And We, Three Kings..
Before they set out, met
to start their long hard journey from that East,
they knew their tasks, their gifts
to those whose very language, metaphor:
three gifts to speak of soul’s eternal life
about to be refreshed in human life:
gold for the soul’s first task,
resplendent in reflection of All that’s divine;
frankincense, for the soul’s gift to survey
All above and all below as One;
myrrh, that preserves the state and memory
of the passing body, servant of the soul;
these are on their way to Him; horsehooves
now ringing sharp on flint; now sighing into sand;
stars in a velvet winter night
telling of three dominions and cosmographies;
a fortnight’s journey yet to mark the lifetime,
waytime, truthtime, held
in tomorrow’s birth in scent of hay;
divine moment; that in human life must yet hold
an empty cave as tomb; a pile of clothes still warm;
dawnlight on the garden, reflected as from gold;
lingering, the scent of myrrh and frankincense.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
Epiphany: (For Dora, 1918)
She carried frankincense and gold
When the Star guided her,
And in her folded hands so cold
She carried myrrh.
Frankincense for the praise she owed,
Gold for her gift was meet,
But myrrh because so oft her road
Was bitter-sweet.
Lay her tired body in that earth
Was holy to her mind!
But the bird-soul flies in high mirth,
Borne on the wind.
It tosses in the Irish skies
Awhile, so small and white,
Ere it is gone -- swiftly it flies
Into the light.
She has gone in with the Three Kings,
In silk and miniver;
The gold, the frankincense she brings,
The sharp-sweet myrrh.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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0008 The Gift
Who does not wish to give the perfect gift
to those we love – to whom we have already
given the greatest gift we have – our heart?
To choose a visible and outward sign
of love whose meaning’s inward, spiritual?
But who would dare to challenge innocence
and ignorance in their demonic bond,
and break the spell of Christmas wish and hope
by telling children, that old Santa Claus
is but the God who gave their life to them -
dressed up in red and white and snowy beard;
and who, in needing nothing of himself,
would be delighted to receive their thanks
and nothing more; and who, we might believe
of one who has all gifts in his command,
might be obliged by those laws he himself
created, out of justice, equity,
to give them that which they themselves have made –
a life of gratitude for life itself –
a life of praise, where all the world is gift
beyond all human gifts?
What parents now
might give their children gold, myrrh, frankincense
with all their love; and teach them by this show
why Christmas gifts are godly metaphor?
Of course, no parents would dare break this spell;
you’ll laugh at me for this absurdity;
yet it might build a clear-eyed, praising race
who thought in metaphor; spoke poetry.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Three Very Special Gifts
three magi with three symbolic gifts
gave chase to a bright star in the east
bringing special gifts of gold, myrrh, and frankincense
all to a newborn king
who became high priest
oh yes! these magi had very good sense!
this newborn king gave the angels a reason to sing
the world a reason to rejoice
then the exclamation of a great voice-
this is my beloved son, in whom i am well pleased! ! !
for this priest- i will go to my knees
and give my soul's devotion-
for the gifts of peace
love
and eternal salvation!
poem by Rachel Nichols
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the three gifts of the Magi
gold symbolizing virtue,
frankincense symbolizing prayer,
and myrrh symbolizing suffering
gold
kingship on earth,
frankincense
of priestship,
and myrrh
for death.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Magus Magi (Gift of the Magi)
(use of famous quoutation[s] within poetry)
Here I sit booked and waiting
I recall your voices and remember
Remember the things you taught me
December the Kings who do me
Frankincense, Myrrh and Gold
Remember the things you bought me
The Three Kings and this star
Adoration of the magi
The Three Wise Men and the stars above
Journey of the magi
The many wise men and me
Gift of the magi
The Three Kings and me makes four
Magus society
Adoration of the magi
Journey of the magi
Magus journey
Gift of the magi
Magus society
'Did you stay up last night (the Magi did)
To see the star shower known as Leonid
That once a year by hand or apparatus
Is so mysteriously pelted at us? '
'To study the stars upon the wide, boundless sea, is divine as it was to the Chaldean Magi, who observed their revolutions from the plains.'
'We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.'
'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey'
poem by Alexis Pena Goco
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From one Soul of the Universe are all Souls derived... Of these Souls there are many changes, some into a more fortunate estate, and some quite contrary... Not all human souls but only the pious ones are divine. Once separated from the body, and after the struggle to acquire piety, which consists in knowing God and injuring none, such a soul becomes all intelligence. The impious soul, however, punishes itself by seeking a human body to enter into, for no other body can receive a human soul it cannot enter the body of an animal devoid of reason. Divine law preserves the human soul from such infamy... The soul passeth from form to form and the mansions of her pilgrimage are manifold. Thou puttest off thy bodies as raiment and as vesture dost thou fold them up. Thou art from old, O Soul of Man yea, thou art from everlasting.
quote by Hermes Trismegistus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Joy if heaven is perpetually bright!
My soul be not undeterred to find...
Myrrh, frankincense or precious, gold:
A swaddling fever to rein out the cold,
Truth; dare not I, not; agonize mankind.
Loves inflicted weariness so, undefined.
The exiled advocate, who leads his fold,
Oughtn't a son to, join a king that shined.
With princely, unabated, breath of old:
Fondly do the stars not shiver out-time?
Doesn't dissembling winter's passage, refine?
Glories brimful, enlivening green and bold.
I err, to listen, to my soul until I'm doled,
The sunbeams countless cuts of endless, night
More my joy if heaven is perpetually, bright.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Three Kings and the Star of Hope
Three wise men of nowhere
Without medals and kingdoms to claim
From the East they marched forward
To find the child beneath the shining star.
Three wise men in their glorious attire
Journeyed long to find the shining star
Stopped by the soldiers of Herod`s iron hand
Ordered to tell where the child could be found.
Three wise men of hope without certain ground
Only guided by the shining star in their mind
Continued to journey to find the child
And met the shepherds who in their search came by.
Three wise men led by the shining star
Reached the stable to find the child
They offered their gifts- gold, frankincense and
myrrh to a child, cradled by voices of angels.
Three wise men in our time
Only with their names and gifts from their hands
Filled with hope from the shining star
Met Jesus, the child, the end of the
long journey so worthwhile to try.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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The Three Magi
Three wise men came from east;
They were the three Magi!
They’ad seen a star anew-
‘The Star of Bethlehem! ’
A king was born, they knew.
By camel-back, they rode;
On the way, they met King Herod;
They gave the news to him;
Herod desired to see
The boy born recently!
The Magi left Herod,
Resuming their journey;
The Star led them for miles,
And stood o’er a manger,
In which there was the babe!
They entered the stable,
And saw the divine child;
They offered gifts of gold,
Frankincense and too myrrh,
Adoring the boy king.
The boy was named Jesus;
He brought peace, joy to earth;
He was the Son of God,
And Savior of mankind-
‘The Lamb of God, born man! ’
The Magi then returned
By yet another route,
Warned by angel of God,
As Herod wished to kill
The new-born baby King.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-1-2008
poem by John Celes
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On Christmas Night!
Thus was born
The King of kings,
And Lord of lords,
And only son begotten,
Of the Father- God.
It was a baby boy
Who lay on hay,
On Christmas day
On a winter’s night.
Some Shepherds prayed;
While angels sang
‘Joy to the world
And peace to all
Men of good-will”
From the east,
Three magi came
Fell on their knees,
And paid homage
With gifts of gold,
Frankincense, myrrh,
And worshipped
The new-born King!
They found the babe
In a manger born,
As the Star of Bethlehem
Stood right above!
In total obeisance
To the Father’s decree,
Jesus Christ became man,
To die upon the cross,
To redeem mankind
Forever!
The boundless love of God
Was reflected by Christmas
And Satan’s defeat!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-8-2006
poem by John Celes
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Oh Holy Night
Oh holy night
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear saviors birth
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth
A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn
Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
Oh night divine
Oh night when christ was born
Oh night divine
Oh night, oh night divine
Oh night divine
Oh night when christ was born
Oh night divine
Oh night, oh night divine
Divine.....
song performed by by 98 Degrees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Abide in God
God, help me live as per Thy divine Will!
Enamored by the world, let me not live;
Let temptations not make my heart/ soul ill;
Let me for Thy sake live and my life give.
Nothing is worth living for in this world;
The righteous path is but one thing worthwhile;
And life is God’s greatest gift that we hold;
And sin which God detests, let us not pile.
What divine love gave us our human for?
Let us return that love a hundredfold,
By living life as per the Maker’s norm;
Heaven is worth all earth’s treasures and gold.
The Maker strict is kind in umpteen ways;
And soon over will be our earthly days.
20-2-2001
poem by John Celes
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The morning comes late
all i give is to what is life, all i take is for you, all i made is to make
what you are today, all is just a vanity like smoke that fade in a blink
of an eye
as the night passes the day, all are counted merit for you, all is
given credit what you have done, the pain, the agony, the victory,
the joy are all for you
the happiness you offer to the world, is but a essence of what you
are in this creation, be apart for in every part you made, it might
be the last moment of your stay
it is in this victory that you are call, it is in this happiness that you
have to serve, it is in this life that you exist to procreate, the given
task, only in you, knows that you are in a journey of this life
in every morning, if the sun stand, anchor in your bed and you
feel that you are fine, let your heart tells and be not wary, for the
you are in a journey of no turning back
time is but a moment of an endless journey, a blink of where soul
stand still, of no where to define, just an aura of nothing happen,
only the past will tell, of who you are in every beginning
let your soul move on, of where to floats, angel from different
direction will blew your heart to a place where, you never forget
and you will remember, that once upon a time, your immortal
soul belong and have live this majestic state
just wait, you will be honored and respected according to what
you gain, it is just a passing scene in your heart witness only by
your soul the everything you have made in you life
may you wake up in good faith and live this life to be continued
to life everlasting, have a nice and beautiful morning
poem by Antonio Liao
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Rosa Flammea
Beautiful demon, O veil those eyes of fire,
Cover your breasts that are whiter than milk, and ruddy
With dewy buds of the magical rose, your body,
Veil your lips from the shining of my desire!
As a rose growing up from hell you waver before me,
Shaking an odorous breath that is fire within;
The Lord Christ may not pardon me this sweet sin,
But the scent of the rose that is rooted in hell steals o'er me.
O Lord Christ, I am lost, I am lost, I am lost!
Her eyes are as stars in a pool and their spell is on me;
She lifts her unsearchable lids, chill fire is upon me,
It shudders through every vein, and my brain is tossed
As the leaves of a tree when the wind coils under and over;
She smiles, and I hear the heart beat in my side;
She lifts her hands, and I swirl in a clutching tide;
But shall my soul not burn in flame if I love her?
She shall veil those eyes, those lips, ah! that breast.
Demon seeking my soul, I do adjure thee,
In the name of him for whose tempted sake I endure thee,
Trouble my sight no more: lost soul, be at rest!
She smiles, and the air grows into a mist of spices,
Frankincense, cinnamon, labdanum, and myrrh
Rise in sweet smoke about the feet of her
Before whom the sweets of the world are as sacrifices.
Cinnamon, frankincense, labdanum, and myrrh
Smoke in the air, the fume of them closes round me;
Help, ere the waves of the flood of odours have drowned me,
Help, ere it be too late! There has no help come,
And I feel that the rose of the pit begins to blossom
Into the likeness of a lost soul on fire,
And the soul that was mine is emptied of all but desire
Of the rose of her lips and the rose of her bosom.
Ah! she smiles the great smile, the immortal shame:
Her mouth to my mouth, though hell be the price hereafter!...
I hear in the whirling winds her windy laughter,
And my soul for this shall whirl in the winds of flame.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Not a Cage, But Stage, Where Hell or Heaven Is Built!
Each Soul is divine,
Divine journey of divine spark,
That journey as per divine plan!
Your children are not your children,
They are guests visiting you,
As scheduled by divine hands,
They are here with their own destiny and fate,
who is able to state, When who is at what state?
Your friends and relatives too,
Are on their journey own,
Remember the love and affection shown!
Love and understanding
are in the heart of those here rejoice,
Concentric spheres that look solid,
Just like Onions with layer after layer,
Nothing found when peeled,
But, Everything when properly lived!
Solid looking spheres are not solids,
They are energy layers,
waves of different pattern and kinds,
Ah! Look they are of different layers,
Matter that matters us,
is not the matter,
It is energy layers,
May be children or kiths and kins,
What we look is that
How we look,
How we look is what we are!
Our house is not our house until we own,
Our body is not ours,
Our mind is not our own,
Our soul is not ours,
Until we own and master it!
Our goal is not our goal,
Goalless we can't live,
Only goal we find here is peaceful coexistence,
peaceful exit from this Life's cage,
It is not the cage but the stage on which,
Hell or heaven built or felt!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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There’s a ancient story
There’s an ancient story
of God and of men,
of the holy Lord Jesus
born in Bethlehem.
Of shepherds in the field
watching their flock at night
and an angel so bright
that they had to shield their eyes
telling about the Son of God,
the Prince of Peace being born
and angels that sing praises to Him.
Of wise men from the East
following a bright star,
coming from very far
with gifts of gold,
frankincense and myrrh
for the newborn king
Of king Herod
when he heard about the child
let his soldiers kill
all the children
in and around Bethlehem
who were two years and younger
and of Jesus Christ escaping to Egypt
Of God the Son, Jesus
in innocence being crucified
for the sins of all men
and rising from the dead
to be alive and God again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Here is the Little Door
Here is the little door, lift up the latch, oh lift!
We need not wander more but enter with our gift;
Our gift of finest gold,
Gold that was never bought nor sold;
Myrrh to be strewn about his bed;
Incense in clouds about his head;
All for the Child who stirs not in his sleep.
But holy slumber holds with ass and sheep.
Bend low about his bed, for each he has a gift;
See how his eyes awake, lift up your hands, O lift!
For gold, he gives a keen-edged sword
(Defend with it Thy little Lord!),
For incense, smoke of battle red.
Myrrh for the honoured happy dead;
Gifts for his children terrible and sweet,
Touched by such tiny hands and
Oh such tiny feet.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Embryonic Homicide
Life is same, no matter young or old;
Life is precious, more than silver, gold;
Life isn’t commodity that is sold;
Life’s from God, not from this nasty world!
Alike is life in children and adults;
Alike is life ‘in utero’, ‘ex womb’;
Alike is life of born and that unborn;
All human lives are equal before God.
All human beings are in God’s semblance;
Each body gets a soul that everlasts;
The love of God is shown to all creatures;
The Life-Giver alone can take back life!
The Embryo has life that’s God-destined;
The Embryo was formed by love of God;
The Embryo must grow by divine Word;
The Embryo has soul like anyone!
Why kill the embryo for its small parts?
Why destroy one life to save another?
Why treat the embryo with great disdain?
Why murder lives in womb for sake of born?
The embryo is healthy, not diseased;
The embryo is living, not deceased;
The embryo is child, awaiting birth;
The embryo is human too and worth!
No beast kills babies that are still unborn;
The world demands kindness to animals;
Why not protect the human lives unborn?
Preserve the dignity of life in womb!
Could God watch human lives desecrated?
Would God spare merciless human beings?
The embryonic life is life as well;
All ruthless murderers shall land in hell!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-9-2009
poem by John Celes
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Galileo
Galileos head was on the block
The crime was looking up for truth
And as the bombshells of my daily fears explode
I try to trace them to my youth
And then you had to bring up reincarnation
Over a couple of beers the other night
And now Im serving time for mistakes
Made by another in another lifetime
How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach that kind of light
I call on the resting soul of galileo
King of night vision, king of insight
And then I think about my fear of motion
Which I never could explain
Some other fool across the ocean years ago
Must have crashed his little airplane
How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach that kind of light
I call on the resting soul of galileo
King of night vision, king of insight
Im not making a joke, you know me
I take everything so seriously
If we wait for the time till all souls get it right
Then at least I know therell be no nuclear annihilation
In my lifetime Im still not right
I offer thanks to those before me
Thats all Ive got to say
cause maybe you squandered big bucks in your lifetime
Now I have to pay
But then again it feels like some sort of inspiration
To let the next life off the hook
But shell say look what I had to overcome from my last life
I think Ill write a book
How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach the highest light
Except for galileo God rest his soul
(except for the resting soul of galileo)
King of night vision, king of insight
How long
(till my soul gets it right)
[til we reach the highest light]
How long
(till my soul gets it right)
[til we reach the highest light]
How long
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O Holy Night
choir
O holy night
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear saviours birth
long lay the world in sind and error pining
Till he appeared and the soul felt it worth
A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices
For younder breaks a new and glorious morn
Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angles voices
O night divine, oh night when Christ was born
O night, O holy night, O night divine
O night divine, O night, O nihgt divine
choir
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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