Although the sun is hid from sight, God keeps it there till fall of night,
Then it’s truly veiled from all eyes, by the ever darker evening skies.
When God shows us another side, as He allows the daylight to hide,
As night’s ushered in by Heaven, God’s lesser light starts to descend.
Now under an ever darker canopy, with lights far as the eye can see,
And the moon above phase by phase, to count both nights and days,
God starts with a new moon friend, with the full moon at month’s end.
This is how God lights the skies, above a world that is filled with eyes.
Lights placed above for all to see, by the hand of The God of Eternity.
The Greatest Light we cannot see; The One who died for you and me.
The Light of Christ soon will shine, from the Eternal City for all of time,
No more need of the moon or sun, for the only Light will be God’s Son.
A Need For A New House....Or Home...
early morning
when the doors are still closed and the windows still tipsy
like the whole house
you fly away
the sun comes out with the clouds
early morning you fly away
away from it all
the clouds are floors and grasses
and you are a lonely bird among a flock of chairs
early morning you fly away
thinking about nothing
you fly away and you feel like a leaf inside
that gentle beast
it is a ride-awA Need For A New House....Or Home...ay
among the paradoxes of life
and its ironies
early morning there is this flight that takes you to a stop-over
of your life
no one knows that you are grieving
over a search for what you feel
the one you had which you lost
intentionally
among the flock of chairs landing early morning
on unstable floors
early morning you take a cab
you choose still
which house
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happiness
So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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