The Poet's Testament
I give back to the earth what the earth gave,
All to the furrow, none to the grave,
The candle's out, the spirit's vigil spent;
Sight may not follow where the vision went.
I leave you but the sound of many a word
In mocking echoes haply overheard,
I sang to heaven. My exile made me free,
from world to world, from all worlds carried me.
Spared by the furies, for the Fates were kind,
I paced the pillared cloisters of the mind;
All times my present, everywhere my place,
Nor fear, nor hope, nor envy saw my face.
Blow what winds would, the ancient truth was mine,
And friendship mellowed in the flush of wine,
And heavenly laughter, shaking from its wings
Atoms of light and tears for mortal things.
To trembling harmonies of field and cloud,
Of flesh and spirit was my worship vowed.
Let form, let music, let all quickening air
Fulfil in beauty my imperfect prayer.
poem by George Santayana
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Related quotes
Evcharistos! and not only...
here is the world of not only:
lifting its face, lifting its hands,
beyond not, beyond only, to
not only, but.. to That!
not only for some, but for all.
Be sitting in your chair, or
kneeling before an altar or a statue, or
touching head to ground, or
cross-legged, the sitar and the vina
quietening to silence, the incense
filling the lungs and heart;
or walking through the forest, in the hills; seeing,
not only this, or this, but… that…
Eucharist, Communion, Advaita –
Thanksgiving, coming together as one,
‘not two’… do all these mean the same,
mean, not only?
not only you, but all of us;
not only worshipping, or working;
not only body or spirit;
not only earth or heaven;
but there, where work is worship; worship, work;
where activity is rest;
where Body is Spirit; Spirit, Body;
earth is heaven, and heaven’s on earth;
where sound and silence meet;
where stillness meets activity;
where body and spirit know each other;
take, if you wish, this sip of wine, this crumb of bread,
this handful of water, this flower,
in the memory of centuries and millions,
lifting, too, their faces and their hands;
looking beyond not only, finding, that;
or put your hands together,
as all things come together;
say the word, a word,
give a name to it, to That;
or listen to the sound beyond all names;
the sound that’s in the silence;
the life that’s in the stillness;
or stay with eucharist, communion, advaita, jihad,
sacrifice, surrender, prayer, praise;
they are your guardians and your friends,
smiling as they run toward you, greeting;
calling out to you,
not only… but…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Full of an Emptiness
I am full of an emptiness,
Which empties me of my fullness.
I am feeding my starving ego,
While never nourishing my soul which can always be satisfied.
The spirit never ends but I try to tempt it with things that do.
Earthly pleasures, to find heavenly treasures?
Money, power and control do not fill me up.
I always want more.
I can never get enough.
Love, joy and peace.
I have none.
Yet it is all I truly need.
It is only this that will fill me up.
My spirit is allergic to the things of this world.
Yet my mind tells me to feast on more,
My mind is the starving pig.
Feasting on the droppings of the world.
And so I eat from the bottom, which is the world.
My living Hell.
Earth is chaos, Heaven is peace.
I look up and see an endless sky.
These are my possibilities should I follow the spirit.
I look to the ground and see how far is the fall.
But it is only once I have fallen, and hit the ground.
That I can get back up.
Rise above my circumstances.
Rise above the pleasures.
To seek and pursue the treasures.
That were promised to all.
Even before my time here.
If I get, what I give.
And what I give is nothing,
It is nothing I will get back in the end.
So why do I keep giving only what I can take?
Am I giving of things that have a beginning and an ending?
Or do I give what is endless?
The anger I feel because I thought someone was stealing from me,
Is really what I simply robbed myself of in the first place.
Peace, joy and love.
It is mine to share.
For if I share it,
It can never be stolen from me.
In the end, it is only my legacy I leave behind.
Money will be spent.
Power will run out.
Control will be lost.
To be without money is to be broke.
I am broken.
To be without power is to be powerless.
I am powerless.
If I get what I give, then I am what I am.
If I am control, then I am controlled and controlling
If I am peace, then I am peaceful
If I am joy, then I am joyous
If I am love, then I am loving and loved.
That is all I ever wanted and ever needed in the first place.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Death Of Richard Wagner
Mourning on earth, as when dark hours descend,
Wide-winged with plagues, from heaven; when hope and mirth
Wane, and no lips rebuke or reprehend
Mourning on earth.
The soul wherein her songs of death and birth,
Darkness and light, were wont to sound and blend,
Now silent, leaves the whole world less in worth.
Winds that make moan and triumph, skies that bend,
Thunders, and sound of tides in gulf and firth,
Spake through his spirit of speech, whose death should send
Mourning on earth.
The world's great heart, whence all things strange and rare
Take form and sound, that each inseparate part
May bear its burden in all tuned thoughts that share
The world's great heart -
The fountain forces, whence like steeds that start
Leap forth the powers of earth and fire and air,
Seas that revolve and rivers that depart -
Spake, and were turned to song: yea, all they were,
With all their works, found in his mastering art
Speech as of powers whose uttered word laid bare
The world's great heart.
From the depths of the sea, from the wellsprings of earth, from the wastes of the midmost night,
From the fountains of darkness and tempest and thunder, from heights where the soul would be,
The spell of the mage of music evoked their sense, as an unknown light
From the depths of the sea.
As a vision of heaven from the hollows of ocean, that none but a god might see,
Rose out of the silence of things unknown of a presence, a form, a might,
And we heard as a prophet that hears God's message against him, and may not flee.
Eye might not endure it, but ear and heart with a rapture of dark delight,
With a terror and wonder whose core was joy, and a passion of thought set free,
Felt inly the rising of doom divine as a sundawn risen to sight
From the depths of the sea.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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My Spirit
I have often felt alone and foreign
Within this place or world everyone calls home-
Perhaps a part of me had died many years back- although
My spirit lives on and looks upward towards the sky, past midnight
Perhaps to awaken in some other realm- Alive and unafraid,
I see the stars brightly shining against the midnight sky,
Far away but close to me in a unique way-
The rings of Saturn intrigue me and inside of the world of my dreams,
I have become as a dove, lifting my wings
To fly as I continue my fight to
Find a place in this world, as my spirit attentively watches over me-
It has been said that everyone is born with a spirit inside-
I was born with a mind, confused, frightened and divided- although
I was born with a spirit that is strong, brave and wise-
I lift my wings and fly, following the direction my spirit, as
My spirit is my only hope- My hope to find a life for myself.
Free from the apparition of the nightmares of my past-
Inside of my mind I know that if I follow the direction that
My spirit takes- enlightened by the sun, the moon and the stars-
Perhaps in the fondest of dreams, I will reawaken and fly away from my fears, and
Find a place in this world-After all, the stars, the moon and other planets
Are far away, in another realm, and unreachable.
The beauty of a spirit is that it never dies, and as my friend it will always be there,
Watching over me protecting me from harm as
I awaken in rebirth from the horrors of my past and from a distance in thought
I can still follow the mystical beauty
Of the moon and the stars in the midnight sky above me
And I know now that when clouds cover the sky and darkness prevails-
The sun shall always rise, I have found peace of mind, and my spirit lives on…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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The Human Eye
God made the eye-
An extension of brain:
To see the beauty of all things,
He made.
God made the eye-
The mirror of the brain:
To show the mind’s beauty
Within.
God made the eye-
A camera:
To picture Nature’s lively snaps,
For man.
God made the eye-
A receiver:
To gather photic stimuli
For thought.
God made the eye-
Lovely:
To give expression to the face
Of man.
God made the eye-
For sight:
To perceive what the environs
Can give.
God made the eye-
For knowing world of good and bad:
To walk the roads in Heaven’s light,
On earth.
God made the eye-
For seeing light in dark alleys:
To look before one leaps in life
On earth.
God made the eye-
With two fine lids:
To prevent vice
From reaching mind.
God made the eye-
To see and feel:
The Omniscient Lord
Of creation.
God made the eye-
To know His love
And mercy great:
For man and beast.
God made the eye-
To see the light
Of Godliness
On earth’s terrain.
God made the eye-
To choose the road
That leads to Hell
Or to Heaven.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-22-2008
poem by John Celes
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I'm Going Home
Her soul departed from this earth
But she lived life for all its worth
There was not a person that she could not touch
With her kind and gentle ways.
Everyone wished that she had stayed.
Have you ever noticed how a butterfly
catches your eye- and its beauty while it flies?
How this butterfly spreads its wings
And it touches each and every thing.
How its gracefulness fills the air
And takes away your thoughts and cares.
Like the butterfly who had spread its wings
She has done such beautiful things.
She is a free spirit who can now roam this earth
To help others from their birth.
She will be that gentle breeze kissing your face
At different times and in a different place.
She will be like the fragrance from the flowers
Growing from the ground
Touching without making a sound.
She has left the material things
Of this earth behind- to live in another
Place and another time.
Wave your hand in a gesture of hello
You will miss her-that much she knows.
poem by Louis Rams
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An Echoing Truth
In a world of right and wrong, we have Truth, that echoes strong,
And from the world’s ancient past, God’s Truth shall forever last,
To be for men a guide and light, for discerning wrong from right;
God’s Guiding Truth for every need, when souls choose to heed.
God’s Word echoes loud and clear, as men of true wisdom fear,
God who reigns above the earth, who gives The Word true worth,
God, Who spoke this world in place, opens hearts by His Grace,
And with that Grace He will impart, Eternal Truth into man’s heart.
A Book, that many seldom read, has the Truth that all men need,
While others never even heard, the Eternal Truths in God’s Word;
Eternal Truths that man can trust, which were written for all of us,
Truth revealed to all the world, which all believers need to herald.
This truth’s more than knowledge of, The One who reigns above,
But what He had did for everyone, sending Christ, His Only Son,
His Truth, revealed to every nation, leads a soul to His Salvation,
When they come to Jesus Christ, that soul, receives Eternal Life.
Open The Word and you will see, Truth about our present reality,
And you will see through history, others pointing men to eternity,
How Godly men of old would tell, others about Heaven and Hell,
Knowing all are just one breath, away from Eternal Life or Death.
(Copyright ©06/2010)
I Dreamt A Dream
I dreamt a dream
But now I lay awake
Sleep far gone
But the dream goes on
Sweeter than sleep
More tender
Than a poem
Through eternity
Like an epic poem
Our love
Our home
All boundaries gone
Together
A second
A breath
A whisper
A chance
A moment
A blessing
A kiss
A prayer answered
Never spoken
Somehow from my heart
It strayed
Precious spirit
Teaching
Listening
Answering
C aring
The Spirit Moves between
Earth and Heavenly realms
Communicating with
You and me
The perfect seed
Faith
Hope
Charity
Virtue
Grace
And Love
Heaven on earth
Heaven above
Finding
Striving
Improving
Movi ng
Upon wings of a dove
From star to star
From light to light
Songs of worship
Songs of praise
Fill our nights
Fill our days
With dreams for you
With dreams for me
With dreams for us
With dreams of life
From a whisper
From a star
From a book
Never opened
From a book
Never Read
Words streaming now
Between heaven and earth
Between now and eternity
To your ears
To touch a place
Never touched
To bring you home to me
To break this grip
That locks your spirit
The dream is awake
For us to live
You have waited
And stayed awake
Share the hope
Share the dream
Stay free
Stay open
Dare to give
Dare to care
Dare to move
Dare to roam
Dare to live
Dare to dare
Life is where
Ever I go
I open doors
I overflow
With heavenly sweetness
With a heavenly glow
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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Peace on Earth
He took a frayed hat from his head,
And “Peace on Earth” was what he said.
“A morsel out of what you’re worth,
And there we have it: Peace on Earth.
Not much, although a little more
Than what there was on earth before
I’m as you see, I’m Ichabod,—
But never mind the ways I’ve trod;
I’m sober now, so help me God.”
I could not pass the fellow by.
“Do you believe in God?” said I;
“And is there to be Peace on Earth?”
“Tonight we celebrate the birth,”
He said, “of One who died for men;
The Son of God, we say. What then?
Your God, or mine? I’d make you laugh
Were I to tell you even half
That I have learned of mine today
Where yours would hardly seem to stay.
Could He but follow in and out
Some anthropoids I know about,
The god to whom you may have prayed
Might see a world He never made.”
“Your words are flowing full,” said I;
“But yet they give me no reply;
Your fountain might as well be dry.”
“A wiser One than you, my friend,
Would wait and hear me to the end;
And for his eyes a light would shine
Through this unpleasant shell of mine
That in your fancy makes of me
A Christmas curiosity.
All right, I might be worse than that;
And you might now be lying flat;
I might have done it from behind,
And taken what there was to find.
Don’t worry, for I’m not that kind.
‘Do I believe in God?’ Is that
The price tonight of a new hat?
Has he commanded that his name
Be written everywhere the same?
Have all who live in every place
Identified his hidden face?
Who knows but he may like as well
My story as one you may tell?
And if he show me there be Peace
On Earth, as there be fields and trees
Outside a jail-yard, am I wrong
If now I sing him a new song?
Your world is in yourself, my friend,
For your endurance to the end;
And all the Peace there is on Earth
Is faith in what your world is worth,
And saying, without any lies,
Your world could not be otherwise.”
“One might say that and then be shot,”
I told him; and he said: “Why not?”
I ceased, and gave him rather more
Than he was counting of my store.
“And since I have it, thanks to you,
Don’t ask me what I mean to do,”
Said he. “Believe that even I
Would rather tell the truth than lie—
On Christmas Eve. No matter why.”
His unshaved, educated face,
His inextinguishable grace.
And his hard smile, are with me still,
Deplore the vision as I will;
For whatsoever he be at,
So droll a derelict as that
Should have at least another hat.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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With Madness Like to Mine
NOT one is filled with madness like to mine
In all the taverns! my soiled robe lies here,
There my neglected book, both pledged for wine.
With dust my heart is thick, that should be clear,
A glass to mirror forth the Great King's face;
One ray of light from out Thy dwelling-place
To pierce my night, oh God! and draw me near.
From out mine eyes unto my garment's hem
A river flows; perchance my cypress-tree
Beside that stream may rear her lofty stem,
Watering her roots with tears. Ah, bring to me
The wine vessel! since my Love's cheek is hid,
A flood of grief comes from my heart unbid,
And turns mine eyes into a bitter sea!
Nay, by the hand that sells me wine, I vow
No more the brimming cup shall touch my lips,
Until my mistress with her radiant brow
Adorns my feast-until Love's secret slips
From her, as from the candle's tongue of flame,
Though I, the singèd moth, for very shame,
Dare not extol Love's light without eclipse.
Red wine I worship, and I worship her--
Speak not to me of anything beside,
For nought but these on earth or heaven I care.
What though the proud narcissus flowers defied
Thy shining eyes to prove themselves more bright,
Yet heed them not! those that are clear of sight
Follow not them to whom all light's denied.
Before the tavern door a Christian sang
To sound of pipe and drum, what time the earth
Awaited the white dawn, and gaily rang
Upon mine ear those harbingers of mirth:
'If the True Faith be such as thou dost say,
Alas! my Hafiz, that this sweet To-day
Should bring unknown To-morrow to the birth!'
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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The Garden of Prosperine
Here, where the world is quiet,
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing,
For harvest-time and mowing,
A sleepy world of streams.
I am tired of tears and laughter,
And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
And everything but sleep.
Here life has death for neighbour,
And far from eye or ear
Wan waves and wet winds labour,
Weak ships and spirits steer;
They drive adrift, and whither
They wot not who make thither;
But no such winds blow hither,
And no such things grow here.
No growth of moor or coppice,
No heather-flower or vine,
But bloomless buds of poppies,
Green grapes of Proserpine,
Pale beds of blowing rushes,
Where no leaf blooms or blushes
Save this whereout she crushes
For dead men deadly wine.
Pale, without name or number,
In fruitless fields of corn,
They bow themselves and slumber
All night till light is born;
And like a soul belated,
In hell and heaven unmated,
By cloud and mist abated
Comes out of darkness morn.
Though one were strong as seven,
He too with death shall dwell,
Nor wake with wings in heaven,
Nor weep for pains in hell;
Though one were fair as roses,
His beauty clouds and closes;
And well though love reposes,
In the end it is not well.
Pale, beyond porch and portal,
Crowned with calm leaves, she stands
Who gathers all things mortal
With cold immortal hands;
Her languid lips are sweeter
Than love's who fears to greet her
To men that mix and meet her
From many times and lands.
She waits for each and other,
She waits for all men born;
Forgets the earth her mother,
The life of fruits and corn;
And spring and seed and swallow
Take wing for her and follow
Where summer song rings hollow
And flowers are put to scorn.
There go the loves that wither,
The old loves with wearier wings;
And all dead years draw thither,
And all disastrous things;
Dead dreams of days forsaken,
Blind buds that snows have shaken,
Wild leaves that winds have taken,
Red strays of ruined springs.
We are not sure of sorrow,
And joy was never sure;
Today will die tomorrow;
Time stoops to no man's lure;
And love, grown faint and fretful,
With lips but half regretful
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
Weeps that no loves endure.
From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.
Then star nor sun shall waken,
Nor any change of light:
Nor sound of waters shaken,
Nor any sound or sight:
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
Nor days nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
In an eternal night.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Where were you?
Where were you when I laid earth's foundation
and stars sang with angels at creation
when upon the threshold of time and space
I flung the mighty galaxies into place?
Where were you at the dawning of that day
when firstborn light sped forth upon its way
and into the darkness its' rays disperse
lighting the vastness of the universe?
********
Woe is me Lord for I am mortal man
and I was not there when the world began.
I saw not those heavenly bodies made
or the acts of creation You displayed.
But now, my soul within me has been stirred
and I was enthralled as I read Your word.
With eyes of faith I saw what You had done
The power of God. The Almighty One.
My spirit sings as I address my praise
To mighty God, the Ancient of Days.
Who was, Who is, and Who will always be
For the Beginning and the End is He.
Monsoon
The Sun is nowhere to be seen,
Nor is there a trace where it had been.
The shy Sun hides its face
Behind its friend The Grey Cloud.
The Cloud oozes tears of joy and sorrow;
A melancholic sight!
And thunderous laughter.
For it saw its friend,
The Earth one long year ago!
Which now lies parched and dry below.
The tears of The Cloud,
Quench The Earth's bowel.
Till it can drink no more!
The Earth once lifeless,
Now ebbs with beauty
And life endless.
Now jealous, the once shy Sun,
Craves the limelight of its friend The Cloud!
Occasionally succeeding,
The Sun spreads its rays of smile,
While its friend The Cloud sheds its tears of joy!
A competition so good,
It lightens up the whole sky!
A fabulous feast for the eye!
Seven bright streaks with no beginning or end;
Rendered in the sky,
Which looks anew,
From The Earth below.
A beautiful light and sound orchestra!
poem by Vivian Thompson
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The Spirit Of Wine
The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my glass, and I listened
With love to his odorous music,
His flushed and magnificent song.
- 'I am health, I am heart, I am life!
For I give for the asking
The fire of my father, the Sun,
And the strength of my mother, the Earth.
Inspiration in essence,
I am wisdom and wit to the wise,
His visible muse to the poet,
The soul of desire to the lover,
The genius of laughter to all.
'Come, lean on me, ye that are weary!
Rise, ye faint-hearted and doubting!
Haste, ye that lag by the way!
I am Pride, the consoler;
Valour and Hope are my henchmen;
I am the Angel of Rest.
'I am life, I am wealth, I am fame:
For I captain an army
Of shining and generous dreams;
And mine, too, all mine, are the keys
Of that secret spiritual shrine,
Where, his work-a-day soul put by,
Shut in with his saint of saints -
With his radiant and conquering self -
Man worships, and talks, and is glad.
'Come, sit with me, ye that are lovely,
Ye that are paid with disdain,
Ye that are chained and would soar!
I am beauty and love;
I am friendship, the comforter;
I am that which forgives and forgets.' -
The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my heart, and I triumphed
In the savour and scent of his music,
His magnetic and mastering song.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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My Lady
My Lady of all ladies! Queen by right
Of tender beauty; full of gentle moods;
With eyes that look divine beatitudes,
Large eyes illumined with her spirit's light;
Lips that are lovely both by sound and sight,
Breathing such music as the dove, which broods
Within the dark and silence of the woods,
Croons to the mate that is her heart's delight.
Where is a line, in cloud or wave or hill,
To match the curve which rounds her soft-flushed cheek?
A colour, in the sky of morn or of even,
To match that flush? Ah, let me now be still!
If of her spirit I should strive to speak,
I should come short, as earth comes short of heaven.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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All All And All The Dry Worlds Lever
I
All all and all the dry worlds lever,
Stage of the ice, the solid ocean,
All from the oil, the pound of lava.
City of spring, the governed flower,
Turns in the earth that turns the ashen
Towns around on a wheel of fire.
How now my flesh, my naked fellow,
Dug of the sea, the glanded morrow,
Worm in the scalp, the staked and fallow.
All all and all, the corpse's lover,
Skinny as sin, the foaming marrow,
All of the flesh, the dry worlds lever.
II
Fear not the waking world, my mortal,
Fear not the flat, synthetic blood,
Nor the heart in the ribbing metal.
Fear not the tread, the seeded milling,
The trigger and scythe, the bridal blade,
Nor the flint in the lover's mauling.
Man of my flesh, the jawbone riven,
Know now the flesh's lock and vice,
And the cage for the scythe-eyed raver.
Know, O my bone, the jointed lever,
Fear not the screws that turn the voice,
And the face to the driven lover.
III
All all and all the dry worlds couple,
Ghost with her ghost, contagious man
With the womb of his shapeless people.
All that shapes from the caul and suckle,
Stroke of mechanical flesh on mine,
Square in these worlds the mortal circle.
Flower, flower the people's fusion,
O light in zenith, the coupled bud,
And the flame in the flesh's vision.
Out of the sea, the drive of oil,
Socket and grave, the brassy blood,
Flower, flower, all all and all.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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Fancy and the Poet
Poet --
Enchanting spirit! -- at thy votive shrine
I lowly bend a simple wreath to twine;
O Come from the ideal world and fling
Thy airy fingers o'er my rugged string;
Sweep the dark chords of thought and give to earth
The thrilling song that tells thy heavenly birth --
Fancy --
Happiness when from earth she fled
I passed on her heavenward flight --
"Take this crown," the spirit said
"Of heaven's own golden light --
To the sons of sorrow the token give,
And bid them follow my steps and live!" --
I took the crown from the snowy hand,
It flashed like a living star;
I turned this dark earth to a fairy land
When I hither drive my car;
But I placed the crown round my tresses bright,
And man only saw its reflected light --
Many a lovely dream I've given,
And many a song divine;
But never! -- oh never -- that gift of heaven
Shall mortals temples twine --
Hope and love in the circlet glow!
'Tis all too bright for a world of woe --
Poet --
Hist -- Beautiful spirit! -- why silent so soon?
My ear drinks each word of thy magical tune;
My lyre owns thy touch -- and its tremulous strings
Vibrate beneath the soft play of thy wings;
Resume thy sweet lay, and reveal, ere we part
Thy home lovely spirit -- and say what thou art?" --
Fancy --
The gleam of a star thou cans't not see --
Of an eye 'neath its sleeping lid,
The sound of a far off melody
The voice of a stream that's hid;
Such must I still remain to thee
A wonder and a mystery! --
I live in the poet's dream
I flash on the painter's eye;
I dwell in the moon's pale beam,
In the depths of the star lit sky;
I traverse the earth, the air, the main,
And bind young hearts in my magic chain --
I float on the fleecy cloud
My voice is in ev'ry breeze;
I speak in the tempest loud,
In the sigh of the waving trees --
To the sons of earth -- in a mystic tone,
I tell of a world more bright than their own! --
poem by Susanna Strickland Moodie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Looking For Direction
What does God have to say, have you looked in His Word today?
Where He speaks to men like us, when in Him we place our trust.
However, God will speak to anyone, if you’d like to know His Son,
To know Christ in a personal way, so God can speak to you today.
If you are looking for direction, God’s Word is your best selection,
God’s guide for your daily life, in a world filled with pain and strife.
His Word is more than just advice, as it points all men to New Life.
God left us with His Holy Word, to read anew Truth’s we’ve heard.
God does not leave us all alone, and calls on men to be His own,
He sent The Spirit upon the earth, to give to them a spiritual birth.
The Spirit helps common man, to read The Word and understand,
That The God of all eternity, came to earth to die, for you and me.
God’s Holy Spirit opens eyes, as God changes hearts and minds,
Then He leads men to the place, where they read of God’s Grace.
God’s Word helps us comprehend, what God has done for all men,
That His Son came to earth to die, to provide New Life to you and I.
To some it may be just a book, however it deserves a second look,
The Bible is God’s revelation; God’s Truth revealed to every nation.
Without it many nations perish, without The Word which we cherish.
It is a message from our Creator, to lead us to our Lord and Savior.
(Copyright ©10/2006)
Taken For Granted
While coming from a darker life, I treasure, much more, Jesus Christ,
He, who took me from that night, bringing me to His Awesome Light.
While in that dark, He touched my eyes, to see the life I now despise,
God’s Truth to me He did show, about that darkness I came to know.
But, some men born into His Light, may not share this precious sight,
Taking for granted this present life, not looking much to Jesus Christ.
Although they may know The Truth, their own life displays little proof,
Of the deep abiding love for Him, The Lord, who died for all their sin.
Some seem to have no appreciation, for The Lord and His Salvation,
Who had left Glory to set men free, and give new life to you and me.
But the new life for some is ignored, as they do not follow their Lord,
For change in their life has no part, while they follow their sinful heart.
Taking for granted all that was done, by Christ Jesus God’s own Son,
Coming to earth to die in our stead, this, for a people spiritually dead.
Men who ignore The Spirit living inside, sent by Jesus for us to abide,
Choosing to live their foolish way; ignoring all that the Spirit does say.
Taken for granted by some of us, is Christ the Lord, in whom we trust,
When to The Lord we do not give, this present life that we have to live,
Who saved us from a darkened world, so our life The Spirit can herald,
Using the witness of the believer’s life, as God’s Light for Jesus Christ.
Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 3)
Nicodemus, a Pharisee,
A ruler of the Jews, one night,
Came and said to Jesus, ‘Rabbi,
We know, You are a Teacher great,
Who’as come from God and does these signs,
For without God’s help, none can do.’
And Jesus answered him, ‘Amen,
I say, none can see God’s kingdom
Without being born from above.’
But Nicodemus queried Him,
‘How can one grown be born again?
He can’t reenter mother’s womb.’
So, Jesus said, ‘Amen, I say,
None can enter God’s kingdom sans
Being of water, spirit born.
What’s born of flesh is flesh alone
What’s born of spirit is spirit! ’
Be not amazed for I told you,
‘You must be born from above first.’
‘The wind does blow to where it wills,
And you can hear the sound, it makes,
Yet, you know not from where it comes,
Or none predicts to where it goes.
’Tis so with all from spirit born! ’
Nicodemus then queried, ‘How? ’
Then Jesus answered him and said,
‘Teacher of Israel, you don’t know? ’
‘Amen, Amen, I say to you,
We speak of what we seem to know;
We testify what we have seen;
Yet, people do not accept it.’
‘If you can’t believe earthly things,
How can you believe heave’nly ones? ’
To heaven none have gone except
The Son of Man who has come down.’
Like how Moses lifted serpent,
Lifted up, must be Son of Man,
For believers’ Eternal life.
For, God so loved the world, He gave
His one Son; He who believes Him
Shall perish not but have Eternal Life.
God’s Son wasn’t sent to condemn world,
But that the world be saved through Him.
One who believes Him, will not be condemned,
One who doesn’t, has been condemned already
Because he didn’t believe God’s only Son.
When light had come into the world,
Yet, people chose darkness to light,
Because their works were evil ones.
The wicked hate the divine light
And do not wish to come to it
So that their works might get exposed.
Who lives in truth comes to the light,
So that his works for God be seen.
Then Jesus went with disciples
To baptize in Judea town.
John was baptizing in Aenon,
As water plenty was there found.
A Jew and John’s disciples fought
About ceremonial washings;
They came to John and said to him,
‘One who with you was in Jordan
Is baptizing here all who come.
John said, ‘None can receive a thing
Except what’s given from heaven.
You know I’m not the Messiah,
But I was sent just before Him.’
‘Who has the bride is the bridegroom;
The best-man hears his voice with joy;
This joy of mine is now complete.
He must increase; I must decrease.
One from above is above all;
The earthly one speaks things of earth;
The heavenly one is above all.
He testifies what He has heard and seen;
His testimony, no one accepts still!
He who does, agrees God is trustworthy.
The one God sent, speaks God’s own words.
He does not ration spirit’s gift;
The Father loves the Son so much;
He has given all things to Him.
Whoev’r believes Son, has eternal life;
Whoev’r Son disobeys, will not see life.
The wrath of God remains on him!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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