Trespasser for M lady Chitra
Lost deep in thought my footsteps strayed
And brought me to a woodland glade.
Wherein there stood an altar stone
erected to some God unknown
Erected in pre history.
The stone will stand eternally
as evidence of worship here
of some forgotten deity..
The altar stone is still pristine
It’s surface completely free
of lichens which should have been
thriving on it visibly.
Perhaps the worshippers still meet
Creep through the woods on silent feet
to carry out their ancient rites.
Beneath the moon on summer nights
When new gods drive he old gods out.
I am convinced I have no doubt
There still remains a faithful few
who worship as they used to do.
Perchance they still worship here
That is the reason that the stone is clear.
Quite suddenly I feel oppressed
and I decide its for the best.
To take again my homeward way
hurriedly without delay.
I feel that I must leave this place
and quicken up my walking pace
I wonder still uneasily
did I offend some deity.
Albeit inadvertently
who might decide to punish me
Though years have passed I’m still afraid.
I trespassed in that woodland glade.
Although in fact by accident
perhaps I earned some punishment.
Perhaps I’m being paranoid.
I try my hardest to avoid
Walking woodland paths alone
they might lead to that altar stone.
10/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Enigmatic
Within the woodlands dappled shade.
I came across a block of stone
I had no doubt it was man made
Though when and why cannot be known.
So perfect was the craftsmanship
which had been lavished on this stone
A place of ritual worship
It had to be an altar stone.
Though no one worships here today.
The altar stone still stands alone.
Within the woods hidden away
But sadly there is little known.
There’s no recorded history
To help me solve the mystery.
(09 August 2011)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deity
You want a deity?
Come
Pickup a stone or wood log
Have some sindur
Have some flowers
Have some agarbati
Light wick
Deity formed.
Worship it.
Your deity is
Ready to give you
What you want.
Pray before the deity
With heart and soul.
The deity never
Try to and never
Done anything
That would put loss.
It is you to decide
How far you believe
On your deity
How far you have
Trust on Him.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Rainy Day Women #12 & 35
Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good,
They'll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home.
Then they'll stone ya when you're there all alone.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone ya when you're walkin' 'long the street.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to keep your seat.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' on the floor.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' to the door.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They'll stone ya when you are young and able.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to make a buck.
They'll stone ya and then they'll say, "good luck."
Tell ya what, i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you and say that it's the end.
Then they'll stone you and then they'll come back again.
They'll stone you when you're riding in your car.
They'll stone you when you're playing your guitar.
Yes, but i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you when you walk all alone.
They'll stone you when you are walking home.
They'll stone you and then say you are brave.
They'll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Fulness Of Time Story Poem
The high priest cleansed the altar stone.
Prepared it for the sacrifice,
this task was his and his alone.
No lesser person would suffice.
The voice of God spoke through his priest
and no man dared to disobey
from the greatest to the least.
The high priest held the power to slay.
The sacrifice a comely youth
was not coerced he volunteered.
He had no doubt it was the truth
that for his life all debts be cleared.
Then suddenly a blinding light.
White fire consumed the altar stone,
the high priest fled in mortal fright.
The voice of “God” was but his own.
The Goddess made her wishes known.
A demonstration of her power,
she had destroyed the altar stone.
No longer need her people cower
beneath the high priests cruel rule
The could return to the old ways,
he high priest was power mad fool.
Who had perverted ways to praise
The Goddess for all that she supplied.
To keep her children clothed and fed
Her laws to everyone applied
from their birth ‘til they were dead.
There would be no more sacrifice
of pretty maid or comely youth.
Their honest worship would suffice
The Goddess re -proclaimed the truth.
That men should live in amity
obey her laws and they would thrive.
That they had strayed so foolishly.
The Goddess could and would forgive.
Beware of self appointed priests.
They do not, cannot speak for me.
But treat them as you would wild beasts
which threaten your security.
My yoke is not too hard to bear.
Just listen to your inner voice
and heed the quiet words you hear.
Be glad my children and rejoice.
I watch and ward and will protect
my children who obey my rules
The disobedient can expect
the punishment reserved for fools.
For they will surely come to grief.
No false priest can usurp my place
and propagate his false belief.
I am the guardian of your race.
Though fierce invaders seize control.
Forbidding you to worship me.
They will never achieve their goal
believers worship secretly.
In sacred groves and forest glades
as I have always bid them to.
The loyal youths and faithful maids
to my commands will remain true.
Religions come, religions go
as new religions take their place.
But as my true believers know.
Only the goddess rules by grace.
The old religion ever new
although sometimes its underground
or camouflaged but in full view.
In all religions I am found.
Still worshipped under different names.
Regarded as a saint sometimes.
Like children’s silly party games
I will endure through trying times.
My faithful daughters know its me
but let the priests think otherwise.
Their stiff necked pride won’t let them see.
What’s happening before their eyes.
In time I’ll take my rightful place
be worshipped universally.
Return men to a state of grace
where everyone lives peacefully..
15-Apr-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Tourist attraction. for M' lady Denise
A hanging stone on the high tor.
Is balancing precariously.
A well known curiosity
Which may well last for evermore.
It has defied the elements.
We think for many centuries
and barring any accident
It will remain place to tease.
The pessimists who are quite sure
The day will come when it must fall.
The hanging stone is a treasure
Which belongs to one and all.
The hanging stone on the high tor
A monument you can’t ignore.
Sunday,18 July 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Rainy Day Women #12 35
Well, theyll stone ya when youre trying to be so good,
Theyll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
Theyll stone ya when youre tryin to go home.
Then theyll stone ya when youre there all alone.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, theyll stone ya when youre walkin long the street.
Theyll stone ya when youre tryin to keep your seat.
Theyll stone ya when youre walkin on the floor.
Theyll stone ya when youre walkin to the door.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Theyll stone ya when youre at the breakfast table.
Theyll stone ya when you are young and able.
Theyll stone ya when youre tryin to make a buck.
Theyll stone ya and then theyll say, good luck.
Tell ya what, I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, theyll stone you and say that its the end.
Then theyll stone you and then theyll come back again.
Theyll stone you when youre riding in your car.
Theyll stone you when youre playing your guitar.
Yes, but I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, theyll stone you when you walk all alone.
Theyll stone you when you are walking home.
Theyll stone you and then say you are brave.
Theyll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rochester Cathedral 2005
Pass by this ancient door and pause
Look upon it very history etched in stone
Wonder at its age and all who stood,
As you are standing now, looking.
The good and great of history
Have passed its portals just like you
Kings and Queens of every age
Have worshiped here, the Christ King.
Sit, be still, as voices young and old
Raise in perfect sound, the alleluia’s
To echo round the vaulted heights.
Kneel and pray as others have
So many times before through history
Evidence of the living God worshiped still.
Here Justus placed his knee in prayer
When all was daub and wattle
The imprint of history remains however
A time line of experience, and calling.
Today its mission written large in stone
To worship the alpha and omega
We see its beginnings, its end?
Is always in the future, waiting.
poem by James Tipp
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Steppin' Stone
(i'm not your) steppin' stone
By tommy boyce and bobby hart
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
You're trying to make your mark in society
Your using all the tricks that you used on me.
You're reading all them high fashion magazines
The clothes you're wearin' girl are causing public scenes.
I said
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone.
When i first met you girl you didn't have no shoes
Now you're walking 'round like you're front page news.
You've been awful careful 'bout the friends you choose
But you won't find my name in your book of who's who.
I said
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
I i i i i'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
You're trying to make your mark in society
Using all the tricks that you used on me.
You're reading all those high fashion magazines
The clothes you're wearin' girl are causing public scenes.
I said
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone.
When I first met you girl you didn't have no shoes
Now you're walking 'round like you're front page news.
You've been awful careful 'bout the friends you choose
But you won't find my name in your book of Who's Who.
I said
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
I I I I I'm not your stepping stone
Not your stepping stone,
Not your stepping stone
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Their evensong; my pleasure for friend Thad
I sit outside the monastery
and pass an hour pleasantly
Listening to the brothers chant
I find their plain song elegant.
I wonder why, it puzzles me
Why do some men voluntarily
decide upon monastic life.
Are they afraid of worldly strife.
It seems to me that they retreat
from normal life; admit defeat.
I’m sure they see it differently
To me it is a mystery.
What can they possibly achieve.
This question really baffles me.
I must suppose that they believe.
It’s pleasing to their deity.
But I am not a Christian
I have my own philosophy.
More suited to a simple man.
Which is all I claim to be.
They have a choice they can decide
to worship God in their own way.
I am content to sit outside
I do not have the right to say.
What they should do or should not do.
My own motto is tolerance
that’s why I come to listen to
the plain song. which my ears entrance.
When night falls and all is still.
The final notes have died away.
I exercise my own free will
and rise to make my homeward way.
My God does not expect me to
stick to a rigid discipline.
The way the brothers have to do.
To pray or not the choice is mine.
14/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Einstein, Nicholas, My Fantastic Wife And Our Dog On The Beach At Home
a stone
a relative stone
a meteoric stone
a Newtonian stone
a photoelectric stone
a stone from Manhattan
a thermodynamic stone
one stone
a son
in my life
in my wife
a sun
alone
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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Stepping Stones
Baby youve been up, broken down
Every man knows your name in this whole damn town
In every bar they know your drink, what should I think
I turned around to look and you gave some dude a wink
I thought Id be happy with a woman like you,
But you walked on my pride and my manhood too
I dont know too much but one thing I know
A man stuck on you is like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
What you forgot to mention, what was your real intention
Did you want a man to love, or someone to prop and carry you up
To a higher status, but the matter of fact is, your detachment
Will bring you further down and now youre all used up
Dont bother coming round
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Well, I remember back to waht you put me thru
I keep thinking to myself
Whats wrong with you
Aint it enough to have a man for a lover and a friend
Tear him up and leave him when the moneys spent
Well, youre just like delilah sittin in her den
You take the strongest man and break em down again
But I have gained some knowledge
Go on pack your things and move back to college
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From small begginings story poem for M'lady Ernestine
.
A cairn of stones that’s added to
By travellers who pass this way.
Although today they’re very few.
Few realise the cairn exists
Now no one can remember why
But the custom still persists
Originally the cairn was built
to mark the spot where someone died.
Perhaps assuaging a sense of guilt.
The killing was an accident
a blow which was in anger struck.
There was no murderous intent
He killed his friend and he confessed
The man was truly penitent.
So obviously that he impressed.
The learned judge who heard the case.
Who ruled that he was innocent
of murder but that he still must face.
A whole life sentence of regret
and that was punishment enough.
This old legend lingers yet.
Each time he passed the spot
he placed a stone upon the cairn.
Which whilst he lived grew quite a lot.
It towers now some eight feet high.
As people added their tribute
although no one remembers why.
Although it’s off the beaten track
one day you might just pass this way
and add your pebble to the stack
It has become a monument
a cairn of stone sure to impress.
Yet it began by accident
12/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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To Turn The Stone
The moon retreats behind a silver cloud
As darkness throws its cloak towards the earth
And mystery replaces what thought we knew
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
The one dimension only shows one side
But do we see the same through different eyes
As you and I peer into lifes kaleidoscope
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
Eternal sands of time shift endlessly
Behind a veil of motionless disguise
An eyelid flash is all it really seems to need
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stereotomy
Lead vocal - john miles
Diamond eyes
That burn me and turn me to stone
Crystalise
And freeze me in clear monochrome
Turn me to stone; do anything you want with me
Turn me to stone; do anything you want
Stereotomy
We can make it together
Do anything you want with me
Do anything you want
Scarlet minds
Possess me and I feel no shame
Silent knives
Dissect me and I feel no pain
Stereotomy
We can make it together
Do anything you want with me
Do anything you want
Stereotomy
We can make it forever
Do anything you want with me
Do anything you want
Starlight beams
Project me in red blue and green
Velvet dreams
Protect me when I hit the screen
Stereotomy
We can make it together
Do anything you want with me, do anything you want
Stereotomy
We can make it forever
Its always the same, its always the same
Stereotomy, we can make it
We can make it, do anything you want
Turn me to stone
Do anything you want with me
Cover my eyes
Theres nothing more they need to see
Turn me to stone
Before theres nothing left of me
Make me a rock
And not what I appear to be
Turn me to stone
Turn me to stone
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stone
The days have passed, nights are gone,
I'm still in love with a stone,
The seasons changed, the clay too came,
I still hold it with no moan,
The clay comes to me in so many shapes,
Wants me to hold it, whatever it may take,
But clay can hurt me, clay may fake,
Even if it's clay, I have a heart it can break,
The season may change,
The clay may go,
Slowing my heart beat,
All time low,
Stone is hard,
Stone is black,
Stone is emotionless,
Doesn't stab at back,
The clay, the stone, both make me die,
But if a stone does, even the clay may cry...
and I'll never ask why...
It's better to live with a stone,
not clay,
Clay is soft, but it hurts,
which is not the stone's way.....
poem by Apurva Jain
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The Stone That You Love
you are unique
for having loved a stone
how did the stone
entice you?
are you seduced by
its silence?
are you tempted by
its solitude?
you take the pain
poking the stone to
your heart
and you bleed
you rub the stone
in the skin of your body
hoping that someday
the stone may have
feelings and
love you
but this is all useless
the stone is a stone is a stone
and there is no love
in its blank stare
there is no softness in its
belly
i ponder upon this
and come to think of it
you and the stone
are the same
on this hardheadedness
this futility
this numbness
this suffering without end
the stone can never give
a part of its cracks
it will never part with its
dust
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Worship Erected Temples Cathedrals Mosques
in worship we aspire to please God
in offerings we aspire to please God
in buildings we aspire to please God
in sanctified creation songs sculptures
paintings plays poetry we aspire desires
felt dedicated to God by faithful devotes
worship erected temples cathedrals mosques
history abounds in massive building faith
building faith erected to honour God
transition in building worship utilization
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Vox Ecclesiae, Vox Christi
Not 'neath the altar only,—yet, in sooth,
There more than elsewhere,—is the cry, “How long?”
The right sown there hath still borne fruit in wrong—
The wrong waxed fourfold. Thence, (in hate of truth)
O'er weapons blessed for carnage, to fierce youth
From evil age, the word hath hissed along:—
“Ye are the Lord's: go forth, destroy, be strong:
Christ's Church absolves ye from Christ's law of ruth.”
Therefore the wine-cup at the altar is
As Christ's own blood indeed, and as the blood
Of Christ's elect, at divers seasons spilt
On the altar-stone, that to man's church, for this,
Shall prove a stone of stumbling,—whence it stood
To be rent up ere the true Church be built.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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To Gather Moss And More Of Moss
to gather moss
be a stone
to gather more moss
be a very still stone
be a stone still till the end
of time
you stand still and think
you want to be the moss
rather than a stone
to be all moss
you must betray the stillness
of stone
you must even forget
the importance of
what a moss can be
then you think some more
to be completely this moss
you need to be friendly
to the water and to the river
then you decide to be the water
instead of the moss
to be more than the water
you wish instead to become the river
and so you flow and learn the rush
and become the running river
until what you want really
is just to flow
to rush and run and then
you become nothing
but the motion itself
until you are lost
and then
you become what you are now
lost but real
always flowing, rushing, running
where nobody owns you
not even the river
or the stones or the moss
you have become
this running, this flowing, this being
so real so free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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