George Macdonald
I HEARD him preach in Oxford years ago,
A snowy-haired and tender-faced apostle.
I watched the beech against the window blow,
And listened to the throstle.
And still a waving branch to memory brings
Those deepset eyes and drooping lids as pressed
Upon too much by earthly visionings
And wistful for their rest.
Still in the flutings of a thrush will sound
Words that upon us then but lightly fell,
Because they were as simple and profound
As some brief parable
Told by the Master to the hungry folk,
While the disciples murmured, but the foam
Wrote it again on Patmos, and it spoke
Above the rage of Rome.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Saul turns Paul: The Road to Damascus
Blinded by a brilliant light,
On the road to Damascus,
Saul of Tarsus, on horse-back
Heard the voice of Jesus Christ:
‘Saul Saul, why persecute me? ’
‘Who are you? ’ Asked Saul at once.
‘I am Jesus Christ and Lord! ’
Saul saw Christ in apparition!
Others saw the light as well,
But couldn’t hear the divine voice!
Hit by the bolt of light from sky,
Saul fell from his horse-back to ground;
The voice bade him enter city,
Where he would be told what to do;
For three days, Saul remained just blind
And did not eat and drink ever!
Ten years’ younger than Jesus Christ,
Saul annihilated Christians
Whenever, wherever, he could;
He never had seen Jesus Christ.
A disciple, Ananias
Had a vision in Damascus;
To go to the house of Judas
And to restore the sight of Saul.
Ananias did as he was bade;
Something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes;
His sight was restored by God’s will
Ananias then baptized him;
He regained strength after eating;
God chose him as His instrument
To spread His name among Gentiles!
Cured by Ananias, he was
Baptized into Christianity;
From Saul of Tarsus, Pharisee,
Was born an Apostle of Christ;
Paul took his newer Latin name,
An ardent Christian, Apostle.
From youth, he knew how to make tents!
His New Testament Epistles
Became a founding voice of faith
And proved that sins can be absolved
Through faith and grace of Jesus Christ!
God forgives any sin of man,
No matter how grave it could be;
Except against Holy Spirit!
Orthodox Hebrew of Tarsus,
Saul journeyed to Damascus,
To seek and arrest Christians there!
Having witnessed Stephen stoned –
The first Christian martyr Saint!
Saul repressed disciples of Christ
At Jerusalem and elsewhere
Arresting and chaining them all,
Forcing them into blasphemy!
He laid siege to the Church!
Paul learnt the Gospel from no man;
It was revealed to him by Christ;
The grace of God had chosen him
To preach the Gospel to Gentiles;
To Paul in trance-like state, God spoke
And sent him on a mission far
To preach the Word to Gentiles all;
To open their eyes from darkness to light
To turn them away from satan;
Receive forgiveness for their sins.
St. Paul wrote epistles in Greek;
He was martyred (beheaded) in Rome.
June’08 – Jun’09 is ‘Year of St.Paul!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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The Master Spoke.
Why is the world here today?
The Master Spoke.
Why are we sinners, like sheep gone astray?
The Master Spoke.
Why all this toil, no comfort of Eden,
Since man didn't obey?
The Master Spoke.
Why work the dust of the ground, from whence we came,
And eat 'By the sweat of our brow? '
The Master Spoke.
Why do we, naturally,
Posess the desire to before,
God, want to worship and adore?
The Master Spoke.
Why is Jesus glorified,
And why, for sinners, did he die?
The Master Spoke.
Why shall God return again,
To take away Isreal, His bride?
Why me, a sinner, justified?
The Master Spoke.
Why will there be Revelations, wars,
And roomers of wars,
Nearing the End Times?
The Master Spoke.
Why is God an eternal Being,
But the world shall be no more?
The Master Spoke.
Why is it, that when a man speaks,
His words blow away
As kernals of grain,
And yet, when God speaks, his Word is as rock,
Forever to remain?
The Master Spoke -
'Heaven and Earth shall pass away,
But my words shall never pass away.'
Why do these things occur,
And as it were,
The penalty of sin man did not have to pay?
The Master Spoke -
'For God so loved the world,
That he gave his only Son,
That whoever believes in him
Shall not perish,
But have the gift of eternal life.
Why?
The Master Spoke.
'Go now! Help the needy,
And the weak!
Save hearts that are broken! '
Hurry, now!
The Master has Spoken.
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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Feuilles D'Automne
Gather the leaves from the forest
And blow them over the world,
The wind of winter follows
The wind of autumn furled.
Only the beech tree cherishes
A leaf or two for ruth,
Their stems too tough for the tempest,
Like thoughts of love and of youth.
You may sit by the fire and ponder
While darkness veils the pane,
And fear that your memories are rushing away
In the wind and the rain.
But you'll find them in the quiet
When the clouds race with the moon,
Making the tender silver sound
Of a beech in the month of June.
For you cannot rob the memory
Of the leaves it loves the best;
The wind of time may harry them,
It rushes away with the rest.
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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My Ever Profound Inspiration
My Ever Profound Inspiration
Is a fortress in my romantic garden
With rounded eyes filled with rage
And a heart that never harden
I don't know him personally
He doesn't know me as well
But he is My Ever Profound Inspiration
The man to whom I fell
My Ever Profound Inspiration
Is my every day morning dew
He is the bitterest nightmare
My sweetest dream that won't come true
He'd been my only one
All throughout these years
My Ever Profound Inspiration
Had bring me lots of tears
My Ever Profound Inspiration
Is now lost in nowhere
I don't know where he is
And this is hard to bear
I know someday we'll meet again
Perhaps he can already give me affection
Be his woman, his bride
His Ever Profound Inspiration
poem by Pink Butterfly
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What Power On Earth Changes Saul?
What miracle of transformation
what power on earth in heaven changes
Saul into amazing Apostle Paul?
Saul of Tarsus changed his name, became widely known,
as Apostle Paul, wrote about 25% of New Testament;
devoted next 32 years, witnessing Jesus as the Messiah.
Yes Apostle Paul was martyred;
for his faith in Jesus as Messiah
a man chosen personally by God;
Paul's written words;
are the testimony of a man
that violently persecuted;
as many early Christians
as he could arrest seize execute;
then became a Christian
due to a supernatural spiritual experience;
God assigns Saul a unique transformation Acts 22: 6-11
as Apostle Paul he will preach to gentiles.
Split imaging from the poem ‘Transformation Inquisition Saul Into Paul Of Tarsus'.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Nobody Spoke (for Karen)
Nobody spoke to Lucy,
nobody spoke at all,
ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
nobody spoke
for five long years
ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Lucy withdrew
without a clue
why nobody spoke,
nobody spoke
for five long years,
nobody spoke
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke!
Lucy went mad
she went crazy!
She screamed
she cried, she sobbed,
but nobody spoke,
for five long years
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Many years later
she saw them,
those people she wanted
to be her friends.
but ain't no joke
nobody spoke,
nobody spoke
for five long years.
Ain't no joke
nobody spoke.
Lucy left a note
in daddy's drawer,
put on her very best dress.
Did her hair in a very fine way
and walked into the hall as a guest.
She walked up to the folk
that never spoke,
said hello in an ordinary way,
then she pulled out a gun
and opened fire.
Yes she shot all those folk
on that day.
Now they were silent
now they were still,
cos ain't no joke
that nobody spoke
and now
they never will.
poem by Ruth Walters
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At Noon--And Midnight
Far in the night, and yet no rest for him! The pillow next his own
The wife's sweet face in slumber pressed--yet he awake--alone!
alone!
In vain he courted sleep;--one thought would ever in his heart
arise,--
The harsh words that at noon had brought the teardrops to her eyes.
Slowly on lifted arm he raised and listened. All was still as death;
He touched her forehead as he gazed, and listened yet, with bated
breath:
Still silently, as though he prayed, his lips moved lightly as she
slept--
For God was with him, and he laid his face with hers and wept.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Before
Before she went off
having told you
she was seeing
someone else
you wanted to gather
her words in your hands
and jumble them up
to make a different
form of words
and a different message
and as you watched her
go back toward her home
you thought of the first kiss
she gave you
and that bright gaze
in her blue eyes
when she saw you
for the first time
and you realized
that you had had
your love chances
and had blown them away
and looking up
you saw
she had gone from sight
but years later
when hearing the wind blow
on the window
you see her still
in dreams at night.
poem by Terry Collett
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Deaf and Speechless
What can be taken as granted?
What can be dreamt of and wanted?
Why there can be no meeting ground?
A satisfactory answer has to be found
We are not made of fleshes and bones alone
The old philosophy remains there but actually gone
How some of the feeling can barely remain unexpressed?
When sentiments are not at all understood and faced
I watched her move freely like bird
With all that she had and silently heard
I was listening to the noise from river flow
How silently it flowed with zigzag way to go!
I wanted her to come close and speak
But could do nothing as if felt weak
She had all the glamour to influence
I waited eagerly for the golden chance
I thought of dead silence
Where even pin dropp can be heard at once
Words murmured can be caught up with lips movement
Eyes can do the rest with inviting moment
Let nothing is spoken
Only gesture can be known as token
What must be understood from silent move?
Nothing except love has to prove
I may not feel like to look at her
Yet her presence can be felt near
Fragrance that air pulls along the gentle blow
The happiness and joy can reflect and show
I would wish black nights to enter
The stars and moon can sit at the center
Only silver rays can spread its influence
Rest all can be followed with mute silence
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Mute silence
What can be taken as granted?
What can be dreamt of and wanted?
Why there can be no meeting ground?
A satisfactory answer has to be found
We are not made of fleshes and bones alone
The old philosophy remains there but actually gone
How some of the feeling can barely remain unexpressed?
When sentiments are not at all understood and faced
I watched her move freely like bird
With all that she had and silently heard
I was listening to the noise from river flow
How silently it flowed with zigzag way to go!
I wanted her to come close and speak
But could do nothing as if felt weak
She had all the glamour to influence
I waited eagerly for the golden chance
I thought of dead silence
Where even pin dropp can be heard at once
Words murmured can be caught up with lips movement
Eyes can do the rest with inviting moment
Let nothing is spoken
Only gesture can be known as token
What must be understood from silent move?
Nothing except love has to prove
I may not feel like to look at her
Yet her presence can be felt near
Fragrance that air pulls along the gentle blow
The happiness and joy can reflect and show
I would wish black nights to enter
The stars and moon can sit at the center
Only silver rays can spread its influence
Rest all can be followed with mute silence
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Two Shots
This song was first released on the windsong album. it is the only album it has been released on.
I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands
Last night while I was out drinking
Trying to have a good time
The lady with whom I was speaking
Thought I was feeding her some old line
When I spoke of a cold winters morning
A duck blind and a river of gray
The sound of the snow softly falling
When I thought I heard somebody say
I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands
I could tell by the gaze of my comrades
That I was the one who had spoke
Their eyes held a message of patience
The thrill of the hunt and of hope
But when I spoke again how they listened
For the wisdom of what I might say
If the good lord had meant us to shoot one
Hed surely send more ducks our way
I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands
Well the lady with whom I was speaking
She laughed lightly and she wandered away
My heart, like the snow in my story
Fell silent, Id hoped she would stay
Its so nice to talk to somebody
To find someone whos willing to share
I know that this life is worth living
But sometimes it just isnt fair
I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands
I took two shots, got no ducks, and cold, cold hands
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From My Window
A robin perched upon a branch
outside my living room window
His lighthearted disposition
roused within me a reverie.
With eyes closed firmly I conjured
a heretofore different scene:
A naked limb laden with snow
and a cold loneliness prevailed
gazing through a closed, frosted pane…
My eyes opened, the thrush was gone
no trace vestige of abstract snow
though out of sight his song was heard
Cheerio, Cheeriup, tut tut! !
from outside my open window.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Calming the Storm (Bible Poems for Children)
Jesus told his disciples, come with
me,
By boat, we'll sail across the sea.
He slept on a cushion, in the stern,
The salty water, made his eyes burn.
As he slept, a storm began,
Sweeping, could not see the land.
It threatened to swamp the boat.
Very hard to keep it afloat.
The wind was blowing it all around,
Capturing the boat with an awful
sound.
The disciples afraid, the boat would
sink,
Screamed Save us, save us, do you
think.
Jesus stood up, and softly spoke,
The storm obeyed, The storm was
broke.
The disciples marveled, who was he,
That could control, the wind and sea.
poem by Heather Burns
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Far Out In The Wilderness (Terzanelle)
Far out in the wilderness
I have come upon a thrush
far from its nest, singing in happiness
where knee high grass brush,
where grass is bristling
I have come upon a thrush
While some weeds do sting
where it with joy does sing
where grass is bristling
in a sound that is sweet and clearly does ring
with a blessing that is serene and profound
where it with joy does sing
in the most beautiful sound
as if it's praising the creator
with a blessing that is serene and profound
I heard the little great orator
far out in the wilderness
as if it's praising the creator
far from its nest, singing in happiness.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Everybody Laughed But You
Everybody laughed when I told them
I wanted you, I wanted you
Everybody grinned they humoured me
They thought that someone had spiked my tea
Everybody screamed they told me you
Would cost the moon, we'll be there soon
Everybody laughed till they were blue
They didn't believe my words were true
Everybody laughed but you
It's easy to lose touch with all the friends
You like so much or liked so much
Everybody laughed they couldn't take me seriously
Abandoned me
Sometimes I would read of things they'd done in magazines
They made the scene
Everybody left with such important things to do
But I'm not blue
Everybody left but you
Everybody left but you
Many years have passed
And some have fallen by the way I heard them say
Everybody dreamed but those who fell
Are sleeping now, they're sleeping now
Everybody climbed like ivy to the top most branch
It was their chance
Everybody grasped till they were through
It's all they thought that they could do
Cause everybody fell
Everybody fell
Everybody fell but you
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Organist
In his dim chapel day by day
The organist was wont to play,
And please himself with fluted reveries;
And all the spirit's joy and strife,
The longing of a tender life,
Took sound and form upon the ivory keys;
And though he seldom spoke a word,
The simple hearts that loved him heard
His glowing soul in these.
One day as he wrapped, a sound
Of feet stole near; he turned and found
A little maid that stood beside him there.
She started, and in shrinking-wise
Besought him with her liquid eyes
And little features, very sweet and spare.
'You love the music, child,' he said,
And laid his hand upon her head,
And smoothed her matted hair.
She answered, 'At the door one day
I sat and heard the organ play;
I did not dare to come inside for fear;
But yesterday, a little while,
I crept half up the empty aisle
And heard the music sounding sweet and clear;
To-day I thought you would not mind,
For, master dear, your face was kind,
And so I came up here.'
'You love the music then,' he said,
And still he stroked her golden head,
And followed out some winding reverie;
'And you are poor?' said he at last;
The maiden nodded, and he passed
His hand across his forehead dreamingly;
'And will you be my friend?' he spake,
'And on the organ learn to make
Grand music here with me?'
And all the little maiden's face
Was kindled with a grateful grace;
'Oh, master, teach me; I will slave for thee!'
She cried; and so the child grew dear
To him, and slowly year by year
He taught her all the organ's majesty;
And gave her from his slender store
Bread and warm clothing, that no more
Her cheeks were pinched to see.
And year by year the maiden grew
Taller and lovelier, and the hue
Deepened upon her tender cheeks untried.
Rounder, and queenlier, and more fair
Her form grew, and her golden hair
Fell yearly richer at the master's side.
In speech and bearing, form and face,
Sweeter and graver, grace by grace,
Her beauties multiplied.
And sometimes at his work a glow
Would touch him, and he murmured low
'How beautiful she is?' and bent his head;
And sometimes when the day went by
And brought no maiden he would sigh,
And lean and listen to her velvet tread;
And he would drop his hands and say,
'My music cometh not to-day;
Pray God she be not dead!'
So the sweet maiden filled his heart,
And with her growing grew his art,
For day by day more wondrously he played.
Such heavenly things the master wrought,
That in his happy dreams he thought,
The organ's self did love the gold-haired maid:
But she, the maiden, never guessed-
What prayers for her in hours of rest
The sombre organ prayed.
At last, one summer morning fair,
The maiden came with braided hair,
And took his hands, and held them eagerly.
'To-morrow is my wedding day;
Dear master, bless me that the way
Of life be smooth, not bitter unto me.'
He stirred not; but the light did go
Out of his shrunken cheeks, and oh!
His head hung heavily.
'You love him, then?' 'I love him well,'
She answered, and a numbness fell
Upon his eyes and all his heart that bled.
A glory, half a smile, abode
Within the maiden's eyes and glowed
Upon her parted lips. The master said,
'God bless and bless thee, little maid,
With peace and long delight,' and laid
His hands upon her head.
And she was gone; and all that day
The hours crept up and slipped away,
And he sat still, as moveless as a stone.
The night came down, with quiet stars,
And darkened him: in coloured bars
Along the shadowy aisle the moonlight shone.
And then the master woke and passed
His hands across the keys at last,
And made the organ moan.
The organ shook, the music wept;
For sometimes like a wail it crept
In broken moanings down the shadows drear;
And otherwhiles the sound did swell,
And like a sudden tempest fell
Through all the windows wonderful and clear.
The people gathered from the street,
And filled the chapel seat by seat-
They could not choose but hear.
And there they sat till dawning light,
Nor ever stirred to awe. 'To-night,
The master hath a noble mood,' they said.
But on a sudden ceased the sound:
Like ghosts the people gathered round,
And on the keys they found his fallen head.
The silent organ had received
The master's broken heart relieved,
And he was white and dead.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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I Should Have Listened To Me
(tim hunt/steve bogard/rick giles)
(track 4 - time 3:30)
When you told me you needed a little time on your own
I kinda lied and said Id be alright all alone
My friends said hey man what can you do
Let her see whats missing and shell come back to you
They all said it was for the best
But I knew as I watched you leave
I shouldve listened to me, and gotten down on my knees
I heard the words in my heart, dont tear us apart
Come back baby please
I shouldve swallowed my pride, I shouldve broke down and cried
I was the one who knew that you and I were meant to be
I shouldve listened to me
Call it intuition, an instinctual feeling
When you know you bet it all and your gonna lose everything
Thats what I had when you walked out the door
And as each day passes Im feeling it more and more
Now that Im hear its all so clear
How could I have made you see
I shouldve listened to me, and gotten down on my knees
I heard the words in my heart, dont tear us apart
Come back baby please
I shouldve swallowed my pride, I shouldve broke down and cried
I was the one who knew that you and I were meant to be
I shouldve listened
I shouldve listened to me, and gotten down on my knees
I heard the words in my heart, dont tear us apart
Come back baby please
I shouldve swallowed my pride, I shouldve broke down and cried
I was the one who knew that you and I were meant to be
I shouldve listened to me
I shouldve listened to me
song performed by by Yankee Grey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh So Simple Question
I have a question
I have a simple thought
I am the border obsession
I am the clever, the taught
You have my aggression
You have a complication
You are an angry expression
You are the unheard conversation
We have a serious problem
Something simple yet trying
You understand, you look solemn
You know exactly what question I’m implying
Now concentrate, ask it now
Your eyes beg not to be told
Tell it now, but tell it how?
How to tell this question I hold
Wait! Look at your eyes
Now desperate to know
The question I hide
The question I knew not long ago
NO! I no longer remember
The simple question I wanted to ask
That cold day, in that snowy December
Oh how I hate this shy mask
Maybe I will once again
Think of a simple question
Whilst I walk down memory lane
Maybe, one day, you will hear my confession
poem by Rebecca Pepper
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Unrecorded
I like to think of the many words
The Master in his early days
Must have spoken to them of Nazareth
Words not freighted with life and death,
Piercing through soul and heart like swords.
But gracious greeting and grateful phrase,
The simple speech
That plain folk utter each to each.
Ere over him too darkly lay
The prophet shadow of Calvary,
I think he talked in very truth
With the innocent gayety of youth,
Laughing upon some festal day,
Gently, with sinless boyhood's glee.
I think if he had ever said
To a mother apart,
Cradling her baby's shining head,
"Thy man-child is strong of limb and heart,"
She must have been from that gladsome day
Thrilled with enduring pride alway,
Fearless of any future dread,
Knowing the son upon her knee
Worthy her pain and love would be.
Or if by the dusty wayside well,
From the glare and heat
Of the burning noon a wayfarer sought
A moment's rest where the palm shade fell,
And he said to him, "The day is hot,
And your road is rough for wandering feet,"
Then I think on his way the pilgrim went
As one who has shared in a sacrament,
Feeling no longer on him press
The burden of his weariness.
If he said to a maid, "The sunset lies
Redly on Nazareth hills to-night,"
Each sunset of her life would bring
A benedictive memory
Of his haunting face and holy eyes;
Or if to a bridegroom thus in spring,
"The wife of thy youth is fair and wise,"
So would she ever have seemed to be
In her husband's sight.
If he but bade a passing guest
His meal to share,
Would not the one so honored deem
Himself of all most highly blessed,
The food he ate heaven's manna rare?
Or when he to a friend addressed
A word of thanks for service done,
Or homely, familiar favor, none
Of richer recompense could dream.
No evangelist's golden pen
Wrote them for us
The words of the Master to those he might meet
By the carpenter's bench or in Nazareth street
But in them I think there well might be
It is surely sweet to fancy thus
All of the benediction for men
All of the tender humanity,
That leaven the words of his later age
On the holy page.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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She Often Spoke
she often spoke of suicide, wordlessly.
did I see scarred wrists or imagine them?
of whose suicide did she speak?
her eyes, I saw them, told a kind of truth
apart from what I heard-
for that reason alone, I could forgive her.
are thoughts made of chemicals in the brain,
the synapse of neurons, electric sparks?
flash, they appear, another moment gone.
a memory took place and this I heard.
she often spoke, or did she speak, of suicide.
who spoke? who heard?
did I know or did I imagine knowing?
for that reason alone, I could forgive her.
poem by Jesse Weiner
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