Messianic
Consider the chalice: both what I seek
And where I find, believing Savior's blood
Was laced with meter and rhyme - my antique
Sacrament. Whittle toothpicks from my rood,
Store them safe in baggies. Probe stigmata -
These wounds were borne to suffer scrutiny.
Dissect and splice fourteen strands of data;
Affect the modern state of entropy
In Faith and matter.
Break it down, around.
Explain cumulonimbus from a God -
Shaped cloud, ignoring iambs in the sound
Of thunder. Drown out cadence as you plod
Rhetorically, arguing rain from skies.
Disbelieve in my Blood. Stone me with sighs.
poem by Judson Jerome
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
City of Love
Ode to joy, from the chalice filled with wine, from the chalice filled with light.
Ode to darkness, the shadows dress confess the blackness, confined to trials and tribulations, we seek the hour of consumation. We seek the divinity, by candles, prayers and charity. The chalice of love, the city of love beside the sea.
Ode to the chalice filled with light, ode to the wind, carrying the breath
of psalms, upon ashes smeared on palms. Ode, to this light, to the blood raised in wine, the cross and loss, divine, the holy shroud of white.
Beautiful, Antique Dollies
Beautiful, antique dollies
All stand in a row,
Laced with ornamental pretence,
Staring from the window.
Each beautiful, antique dolly,
Bears her beautiful, antique price,
For her pretty, satin ribbon
And her vacant, azure eyes.
One beautiful, antique dolly,
With her frosted, golden curls,
Is severed from the window,
For her reflection in a girl.
Now this beautiful, antique dolly,
Stands, no longer on her shelf,
Her ivory face is glowing
As she adorns by herself.
All the other antique dollies,
In the window where they stay
Whisper after midnight
Of the dolly that went away.
Our beautiful, antique dolly
Rooted in her antique home
Watermarks her china skin
She hates to be alone.
One beautiful, antique dolly,
Breaks her brilliant, painted smile,
Climbs down from her silver stand
And shatters on the tile.
poem by Victoria Annette Bailey
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The Moderns
To many reading modern poetry more interesting the meaning in the metaphors they seek to find
They feel it makes their brains work that much harder that it is good exercise for the mind
Rhyme for their great brains seems that bit too simple it does not test their thinking power at all
'Tis not a poem to them if it seems simple and the meaning in it easy to recall,
Yes rhyme for them it does seem that bit simple and deciphering it to them is not a test
The hidden meaning in the metaphors is something that does seem to try them best
Rhyme poetry to them is too simple and far too easy for to understand
It has to be blank verse with dozens of metaphors for their interest for to command
They look on rhyme and bush poets as inferior their preference in poets and poetry they make known
On literature they air their opinions like it is said to each their own
Their poetry evenings do seem quite exclusive rhyme poets to read they never do invite
Their unmusical lines that are laced with metaphors to each other they do recite
They do not like rhyme or they do not like bush poetry to them it is of another time
And in their poetry evenings there is no place for the men and the women of rhyme.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Sacrament
I hear you breathe so far from here
I feel your touch so close and real
And I know
My church is not of silver and gold,
It's glory lies beyond judgement of souls
The commandments are of consolation and warmth
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
I hear you weep so far from here
I taste your tears like you're next to me
And I know
my weak prayers are not enough to heal
The ancient wounds so deep and so dear
The revelation is of hatred and fear
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
You know our sacred dream won't fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sacrament
I hear you breathe so far from me
I feel your touch so close and real
And I know
My church is not of silver and gold,
Its glory lies beyond judgement of souls
The commandments are of consolation oh
You know our sacred dream wont fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
I hear you weep so far from me
I taste your tears like youre next to me
And I know
That our prayers are not enough to give
Oh the ancient runes so deep and so dear
The revelation is our patron fear
You know our sacred dream wont fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
The sacrament is you
You know our sacred dream wont fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
You know our sacred dream wont fail
The sanctuary tender and so frail
The sacrament of love
The sacrament of warmth is true
The sacrament is you
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Tuesday in June
Many years before
They had made a pact
On a Tuesday in June
That should they
Both be alone
On this particular Tuesday in June
They would meet
At the same Antique store
As she walked through the doorway
She was pleasantly surprised
To find
An antique...
Very much to her liking
Dee Daffodil (HW) 25 January,2007
poem by Dee Daffodil
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Power To Change
The power God used to save me, is the power that will change me,
The power of the Savior’s blood, and His grace He gives with love.
He is my friend and my Savior, my Sovereign God and my Creator,
And He, who saved my dark soul, can make a heart pure and whole.
The power of His awesome Grace, truly helps me as I seek His face,
To allow His Spirit to take control, as God changes this wicked soul.
The precious blood of God’s Son, has the power to change anyone,
Who comes to The Cross of Christ, to receive from God a New Life.
By Christ’s blood we were bought, so that change could be wrought,
In the body that belongs to Him, Christ who was crucified for our sin,
This body Christ called the Church; He did not leave here in the lurch,
But sent His Spirit, with His Light, to guide us safely out of the night.
The changes are the Father’s will, for this Church that Christ shall fill,
Filled with sinners from every nation, saved by The Lord’s Salvation,
Sanctified by the power of God, throughout the many lands we trod,
As a witness for those still lost, pointing them to our Savior’s Cross.
The changes shall continue in us, as in our Savior we place our trust,
To be all that we can be, through His blood, that flows from Calvary,
As His Grace gives us the power, for our needs, every day and hour,
Until that day, when by God’s Grace, we see our Savior face to face.
(Copyright ©06/2008)
Stealthily, free verse
You sit on my desk,
Your legs, a sonnet's couplet,
Perfect in meter and rhyme.
You look at me and smile;
Your dimples brighten my room
Lit only by glitched browser's light.
You puff your cigarette, blow
Smoke that wafts soothing incense
On my face, weary of weaving
Words into flawless lines.
From the other room, we hear
Carefree soles pounding on the floor
In perfect jibe with the sensual beat
Of percussion and drums.
For one brief moment we stare
Deep into each other's eyes... then
Stealthily, we exchange verses
From the depths of our own souls
Passionately free of meter and rhyme.
poem by Fidel Arcenas
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Gentlemen, I give you the Whittle engine.
quote by Frank Whittle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Antique
Put me on the wall like she always do,
never been dusted off know she cheatin too,
beenin on the wall see everything like mini doll,
can't believe she keep blowing me off,
nothing but a antique put on a wall,
hear every sound see every fall,
see you cryin can't stand that you doing me wrong,
but its ok I forgive every winter,
when you tryin to auction me off,
can't stand that wall so dusted up there,
if I fall I'm going to break nobody cares,
Imagine me as a antique,
know it bugs you because it bugs me,
like bugs cause the glass has holes,
feeling so lonely up on a board walkway,
see you tomarrow girl in the same place,
I know she got gace but I don't see it,
when she cook bacon I have to smell it,
antique antique antique,
now lookin for change don't know if I find it,
nothing but a antique seeing & hearing everything.
poem by Tommy Laster
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Lovely Rita
Lovely rita meter maid.
Lovely rita meter maid.
Lovely rita meter maid.
Nothing can come between us,
When it gets dark i tow your heart away.
Standing by a parking meter,
When i caught a glimpse of rita,
Filling in a ticket in her little white book.
In a cap she looked much older,
And the bag across her shoulder
Made her look a little like a military man.
Lovely rita meter maid,
May i inquire discreetly,
When are you free,
To take some tea with me.
Took her out and tried to win her,
Had a laugh and over dinner,
Told her i would really like to see her again,
Got the bill and rita paid it,
Took her home i nearly made it,
Sitting on the sofa with a sister or two.
Oh, lovely rita meter maid,
Where would i be without you,
Give us a wink and make me think of you.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seek & You Will Find
You been laying it on the line
Too much fat to burn
You been stuck on a course
While the world around you turns
You been out in the rain
But babe, oh the sun still shines
Well you might walk through a cloud
Seek and you will find
Seek and you will find
Its like treading on thin ice
Hot stones in your shoes
Well you know the world can blow your mind
Unless you got the guts to cut the fuse
You been out on the streets
And babe how the road does wind
Well you might look straight ahead
Seek and you will find
Seek and you will find (seek and you will find)
You been out on a limb
And so many mountains to climb
Well you just might be sitting on a rainbow, honey
Seek and you will find
Seek and you will find
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Rhyme?
I wonder now and again
whether or not
my poems should rhyme
if they should have a rhythmic
pentameter that catches the readers
like small fish out by the moonlit lake
where they jump for joy
when the humans have gone
For the world is filled of rhyme
as we whittle down our time
we spend it all down on this earth
the flesh decays and brings new birth
But then I realize
to rhyme is not my style
for at times, I feel that
more so than a line
the rhyme is a trap
more of a bear than a mouse
and I wonder if with my first couplet
where there begins a sort of catchy scheme
the readers bob their head to
-dah dah dah dah dah dah dah
and then they realize
that I've lost most of my flare
for my expression has been limited
by this beautiful
yet altogether mortal language
so with that
I continue to roll my tongue
as my fingers clatter on the keyboard
and I tell you stories
instead of singing you songs
poem by Jorge Garcia
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Do You Really Know Christmas?
Many people say Merry Christmas, but, do they know who Christ is?
And that the babe of Bethlehem, now reigns above as Savior of men.
They sing the weary world rejoices, but, does this include all voices?
For the joy that this speaks of, is in regards to God’s Amazing Love.
Do all men really know The King, in the songs that they love to sing?
And if they never receive the Gift, in sinful darkness continue to drift.
Men sing of His birth in a stall, but do they know Christ came for all?
For The King over all of Eternity, was born as baby, for you and me.
Why are all at Christmas rushed, as our Savior’s Name is so hushed?
Going for gifts, from store to store, while The Lord we silently ignore.
While they trim the Christmas tree, do they think at all about Calvary?
For Christ didn’t come to live, but, He came with His very life to give.
Men sing of peace upon the earth, but, is it a peace of lasting worth?
God’s Peace, many don’t receive, for in His Son they do not believe.
And if Christmas Cheer fills the air, why do so many hearts despair?
For this Holiday time, you will find, stresses many, a heart and mind.
If Christmas is all about The Lord, why does Jesus go quite ignored?
Many dismiss God’s Holy Day, while in sin and error, they pine away.
Could it be that this Holy Season, for many has no rhyme or reason?
While in their heart and their life, they truly do not know Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©12/2007)
My Joy Is In The Lord
My joy is in the Lord
If I’m waking or while I sleep.
I find His joy in everything
That joy I shall always seek to keep.
He fills my heart with a feeling of little bubbles
They’re bubbles of His Holy Spirit’s love.
My life I will give to only Him
For I seek His home above.
No other joy will man ever need
When you walk with Christ throughout your day.
Jesus was what the Father gave this world
He sent His Son who died, to save.
He walks amongst us guiding paths we walk
He shelters our spirit, from a blood stained cross.
Don’t let life ever take God’s joy away.
Walk with your Savior Jesus, walking with Him every day.
poem by Linda Winchell
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Unqualified or Aware
You seek from me,
What I seek from you!
Leaving our needs to be left weak,
From the seeking.
If you and I just be without that seeking...
We would find our search complete.
And satisfy that daily heat!
We wish to see first...
And not feel the thirst of it!
Knowing it is there.
If we only cared enough to trust.
Instead of believing...
Someone else can compare,
And share.
Although...
We find them ultimately,
Unqualified or aware...
Inside of us,
We have such lust!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I work best in rhyme and meter. I was most confident of myself in that way.
Composed Of Mind
Silence is mostly appreciated,
By those composed of mind.
Unrested egos seek to be soothe,
With vocalized encouragements...
Coming from outside sources.
To store within as if to comfort.
Believing that a peace follows.
Only to feel a vanishing appeal.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blessed Assurance
Blessed assurance
Jesus is mine
Oh what a foretaste
Of glory divine.
Heir of salvation
Purchase of God
Born of his spirit
Washed in his blood.
This is my story
This is my song
Praising my savior
All the day long.
This is my story
This is my song
Praising my savior
All the day long.
Perfect submission
All is at rest
I in my savior
Am happy and blessed
Watching and waiting
Looking above
Filled with his goodness
And lost in his love.
This is my story
This is my song
Praising my savior
All the day long.
This is my story
This is my song
Praising my savior
All the day long.
Praising my savior
All the day long...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can't Close Ny Eyes
When the floaters float
In the crepuscule of the west
Each a gut quivering,
As toothpicks hold my eyes open
Each is gut madness
Of some day gone by.
And if they pour fear and paranoia
It's a learning experience -
Close your eyes on them,
Ripping out the toothpicks -
But at my skull they grab
And the room fills with them.
The walls visibly close in -
Everything involved in md ken,
y terror -
Like the man descibing (the best example)
Of anxiety in 'The Tell-Tell Heart',
He is my Brother, kin and ken of my own,
On my watch, during my nightly vigil.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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