Fisherman’s Sin
A deadly sin defies and disagrees, you are disallowed,
Forces of potions are a secret for talking evil aloud.
Then premises of good are able to pay sacrifice
To clouds all-sacred, too powerful and concise.
May definite devices have advice with fore-knowledge,
Hindsight is acceptable and too worthy an advantage
Without us, within us as soot and chimneys,
Their wisdom is of soot and blackness and abbeys.
Sin shall stay forcefully, it is health-preserving and my
Happiness fixes fishing of flesh by the boats of a butterfly.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
Inspired by Issa - Sweeping Soot
sweeping soot
a spider trundles over
my face
inspired by
sweeping soot
the sun sets in peace...
vegetable field
-Issa,1808
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Chimney Sweeper
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry ‘ 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!’
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curl'd like a lamb’s back, was shav'd: so I said
‘Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head’s bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.’
And so he was quiet, and that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!—
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.
And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he open'd the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run
And wash in a river, and shine in the Sun.
Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind;
And the Angel told Tom, if he’d be a good boy,
He’d have God for his father, & never want joy.
And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.
poem by William Blake from Songs of Innocence (1789)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Little Chimney Sweep
For Duncan Wyllie
Who suggest I write this in a comment he once made.
Back in the 1800’s
in a large city in England
there lived a seven year old
and I will call him Tarn.
His hair was matted with soot,
his face and hands were black.
His clothes were old and cast offs
and didn’t fit too well.
His trousers had holes in the knees
and the elbows of his shirt were gone.
His skin was black from head to foot
from climbing chimneys
each and everyday.
He could work sometimes sixteen hours
before he finished for the day.
He never got educated,
nor did he play with friends.
He had no childhood
for as soon as he was old enough
to walk and climb out to work he had to go
to earn money to be fed.
There were no luxuries that we enjoy today.
Everyday you worked from dawn to dusk.
He didn’t smile or laugh,
just scampered up and down chimneys
to clean the soot away.
On one fateful day he found himself
wedged and couldn’t move.
No one heard his cries,
or if they did, they just ignored them.
Day after day, he struggled to get free
and all the time getting weaker and weaker.
He was soon forgotten about
and slowly his life expired.
He must have died in agony
more than most of us will ever know.
His body lay there for over a hundred years
before it was discovered by accident
when they renovated the old house.
poem by David Harris
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The Little Chimney Sweep - Victorian Times
What is above all these chimneys, I asked the young lad,
The chimney sweep boy replied,
Why Sir, it's the sky which is sometimes so blue,
That when I look up and glance at the view,
Such glory cannot be denied.
What lies in that sky then, I asked the young lad,
The boy gazing up now replied,
Oh Sir, clouds and sunshine, at night moon and stars,
Planets like Jupiter, Saturn and Mars,
What wonders out there can be spied?
Is your work very unbearable, I asked the young lad,
Most times Sir, it is, he replied,
From dawn until dusk, I'm climbing to sweep,
The soot from the chimneys, for my food and my keep,
My Master cannot be defied.
Do you 'welcome' the sky, I asked the young lad,
When I'm climbing, I do, he replied,
It's my friend when it's dark and the way up is hard,
Because sometimes I get burn't and then badly scarred,
There's many a time I have cried.
What then do you wish for, I asked the young lad,
With yearning, he slowly replied,
I would love to be free and fly like the birds,
Way up in the sky, and if I had the words,
Write about how I'd feel like inside.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Who goes near soot smells of soot, and who goes near musk smells of musk.
Sonnet: Wisdom
I ask for Wisdom and no other wealth;
It is the ultimate that reaches God;
It gives my body, mind and soul- its health;
A divine gift given to chosen Clod.
And Wisdom helps me understand this world,
In sane a manner, despite the chaos;
She makes me prudent and my actions bold,
Yet, keep God’s tenets and she’s my boss.
And Wisdom gives me fore-knowledge of things,
Both good and bad, pre-destined, accident;
Along with problems, solutions she brings;
I can always fulfill God’s commandment.
Wisdom I seek, deny me not, O God!
To help me help the needy souls from Clod.
3-14-2001
Dedicated to
Prof. Dr.C.V.BHIRMANANDHAM
VC of The Tamilnadu Dr. M.G.R.Medical University
And Staff, Chennai
poem by John Celes
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You May Strike But Hear Me First
start with a
board of
premises
sound premises
facts verified by all
the senses
possible
look around
stretch your hand
then if you are definite
that no harm
is potential
jump then
into conclusions
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The only principles of public conduct that are worthy of a gentleman or a man are to sacrifice estate, ease, health, and applause, and even life, to the sacred calls of his country.
quote by James Otis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fishing Village From Across The Bay
The quiet solitude
of brown fishing boats,
anchors weighed,
riding gently, the soft
movement of the calm waters.
Silent slapping. As the waves
kiss the sides of the boats,
their masts tall and strung
with spiderweb riggings.
Loose canvas flaps idly with
the passing of a breeze,
tugging against the anchor.
Tiredly, the sun continues
its slow journey home, reaching
honey-gold fingers of warmth
through the blanket of clouds.
The orb of power-filled
light-giving energy gives one last
defiant flash as it breaks momentarily
through the clouds.
A dog barks from across the bay
and white puffs of smoke
rise slowly, lazily to meet
the clouds. The sleepy village
readies itself for the sleep
that will bring the new day,
and the sun, rested
from its duties of the day before.
The waves continue to lap
gently against the fishing boats,
Silhouetted gently against the
golden stretch of water from across the bay.
Silence sets in and prayers are
said before bed, and good night
kisses are exchanged and
then the lights are extinguished,
from across the bay.
poem by Kevin Parkin
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Butterfly...
Butterfly...my all..my own, Butterfly
My butterfly, I remember the
day we met. You bumped into me.
Well, sort of floated, from no where,
and from that moment, I recall what
I said, 'Well, my little butterfly,
where did you come from.?
Butterfly, you laughed, and responded,
'I picked you out, and just floated down,
and landed on your shoulder.
Butterfly, there are many that think
that a Butterfly, can't laugh, but you did.
They think that a Butterfly, does not cry,
but you have.
Can a Butterfly be happy, cause happiness?
Butterfly, of mine...you did.
Can a Butterfly, caused one to nearly burst
with joy? Butterfly, you did and you have.
Butterfly, there is not a moment, since I
met you, that I can not recall.
Some might wonder what a butterfly, drinks.
Butterfly, shall we let them know, we became
intoxicated, as we sipped the nectar of life.
As my butterfly and I floated through the
wonders of earth, I wish we could share the
joy we found, with all of this planet.
Butterfly, shall we always be together?
Butterfly, I do not mean, just here on
earth, I mean until the stars stop shinning.
Butterfly, I mean, until there is no moon...
no anything, but my Butterfly and I.
Butterfly...I think that we will. Butterfly,
I believe that we were meant to be.
The Butterfly Weed
Oh lady bug, you've done a good deed.
Setting your table on the butterfly weed,
You're the custodian of all you survey,
On butterfly weed, till the end of the day.
Oh beautiful monarch, where do you feed,
I see you too love the butterfly weed.
You and the ladybug would be poor indeed,
If it was'nt for the butterfly weed.
Oh hummingbird whose throat seems to bleed,
What do you here on the butterfly weed?
All hummingbirds, good advice heed,
We love the orange butterfly weed.
God's smallest creatures, go by one creed,
To congregate on the butterfly weed.
Let the south wind blow, and spread your seed,
So that there will be millions of the butterfly weed.
5/31/03 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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This Is the Day
This is the day the Lord God has made, let me rejoice in it.
This morning I open my eyes,
Look up to heaven and expect everything beautiful and nice,
I give thanks to my God that he guides me,
Into perfect health, good living and everlasting happiness in Thee.
Betterment shall go on and on as long as I am here on Earth,
Because my Father loves me and gave me a new birth.
Temptations, bad experiences, humiliations and troubles fly away,
God's will is my will; everlasting happiness is mine all day.
Whatever I do, wherever I go and appear,
All recognize God's wisdom and love in me and my eyes have no more tear.
Only perfect health, good living, freedom and happiness are my inheritance,
Wisdom, goodness, glory, beauty, harmony and honor are my Father's presents.
So, let me go on with my life today,
Let me look up to heaven and expect everything beautiful I can think or say,
Let me give thanks to my God that he guides me,
Into perfect health, good living and everlasting happiness in Thee.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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On Wing and Wind...
My butterfly, I remember the
day we met. You bumped into me.
Well, sort of floated, from no where,
and from that moment, I recall what
I said, 'Well, my little butterfly,
where did you come from.?
Butterfly, you laughed, and responded,
'I picked you out, and just floated down,
and landed on your shoulder.
Butterfly, there are many that think
that a Butterfly, can't laugh, but you did.
They think that a Butterfly, does not cry,
but you have.
Can a Butterfly be happy, cause happiness?
Butterfly, of mine...you did.
Can a Butterfly, caused one to nearly burst
with joy? Butterfly, you did and you have.
Butterfly, there is not a moment, since I
met you, that I can not recall.
Some might wonder what a butterfly, drinks.
Butterfly, shall we let them know, we became
intoxicated, as we sipped the nectar of life.
As my butterfly and I floated through the
wonders of earth, I wish we could share the
joy we found, with all of this planet.
Butterfly, shall we always be together?
Butterfly, I do not mean, just here on
earth, I mean until the stars stop shinning.
Butterfly, I mean, until there is no moon...
no anything, but my Butterfly and I.
Butterfly...I think that we will. Butterfly,
I believe that we were meant to be.
Good Advice
Open the window I need some air
So many people and theres such disorder here
Familiar faces found out lies
Turn to the street now I watch the passers by
I wonder what they recognize
And what theyd recommend to fill my days
Possessions start to wear me down
I need some good advice some good advice to wear me down
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Instead they harbor secret thoughts
They break through windows that have twice been locked
I have to walk to wear me out
I need some good advice some good advice to wear me down
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
I throw my arms and pray to leave
I gotta head for love like is inside me
My lips press tight so not to drown
I need some good advice some good advice to wear me down
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Im nervous can you help me
Give me some good advice to help me along
If I know its true
Give me some good advice to help me along
If I know its true
Give me some good advice to help me along
If I know its true
Im nervous
Give me some good advice to wear me down
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Secret Untold
I’ve got a secret.
A secret untold.
A secret I have never told anyone.
Do you want to hear my secret?
I’ve got a sacred dream.
A dream vision for sacred life.
I believe in happiness.
I believe happiness is the greatest gift.
The greatest gift anyone can bestow upon another.
I want to give the gift of happiness.
I want to give the gift of happiness to the destitute.
I want to bestow happiness upon suffering souls.
Upon all suffering souls, unhappy, alone, unloved.
I want to heal the world.
I want to heal future generations unborn.
I want to heal with healing words of love.
The word is my gift.
The written word can open windows into the mind.
The written word can heal with gifts of infused love.
With truth, love, wisdom, life lessons revealed.
Words may attain the power to reveal life.
Words may reveal images attesting life lessons.
Words may reveal values advancing visions yet unattained.
Words may reveal realities exalting in love peace harmony.
Love peace harmony for all sacred humanity.
For all sacred life is a reality humanity must treasure attain.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Where Is The Beginning Of Wisdom?
Fear of God
is the beginning
of Wisdom.
Where is truth
where is wisdom?
Who has
knows hears
can discern
true wisdom?
The truth
true Wisdom
is crying out
aloud in the very
street in public squares
true Wisdom keeps
giving forth its voice.
Who has wisdom
who receives wisdom
who treasures wisdom?
Who indeed
is a seeker
of the moral
benefits
of Wisdom
in contemporary
scientific
unprecedented age?
From what source
does true wisdom come?
Who gives teaches
precious wisdom freely?
Adonai the LORD
himself gives wisdom
from out of God’s
mouth come
knowledge understanding
discernment.
Who did God
promise wisdom too?
Adonai the LORD
said if you will receive
my sayings accept
my words treasure
store up my commands
within yourself?
If you will
pay attention turning
your ear to wisdom
incline apply
your heart
to understanding
discernment;
if you call out
for insight cry aloud
for understanding
if you look
keep seeking for it
as for silver
search for it
as for hidden treasure,
then you will
understand
the fear of the LORD
find the knowledge
of God.
What then
is thy reward?
Adonai holds
success in store
for the upright.
Adonai will
treasure up practical
wisdom.
Adonai is a shield
to those walking
blameless in integrity.
But sly Satan said
this is a scientific
unprecedented age
so much is not
black and white
but shades of grey
little white
lies are
needed today.
Adonai said if you
will pay attention
turning your ear to
wisdom
incline apply
your heart
to understanding
discernment;
if you call out
for insight cry aloud
for understanding
Adonai the Lord
will be your shield
observing judgement
guarding the way
of his loyal ones
Adonai the Lord
guards the course
of the just protects
all the ways of his
faithful ones.
The faithful will
understand
all righteousness.
What is right just fair
the entire course
of every good path.
Truly Satan said
how can any man
obtain such wisdom?
Adonai said Wisdom
will enter their heart
and knowledge will be
pleasant to their soul.
Adonai said “thinking
ability itself will
keep guard over you”
discernment
itself will
protect you
understanding
will guard you
such knowledge
is infinitely more
than the beginning
of Wisdom.
Fear of God
is the beginning
of Wisdom.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Psalms 111: 10, Proverbs 1: 20 and Proverbs 2: 1-11.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Power Of The Word
words are indeed powerful
they have emotive power
to transform present moods
inspire all receptive minds
cast us down into captive depths
of depression when devastating
but when born of enlightened
hearts our heartfelt sacred words
may vibrate tranquility harmony
peace and good will to all souls
words cascade rivers of emotive
energies to bless heal or hurt words
create our world realities
we bless with smiles
radiant with shimmering
life goodwill or we curse
with anger, greed, pride,
selfishness, thoughtlessness;
choose words to nurture
to bless or embrace silences
voice no opinions
unless uplifting
all truth is revealed
in times mysteries
let God vindicate
us reward us
for any good deeds
while forgiving
us our errors
as we forgive
grow in experiences
conflict good deeds
have rewards
in heaven
evil will have
its day slay
broken minds
all who fall
prey to evil
words evil
acts evil
emotions
let God
judge us
avenge us
if our persecutor
will not repent
but let us
sow seeds
joyous
of happiness
through wisdom’s
boldness
let our words
heal many
hurt none
as we Bless
our God’s creations
let Divine God’s
will be done
Inspired by the poem ‘MAGICAL WORDS’ by Rekha Sathya
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Chained and Dragged Away
Leave them to lay in the shadows.
To pollute in soot.
As the belching smoke...
From the bellowing choking chimneys,
Keep them locked in a shock that stuns!
What is being incinerated?
No one knows.
But the smell of it is sweet.
It grows...
Pungent!
And knocks people to their feet.
Some are being chained and dragged away.
But to where?
Few are caring.
While others just run...
Escaping as they flee!
But to where?
'Over there!
Hovering in the air?
What gigantic monstrous 'thing' is that?
Huge in dimension...
And taking many up into it!
With a sweeping that does not attack!
What on Earth is that? '
Oh that?
That's the re-indoctrination ship,
Orion!
That's the smaller one!
See the larger ones above it?
Some depart for Saturn.
The others for Jupiter and Her Moons.
You are going to love Titan!
And adore its vistas,
With such beauty that looms!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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And Santa Got Stuck In The Chimney
It was Christmas Eve
and across the rooftops,
he flew, popping down chimneys here and there
delivering presents and good cheer.
Awakening the dreams of better days
as he and his reindeers and sled
sped on their way.
He came to a chimney
whose opening was small.
As he tried to get down old Santa got stuck.
He wriggled and struggled,
but to no avail.
He was firmly stuck
in a chimney on Christmas Eve.
Oh my, what was he going to do?
He still had lots of presents to deliver.
He whistled for Rudolph
the bright red-nosed reindeer
to find a rope to pull him out of there.
Rudolph nodded twice
with his nose so bright.
A half an hour passed
then Rudolph returned.
He tied the rope to the sleigh
and then passed the other end down to Santa
wedged in the chimney.
Santa grabbed the rope
and held on tight.
The reindeer gave
the sleigh a tug
and few up into the air.
Santa came out of the chimney
with a big pop
followed closely
by big cloud of soot.
Once free he carried on again,
only this time
he used magic
to get down the tight chimneys
he found, as he flew on his way
with a jolly Ho Ho Ho.
So, that concludes the story
of one Christmas Eve
when Santa while doing his rounds
got stuck down a chimney.
Now all that is left to be said
is a Merry Christmas to all
and a very, very Happy New Year
in the year ahead.
poem by David Harris
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