Your Own Hands I Get My Daily Bread (Cavatina)
From Your own hands I get my daily bread,
You know my heart,
above living and dead You are supreme;
You know each part
which makes me and You know everything;
in my own art
You are present, even in each dispute;
You make me great, grand, good and resolute.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Lord let it be so inspired by the Holy Bible
Lord let it be so
O' Lord give us our daily bread
And let it be so
if Despair be our Our daily bread
No Lord let not be so
Examine me my Lord
And know my mind
Keep me on good ways to go
And Lord let it be so
Set me free from distress
Make me good and strong
For sinful gains i must long
No Lord let not be so
Lord listen to my call of help
And be always at my side
Be with me when i need you
And Lord let it be so
O'Lord give us our daily bread
And let it be so
If despair be our daily bread
Lord let not be so
O' Lord give us our daily bread
And let it be so
If despair be our daily
Lord let not be so
And let it be so
Set me free from distress
Make me good and strong
For sinful gains i must long
No Lord let not be so
Lord listen to my call of help
And be always at my side
Be with me when i need you
And let it be so
O' Lord give us our daily bread
And let it be so
If despair be our daily bread
Let not be so
poem by Rehanayakoob Yakoob
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Supreme Name
The supreme name of He taught us the story of our life,
Eternal life is everlasting and surprising to the senses.
Someone asked if the living God is a supreme God,
And the answer was as usual, your God is One,
Incomparable and Absolute.
His supreme name never humoured anybody
Other than the Devil, the one who damned himself.
May water flow from the fountains of destruction
And let the mountain light be desisted for this
The Last Day.
The trumpet kept each soul intact but submerged,
This ringing excited the soul into resurrection,
The spirits of the dead were now the living,
Yet again the dead have lived,
They are with the Supreme God.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poetry as bread - In the spirit of Rumi 28
Poetry is like bread – daily bread,
like ‘Irish’ soda bread, best eaten on its day:
In the bakery of the heart and mind,
the baker’s woken early before dawn,
refreshed and clear of purpose, full of the day’s promise;
brings air to flour, moulds and shapes;
as the sun rises, so the bread.
Here it is, warm from the heart,
smell it – this is the smell of goodness, isn’t it?
Touch it, both crisp and soft by turns;
taste its goodness, beauty, truth, its very being;
this is not yesterday’s bread, with which you toy
while waiting between courses, your head’s straying mind
in a thousand other places; this is here and now;
coming warm from the heart; eat it with your heart;
this is the heart’s nourishment; tomorrow it may serve
tomorrow’s mind; today, it is your daily bread,
your nourishment – this poem, warm from heart to heart.
And when you've eaten it - the bread has disappeared -
only your satisfaction remains, beyond all sense;
as these words, already staling on the page,
exposed to all the wanderings of the mind;
only the love that they were made with, still remains;
this, is your daily bread.
[from a metaphor in Rumi's writings]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A saddle
At back of the pound
Just to fill your bowl
Money as a blade
Merely with dual edge
Money make You fly
Money make you cry
Money makes a change
Or makes a chain
Money makes a chair
What's make u cheap
Money not your cause
It's only the cost
Money makes bright
Money back the dream
Or break your dream
Can be for bread
Can be for bride
brick for your house
To build your profile
brand for the success
Blush for your shoes
Make you so brief
Source for prestige
Bridge where's breach
Who have the bread
then have the brain
Boon hit the sky
may bring to the hell
Burn out in block
Balance of our earth
Brace your heart
It's bound for peace
Power for the great
Bond for the grace
Money as bracket
Is a bone of the faith
Bounce for your aim
what you buy
for
You will pay for
Just a payback
money makes crime
or
makes cream
manifest our best
or magnify inner beast
So with the saddle
on back
Holding bridle in hand
bearing your inner light
With your backup state
you will be the prince
Praise for our god
merely feeds
the bird
certain pair
certain paid
Money not the great
But the MAN is great
poem by Sallam Yassin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our Daily Bread
"Give me my daily bread.
It seems so odd,
When all is done and said,
This plea to God.
To pray for cake might be
The thing to do;
But bread, it seems to me,
Is just our due.
"Give me my daily toil,"
I ought to say -
(If from life's cursed coil
I'd time to pray.)
Give me my daily sweat,
My body sore,
So that bread I may get
To toil for more.
"Give me my daily breath,"
Through half a sob,
Until untimely death
Shall end my job.
A crust for my award,
I cry in dread:
"Grant unto me. Oh Lord,
My daily bread!"
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lines in Praise of Mr. J. Graham Henderson, Hawick
Success to Mr J. Graham Henderson, who is a good man,
And to gainsay it there's few people can,
I say so from my own experience,
And experience is a great defence.
He is a good man, I venture to say,
Which I declare to the world without dismay,
Because he's given me a suit of Tweeds, magnificent to see,
So good that it cannot be surpassed in Dundee.
The suit is the best of Tweed cloth in every way,
And will last me for many a long day;
It's really good, and in no way bad,
And will help to make my heart feel glad.
He's going to send some goods to the World's Fair,
And I hope of patronage he will get the biggest share;
Because his Tweed cloth is the best I ever did see,
In the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and ninety-three.
At the International Exhibition, and the Isle of Man Exhibition,
He got a gold medal from each, in recognition
Of his Scotch Tweeds, so good and grand,
Which cannot be surpassed in fair Scotland.
Therefore, good people, his goods are really grand,
And manufactured at Weensforth Mill, Hawick, Scotland;
Where there's always plenty of Tweeds on hand,
For the ready cash at the people's command.
Mr Tocher measured me for the suit,
And it is very elegant, which no one will dispute,
And I hope Mr Henry in Reform Street
Will gain customers by it, the suit is so complete.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Soil And Stone Too Are Living Things
the hair on its own
is a line of dead cells
but when it's on the head
it's part of a living spirit
the sand on its own is a
startling patch of the reality
of the non living
but put in the water, put in air
light and seeds and it
becomes a part of the living world
take away any of these the living entity
dwindles into a dead plane
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Breathe
This is the air I breathe
This is the air I breathe
Your holy presence living in me
This is my daily bread
This is my daily bread
Your very word spoken to me
And I I'm desperate for you
And I I'm I'm lost without you
This is the air I breathe
This is the air I breathe
Your holy presence living in me
This is my daily bread
this is my daily bread
your very word spoken to me
And I'm, I'm desperate for you
And I'm, I'm lost without you
And I'm desperate for you
And I'm, I'm lost without you.
I'm lost without you.
I'm lost without you.
I'm desperate for you.
(Cry out to live)
I'm desperate for you..
I'm lost, I'm lost, I'm lost without you..
I'm lost without you
I'm desperate for you
(pianospill)
(How many of you are hungry for God?)
(I want more of them. who wants to .. to open up?)
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Carry on, carry on, though your burdens you still bear.
When you can sleep and not feel rested,
when your eyes are enough to haunt the dead.
When your memories of mind, heart, soul and flesh can ache,
and when the sounds of the living are beyond what you can take.
Take not your own life into your hands,
for failure will wreck thy heart in two.
Heaven and Hell can each wrestle for a piece,
and it will not have been worth what you could do.
Lift up your tired and weary hands,
and place them on the plane of your soul.
Make this a life worth living one more time,
make this whispered future more than just a goal.
Love Much
Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.
Cast sweets into its cup whene’er you can.
No heart so hard, but love at last may win it.
Love is the great primæval cause of man.
All hate is foreign to the first great plan.
Love much. Your heart will be led out to slaughter,
On altars built of envy and deciet.
Love on, love on! ‘tis bread upon the water;
It shall be cast in loaves yet at your feet,
Unleavened manna, most divinely sweet.
Love much. Your faith will be dethroned and shaken,
Your trust betrayed by many a fair, false lure.
Remount your faith, and let new trusts awaken.
Though clouds obscure them, yet the stars are pure;
Love is a vital force and must endure.
Love much. Men’s souls contract with cold suspicion;
Shine on them with warm love, and they expand.
‘Tis love, not creeds, that from a low condition
Leads mankind up to heights supreme and grand.
Oh that the world could see and understand!
Love much. There is no waste in freely giving;
More blessed is it, even, than to receive.
He who loves much alone finds life worth living:
Love on, through doubt and darkness; and believe
There is no thing which Love may not achieve.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Happy
We ate the cafes of Chancery lane
We danced Spanish Salsa in the rain
We spoke of visiting countries like Mexico
Later we listened in tunnels to our echoes
In the darkness of the truth
We searched for our roots
Friends make us happy
Family makes us happy
Good health makes us happy
Wealth makes us happy
Love makes us happy, but why?
We marched the parades in New York City
We attentively listened to war news with pity
We sang songs of freedom by great grandfathers
As we watched a salient fireworks extravaganza
In the discovery of the truth
Each made recovery by thoughtful input
Living makes us happy
Giving makes us happy
Good health makes us happy
Wealth makes us happy
Love makes us the happiest, but why?
We sailed the continental slopes of Asia
We flew from Japan and ended up in Australia
We trekked the sandy lands of the Sahara
And in some countries we traveled by car
And in a breakthrough of the truth
We made friends shaking hands while on foot
It takes a little to be happy
For some an army of little candy
A smile can make one happy
Almost everyone wants to be happy
Freedom makes one happy
Good people make us happy
Not those who treat us badly
Entertainment makes us happy
Love makes us the happiest, but why?
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Music I Heard
Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead.
Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
And I have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things do not remember you, beloved,
And yet your touch upon them will not pass.
For it was in my heart that you moved among them,
And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes;
And in my heart they will remember always,
—They knew you once, O beautiful and wise.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Shrift
I am not true, but you would pardon this
If you could see the tortured spirit take
Its place beside you in the dark, and break
Your daily food of love and kindliness.
You'd guess the bitter thing that treachery is,
Furtive and on its guard, asleep, awake,
Fearing to sin, yet fearing to forsake,
And daily giving Christ the Judas kiss.
But piteous amends I make each day
To recompense the evil with the good;
With double pang I play the double part
Of all you trust and all that I betray.
What long atonement makes my penitent blood,
To what sad tryst goes my unfaithful heart!
poem by Muriel Stuart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The wonder of I in you
all part is one, and each part has gone
let all make as one, for each has partner to
be done
to make it easy all work must be ready
if my hands call everybody to do, the
things that make me happy, nobody must
be lazy
many times, my single eye, talk to my ears,
nose and mouth knowing that i need more
time, to have an overtime, yet all seems
to be uneasy
so tired that i can't see, so painful that i can
resist, so touchy that my skin burst, i ask
myself, what makes them so timid, when
everyone wants to say, that they are all
okey-doke
i wonder why, the sky is high, the night is close
to the day it passes bye, i ask then that, if nobody
wants to make it, everybody has to lost it, and
nothing happen even, you'll say that its a good
bye
do, what other may not, work what the ' I ' say,
and can see, enjoy what it gives, just follow your
heart for it never leads you in vain
look up in the sky, and say in the heaven above,
I have found the real in me, the truth on how to make
me happy and gay
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Work Hard,
Work Hard,
Work hard and strive on and on,
This is the Living Bread that Hold's this Conscience,
It is only through me that I find Trust worth an Honour,
Living with that Bread,
I take the reward as the Great Covenant from God,
work hard on earth like Birds that build nest with Honour,
Work hard regardless of Status,
Was is a Disillusion of God's Trust towards Mankind,
Whilst Iam taking this Bread that I may feed on the GOOD spirit.
poem by Abdul Karim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Near You Always
Please don't say I love you
Those words touch me much too deeply
And they make my core tremble
Don't think you realize the effect you have over me
And please don't look at me like that
It just makes me want to make you near me always
Please don't kiss me so sweet
It makes me crave a thousand kisses to follow
And please don't touch me like that
Makes every other embrace seem pale and shallow
And please don't come so close
It just makes me want to make you near me always
BRIDGE:
And please don't bring me flowers
they only whisper the sweet things you'd say
Don't try to understand me
your hands already know too much anyway
It just makes me want to make you near me always
And when you look in my eyes
please know my heart is in your hands
It's nothing that I understand
song performed by by Jewel from Pieces Of You
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Come Live With Me
(ray charles)
Come live with me and be my love
Share my bread and wine
Be a part of me, the heart of me
Be mine
Come live with me and be my love
Let our dreams combine
Be wife to me, be life to me
Be mine
With these hands I will build a roof
To shield your head
And with these hands I will carve the wood
For our babys bed
Come live with me and be my love
And let me love you all the time
Be mate to me, be fate to me
Be mine
I will try to do my best for you
I swear, I promise you
I will cry for you, I will comfort you
My whole life through
Come live with me and be my love
Share my bread and wine
Be a part of me, be the heart of me
Be mine
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Surprised
'O son of mine age, these eyes lose their fire:
Be eyes, I pray, to thy dying sire.'
'O father, fear not, for mine eyes are bright
I read through a millstone at dead of night.'
'My son, O tell me, who are those men,
Rushing like pigs to the feeding-pen?'
'Welcomers they of a statesman grand.
They'll shake, and then they will pocket; his hand.'
'Sagacious youth, with the wondrous eye,
They seem to throw up their headgear. Why?'
'Because they've thrown up their hands until, O,
They're so tired!-and dinners they've none to throw.'
'My son, my son, though dull are mine ears,
I hear a great sound like the people's cheers.'
'He's thanking them, father, with tears in his eyes,
For giving him lately that fine surprise.'
'My memory fails as I near mine end;
How _did_ they astonish their grateful friend?'
'By letting him buy, like apples or oats,
With that which has made him so good, the votes
Which make him so wise and grand and great.
Now, father, please die, for 'tis growing late.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fragment: Is It That In Some Brighter Sphere
Is it that in some brighter sphere
We part from friends we meet with here?
Or do we see the Future pass
Over the Present’s dusky glass?
Or what is that that makes us seem
To patch up fragments of a dream,
Part of which comes true, and part
Beats and trembles in the heart?
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Work Hard on Labours,
Work Hard on Labours,
Work hard and strive on and on,
This is the Living Bread that Hold's this Conscience,
It is only through me that I find Trust worth an Honour,
Living with that Bread,
I take the reward as the Great Covenant from God,
work hard on earth like Birds that build nest with Honour,
Work hard regardless of Status,
War is a Disillusion of God's Trust towards Mankind,
Whilst Iam taking this Bread that I may feed on the GOOD WITNESS SPIRIT agains't evil from Birds.
poem by Abdul Karim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!