The Unfamiliar Mortgage
Who mortgaged our precious life
to an unknown cruel destiny?
we pay the high interest by our toil.
This endless disputable loan
will it be end with the death?
Or we have to re-born again and again
for the Redemption of our innocent souls?
Do you think that he will come for our solace
without a prejudice?
To the poetess Ernestine.Northover
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Loan Is A Great Disease Of Mind Which Brings In Life Insult And Defamation
Loan is a great disease of mind which brings in life insult and defamation
Loan taker promises to the loan giver that he will pay it on promised date,
Due to inconvenience he failed to repay it according to his said condition,
Being scolded by the party he is ashamed and he will try to commit suicide,
Shame on the part of loan taker to be a coward to have committed suicide,
He should be brave to tolerate public taunts instead of committing suicide,
Life is more precious so, with courage he should face the matter and decide,
He must not fear to the loan giver and die otherwise his family suffers in life,
Rich or poor everyone has one or other kind of loan that is to pay in his life,
A rich or poor man’s delivery is done by other and he is also buried by other,
All have been bounded by various acts of loan in the journey of life’s strike,
Loan of CREATOR, loan of pardon, loan of mercy and loan of helping one another,
A few people say “I cannot open my hand before other to ask help or something”,
After death such people are carried by other to get buried having nothing.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Too High
Above the cloud lies a yellow sun sky,
Where all appears clear, nothing passing by,
Too high for the birds when upon the wing,
Too high for a phone to so harshly ring,
What peace reigns there, gone away all the strains,
Of a life commuting on planes and trains.
Above the cloud there is just endless space,
Nothing to plague you, liberty’s embrace.
Too high for one’s everyday problems there,
Too high, so one wouldn’t have a care
What a freedom we would suddenly find,
By leaving this earthbound land far behind.
Above the cloud is one glorious day,
So how about we go there right away.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Moon Is.......
A Poem by my Great Niece, Kitty Cotton aged 12 years.
The Moon is a pearl;
sat in the night sky.
Precious and beautiful,
it shall never die.
The Moon is a ball of silk,
dancing with the stars.
Floating elegantly in the darkness,
it won’t ever be behind bars.
The Moon is a torch,
lightening the night,
to help us find our way,
and just hanging in the sky,
smiling down on me.
© Kitty Cotton
(Ernestine Northover)
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(Rejection Poem) Angel Of Death
The blood is rushing through my veins.
Breaking free of the shackles and chains.
Being pulled away.
I want to stay but I must go.
Oh hell, no.
It wont happen.
I killed all the passion.
Its over.
Done, sorry but this game can never be won.
The angel of death has come.
Reaping those lost souls.
I got to just walk away.
Its no longer my mistake.
I must take control.
Pulling the reins trying to drive me insane.
Patience, is no longer in my best interest.
Just leave me alone.
Let me be calm.
Probably should get stoned.
A unending high in this life.
A dream being destroyed.
But I must let go.
For the angel of death has come.
Reaping those lost souls.
I must take control.
A choice has been made.
As the day fades.
Win or lose it no longer matter anyways.
I'm not playing.
I'm not staying.
So let the angel of death come.
Reaping those lost souls.
I must take control.
I was the fool.
I was the fool.
A life so cruel.
I'll watch from afar.
Like a distant star.
You can no longer reach me.
You can no longer b*tch to me.
The line has been written in the sand.
Everyone one on that side is damned.
So let the angel of death come.
Reaping the lost souls
oh reaping the lost souls.
I must take control.
By saying no,
i will not follow a heart so hollow.
I'm not blinded by the sickness.
No oh no.
So let the angel of death come.
Just let her come.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Redemption In Christ
What is redemption
and what does it mean?
What is redemption
in the Lord Jesus Christ?
Redemption is a symbolic
literal issue relating to slavery.
A concept of an entire humanity
being enslaved in a state of sin.
Redemption is an English
translation of the Greek word
‘agorazo’ which means 'to
purchase in the market place.'
This is a Biblical reference to the act
of buying a slave in the market place.
In a Christian context redemption
means we were enslaved in our sin;
until we accept salvation in Jesus Christ
who through his voluntary sacrificial death;
purchased believers in slavery in sin to set
free from sin bondage in a heavenly hope.
Our redemption is ‘exagorazo’.
Moving from life in bound flesh
to life reborn; born again in spirit.
We moved from life cast in death
to slain death of life bound in sin.
Christ freed us from burden bondage
of law to freedom a new life in him.
Our redemption is ‘lutroo’.
which means 'to obtain release
by the payment of a price.'
Paid price in Christianity
Christ's precious given blood
obtaining our release from sin.
Our redemption is ‘agorazo ’
‘exagorazo’ ‘lutroo’ in Christ.
Why was this redemption necessary?
The answer is written at Romans 3: 23-24.
“For all have sinned and fall short
of the glory of God, and are justified
freely by his grace through the
redemption that came by Christ Jesus.”
Why is redemption through Christ?
God set Jesus forth as an offering for sin
through faith in his blood sacrificial death.
What does this ransom sacrifice prove about God?
This vindicated God’s righteousness
in forgiving sins that occurred in the past;
passed over with neither punishment
nor remission; God exercised forbearance;
exhibits righteousness in the present
age; proving his own righteousness
while declaring righteous all people
who have exercised faith in Jesus Christ. Romans 3: 25-26.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Fragile Frame
Open the door, and let my soul escape,
To the faraway hills and shimmering lakes of my life,
And my wounded spirit, now with solace drape,
To flee from all the sorrow and the strife,
That builds, within this fragile frame, that's me.
And let not one single thought be free of thee,
For I shall with this heart, submit a plea,
That we'll be together, for all eternity.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Particle
God owns my soul, my life is His.
He will recall me in time,
when that time is right.
I belong to Him, and that is as it should be.
God in me,
Me in God.
A segment of His being,
a precious speck in His infinite universe.
He is mine,
I am His.
One particle in His great Cosmos.
Part of the whole.
The 'Whole' that is God.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After
After a poem is over,
We’ll remember what it contains.
After a song is over,
The memory of the tune remains.
After a love is over,
Comes the breaking of the chains.
After a dream is over,
Then cruel reality entertains.
After a pain is over,
A quiet, peaceful moment reigns.
After a life is over,
We go where the Lord ordains.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ups And Downs
So precious are our days upon this earth,
From life's very start, at our moment of birth,
Through our childhood years, so free from cares,
Then into adulthood, with its many shares
Of ups and downs, and sadness and joy,
Children for us perhaps, a girl and a boy.
Into middle age, then way beyond,
If only we could wave a magic wand
And choose each step that we should take,
The right decisions, that we should make,
But alas, our judgement is not always right,
Sometimes we can fail to see the light.
So life will be filled with ups and downs,
Days of laughter and days of frowns,
But through our days, whether stormy or fine,
These precious days are still yours and mine.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Please
Please tread softly as you pass my heart,
For wounded souls are sensitive to sorrow,
And need the solace of a peaceful calm,
To mend the grief and start a new tomorrow.
Please speak softly as you near my heart,
The beats unsteady still, the hurt remains,
And yet a voice that soothes, becomes a balm,
To clear the path, and break restricting chains.
Please touch softly as you take my heart,
Such trust will falter, should any harshness stain,
Yet as each day of care weaves like a charm,
Love comes anew, and thus there's no more pain.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleep is the interest we have to pay on the capital which is called in at death; and the higher the rate of interest and the more regularly it is paid, the further the date of redemption is postponed.
quote by Arthur Schopenhauer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death roams not only in the evenings
Beloved! We met in different costumes along this endless cycle of births & deaths.
We touched each other with secret whispers,
Then we discussed in a friendly manner about life, love, sex and fear of change, challenges and lot of things.
But the corrosive noble death obstructed our path.
He is the only person that never changes his rotten name
Comes with the same opaque identity
And who grabs our innocent personality?
I dedicate this poem to the deceased Sri Lankan celebrated poetess Monica.Ruwan.Pathirana
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Keep The Gravity
We should value the fact that our precious earth,
is spinning around for all it is worth.
And because it is, we must not scoff,
for if it stopped whirling, we’d all fall off,
To float out into the wide blue unknown,
each of us completely on our own.
A suspended speck, some useless debris,
gliding into universal history.
Keep revolving sphere, we require your speed,
keeping the gravity that we all need.
Please do not halt, we have no desire
to see outer space, and then to expire.
With no oxygen, our life would conclude,
causing a disaster of such magnitude.
It makes one think and start to realise
That this orb holds us safe within the skies.
Our planet’s a wondrous globe so vast,
And its fashioning is totally unsurpassed.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Destiny Leads The Way
All through your great life journey you follow your destiny
And where you are living at today is where you are meant to be
And whether you live in your Hometown or from there live far away
It all goes back to destiny where you are at today
We make our own decisions and for our mistakes we pay
Yet in the course of our destiny we do not have a say
From the moment we are born our pathways through life are paved
And the destinies of our life's journeys in our souls are engraved
Though many will tell you differently they say our life's journey is our own choice
But destiny the silent one never does heed advice
And even those who do not believe in it follow it every day
Where-ever their journeys take them to destiny leads the way
And whether you travel far from home or live in your own country-side
Destiny of seven letters your life's journey decide.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wheels Of Life
The wheels of life keep turning,
Propelling us along,
And as they go, we're learning,
To, be both soft and strong.
To take laughter, fun and pleasure,
To take grief, sadness and tears,
And when we've had full measure,
Along come other fears.
This world can be so splendid,
But also hard and cruel,
And as one hurt is mended,
Along comes a renewal.
So take each day, and value it,
Once gone it can't return,
Just treasure every single bit,
And give each your concern.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Baby Mine
Baby sweet, baby mine,
King of Kings, so sublime,
Born for us on Christmas Day,
Master of all that you'll survey.
Baby dear, baby fine,
Lord of Lords, so divine,
Your birth we celebrate, and share
Our lives with you, as we say your prayer.
Baby loved, baby shine,
God, Creator, we are thine,
Be our Father, dwell within
Our souls, and let our praise begin.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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destiny
It was my destiny to die,
and no matter how much you try,
it is everyones destiny to die,
no matter old or young,
death will break the needle on which you're life is strung,
death cares not that you're in love,
death will push you death will shove,
till you're life is on the edge,
then death the sealer of you're destiny,
will steal you're soul,
and let you be,
for it truly is our destiny,
no matter how hard it is to see,
to live to die to simply be.
poem by Annabell Callest
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In A Girl's Head
A Poem written by my Great Niece Kitty Cotton aged 12 years.
In it there are ribbons
and bags
for drowning out a voice of an embarrassing Dad.
There are a few
Abacrombie models,
which come first, by far.
There is an entirely new colour,
An entirely new clothing line,
An entirely new sweet.
There is a glass pool
with a party inside.
There is the sea
turned upside down.
There is a fox with no brush.
A pack of cards without an Ace.
A land with no sky.
Somewhere in the corner of a girl’s head lies
a spark of friendship and a glow of love.
© Kitty Cotton
(Ernestine Northover)
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Little Poem Story
A little poem telling a story about the poetess who were falling in love
A little poem smiled
She knew that the poetess was writting love words shyly
One..Two..Three.....Seven.....a lot of love words she wrote
They were beatiful, they were mysterious
A little poem felt the poetess’s emotion
The poetess was loving an awesome man deeply
A man who had filled in her absolute majority life
Like a candle in the dark., he lighted the poetess’s days
A little poem knew the poetess’s feeling
And the awesome man had to knew too
A little poem waited for that special day
One..Two..Three.....Seven...a lot of days passed
But a little poem never leafted from her place
The poetess never allowed a little poem to talked to the awesome man
The poetess leafted a little poem in her drawer
The poetess leafted her love words and nobody knew
A little poem had the blues
Love is about braveness
Love will become love when it expressed
“May be the poetess didn’t know about it”, she thought.
poem by Deasy Anggraeni
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Death is night
Death is the door to heaven.
Death unlocks the fetters of life.
It unbars the jail of life.
Yet no one wants to face the death.
Pre death is held more precious
Than the unknown post death in wait.
Nights aren’t dearer but sure to come.
So we must make bed for the night.
09.03.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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