El Shaddai
I called
and I called
again.
The glass
shattered
in my head.
Even, when
I'm riding
I can't
Help but
Yell,
El shaddai!
El shaddai!
At the holy
Hour,
I dream.
She enters
In transparent
Gown.
The tree
From navel,
Rises breast to breast.
el shaddai!
poem by Jay Reynolds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
El Shaddai
El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonia,
Age to age youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
We will praise and lift you high,
El shaddai.
Through your love and through the ram,
You saved the son of abraham;
Through the power of your hand,
Turned the sea into dry land.
To the outcast on her knees,
You were the God who really sees,
And by your might,
You set your children free.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonia,
Age to age youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
We will praise and lift you high,
El shaddai.
Through the years youve made it clear,
That the time of christ was near,
Though the people couldnt see
What messiah ought to be.
Though your word contained the plan,
They just could not understand
Your most awesome work was done
Through the frailty of your son.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonai,
Age to age youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
I will praise yo till I die,
El shaddai.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonai,
Age to age youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
I will praise you till I die.
El shaddai.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ageless Medley
Are you living in an old mans rubble?
Listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble.
Listen too long, youll eventually die.
Too late for walking in the middle,
Too late to try.
And its too late for sitting in the balance,
No more middle line.
Are you puzzled by the way that youre behaving?
You wonder why you do the things you do?
Are you troubled by your lack of resistance?
It feels like somethings got a hold on you.
Are you living in an old mans rubble?
Listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble.
If you listen too long, youll eventually die.
When Im losing my sense of direction,
And Im needing some strength and protection,
Walking away with you.
I go walking away with you, and when i,
When I think I cant stand any longer,
And Im crying for someone thats stronger,
Walking away with you.
I go walking away with you.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
El-elyon na adonai,
Age to age, youre still the same,
By the power of the name.
El shaddai, el shaddai,
Erkamka na adonai,
I will praise and lift you high,
El shaddai.
Im gonna fly.
No one knows where,
But Im gonna fly.
Im lighter than air.
And Im gonna fly.
No one knows where,
But Im gonna fly,
And soar through the air.
cause I have felt for the first time,
I can be myself,
No more faces to hide behind,
Just a smile,
And a dream thats mine.
Even if I am
The only one,
Who wants to fly....
I may not be every mothers dream for her little girl,
And my face may not grace the mind of everyone in the world.
But thats all right, as long as I can have one wish I pray:
When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say,
Shes got her fathers eyes.
Her fathers eyes.
Her fathers eyes, ya know.
Just like my fathers eyes.... (sing, sing, sing!)
(sing, sing, sing!)
(sing, sing, sing!)
Sing your praise to the lord,
Come on everybody,
Stand up and sing...one more
Hallelujah,
Give your praise to the lord,
I can never tell you,
Just how much good...that its
Gonna do ya,
Just to sing, sing, sing....
Come on, sii-hii-yiing!
You know you really gotta sii-hii-yiing!
Come on, sii-hii-yiing! (sing, sing, sing!)
I have decided,
Im gonna live like I believer,
Turn my back on the deceiver.
Im gonna live what I believe.
I have decided,
Being good is just a fable,
I just cant cause Im not able.
Im gonna leave it to the lord.
Sing your praise to the lord,
Come on everybody,
Stand up and sing...one more
Hallelujah,
Give your praise to the lord,
I can never tell you,
Just how much good...that its
Gonna do ya,
Just to sing, sing, sing.
Come on, sii-hii-yiing,
Weve all gotta sii-hii-yiiiiiing!
Come on, sing, sing, sing!
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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'Elohim', the name for the creative power in Genesis, is a female plural, a fact that generations of learned rabbis and Christian theologians have all explained as merely grammatical convention. The King James and most other Bibles translate it as "God," but if you take the grammar literally, it seems to mean 'goddesses'. Al Shaddai, god of battles, appears later, and YHWH, mispronounced Jehovah, later still.
quote by Robert Anton Wilson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Kpobi
Kpobi, do not bury me in Egypt when i die;
But take me to my native land.
Kpobi, you are the first sign of my strength;
And you need to learn more from me like,
The force of gravity resting on us.
Lip, tip, zip;
You need to learn mre in this life!
For i am your father with words of peace and love.
'Yl Shaddai'!
To speak with flatering lips will not lead you on;
For this world around us does need peace.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Found Poem After News From One Roaming Alaskan Wilderness
.
for Andy
far flung from
Black Mountain,
Charles Olson
in mind, quoth -
'I come back to the geography of it...
An American is a complex of occasions,
themselves a geometry
of spatial nature.' - from 'Maximus to Gloucester, Letter 27'
*
You lost
again,
poor boy,
in way out
places.
Better there
than lost
in familiar
here/now
such is NYC,
East 10th
street soothed,
sore -
red wine,
air conditioned
poems
Writing (is)
bitterness
mixed,
prayer,
such is
personal
geography.
Stunned
how life can
somehow go
but one can
either resist
or flow
with it
feeling
Deity
(is)
the
Greater Current
ripping all
cloying maps,
clawing hand
from roots
on the bank
worn by
Greater Intention.
One relents
may like
Jonah lie
spent,
still defiant
under
withered
gourd vines
such are
poem-shades.
Still,
the dreaded
Nineveh volks
repenteth.
Not I.
No 'shed I'
but
El Shaddai.**
Effective, what?
Indeed, more
God's work
than my
half-hearted
attempt to
convert rivers,
alter courses,
egos,
when
mine own
is still
wrenched
in Sacred Grip.
All's well
that ends
swell or is
swollen
with a
modicum
of sensation.
Can't wait
to hear of
travels
Klondike
&
more
tis boon
to read of
just here.
Ah to be
anywhere
but here
but intent
is to bear
this where
enduring why,
still celebrating
breath,
sky,
sidewalk
generously
allowing
my weight.
**Hebrew for 'God of the mountain', & 'God Almighty'.
The root word 'shadad' (ש ד ד ;) means 'to overpower'
or 'to destroy'. This would give Shaddai the meaning
of 'destroyer', representing one of the aspects of God
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aaron
Holiness on the head,
Light and perfection on the breast,
Harmonious bells below, raising the dead
To led them unto life and rest.
Thus are true Aarons dressed.
Profaneness in my head,
Defects and darkness in my breast,
A noise of passions ringing me for dead
Unto a place where is no rest.
Poor priest thus am I dressed.
Only another head
I have, another heart and breast,
another music, making live not dead,
without whom I could have no rest:
In him I am well dressed.
Christ is my only head,
My alone only heart and breast,
My only music, striking me even dead;
That to the old man I may rest,
And be in him new dressed.
So holy in my head,
Perfect and light in my dear breast,
My doctrine tuned by Christ, (who is not dead,
But lives in me while I do rest)
Come people; Aaron's dressed.
poem by George Herbert
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Waiting
Tonight i'll dream a girl called home
And wake up in tears
All on my own
With the sun coming up
And my head against stone
Balcony dressed and drawn
Tonight i'll dream a room so far away
Frost pale blue
The colour of a perfect day
And then screw up my face
In the mirror
As i wait for the others to call
But if i don't believe in magic
And i don't believe in blood
And i don't believe in miracles
And i don't believe in love
Then how come i believe so soon
In a cherry tree girl
And a dust blue room?
Tonight i'll dream an hour so long
Shadow soft smiles
And everyone loves me
To open my eyes
In a drag myself face undone
Hard back into the world
Tonight i'll dream a dream i dream
Without even trying i'm flying i scream
As i practice the move
I spit at my pillow stained face
And the others all come
But if i don't believe in magic
And i don't believe in blood
And i don't believe in miracles
And i don't believe in love
Then how come i believe it seems
In a girl called home
And a world called dreams?
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Melmillo
Three and thirty birds there stood
In an elder in a wood;
Called Melmillo -- flew off three,
Leaving thirty in the tree;
Called Melmillo -- nine now gone,
And the boughs held twenty-one;
Called Melmillo -- and eighteen
Left but three to nod and preen;
Called Melmillo -- three--two--one--
Now of birds were feathers none.
Then stole slim Me.millo in
To that wood all dusk and green,
And with lean long palms outspread
Softly a strange dance did tread;
Not a note of music she
Had for echoing company;
All the birds were flown to rest
In the hollow of her breast;
In the wood -- thorn, elder willow --
Danced alone -- lone danced Melmillo.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Night Jasmine- Tree of Sorrow
Mild, balmy breeze,
Hauntingly fragrant
With Night Jasmine.
A small evergreen tree,
Twinkling
With ivory white flowers
In my garden,
Resplendent at night,
Like the star
Studded sky.
Before the day breaks,
The tree silently sheds
Its crowning glory
On Mother Earth’s breast.
To pay homage
In all humility.
Overcome with wonder
I find myself ponder,
As I gather the flowers
In my wicker basket
On my way to the temple.
To offer
To the deity
At the altar.
Oh, Harshingar,
Why are you
Called
The Tree of Sorrow?
Night Jasmine is called Harshingar and Paarijatta in India its
A sacred tree, grown in temples. Flowers are offered to the deity in the temples. there are many myths associated with it.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Road to Success
The road to success is not straight,
There is a curve called FAILURE,
A loop called CONFUSION,
Speed bumps called FRIENDS,
Red light called ENEMIES and
caution lights called FAMILY.
But if you have a spare called
DETERMINATION,
An engine called PERSEVERANCE,
Insurance called FAITH and
A driver called JESUS (GOD, ALLAH, ISHVAR)
You will make it to a place called
SUCCESS
poem by Pratiksha Jain
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The Sister's Lullaby
You would not slumber
If laid at my breast:
You would not slumber.
The river-flood beats
The swan from her nest:
You would not slumber.
And like that quick flood
My blood goes unguessed:
You would not slumber.
Times without number
Has called the wood quest:
Times without number.
As oft as she called
To me you were pressed:
Times without number.
Now you'd not slumber
If laid at my breast
Times without number.
O starling reed-resting,
I’ll rock you to rest:
So you will slumber.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Take Me Under Your Wing
Take me under your wing,
be my mother, my sister.
Take my head to your breast,
my banished prayers to your nest.
One merciful twilight hour,
hear my pain, bend your head.
They say there is youth in the world.
Where has my youth fled?
Listen! another secret:
I have been seared by a flame.
They say there is love in the world.
How do we know love’s name?
I was deceived by the stars.
There was a dream; it passed.
I have nothing at all in the world,
nothing but a vast waste.
Take me under your wing,
be my mother, my sister.
Take my head to your breast,
my banished prayers to your nest.
poem by Hayyim Nahman Bialik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hour Of Gold
(Emmylou Harris)
I have seen your soul turn black
And then retreat
To that dark place where no one else may follow
I waited here for your returning
To roll your cigarette
And wash your bloodied feet
You have heard the silent running
Of my dreams
Broke me from the grip of grief and fever
With the sound of your voice speaking my name
And a kiss
That I will feel forever
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
WG did forge our wedding bed
On a hard and holy road
We lay down our head
In tha hour of gold, the hour oi lead
I have watched you riding on
The wall of death
And when il finally breaks you and you fall
I will tear this dress of muslin that you gave me
To bind the fatal wound
And catch your last sweet breath
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
We did forge our wedding bed
On a hard and holy road
We lay down our head
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
But the world will be my witness when
They excavate my heart
And find the image of your face
Imprinted there like some Shroud of Turin
That neither time Nor tundra could erase
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
We did forge our wedding bed
On a hard and holy road
We lay down our head
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Once Was A Man...
There once was a man, they called brave
Who lived in a hole, called a grave...
Well, being the host
To many a ghost,
He arranged a big bash, called a rave
There once was a man, called a knave
Who lived in a hole, called a cave...
Not being too keen
About keeping it clean...
Well, he took on a wife, called a slave
There once was a man with a stave
Who lived in a holy enclave...
Maintaining a grin
While absolving the sin,
He assessed wicked tales and forgave
There once was a monk with a wave
Who wanted a head with a shave...
The barber was such
That she cut back too much
Thereby leaving his globus concave
There once was a man in the nave,
Although pious he could not behave...
They paid him no mind,
'Caus his name was maligned,
Simply being a sinner to save
There once was a man quite depraved
A voluptuous life was thus craved...
Well, continuous sin
Ended doing him in -
On his tombstone they carved ‘Misbehaved'
poem by Terry O'Leary
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Star 69
You dont have to take the bar exam to see
What you did is ignoramus 103
Where have I got to hang my hat
You dont have line to me
All this just to be your friend
I was there to tell you
Extortion and arson, petty larceny
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you hung up my line.
Star 69.
I know all about the warehouse fire.
I know squirrelies didnt chew the wire.
Three people have my number, the other two were with me.
I dont stand tall, but Im not your patsy.
This time you have gone too far with me.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you hung up my line.
Star 69.
Whyd you put your quarter down on me?
This reads like some dark inside edition, hard copy.
I cant be your character witness, I cant be your alibi.
Dont arrange the fbi, here this spy versus spy.
You my friend are guilty as can be.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I cant be your alibi.
Star 69.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What used to be called liberal is now called radical, what used to be called radical is now called insane, what used to be called reactionary is now called moderate, and what used to be called insane is now called solid conservative thinking.
quote by Tony Kushner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We have common enemies today. It's called childhood poverty. It's called cancer. It's called AIDS. It's called Parkinson's. It's called Muscular Dystrophy.
quote by Jerry Doyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Exception
in any perfect world you tend to create
always leave a hole for the unexpected
called exception
in any perfect world you dream to make
always leave a rift for the unpredictable
called exception
before your perfect world crushed down
in your seamless glass by the crack of unknown
called exception
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Road To Success isn’t As The Crow Flies
The road to success is not as the crow flies
There are derailments and breakdowns
Speed breakers are called uncertainty
Humps are called hurdles of life
Neon signs are called friends to guide you
And consciousness is called Family make you aware of
But if you have a spare wheel called willpower,
A strong engine called firmness,
Car insurance called confidence, and
A car driving skill is called Faith,
I m sure you will drive your car successfully
Towards the road of success
poem by Dr Shamim ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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