In Praise Of A Fellow Poet
in praise of a fellow poet
when someone’s doing
quietly
something which is
perfect in itself
then
to praise or to encourage
seems almost like
an insult
to them or
to perfection
I just wanted to say
what I’ve said
and you and I
share something which is
beyond the words
which we arrange
upon the page
to honour
‘something understood’
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Psalm CL.
Praise ye the Lord, your Songs address
To praise His Holynes:
O praise Him in His pow'rs extent,
Who rules the firmament.
Praise Him for all His acts of might,
Our wonder which invite:
In praises due His greatness tell,
Which all things doth excell.
Praise Him with Trumpets lofty sound,
With Cornets shake the ground:
His praise the Psaltery inspire,
With the melodious Lyre.
Praise him with Timbrells, and advance
His honour in the Dance.
Praise Him with Organs, Violls, Flutes,
And the well-stringed Lutes.
With Cymbals loud Him magnify,
Praise Him on Cymbals high:
Let every creature, that hath breath,
His Maker praise till death.
poem by Henry King
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For Vasant Kothari
Every funeral, cremation, and its rites
may have its grief; yet too,
its celebration of a life well lived;
and call out, too, self-dedication’s vow:
as the crowd of living witness
quietly leave and share their murmured words,
this vow ever calls to me: to celebrate the living:
celebrate them just as if it were
their – our - last day on earth:
celebrate and praise unstintingly;
encourage and enthuse and aid;
form their virtues in the mind and
speak them loud – as if
these whom we praise, were unaware
of their own virtues..
celebrate the living, and their life
shall celebrate the praisers in its life..
Vasant, your sweet, contained humility
hid from strangers, showed your friends,
what you were; and, who we are;
I hope your spirit (which, I’d like to think,
inspired me to the sounds beyond these words)
approves, accepts – in the eternal present tense –
these thoughts of you.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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In The Mornin
In the mornin'
When my feet hit the floor,
I will praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
When I walk out my door,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
When I praise Him I keep motivated.
And my heart is elevated!
Shaking trouble makers away.
When I praise Him I know He's my Savior,
Saving me from bad behavior.
And those who bait that hate,
Wont spoil my flavor.
In the mornin'
When I'm yawning at dawn,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
I've got faith so strong.
'Cause I'm blessed to know that God is with me,
All day long!
In the mornin'
When my feet hit the floor,
I will praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
When I walk out my door,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
Oh yes I,
Praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
Oh yes I...
Praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him!
Oh yes I...
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
When I walk out my door,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
And dedicated
'To my 'Roots'.
I keep re-booted! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Psalm 150
Praise God in his heavenly dwelling;
praise him in his mighty heaven!
Praise him for his mighty works;
praise his unequaled greatness!
Praise him with a blast of the trumpet;
praise him with the lyre and harp!
Praise him with the tambourine and dancing;
praise him with stringed instruments and flutes!
Praise him with a clash of cymbals;
praise him with loud clanging cymbals.
Let everything that lives sing praises to the Lord!
Praise the Lord!!
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 35: What May Words Say
What may words say, or what may words not say,
Where truth itself must speak like flattery?
Within what bounds can one his liking stay,
Where Nature doth with infinite agree?
What Nestor's counsel can my flames allay,
Since Reason's self doth blow the coal in me?
And ah what hope, that hope should once see day,
Where Cupid is sworn page to Chastity?
Honor is honor'd, that thou dost possess
Him as thy slave, and now long needy Fame
Doth even grom rich, naming my Stella's name.
Wit learns in thee perfection to express,
Not thou by praise, but prasie in thee is rais'd:
It is a praise to praise, when thou art prais'd.
poem by Philip Sidney
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This peach my teacher
This peach
that I’ve just eaten,
been graced by,
been blessed by,
been taught by,
been transformed by…
it’s as if some
Messenger of the Gods
had arrived, stopwatch in hand,
saying, everything holds in perfection
but a little moment -
as William Shakespeare noted:
so I’m going to arrange things so that
as the stopwatch ticks out
ten seconds to that moment,
you’ll reach out your hand to the fruitbowl,
take it, feel its yielding softness under velvet skin,
cut it carefully twice through the poles,
once equatorially… and as it falls apart,
spear one segment; eat…
this peach
was full of what even Rilke
could say no more than, peachness..
it was a living proof of Plato:
its perfection taught me
where essence meets experience,
where actuality meets the ideal of peach;
where a singular perfection speaks of
all perfections; where perfection
leaves from perfection, naught else but perfect…
how could such a perfect thing
have been invented by one
who does not love? Who is not love?
This peach is love itself, and I the worshipper
must needs make of myself a living God
to whom to kneel, to offer praise and gratitude
for all perfection known..
this peach my teacher.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven
Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven;
To His feet Thy tribute bring!
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Who like me His praise should sing?
Praise Him! praise Him!
Praise the everlasting King!
Praise Him for His grace and favour,
To our fathers in distress!
Praise Him still the same for ever,
Slow to chide, and swift to bless!
Praise Him! praise Him!
Glorious in His faithfulness!
Father-like, He tends and spares us;
Well our feeble frame He knows.
In His hands He gently bears us,
Rescues us from all our foes,
Praise Him! praise Him!
Widely as His mercy flows!
Frail as summer's flower we flourish:
Blows the wind, and it is gone.
But while mortals rise and perish,
God endures unchanging on.
Praise Him, Praise Him,
Praise the high eternal One!
Angels, help us to adore Him;
Ye behold Him face to face:
Sun and moon, bow down before Him;
Dwellers all in time and space,
Praise Him! praise Him!
Praise with us the God of grace!
poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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I Could Not Praise Myself
I COULD NOT PRAISE MYSELF
I could not praise myself
For all I had
Or had not done-
And when a few praised me
I felt unworthy-
Yet Praise I wanted
And Love more than Praise
And even more
For God to Care for
those I love.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Let the master praise him, and say, ""Here ye do well."" For, I assure you, there is no such whetstone to sharpen a good wit, and encourage a will to learning, as is praise.
quote by Roger Ascham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All ye nations, praise the Lord,
All ye nations, praise the Lord,
All ye lands your voices raise;
Heaven and earth with loud accord,
Praise the Lord, for ever praise.
For his truth and mercy stand,
Past, and present, and to be,
Like the years of his right hand,
Like his own eternity.
Praise Him, ye who know his love;
Praise Him from the depth beneath;
Praise Him in the heights above;
Praise your Maker, all that breathe.
poem by James Montgomery
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Praise
praise lies within
the confines of our fences
something beyond this fence
lies
where praise is not a word
it is
so unnecessary
something beyond
us lies this something
waiting
looking
silently, he deserves it
but does not want it
he gives it
but does not want any return of it
he smiles at us
the way we haggle for the stars
when what is perfect
is starless when what is complete
is just
space
what is enough
light
illuminating this lock of hair
and he calls it
perfection
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Praise Ye the Triune God
Praise ye the Father! For his loving-kindness,
Tenderly cares he for his erring children;
Praise him, ye angels, praise him in the heavens,
Praise ye Jehovah!
Praise ye the Spirit! Great is his compassion,
Graciously cares he for his chosen people;
Young men and maidens, ye old men and children,
Praise ye the Savior!
Praise ye the Spirit! Comforter of Israel,
Sent of the Father and the Son to bless us;
Praise ye the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
Praise ye the triune God!
poem by Elizabeth Rundle Charles (1858)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Praise God on High
Praise God on High
He sits there and knows why
The reason for each housefly
From fungi to the pie
Even those far and nearby
Praise God on High
The Owner of the Sky
The sweetness of July
The secrets of my Sigh
He knows them all
He sees my fall
With love install
I hear no yawl.
He is what nature's sprawl
The snowfall, the menthol, the cat call.
My faults he does not recall
Everything in Him is so beautiful.
Praise! Praise God on High
For He has the Perfect Eye.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Praise Women
Praise them! Praise Women!
I read his words, then I cried, O these lies
How can a woman’s love lie only between her thighs?
Foremost I admired him, his work was set on another stage
Later I concluded his words of women were words of rage
Praise them! Praise Women!
For on the faces of all women you can trace
The elements of sacrificial suffering in their gaze
To hear him say women are libidinous
Is not hilarious, rather I deem it as outrageous
The women we all know have it tough
Every aspect of their life is embroiled with rough
Life cycle periodic pains and yet enough is not enough
Their agonising vaginal birth anguish isn’t a bluff
Praise them! Praise Women!
Why curse the women that raise thee
Wait for you blindly in love while you are at sea
Aid you in your visions of where you want to be!
They bring us joy, love and peace
Something I request no one to dismiss
If only he could see their potential essence
He may have appreciated their very presence
On earth, women’s love is the voltage of balance
The very reasoning of all kinds of romance
They give rise to our population
By endless copulation and multiplication
Which in turn gives rise to all the nations
Praise them! Praise Women!
We need them in our mist!
For without them we cannot exist
Praise them! Praise Women!
Praise onto the women that raise thee!
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Praise the Lord, God's Glories Show
Praise the Lord, God’s glories show, Alleluia!
Saints within God’s courts below, Alleluia!
Angels round the throne above, Alleluia!
All that see and share God’s love, Alleluia!
Earth to heaven and heaven to earth, Alleluia!
Tell the wonders, sing God’s worth, Alleluia!
Age to age and shore to shore, Alleluia!
Praise God, praise forevermore! Alleluia!
Praise the Lord, great mercies trace, Alleluia!
Praise His providence and grace, Alleluia!
All that God for us has done, Alleluia!
All God sends us through the Son. Alleluia!
Strings and voices, hands and hearts, Alleluia!
In the concert bear your parts, Alleluia!
All that breathe, your Lord adore, Alleluia!
Praise Him, praise Him evermore!
poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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Lord, I give you all my praise. (To the tune of down at the cross)
O Lord, My God, I give you all my praise
You have cared for me all my days
You have comfort and strengthen me
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes, God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O’ Lord, My God, to you I lift my hand
You will bless me right where I stand
You will guide me along the way
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O Lord My God to you I sing my praise
I surrender and beg for your grace
Please O’ Lord, forgive all my sins.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O Lord, my God I need your help today
Please send some aid quickly my way
Problems are so bad I can hardly pray
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes, God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O Lord, My God, thanks for all you have done
You have empowered me to overcome
Now, I can claim my battle as won
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes God has been good to me.
God has been so good me.
Yes God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
poem by Reginald Walker
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To be the Veda
Who am I?
Who put me here?
Why am I here?
What should I do?
Who will tell me who I am?
Who will tell me, who put me here?
Who will tell me, why I'm here,
and tell me then, what I should do? ..
Sometimes, I am all thankfulness
for what keeps all of me alive;
is there a greater one whom I may thank?
And sometimes, I'm alive with praise;
Is there a greater one whom I may praise?
Sometimes, as thunder rolls and lightning strikes,
earth quakes; seas foam,
I am all fear; is there a one
who’ll tell me, the other, or the greater
things that I should fear,
and tell me what I need not fear?
From day to day, my thankfulness
wells up for this; and then for that:
the earth that yields me food,
the rain that helps it grow,
the sun and light that help it ripen,
the air that I must breathe,
the sounds that draw me to my fellow men:
so are there many such, whose mighty powers
I should thank and praise,
or is there only One?
Or are there many in the One
whom I should thank and praise –
and what then do these greater powers
know of each other; know of that One?
Sometimes, when all is silent, still,
I seem to have a hint of whom I am;
of why I’m here; what I should do;
then who will tell me the greater more
of all the more I think I know?
Sometimes, when all is silent, still,
I wish to spend my days deep in that place;
but I must work; then should I trust
some other man or woman, who will spend
their days in thanking, praising, in my place?
or can my work be also thanks and praise?
who judges thanks and praise enough?
Sometimes, when all is silent, still,
I feel a greatness in me, that
joins me to all things in myself..
who shall tell me more of this?
Sometimes, when all is silent, still,
I seek for sounds, and words, and song,
to measure all that this heart feels:
oh, who will teach me greater words?
Is there a teacher, and a taught?
Or is the teacher all around?
Or is the teacher all within?
Oh, who will tell me whom I am,
in words that sing as from myself?
*
[An ongoing attempt to ‘imagine myself’ into the spirit of the Veda]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Praise God, from whom all blessings flow! Praise Him, all creatures here below! Praise Him above, ye heavenly host! Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
quote by Thomas Ken
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The praisers
You might not spot them in a crowd –
but for that certain stillness of the self-contained:
in conversation, not until some detail
of an action, person, or a deed
sparks their mind; then from their heart -
not, pours – but rather, in a fine, fine stream
of exquisite precision, flows - their praise:
as if their whole self gives itself to you
in some new form of thought, in which
there is no longer, they and you –
you are united in exalted praise;
and their eye shines – inviting you to join
a world above: perhaps they sum the virtue
of a person, action, deed; and yet,
while they are speaking, praise is seated there
above the virtues; they are prophets, seers,
visionaries of that which in our praise, we are..
and perhaps, you try to join them in your speech –
how awkwardly praise sits upon your tongue!
you, who prided so yourself, a balanced judge
of all your fellow humans…find yourself
now at some sad and puny tongue-tied loss..
so, practise, in ourselves, a year or two –
(there’s silent praise – the eye gives that away…)
and praise the praiseful in their mighty work:
another world awaits: where we become
the prophets of ourselves in timeless life.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Who Is God, That God Needs To Be Praised?
WHO IS GOD THAT GOD NEEDS TO BE PRAISED?
Who is God that God needs to be praised?
Who are we that we are worthy of praising God?
Isn’t this Praise a form of flattery?
And how can God possibly want or need it?
We may need to praise-
Out of Gratitude
We may need to thank God
For all our blessings,
But does God want us to be flatterers
Who think to be rewarded for our praise?
I need to thank God
In that need is the Praise
But Praise alone
Makes both God and me
Seem unworthy.
I thank God
For having given me
This Poem.
If it is a poem.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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