Picture of a Nativity
Sea-preserved, heaped with sea-spoils,
Ribs, keels, coral sores,
Detached faces, ephemeral oils,
Discharged on the world’s outer shores,
A dumb child-king
Arrives at his right place; rests,
Undisturbed, among slack serpents; beasts
With claws flesh-buttered. In the gathering
Of bestial and common hardship
Artistic men appear to worship
And fall down; to recognize
Familiar tokens; believe their own eyes.
Above the marvel, each rigid head,
Angels, their unnatural wings displayed,
Freeze into an attitude
Recalling the dead.
poem by Geoffrey Hill
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King Is Dead
I have not come to worship you
Only flowers at your throne
I have not come to plead or beg
Or to claim what is my own
Oh i know you are the king
And you'll say what is wrong
I have come to cut you down
And to leave your body dead
You do not mean so much to me
Nor that crown upon your head
You are just as sad as me
You are lonely flesh and blood
And the time has come for you to die
And now you bleed, please spare my life
You know i'm the chosen one
I don't believe what you bequeth
And i must do what must be done
You say you're the only king
Your words just fall like rain
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The King Is Dead
(copyright nazareth, tiflis tunes,inc.-ascap)
I have not come to worship you
Only flowers at your throne
I have not come to plead or beg
Or to claim what is my own
Oh I know you are the king
And youll say what is wrong
I have come to cut you down
And to leave your body dead
You do not mean so much to me
Nor that crown upon your head
You are just as sad as me
You are lonely flesh and blood
And the time has come for you to die
And now you bleed, please spare my life
You know Im the chosen one
I dont believe what you bequeth
And I must do what must be done
You say youre the only king
Your words just fall like rain
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 148
Let the heavens cry out
Let the earth give a shout
Let all the Peoples of the earth not doubt
Our glorious King forever
Let the heavenly angels praise
To our King may every hand raise
May we worship Him all of our days
Our glorious King forever
Praise Him you sun so bright
Praise Him you moon through the night
All of His enemies take flight
From our glorious King forever
Praise Him you creatures of the sea
Praise Him that you swim so free
May our praises eternally be
Of our glorious King forever
Mountains and hills fall down
Stars in the sky make a glorious sound
All ye saints cast down your crowns
Before our glorious King forever
We will praise Him for His marvelous grace
We praise Him for His warm embrace
We praise Him in the holy place
Our glorious King forever
We exalt the King of Kings
Heavenly choirs of angels sings
Of the freedom that our Christ brings
Our glorious King forever
All our praise He does deserve
Let His glory cover all the earth
We shall bow down and worship and serve
Our glorious King forever
poem by Frank McEleny
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Roxas Boulevard...
yes, the sunset is terribly
beautiful
saffron, silky, smooth,
mellow fire of the philosopher
that we dearly
love
we can endure the stink of
the dead bay,
it is the funeral of the earth,
rotten,
the courage of the vultures
dead fish floating
rusty keels of yachts
yes we are the reminders
of sinking flesh, of fagots eating
the brains of
those who cease to be alive,
we pass by
like ephemeral
orange.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Angels
Everyone pictures angels
with angelic faces, golden hair,
a pair of wings and a head
surrounded by an aura of gold.
However, are angels really like that?
Angels are just like you and me.
They walk among us
and you would never recognise one,
if they were right before your eyes.
They will never tell you
that they are an angel.
The only time you would know
there was an angel there,
is when their miracle
has been performed,
and like a fleeting ghost,
they fade away and are gone.
(19 September 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Black And White! (Spirits And Flesh)
black and white,
not different kinds of souls,
merely skin tints!
Americans, and Middle
Eastern people,
worship...
not different gods,
but different understandings
of the same god!
and common people,
all around the world,
have worked too long,
for too little,
are tired of being numbers,
numbers without faces!
tired on being enslaved,
being treated as possessions....
for they have faces!
faces with hearts,
hearts with spirits,
spirits made of flesh!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What The Hyena Said
The moon is but a golden skull,
She mounts the heavens now,
And Moon-Worms, mighty Moon-Worms
Are wreathed around her brow.
The Moon-Worms are a doughty race:
They eat her gray and golden face.
Her eye-sockets dead, and molding head:
These caverns are their dwelling-place.
The Moon-Worms, serpents of the skies,
From the great hollows of her eyes
Behold all souls, and they are wise:
With tiny, keen and icy eyes,
Behold how each man sins and dies.
When Earth in gold-corruption lies
Long dead, the moon-worm butterflies
On cyclone wings will reach this place—
Yea, rear their brood on earth’s dead face.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Eyes are the window to the soul
Eyes are the windows to the soul
Throughout my life I’ve been told
To see into anothers heart
Eyes are the place to start
Be they hazel, green or blue
Black, brown color changing too
Matters not what color they be
They show what one needs to see
Through these windows the truth lies
Emotionally nothing hides
Clear for all too recognize
Displayed to the world in ones eyes
Evident are anger, lust and surprise
Fear, truth, lust, hope and despise
Happiness, sorrow, and confusion
Inside familiar eyes there is no illusion
To gaze deeply is an intense moment
For the eyes are a intimate component
Although prominent noticed by all
Often the feature hardest to recall
poem by Vern Eaker
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Buttered Peas With Crushed Red Pepper
Don't take the peas up off my plate.
That irritates.
Don't even think about sneaking them.
They are there for me to eat.
And I want every pea,
Left for me to satiate.
I buttered them to taste.
With baby onions they taste great.
Fix your eyes in another place.
Back your nose up off my plate.
Buttered peas with crushed red pepper.
Fix your eyes in another place.
No other buttered bean or pea taste better.
Take your eyes up off my plate.
I buttered them to taste.
With baby onions they taste great.
Buttered peas with crushed red pepper.
Take your eyes up off my plate.
And don't your think about sneaking a pea!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I thought I saw your face today
I thought I saw your face today
But I just turned my head away
Your face against the trees
But I just see the memories
As they come
As they come
And I couldn't help but fall in love again
No, I couldn't help but fall in love again
I saw it glitter as I grew
And loved a boy I never knew
I thought this place was heaven-sent
But now it's just a monument
In my mind
In my mind
And I couldn't help but fall in love again
No, I couldn't help but fall in love again
And the cars and freeways implore me to stay
Away out of this place
My mother said, "Just keep your head and play it as it lays"
And the cars and freeways implore me to stay
Away out of this place
My mother said, "Just keep your head and play it as it lays"
I somehow see what's beautiful
In things that are ephemeral
I'm my only friend of mine
And love is just a piece of time
In the world
In the world
And I couldn't help but fall in love again
No, I couldn't help but fall in love again
No, I couldn't help but fall in love again\
No, I couldn't help but fall in love again
song performed by by Zooey Deschanel, music by Zooey Deschanel, lyrics by Zooey Deschanel from She & Him Volume one (2008)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Weeping angels
Down from heaven
to show the way to paradise
for the newly dead
the angels weep
So young
so innocent
so senseless
the angels weep
Eyes down
wings at there sides
words not exchanged
the angels weep
32 new angels
no need to earn there wings
like jesus they died for other peoples sins
in heaven they will weep
In heaven they will be called apon
to one day escort the new to paradise
and they will
With eyes down
wings at there sides
and tears in there eyes
weeping forever
God bless all who lost there lives today
and there familys
America loves you
and your scarfice will not be forgotten
poem by Vincent Armone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Artistic
Artistic
It's artistic
Grace in your movement
Is artistic.
Artistic
It's artistic
Sweetness in your voice
Is artistic.
Artistic
It's artistic
Gleam in your eye
Is artistic.
I'm filled with inspiration
In my dormant artistic pursuit...
With brush in hand
I'll paint your every move
With hidden treasure of words
I'll weave poems of what you say
And I'll move as you command
By the gleam of your eye.
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Glory Now Descending
I have seen the heavens descending
And the beauty of Christ arise
For there is no comprehending
As His glory fills the skies
Are the eyes of your heart full of wonder?
Has perfect love cast out all fear?
Can you hear the heavenly thunder?
As our Lord and God draws near
Lift up your eyes and see the King
As the angels blow their horn
Let every man and woman sing
For the day that He was born
For on that day when He came to earth
The angels did rejoice
And all who bowed now gladly serve
And make a joyful noise
For if glory filled the earth and sky
On the day that He was born
And all hell shook when He was crucified
And the veil was surely torn
Then what glory now descending
As He comes back for His own?
And every heart depending
For the trumpet it has blown
Close your eyes and open your heart
And the King of glory will come in
It was His plan right from the start
To conquer hell and death and sin
O the glory of the risen King
Who is coming for His own
And every child of God will sing
Around God's holy throne
Come Lord Jesus take your place
Rule and reign forevermore
We'll eternally gaze into your face
As we all worship and adore
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Buttered Popcorn
My baby likes
(Buttered popcorn) Uh-huh!
(Buttered popcorn) Oh-hoh!
(Buttered popcorn) Oh yeah!
(Buttered popcorn) Oh!
He likes it greasy (buttered popcorn)
And sticky (buttered popcorn)
And gooey (buttered popcorn)
And salty (buttered popcorn)
I said
song performed by by Supremes from Meet the Supremes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wings Of The Mind
faced with a blank wall
the mind pass through it
over the fences
it goes beyond
kicks and jumps away
reinventing wings and
sharpening claws
on its personal journey
into the unknown
more real that what can be touched
by the hands
too theoretical
ephemeral
as one wakes up
for another usual morning
the fingers close upon a fist
laid upon the navel
one preaches
what is here inside my fist
is real
the wings in my head
are upcoming
unable to flap
resigned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fists (a Revised Poem)
faced with a blank wall
the mind passes through it
over the fences
it goes beyond
kicks and jumps away
reinventing wings and
sharpening claws
on its personal journey
into the unknown
more real than what can be touched
by the hands
too theoretical
ephemeral
as one wakes up
for another usual morning
the fingers close upon a fist
lays itself upon the navel
one preaches
'what is here inside my fist
is real'
the wings in my head
are upcoming
unable to flap
and resigned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Knows?
They say one king is mad. Perhaps. Who knows?
They say one king is doddering and grey.
They say one king is slack and sick of mind,
A puppet for hid strings that twitch and play.
Is Europe then to be their sprawling-place?
Their mad-house, till it turns the wide world's bane?
Their place of maudlin, slavering conference
Till every far-off farmstead goes insane?
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Two Angels Came Calling
The congregation was unaware
When two angels came calling
They wore human flesh
They ate flesh
They rendered melodious choruses
Dined on common tables
Dishing out solid foods
Blessing without dismulation
The two danced
The two sang
The two prophesied
The two sacrificed
The two intercedes
The two were angels
Who came calling
Yet we were unaware
Suddenly they flapped their wings
Flying away into the sky
Ascending into the celestial
Bidding bye to the terrestial
With heavens throwing a big party
Welcoming the faithful ministers
Pouring accolades on the duo
Who served mankind with zeal
Now we know they were angels
That heavens blessed us with
But were treated them like humans
Adieu, angels
Adieu, God's ministers
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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You Can Never Go Home
Open the door and adjust my eyes
The concrete streets are as gray as the skies
The wind stings my face and this world just melts away
And it brings me back to another place bur memories are such a waste
You can never go home, you left that world behind
Is this the only place
The only place to go
Are these tired words, the only that we know
The old familiar taste, of the bottle in my hand
Or is this the only place, I can understand
Your whiskey tainted wisdom spills like vomit from your mouth
The world is closing in and I just gotta get out...
Of my head and of this town
Familiar places are bringing me down,
The truth can be hard to swallow
When its spit right in your face.
I just gotta get out
Hay
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lugubrious Whing-Whang
The rhyme o' The Raggedy Man's 'at's best
Is Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs,--
'Cause that-un's the strangest of all o' the rest,
An' the worst to learn, an' the last one guessed,
An' the funniest one, an' the foolishest.--
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
I don't know what in the world it means--
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!--
An' nen when I _tell_ him I don't, he leans
Like he was a-grindin' on some machines
An' says: Ef I _don't_, w'y, I don't know _beans!_
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!--
Out on the margin of Moonshine Land,
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
Out where the Whing-Whang loves to stand,
Writing his name with his tail in the sand,
And swiping it out with his oogerish hand;
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
Is it the gibber of Gungs or Keeks?
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
Or what _is_ the sound that the Whing-Whang seeks?--
Crouching low by the winding creeks
And holding his breath for weeks and weeks!
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
Aroint him the wraithest of wraithly things!
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
'Tis a fair Whing-Whangess, with phosphor rings
And bridal-jewels of fangs and stings;
And she sits and as sadly and softly sings
As the mildewed whir of her own dead wings,--
Tickle me, Dear,
Tickle me here,
Tickle me, Love, in these Lonesome Ribs!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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