The Virgin's last breath
It is a morning calm and still
On the valley covered in lush green
The sun is creeping over the hill
The lilies of the valley in their full sheen
Scattered around in this picturque scene
Are yellow maringold and blossom white
And wild flowers fighting to be seen
Praising heaven for another daylight
Underneath a tall rainforest tree
Sit i quietly taking inventory
Of a brand new day so gay to see
But there is a hidden history
Six seasons rainfall cannot wash
Nor could six seasons wind sweep
Six years now, i will tell it afresh
For heaven still look down on men and weep
Here, not far, i swear, about six feet
Is the footpath to the village stream
Not far still, from where three roads meet
To the stream, to the farm, the last you wouldnt dare dream
Was the story of this virgin ever told
By them who saw her that faithful day
Here, on this valley, six seasons old
I will be telling it again today
'A sweet hapless innocent miss
So fresh in her maiden bloom
With swelling breasts, a delight to kiss
Had met her fated doom
What vile act of man, what shame!
What unspeakable evil, what dishonor!
Are the hearts of men so untame
In their arrogance and lustful nature'
With her earthen pot, on that lonely path
She made her way to the village stream
And the cold intuition of death
Was scarce in her wildest dream
But evil trailed her, with eyes unseen
And observed her close and carefully
Vile men looking rough and mean
Yet the sweet thoughted virgin sang cheerfully
Not beyond this familiar path
Did she take a step away
For upon this worn brown earth
She had trodden day to day
Anon, on that flowery field she did espice
Broken petals, trodden and bare
And softly to herself did she sigh
As she gathered them with tender care
'O crude fate! ' She began, 'unfair nature
O that what is done can be undone
What beauty is there if it cannot restore
What glows now, the next moment gone? '
Saying thus, to the broken petals intended
She watered them with her tears
But soon same fate upon her attended
Her tears gave way to thousand fears
As a beast circles round his hapless prey
They, in number-four upon her came
And the maiden's legs gave way
She stood transfixed and deadly lame
Her face turned cloudy white
Her heart pounding in a thousand fear
As one who beholdeth a ghostly sprite
She felt the sting of death looming near
She wished the earth would swallow her
She conjured the trees to be her guardian
She prayed the heavens to rescue her
To save her from this brutish men
But the earth made the bed for her woes
The heaven did not heed her distress call
The trees heard her painful groans
Yet saved her not from that virgin fall
O! foul dishonor to a virgin's grace
The rape of innocence, the death of purity
Which man covert with his evil face
Coverting thus, pluck with sheer impunity
Now, again and again, and again
The men voilated her, a virgin pure
Once filled, they began again
Ravaging her, once a - too many more
As the Grecian lords had vaquished troy
And scaled that wall, that gate so tall
These brutes upon the maiden employ
Breaching that chaste virgin wall
There On the field of blosom white
Were her sweat, tears and virgin blood
There, on that bright morning light
Her torn body laid so pale and cold
Is there a thing as tender men?
But civility in pretex man's ingenuity
At heart is man a selfish and jelous being
And brutish when it comes to feminity
'O! Broken petal, damaged rose, ' sorrowed she
'On this valley of shaddow of death
I become to man, a utility'
Anon! she heaved her virgin last breath!
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
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Related quotes
A Virgin
She was a virgin and,
Between her legs came something sweet;
She was a virgin and,
Out of her breasts came something attractive;
She was a virgin and,
Out of her body came something lovely;
She was a virgin and,
Out of her lips came something romantic;
Like her olive grove of love.
I have heard it said of you and,
Your sweet aroma makes me sleep all day;
For you have the great tree of love around you.
I will be by you always my sweet one,
And the laws of my peace is the laws of your love;
For you are like a call out of the midst of the cloud.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Cantiga de Santa Maria No. 194
Just as the name of the Virgin is beautiful to the virtuous,
so against evil doers it is mighty and fearful.
Concerning this, a miracle happened in the land of Catalonia to a minstrel who sang well, with grace and ease, earning a good living, he came to lodge in the house of a greedy knight
Just as the name of the Virgin is beautiful to the virtuous,
…
who gave him all that he needed that night. However, that base and avaricious knight began to covet so greatly the donkey and clothes belonging to that minstrel that he ordered one of his men, evil and cruel,
Just as the name of the Virgin is beautiful to the virtuous,
…
to go with another of his group and waylay him in a hidden place in the mountains. The man did so gladly, for it was a favorite pastime of his, and I assure you, he was always eager to do dastardly deeds.
Just as the name of the Virgin is beautiful to the virtuous,
…
He took a companion of the same ilk with him. The next morning the minstrel took leave of the knight, and, as soon as he was on his way and they saw him travelling all alone, those two caught him in a steep and rocky place.
Just as the name of the Virgin is beautiful to the virtuous,
…
They dragged him far off the road and did not leave him anything of what he was carrying. Then they decided between them to cut off his head, but neither the Virgin nor Her glorious Son would permit it.
Just as the name of the Virgin is beautiful to the virtuous,
…
While the two were arguing over which one would kill him, they cast lots to see who would go first, but Holy Mary would not allow such a deed to be carried out, for the minstrel cried out loudly: "Mother of the merciful King
Just as the name of the Virgin is beautiful to the virtuous,
…
do not let them kill me, defend me without delay." They, when they heard this, began to run away and lost all feeling in their bodies at that moment so that they could not speak. The minstrel who had been robbed
Just as the name of the Virgin is beautiful to the virtuous,
…
of all he had possessed when he saw that they were in that state, staring at each other and not speaking between themselves, took all his belongings and went away and they remained in great fear of death
Just as the name of the Virgin is beautiful to the virtuous,
…
No one had ever heard tell of such a marvelous miracle that uttering the name of the Virgin might cause a man to feel nothing in his body. However, the prophet said long ago that Her name was as terrible as a mighty army.
Just as the name of the Virgin / is beautiful to the virtuous,
…
The minstrel went on his way, giving joyful praise to the glorious Virgin, salvation of sinners. All who heard of this, both great and small, considered it a noble and merciful miracle.
poem by Alfonso X the Wise
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Early Works - The Virgin Maiden
The virgin maiden weeps
beneath a white sheet
after acting vicious and wild
when her boyfriend wanted
to give her his child,
but as you weep
oh; virgin maiden
you next time
might not be of him afraid.
Date Unknown
poem by David Harris
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Virgin's Dew
Virgin's dew reminds me of you
bathing in bond of lover's hue.
Virgin's dew, Le juste milieu:
when we're
'Here',
en France;
solving the green, red and gold.
Virgin's dew chains me to you;
'mordial mortal matrix,
duplicitous double helix:
alchemic sol et lune.
Virgin's dew tries me too...
how I put up with your husband and
all of his pitifully-insignificant whinings of
something which mercifully escapes me right now.
But virgin's dew endears me to virtue;
that giggling little girl I woke up with,
frolicking unashamed
in the mouth of our naked morning star.
Virgin's dew, my babe of the Babylon blue.
So 'deuscing and delicate, inspirate you:
Slut and my Savior;
'suaging, sagely screw.
Virgin's dew smells like you
sweating magic tears of pheromone
in the light of God's very own breath.
And virgin's dew fuels fantasies of you
when I'm all by my lonesome,
in sublimest, finest fucking form I
cannot help but possibly think of you.
Virgin's dew, my tailored taste of taboo:
kissing Rose Crosses with a feather of silk
on this begging body when I'm all tied-up.
Yes, virgin's dew still reminds me of you
when I'm not quite finished here yet;
savoring enigmatic, idiosyncratic,
mmm... samadhic you.
Virgin's dew, my confessor & confidant who
calls on God with my feeble name of something less;
I am not worthy of you.
Virgin's dew, so becuming of you:
my None and 0nly;
I Adore You.
Virgin's dew, how ever I love you too:
with every aching ounce of
my sun and bonum;
this day am I hopelessly devoted to you.
R andy Resh 1999
poem by Randy Resh
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Virgin Lights
Virgin lights, the warm sea gone
Dialectical Materialism in the lions mane
Smooth virgin scales
The earth parleys with the fallen
See Venus bright
Pray at the western wall
Iconic death
Children listen to the crickets
Night thick as the roused frontier
Your love is weak like a raised flag
Your love is strong and I feel it
Thank you for your prayers
Virgin lights ascend like serene cherubim
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Power Rangers Ninja Virgin
Oh Power Rangers
Oh Ninja Virgin
Let's go!
Sin in the wind
Go!
Rock your body like thunder
Oh Power Rangers
Oh Ninja Virgin
Let's go
Power Rangers
Oh Ninja Virgin
Let's go
The call is on
Their sweetness is cumming on strong
They'll do it in any kind of weather
Never say no
Ninja Virgin
Let's do it together
The arousal will grow
Go! Cum on! Let's go!
Power Rangers Virgin Go!
Power Rangers Ninja Virgin
Got me growing
It's growing!
Oh baby it's growing!
Go Power Rangers
Go Ninja Virgin
Let's go!
Sin in the wind
Go!
Rock your body like thunder
Oh Power Rangers
Oh Ninja Virgin
Let's go
Power Rangers
Oh Ninja Virgin
Let's go!
Oh Power Rangers
Oh Ninja Virgin
Let's go
Power Rangers
Oh Ninja Virgin
Let's go!
poem by Ramona Thompson
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Creator Failure
A lonely maiden stands
Bound to the obelisk
As she tugs and pulls
And tries to twist
Shackles slice her virgin wrists
Blood now covers her tiny hands
How does thou receive this fate?
She asks of her own mind
Purity, innocence, encourage death
Life... gone is mine
I also ask of you my lord
Thy god in heaven
For I understand the error of mans ways
But of creation and the seven days
When was created the murky haze
From which the beast has risen
Fail me not my master
For this is your creation
Your son the bastard
Leviathan
Blackness, dripping stench
Unrelenting vice
Vile embellishment
Transcending pure evil
Standing now before her eyes
Wings expanding...she's going to die
Belching blue green fire
Flesh feeds the desire
The serpent gods apocalyptic smile
Come to me my demon brother
Of us both and our fathers
A failure of creation ... abomination
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Sale
Gossip travels faster than you think,
But the case of this event is for your love!
And like virgin girls for sale.
Virgin girls for for sale,
And beyond the glass-wall of love to teach us;
But in the Month of Nisan i will remember the day of old.
A gaint-size egg!
And of the virgin girls put up for sale! !
But our sweet memories will last forever.
Shiny and new,
For it is set to vibrate;
But her last boyfriend played drums with her!
And today we have the virgin girls being put out for sale.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Unknown Fair Faces
Though I am faithful to my loves lived through,
And place them among Memory's great stars,
Where burns a face like Hesper: one like Mars:
Of visages I get a moment's view,
Sweet eyes that in the heaven of me, too,
Ascend, tho' virgin to my life they passed.
Lo, these within my destiny seem glassed
At times so bright, I wish that Hope were new.
A gracious freckled lady, tall and grave,
Went, in a shawl voluminous and white,
Last sunset by; and going sow'd a glance.
Earth is too poor to hold a second chance;
I will not ask for more than Fortune gave:
My heart she goes from-never from my sight!
poem by George Meredith
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A Vision Of Repentance
I saw a famous fountain, in my dream,
Where shady path-ways to a valley led;
A weeping willow lay upon that stream,
And all around the fountain brink were spread
Wide branching trees, with dark green leaf rich clad,
Forming a doubtful twilight-desolate and sad.
The place was such, that whoso enter'd in,
Disrobed was of every earthly thought,
And straight became as one that knew not sin,
Or to the world's first innocence was brought;
Enseem'd it now, he stood on holy ground,
In sweet and tender melancholy wrapt around.
A most strange calm stole o'er my soothed sprite;
Long time I stood, and longer had I staid,
When, lo! I saw, saw by the sweet moon-light,
Which came in silence o'er that silent shade,
Where, near the fountain, something like despair
Made, of that weeping willow, garlands for her hair.
And eke with painful fingers she inwove
Many an uncouth stem of savage thorn-
'The willow garland, that was for her love,
And these her bleeding temples would adorn.'
With sighs her heart nigh burst, salt tears fast fell,
As mournfully she bended o'er that sacred well.
To whom when I addrest myself to speak,
She lifted up her eyes, and nothing said;
The delicate red came mantling o'er her cheek,
And, gath'ring up her loose attire, she fled
To the dark covert of that woody shade,
And in her goings seem'd a timid gentle maid.
Revolving in my mind what this should mean,
And why that lovely lady plained so;
Perplex'd in thought at that mysterious scene,
And doubting if 'twere best to stay or go,
I cast mine eyes in wistful gaze around,
When from the shades came slow a small and plaintive sound.
'Psyche am I, who love to dwell
In these brown shades, this woody dell,
Where never busy mortal came,
Till now, to pry upon my shame.
At thy feet what thou dost see
The waters of repentance be,
Which, night and day, I must augment
With tears, like a true penitent,
If haply so my day of grace
Be not yet past; and this lone place,
O'er-shadowy, dark, excludeth hence
All thoughts but grief and penitence.'
'Why dost thou weep, thou gentle maid!
And wherefore in this barren shade
Thy hidden thoughts with sorrow feed?
Can thing so fair repentance need?'
'O! I have done a deed of shame,
And tainted is my virgin fame,
And stain'd the beauteous maiden white,
In which my bridal robes were dight.'
'And who the promised spouse, declare:
And what those bridal garments were.'
'Severe and saintly righteousness
Compos'd the clear white bridal dress;
Jesus, the son of Heaven's high king,
Bought with his blood the marriage ring.
A wretched sinful creature, I
Deem'd lightly of that sacred tie,
Gave to a treacherous world my heart,
And play'd the foolish wanton's part.
Soon to these murky shades I came,
To hide from the sun's light my shame.
And still I haunt this woody dell,
And bathe me in that healing well,
Whose waters clear have influence
From sin's foul stains the soul to cleanse;
And, night and day, I them augment,
With tears, like a true penitent,
Until, due expiation made,
And fit atonement fully paid,
The lord and bridegroom me present,
Where in sweet strains of high consent,
God's throne before, the Seraphim
Shall chaunt the extatic marriage hymn.'
'Now Christ restore thee soon'-I said,
And thenceforth all my dream was fled.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Attributes
Tears of sorrow and tears of joy,
Highly recommended to overcome your broken heart;
However, some people put the best outside while,
Others put the best inside! !
Vanity upon vanity!
And like the muse of a Virgin Park and a Virgin River;
But to conduct s surveillance on my mind is like,
Knowing the number of the bones and sinews in me.
He's got my face and my light!
She's got my blues and my light,
You've got me muse and my light,
They've got my work and my light;
But, don't let the steps you make with your sole hurt your soul.
First time with the story and second time around with my attributes!
But, the desire of my love is replayed again and again;
And this very stone shall be the head of this place.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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On the Infancy of Our Savior
Hail! blessed Virgin, full of heavenly grace,
Blest above all that sprang from human race,
Whose heaven-saluted womb brought forth in one
A blessed Savior and a blessed Son.
O what a ravishment 't had been to see
Thy little Savior perking on thy knee!
To see Him nuzzle in thy virgin breast,
His milk-white body all unclad, undressed;
To see thy busy fingers clothe and wrap
His spraddling limbs in thy indulgent lap;
To see His desperate eyes with childish grace
Smiling upon His smiling mother's face;
And when His forward strength began to bloom
To see Him diddle up and down the room.
O who would think so sweet a Babe as this
Should ere be slain by a false-hearted kiss?
Had I a rag, if sure Thy body wore it,
Pardon, sweet Babe, I think I should adore it;
Till then, O grant this boon, a boon far dearer:
The weed not being, I may adore the Wearer.
poem by Francis Quarles
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The Unicorn
In the land of make believe
lives a creature in the wild.
Sleek, white and beautiful to see,
I become again as a child.
I ride bare-back and feel the muscles
of this steed with a horn.
We ride through the clouds slowly
and a new morn is born.
I will tame his wildness and spirit
for I am still a virgin.
Chaste and still able to mount.
I have the power over him.
Unicorn, my unicorn I fear growing up
for surely I will fall in love
and maidenheads will be forgotten
and you will rise above
searching for another virgin maiden
to grab hold your horn in their hand.
And I will miss the ride we shared
in this wonderful magic land.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Song of the Greek Amazon
I buckle to my slender side
The pistol and the scimitar,
And in my maiden flower and pride
Am come to share the tasks of war.
And yonder stands my fiery steed,
That paws the ground and neighs to go,
My charger of the Arab breed,--
I took him from the routed foe.
My mirror is the mountain spring,
At which I dress my ruffled hair;
My dimmed and dusty arms I bring,
And wash away the blood-stain there.
Why should I guard from wind and sun
This cheek, whose virgin rose is fled?
It was for one--oh, only one--
I kept its bloom, and he is dead.
But they who slew him--unaware
Of coward murderers lurking nigh--
And left him to the fowls of air,
Are yet alive--and they must die.
They slew him--and my virgin years
Are vowed to Greece and vengeance now,
And many an Othman dame, in tears,
Shall rue the Grecian maiden's vow.
I touched the lute in better days,
I led in dance the joyous band;
Ah! they may move to mirthful lays
Whose hands can touch a lover's hand.
The march of hosts that haste to meet
Seems gayer than the dance to me;
The lute's sweet tones are not so sweet
As the fierce shout of victory.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Virgin Snow
There it lay, crisp and white
Fresh and pure from the fall last night
hear the gleeful squeals of children at play
Eyes bright at the sight
of untrodden virgin snow
Small feet kick the dusting white
carefree play in their colours so bright
small foot prints follow
the games they play
in virgin snow of that day
It does, you know touch us
their innocent laughter so infectious
Snowballs fly
high in the sky
they run and slide
accross ice they glide
cheeks so red
tired and off to bed.
RG
poem by Robert Green
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Satan
Below the bottom of the great Abyss,
There where one centre reconciles all things,
The world's profound heart pants; there placed is
Mischief's old Master! close about him clings
A curled knot of embracing snakes, that kiss
His correspondent cheeks: these loathsome strings
Hold the perverse prince in eternal ties,
Fast bound since first he forfeited the skies.
Heaven's golden-winged herald late he saw
To a poor Galilean virgin sent;
How long the bright youth bowed, and with what awe
Immortal flowers to her fair hand present:
He saw the old Hebrew's womb neglect the law
Of age and barrenness; and her Babe prevent
His birth by his devotion, who began
Betimes to be a saint before a man!
Yet, on the other side, fain would he start
Above his fears, and think it cannot be:
He studies Scripture, strives to sound the heart
And feel the pulse of every prophecy,
He knows, but knows not how, or by what art
The heaven-expecting ages hope to see
A mighty Babe, whose pure, unspotted birth
From a chaste virgin womb should bless the earth!
But these vast mysteries his senses smother,
And reason, - for what's faith to him! - devour,
How she that is a maid should prove a mother,
Yet keep inviolate her virgin flower:
How God's eternal Son should be man's brother,
Poseth his proudest intellectual power;
How a pure spirit should incarnate be,
And life itself wear death's frail livery.
That the great angel-blinding light should shrink
His blaze, to shine in a poor shepherd's eye;
That the unmeasured God so low should sink
As prisoner in a few poor rags to lie; milk should drink,
Who feeds with nectar Heaven's fair family;
That a vile manger his low bed should prove
Who in a throne of stars thunders above.
That He whom the sun serves, should faintly peep
Through clouds of infant flesh: that He the old
Eternal Word would be a child, and weep;
That He who made the fire should feel the cold;
That Heaven's high Majesty his court should keep
In a clay-cottage, by each blast controlled:
That Glory's self should serve our griefs and fears:
And free Eternity submit to years.
poem by Richard Crashaw
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Virgin Love
Virgin Love
By: Adam M. Snow
My first time loving heart;
I knew it from the start;
thus be a dream;
to let all sparkle and gleam.
If only thou knew my love;
was truly sent from above;
would I be here right now;
speaking a virgin's love vow?
How great is thy passion?
It pierces thee with fashion;
like a spear called lovers woe;
for I feel it's gentle flow.
Thus be a wish upon a star;
for I know who thou are.
Tis be but a virgin love;
sent from heaven like a dove.
Thus this be a lover's birth;
no money can equal its worth.
Thus it blooms gently like a rose;
and yet preciously it grows.
I have great affection;
for that girl in the moonlight reflection.
I am but a man unspoken;
with love never broken.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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‘Happy Birthday! ' Dear Mary, Mother of Christ.
Blest is the virgin child who rose
To be, Christ's mother upon earth,
Although immaculate by birth,
And through her fiat, though God chose!
Blest is the womb that bore Jesus,
‘Immanuel' or ‘God with us! '
For although vexed in mind and heart,
Obeying God, she did her part!
Blest is the disciple of Christ,
Who made Him do miracles first;
And shared His agony till cross,
With sorrowful heart, by His loss!
Blest is the Eve who's Heaven's Queen,
With stars upon her crown for sheen,
Who intercedes for sinners all,
Who repent and obey God's call!
Blest is the Lady God-favoured;
To those who pray, she keeps her word;
Recite the rosary and see,
The world of men, transformed holy!
We wish you ‘Happy Birthday' Mother dear;
Heaven rejoicing today, let's all hear;
When we succumb to death, may you be near,
And preserve soul from mortal sin's great fear!
Dedicated lovingly to the Blessed Mary, ever Virgin!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-09-12
poem by John Celes
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The Holy Virgin
The Holy Virgin
The time has…has come the time of death,
The death of my life, death of my breath,
Death of all but one…death of one but all,
Yet into the void for death I shall call.
It is near but death itself is nearer,
For all those who shall not be cheerer,
Death was the love I called upon into the world,
It was love that trembled as my death built a new world.
A new world with one less,
A new world with a greater mess,
For death of one is death of all,
Still into the void, My love for death I shall call.
‘Cause there is none like death
And none like death can take my breath.
For I was me and me alone,
And I was mine and mine own.
‘Cause there is none like me-
None as different…and not one so free.
Death was all I had ever known,
From when I as a seed into the earth was sown,
To the skies I reached out yet grew not,
Higher than all I was yet was so merely short.
I knew not what I wanted,
But I knew that what I was gifted,
But I knew not what I had to do,
But I knew very well what to do.
Behind bars I had threw mine soul and heart,
But not my mind which was my delicate art,
‘Cause that was all I had,
It was merry yet sad,
‘Cause I was far from all, I severed myself,
Yet my love was not for myself,
Unfathomable was my love for love,
Yet I hid it all up in a cove.
But I did what I did,
For I was me and not some other silly did.
I told them not when they told I was wrong;
When they told I was bad I told I was wrong,
For I knew my action,
Yet lost was the proper reaction.
Sins were mine, sins to all,
Sins were mine but mine sins not all.
Robbed by death I was of all but one,
One was my mind- the special one.
For my mind was mine and mine alone,
Amidst all it sparkled and shone,
For death touched it not as what it was it knew not,
Yet of that it never forgot,
For it was the only that was beleft,
When death made love to earth and none was left,
Because when all was gone,
Left was the different one,
When gone was the origin,
Left behind was my mind – The Holy Virgin.
JamesGreen…
poem by James Green
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The Dying Rose
Once so beautiful, freshly cut, a single rose stands
encompassed by succulent green leaves and proud standing thorns
petite white gypsum surrounds this expression of love
the tall slender rose vase holds the water for life
Words of appreciation are given as eyes drink in the vista before them
scented perfume fills and stimulates heightened senses
colors of red, green and virgin white stimulate the eyes
As all things that live, so all things must die in their turn
rose petals shrivel and loose the lustre if red
succulent green leaves whither, turn brown and die
virgin petite gypsum wilts and becomes a dirty used white.
Water discolors to a slimy foul smelling green
the once beautiful is now the 'Dying Rose.'
When did it start to die?
When it was cut off from its source of life.
poem by Ruth warren
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