Prayer
At life's most testing moment, when
the grieving heart's replete,
a prayer that is most potent then
I call up and repeat.
There is a power, suffused with grace,
when living words combine,
a breath beyond the commonplace,
that holds a joy divine.
Like dead-weight slipping from the brain
now fades my unbelief -
I trust again, shed tears again,
and such relief, relief…
poem by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
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What A Sobering Thought Indeed
What a sobering thought indeed, half the world will die in unbelief,
And the other half by God's Grace will believe to experience relief.
And when they take their last breath, they will see Eternal Death,
But you can live, if you believe, within the time that you have left.
Then, not only will you experience God's relief from all your strife,
But through God's Grace and Mercy, you will receive Eternal Life.
This present Age of Grace, is God's Mercy towards all men on earth,
No matter what you think you're worth, you can experience new birth.
Your rebirth is when you believe, and God opens up your eyes to see,
That you my friend are just like me and we were both born to believe.
To the natural man this is foolishness, which leads one to unbelief,
And because he has no belief, he lives his life in and out of grief.
But The Lord offers more than just Eternal Life at your life's end,
As He will fill your life with joy and a peace you can't comprehend.
God through The Holy Spirit also helps you my friend to understand,
There's only one who can forgive your sins and He is The Son of Man.
For the Son of Man came to die to give his life as a ransom for many,
The Spotless Lamb who died a death to save vile sinners so unworthy,
What a sobering thought indeed, that God allowed The Lord to bleed,
To watch His Only Son die on a tree, to save a wicked wretch like me.
(Copyright © 03/2003)
The Teachers Are Afraid Of The Pupils
Theres too many people
Planning your downfall
When your spirits on trial
These nights can be frightening
Sleep transports sadness
To some other mid-brain
And somebody here
Will not be here next year
So you stand by the board
Full of fear and intention
And, if you think that theyre listening
Well, youve got to be joking
Oh, you understand change
And you think its essential
But when your profession
Is humiliation
Say the wrong word to our children ...
Well have you, oh yes, well have you
Lay a hand on our children
And its never too late to have you
Mucus on your collar
A nail up through the staff chair
A blade in your soap
And you cry into your pillow
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
Say the wrong word to our children ...
Well have you, oh yes, well have you
Lay a hand on our children
And its never too late to have you
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
To be finished would be a relief
Im very glad the spring has come
The sun shines out so bright
All the birds that are on the trees
Are singing for delight
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Society Needs Relief
Minds adopting violence as a crop,
That grows.
Exposes those who show,
A hopelessness invested.
With a manifesting,
Gone unarrested.
Minds adopting violence as a crop,
That grows.
And bestowing,
An assessed uselessness.
That has been infested,
Fed and digested.
Society needs relief...
With a sweeping of the weeping.
Too many left on knees and grieving.
Too many say they seek a meaning.
Society needs relief...
With a sweeping of the weeping.
Too many left on knees and grieving.
Too many say they seek a meaning.
Although the answers come,
They can't let go.
Although the answers come,
Their tears still flow.
Minds adopting violence as a crop,
That grows.
And bestowing,
An assessed uselessness.
That has been infested,
Fed and digested.
Society needs relief...
With a sweeping of the weeping.
Too many left on knees and grieving.
Too many say they seek a meaning.
Although the answers come,
They can't let go.
Although the answers come,
Their tears still flow.
Society needs relief.
Society needs relief.
Society needs relief.
Although the answers come,
They can't let go.
Although the answers come,
Their tears still flow.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Villanelle on a Proverb
The heart once broken is a heart no more.
—Edna St. Vincent Millay
The proverb says that time confers relief,
heals a crimson gash or knits whole a bone
and years unlock a knuckled fist of grief
that clenches emptiness in disbelief
to keep one's wits from being overthrown,
while time, the proverb says, confers relief
from cleaving wounds, paradoxical thief,
that also tears apart fused hearts grown
beyond the lock of knuckled-fisted grief
half-hearts collapsed empty in unbelief
at finalities beneath lids of stone,
while time, proverbially, confers relief
by bleaching wounds to scars—its chief
repair—but cannot heal a heart left alone
although the years unlock the fist of grief,
proclaiming the proverbial motif
that all wounds heal, time cannot atone
for vacancy. The proverb lies. Relief
unlocks a fist, but not the archived grief.
poem by William F Dougherty
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Why The Tears I Shed?
Why the tears I shed?
Hunger is around,
I'm well fed.
Why the tears I shed?
The fire has gone out,
Warm is my bed.
Why the tears I shed?
Love is without sense,
On me lies her head.
Why the tears I shed?
The living is on alms,
Aplenty is my bread.
Why the tears I shed?
Life seeks mercy,
More blessed is the dead.
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Bitter and Sweet
Kindle, Saviour, in my heart,
A flame of love divine;
Hear, for mine I trust thou art,
And sure I would be thine;
If my soul has felt thy grace,
If to me thy name is known;
Why should trifles fill the place
Due to thyself alone?
'Tis a strange mysterious life
I live from day to day;
Light and darkness, peace and strife,
Bear an alternate sway:
When I think the battle won,
I have to fight it o'er again;
When I say I'm overthrown,
Relief I soon obtain.
Often at the mercy-seat,
While calling on thy name,
Swarms of evil thoughts I meet,
Which fill my soul with shame.
Agitated in my mind,
Like a feather in the air,
Can I thus a blessing find?
My soul, can this be pray'r?
But when Christ, my Lord and Friend,
Is pleas'd to show his pow'r
All at once my troubles end,
And I've a golden hour;
Then I see his smiling face,
Feel the pledge of joys to come:
Often, Lord, repeat this grace
Till thou shalt call me home.
poem by John Newton
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A Poem And One Last Tear
'let it rain to hide your tears'
and those words tell it all...
droplets of rain cleansing anew
thoughtlets of you this heart eludes
a new life sprouted surmounting downhearted
the way to forget, when heart is downtrodden
listening intently to the fall of the rain
whispered to my ears you're a man who didn't care
breath of our yearning and acts of love we shared
remaining pieces of you, just one last tear to shed
swear it to the rain not to hide my tears away
for beginning today, I will be on a better way
droplets of rain, add a spark to shine relief
on a hideous teary eyes that can now better see
poem by Cynthia Aluning
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Life At Its Best
Jesus came as Prince of Peace, offering a life that will not cease.
There’s a peace He came to give, to all on earth who chose to live,
Life on this earth at its very best, until this weary body’s laid to rest.
Helping us to live this earthly life, while dealing with the daily strife.
For this peace we must lay on Him, every burden and anxious whim.
Satan may place a trial in our way, to fill our heart with utter dismay,
But with the presence of The Lord, help and grace can be implored,
If as Believer’s we would only dare, cast to Christ every single care.
God The Father calls upon all of us, to in His Son place all our trust.
All cares and burdens of this life, are to be cast to the feet of Christ.
The Lord Jesus Christ is over all, and knows all needs, big and small,
When we trust Him with all our days, God fills life with joy and praise.
It’s not an option as some suggest, or from Christ a passing request,
For it is a command to cast to Him, all our burden lest to turns to sin,
As the sins of worry and of unbelief, is what the enemy tries to seed.
To take our mind off Jesus Christ; and fill our heart with undue strife.
God’s inner peace is the essence, of living daily in Christ’s presence,
For when a trial causes one grief, His omnipresence brings him relief.
All that I need, I have through Grace, that helps me any time or place,
Grace from God that will not cease, that gives me Everlasting Peace.
(04/2007)
A Summer Like No Other
The heat is intolerable
this summer of 2011.
It's as if hell broke loose
to defy the coolness of heaven.
Steamy days and sticky air
makes it hard to breathe.
The inhale of your breath
becomes a laborious chore.
There isn't a place in the USA
that isn't affected anymore.
Heat indices of one hundred and ten
are commonplace now.
I welcome the clouds that look ominous
but all they do somehow
is tease you into thinking
they will bring you cooling rain.
All they do is create more steam
and let the heat remain.
Sainthood should be bestowed
on the inventor of air-conditioning.
I sing his praises out loud
for what he did bring.
Relief, relief and cooling air.
My biggest fear through this summer
is a power outage they can't repair.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Evening Music
Here comes the moment of the shimmering hour
When praise like incense trembles from each leaf.
The evening air is redolent with grief
And waltzes gush with melancholic power.
When praise like incense trembles from each leaf,
Only the notes of violins are sour
And waltzes gush with melancholic power;
The sky is vast with beauty and with grief.
Only the notes of violins are sour;
Each heart avoids its pit of unbelief.
The sky is vast with beauty and with grief;
The sun's blood hazes in a chilly shower.
Each heart avoids its pit of unbelief,
Gathering its flecks of light into a bower;
The sun's blood hazes in a chilly shower -
Only your shining image brings relief!
poem by Martin TURNER
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I Wont Be the 'Chief of Relief
Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.
Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!
Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.
Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!
The time has gone,
To sing that same old song!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Forever Faithful
In spite of all my unfaithfulness, my Lord God is faithful unto me.
For my life God does surely bless, in many ways that others see.
And although I often fail the test, I remain secure for all Eternity.
I have above an eternal address, where with God I’ll forever be.
It all comes down to God’s Grace; every single day I live my life.
For me there was not a trace, or even a thought of Jesus Christ,
In my heart God had no place, as my will and desire did suffice.
But through God’s saving Grace, He became for me a sacrifice.
From a former life of unbelief, I now live to honor Christ as Lord,
Who for me experienced grief, upon that cross, that He endured.
It is more than just a small relief, to know that I was not ignored,
For soon upon hearts of unbelief, His Judgment shall be poured.
My friend the things I know to do, sometimes a simply set aside,
At times doing what I know not to, as I fight a battle deep inside,
Thus I’m to my own self untrue, when in Christ I don’t fully abide.
I need to live this life anew, following the model of Him who died.
Faithful to me He will always be, as He guides me with His Love,
Knowing He has prepared for me, a new home forever up above,
Where with Him I’ll live eternally, enveloped by His endless Love,
There to truly live forever faithfully, in a perfect paradise up above.
And You Will Shed Tears Of Joy
My love so intense
like fragrant musk’s incense
Would
permeate you
hypnotize you
anesthetize you
And you will shed tears of Joy.
My love so hot
like blazing sunspots
Would torment you
torture you
tantalize you
And you will shed tears of Joy.
My love so calm,
like soothing divine balm
Would comfort you
caress you
heal you
And you will shed tears of Joy.
My love so high
like majestic sky
Would shelter you
protect you
comfort you
And you will shed tears of Joy.
My love so forgiver
like pristine pure river
Would cleanse you
purify you
rectify you
And you will shed tears of Joy.
My love so divine
like Old bottled wine
Would energize you
galvanize you
divinize you
And you will shed tears of Joy.
My passion
emanating from divine station
would shock you
rock you
knock you
And you will shed tears of joy.
My emotions
healing as divine potion
would envelope you
embrace you
embarrass you
And you will shed tears of joy.
My divine eyes
calmer than sky
would chase you
daze you
amaze you
My Baby!
And you will shed tears of joy.
ANJALI SINHA
18-12-2008
poem by Anjali Sinha
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Dark Hours: The Drunkard's Mother
Dark hours of tearless, sleepless grief,
Of woe, denied the soft relief
Of tears, to soothe the burning smart
That throbs and festers in my heart.
Oft has this grief my soul o'erspread,
Like funeral pall above the dead.
Ah, me! beneath the coffin-lid
Of murdered hopes for ever hid,
My promised joys of love and trust
With them lie mouldering in the dust.
Ah! not in sentimental strain
Of love-sick maid and sighing swain
I sing, who, crossed in hapless love,
The tender anguish deeply prove-
Nor that fierce grief when loss of fame,
Of wealth, of power, the baffled aim
Of worldly schemes, sends to the heart
Keen disappointment's venom'd dart.
Is such thy grief? you ask.-Ah, no!
A darker, deeper, deadlier woe
Is mine. Within its poisonous folds
My writhing heart a serpent holds;
I vainly struggle in the toils,
More closely wind the crushing coils.
No hand but His, to whom is given
All power in earth, all power in heaven,
The hideous reptile can unwind,
My crushed and broken heart upbind.
Lord, speak with power, I Thee implore,
As when, by lone Gennesaret's shore,
As God, Thou gave the high command,
That legion fiends might not withstand.
Oh, speak the words of power again,
All power, all words but Thine are vain;
This demoniac, fiercely driven,
Assaulting man, defying heaven,
'Twere joy ineffable, complete,
To see him sitting at Thy feet,
Renewed in heart, in mind restored,
Oh, speak the word; oh, save him, Lord!
poem by Janet Hamilton
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The Two Malefactors
Sovereign grace has pow'r alone
To subdue a heart of stone;
And the moment grace is felt,
Then the hardest heart will melt.
When the Lord was crucified,
Two transgressors with him died;
One with vile blaspheming tongue,
Scoffed at Jesus as he hung.
Thus he spent his wicked breath,
In the very jaws of death
Perished, as too many do,
With the Saviour in his view.
But the other, touched with grace,
Saw the danger of his case;
Faith received to own the Lord,
Whom the scribes and priests abhorred.
Lord, he prayed, remember me;
When in glory thou shalt be;
Soon with me, the Lord replies,
Thou shalt rest in paradise.
This was wondrous grace indeed,
Grace vouchsafed in time of need!
Sinners trust in Jesu's name,
You shall find him still the same.
But beware of unbelief,
Think upon the hardened thief;
If the gospel you disdain,
Christ, to you, will die in vain.
poem by John Newton
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We Are Alive In The Moment Of Death
We are the nocturnal nightmares of fear induced
We are fear by which hope is reduced
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game
We are as children hung from a rope
We are as children in fear of lost hope
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game.
We are the silence of all that is night
We are the shadows scared of the light
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the parasite worms in your brain.
We are the killers of true passion in love
We are the angels of Hell’s mansion above
We are the wings upon which devils may fly
We are the fear and the tears that you cry
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the parasite worms in your brain.
We are the moon as we are the sun
We are the end and the story begun
We are the dead and the living the same
We are the board when your life is the game.
We are the children who beat you at school
We are the teachers that deem you a fool
We are the rotting as we are the fresh
We are alive in the moment of death.
poem by David Lacey
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London Stone
WHEN you come to London Town,
(Grieving-grieving!)
Bring your flowers and lay them down
At the place of grieving.
When you come to London Town,
(Grieving-grieving!)
Bow your head and mourn your own,
With the others grieving.
For those minutes, let it wake
(Grieving-grieving!)
All the empty-heart and ache
That is not cured by grieving.
For those minutes, tell no lie:
(Grieving-grieving!)
'Grave, this is thy victory;
And the sting of death is grieving.'
Where's our help, from earth or heaven,
(Grieving-grieving!)
To comfort us for what we've given,
And only gained the grieving.
Heaven's too far and earth too near,
(Grieving-grieving!)
But our neighbour's standing here,
Grieving as we're grieving.
What's his burden every day?
(Grieving-grieving!)
Nothing man can count or weigh,
But loss and love's own grieving.
What is the tie betwixt us two
(Grieving-grieving!)
That must last our whole lives through?
'As I suffer, so do you.'
That may ease the grieving.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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My Lovers Prayer
My lovers prayer
In the history of
A life takes a heart
When the power of love comes together
There is nothing can tear us apart
And the touch of your hand I can feel
That what we got is stronger than steel
Thats when you hear
My lovers prayer
Its my own silent message to you
Takes me there, my lovers prayer
And my soul is divided in two
With my love on the line
I send it all over the world
Out on the air
cause I cant let go
And my heart has a mind of its own
Its my lovers prayer
Its the mystery of
A place blessed by us
And the moment of truth is forever
In the face of incredible odds
And the look in your eyes tells me why
Let our words burn a sign in the sky
My lovers prayer
Its as easy as talking to you
All my life, having you there
In my own private vision come true
Youre heaven on earth
Youre the fire and all that Im worth
And I can be strong
You hold the key
Dont say its over
Dont say its over for me
My lovers prayer
Its as easy as talking to you
All my life, having you there
In my own private vision come true
In my search for your love
I send it all over the world
Its all I can bare
And the nights get long
But my heart holds on
Its no empty words
Its my own silent message to you
Takes me there, my lovers prayer
And my soul is divided in two
cause I cant let go
And my heart has a mind of its own
Its my lovers prayer
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope Fades Away
When There's no Falling Far From Grace,
and All Your Hope Fades.
It's a Dreary Face,
When Nothing Seems to fall in Place.
When all Hope Fades,
Nothing Seems to Make Much Sense.
When all Hope Fades,
Life is but a Loveless Trance.
When all Hope Fades,
Heroes Fall to Hells Great Weight.
When all Hope Fades,
Demons Claw out of Massive Flames.
When Hope Fades Away.
poem by Nathan Kraft
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Sport Relief
Do something for a child,
Even if you don't feel so wild.
The money that comes,
Can be very big sums.
It goes all to charity,
to help us have parity.
It is all sport relief,
To make lesser grief.
Sport may seem like grief,
But this helps to bring relief.
To those who have grief,
Who should not be a thief.
To earn their living,
So help them get a better living.
They'd do anything for a living,
So please give them a shilling.
poem by Kaleb Brown
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