Death of an author
The Death of an Author
John Updike is dead, can’t say I know much about him
I may have read one or two of his books but he didn’t
leave a lasting impression as Hemingway did.
One of my neighbours has died too, I saw him every
day walking past my house with his old dog and a basket
in his left arm, with wine and a bit to eat.
He was going to his little field, doing some weeding but
mostly just drinking looking at the way birds flew, patting
his dog’s head and snoring gently under of a tree.
There was something about his eyes, like some inner
suffering had made him look holy, say, as an idealized
picture of Jesus on the cross.
I’m going to his funeral tomorrow morning, at 67 he was
bit young for death I thought, a new face will come and
take his place; but who is going to look after his old dog?
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
That's Jesus
THAT'S JESUS
WHEN I WAKE UP IN THE MORNING
PUT MY FEET ON THE FLOOR
I THANK HIM FOR THE DAY
THAT HE GAVE ME ONE MORE
I GIVE HIM ALL THE PRAISE
THE ONE THAT I ADORE
THAT'S JESUS, OH THAT'S JESUS
I WAS LOST AND ALL ALONE
MY HEART IN NEED OF HELP
I FOUND ETERNAL LIFE
AND LOST MY FEAR OF DEATH
BECAUSE I KNOW THE AUTHOR OF
MY EVERY BREATH,
OH THAT'S JESUS, THAT'S JESUS
GOD OF GLORY, MAJESTY
THE HOLY ONE WHO DIED FOR ME
WHO'S THE ONE I LONG TO SEE
THAT'S JESUS, OH THAT'S JESUS
IF YOU'RE A SOUL THAT'S LOST
AND IN NEED OF DIRECTION
YOU WONDER WHEN YOU DIE
IF YOU'LL GO TO HEAVEN
WELL FRIEND I'VE FOUND THE ANSWER
TO THAT VERY QUESTION
THAT'S JESUS, THAT'S JESUS
GOD OF GLORY, MAJESTY
THE HOLY ONE WHO DIED FOR ME
WHO'S THE ONE I LONG TO SEE
THAT'S JESUS, OH THAT'S JESUS
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jesus’ Cross
The Holy Cross beckons
To follow Jesus Christ;
The source of strength and joy
To souls, for Lord athirst!
The Holy Cross guides us
To walk upon His steps;
The Son of God had died
To save mankind from sins.
The Holy Cross reminds
To place our trust in God;
Jesus resurrected
To annul man from rod.
The Holy Cross signals
That life has crosses, woes;
Yet, we must tread fearless;
Engages God, our foes!
The Holy Cross goads us
To carry each one’s cross;
Our war with satan’s won,
By Jesus, without loss!
The Holy Cross renews
Our ties with Jesus Lord;
He will come in glory
To judge mankind by Word!
poem by John Celes
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Lazarus And A Rich Man
What meaning can you find
in a Rich Man and Lazarus
both remembered lived died?
The rich man had already received
his reward in wealth luxury lived
could not forsake now for heaven.
Jesus allowed sickness
death to claim Lazarus
proved from death Lazarus
could be resurrected
from the memorial tomb
after dead four days
Jesus had told his disciples
outspokenly “Lazarus has died,
and I rejoice on your account
that I was not there, in
order for YOU to believe.” John 11: 13-15.
Jesus had said to his disciples
“This sickness is not
with death as its object,
but for the glory of God,
in order that the Son of God
may be glorified through it.” John 11: 4.
Jesus raised Lazarus
from the dead
by the will of God
who sent forth Jesus. John 11: 41-42.
Jesus has said
“I am the resurrection
and the life. He that
exercises faith in me, even
though he dies,
will come to life; ” John 11: 25.
when we encounter
poor suffering people
we are encountering
people who are enduring
the same life that Jesus lived;
in pure ransom sacrifice died
for; and as for me I have chosen;
better a tin shack in heaven
than a mansion in hell for eternity.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Fresh Endeavour
So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.
I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Today... 'Jesus of Nazareth
The Prophet they put to death
was Jesus of Nazareth.
For they had Him crucified
and upon the cross He died.
Then Jesus of Nazareth
Cried "Forgive" with His last breath
And then bowing His head
Entered the realms of the dead
But Jesus of Nazareth
then burst through the gates of Death
For He was the Promised One
God's Only Belovèd Son.
Now Jesus of Nazareth
has conquered Sin and Death.
He has risen from the grave
with power and might to save.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Song from Aella
O SING unto my roundelay,
O drop the briny tear with me;
Dance no more at holyday,
Like a running river be:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Black his cryne as the winter night,
White his rode as the summer snow,
Red his face as the morning light,
Cole he lies in the grave below:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note,
Quick in dance as thought can be,
Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;
O he lies by the willow-tree!
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Hark! the raven flaps his wing
In the brier'd dell below;
Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing
To the nightmares, as they go:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
See! the white moon shines on high;
Whiter is my true-love's shroud:
Whiter than the morning sky,
Whiter than the evening cloud:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Here upon my true-love's grave
Shall the barren flowers be laid;
Not one holy saint to save
All the coldness of a maid:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
With my hands I'll dent the briers
Round his holy corse to gre:
Ouph and fairy, light your fires,
Here my body still shall be:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
Come, with acorn-cup and thorn,
Drain my heartès blood away;
Life and all its good I scorn,
Dance by night, or feast by day:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
poem by Thomas Chatterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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His Righteousness Alone
I have no righteousness of my own but stand on faith in Christ alone,
Abraham's an example to all of us for he believed unto righteousness.
On my own, from God, I stand apart as I was born with a sinful heart,
But Jesus took upon the sin of us to cover us with His Righteousness.
God knew before man's fall that Christ would die for the sins of all,
Satan would strike Christ's heel but God followed with this appeal,
Christ would in turn crush his head and Satan will be eternally dead,
Sin's price of death is on my head but Jesus Christ died in my stead.
Though Jesus died He rose again for death could not hold Him friend,
Death may come to all my friend and apart from Christ it is your end.
If you accept His Righteousness in-lieu of death you'll be blessed,
Reject The Lord and your last breath will take you to eternal death.
Christ suffered death for a while so to God we could be reconciled,
From the grave Christ did rise and now He lives even though He died.
Christ bore our sins on the cross and for our sins He paid the cost.
In the grave He buried our sin so we could rise to new life with Him.
There's still hope you can be sure for Jesus is knocking at the door,
He's waiting for you to come in for the cross is your victory over sin.
For our sin Christ did atone and Salvation is in Him and Him alone,
The One knocking at the door can be your Righteousness forevermore.
(Copyright ©03/2004)
Love Unrequested
The lady across the road had beautiful grey hair, thick and
glossy, I admired her mane because she was eighty five.
Her hubby about her same aged died, I attended the funeral,
open casket, in death he looked handsome, old man asleep.
When people get old some do not realize how old they are,
and the old lady, since I had admired her lovely hair, thought
we could be a couple; only I was fifty two at the time and not
overly interested. The lady took offence felt humiliated since
she already had told the villagers I loved her.
A day when I was doing a bit of weeding around the house
She came out; called me a womanizer hit me with her umbrella.
Well I´m not heroic, fled into the house and bolted the door;
and the villagers were greatly amused. She moved to a rest
home and I could go out without being assaulted. I read in
the paper she had just died at hundred and five, but I will not
attend her funeral….I think.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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About Grandmother...
at 90
grandma was left alone
sometime in
1970
she lost her mind
walked down the stairs of the house
and fell
on the big rattan basket fit
for the
coconuts
when she died there was
a grand funeral
her niche was covered by
daisies
her picture when she was young
was best
the neighborhood was so
impressed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soldier's Tree
They call this tree the Soldier's Tree
It honours one whose life blood was shed
A victim of the First World War
'Lest we forget our soldier dead'.
I read the plaque nailed to the tree
It stated his date of birth and name
A tree to honour his bravery
But to dead soldier what use fame? .
I see he was just seventeen
So young so very young to die
Those who sent him to fight in war
Must share blame for death of the boy.
Fighting more than half a World away
And at the end what was his gain?
Gunned down by one he'd never known
Hope death was quick without much pain.
How can one that you've never known
Ever become your enemy?
Those who send men to die in wars
Of guilt must not be made feel free.
I read the plaque on Soldier's Tree
On war memorial avenue
A lad who died at seventeen
Gunned down by one he never knew.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Friday...
Behold the wood that went to make the cross
That bore the Saviour Lord, King Jesus Christ:
The holy cross at Calvary on which
Was hung, the Redeemer of mankind race!
That man was only Son of God in flesh,
Who suffered, shed His precious blood as price
For every sin of everyone on earth,
Of Adam and of Eve in lineage!
It wasn’t about the cross that Jesus bore;
It was about the One who hung on it!
He came to earth as Mary’s baby boy,
And gave to men the Good News, peace and joy!
The cross of wood assumed significance
When Jesus died upon it for our sins;
The sacrifice supreme was love of God
For creature man of clay whom He had made!
When Christ resurrected upon third day,
And won o’er death and satan for all times,
The holy cross became the weapon sole
That scares away the devils back to hell!
The cross became the symbol of Christians,
Reminding man of Salvation for all,
As Christ had paid the price on our behalf,
And turned to be the Truth, Light, Way to God!
The holy cross beckons each one of us
To take up each one’s cross and follow Christ;
It is the only hope for all mankind
As life on earth becomes so meaningful!
God’s Love was born on Christmas day as Christ!
Man’s sins nailed Him to death upon the cross!
Christ’s obeisance to Father freed mankind
If repentant, from Fiery Pit of hell!
Reflect on passions Christ had undergone,
Before He died upon the holy cross;
Follow His teachings and precepts for man;
Heaven is nigh for sinners penitent!
(22-04-11)
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Not Judge
The Lord wants not to judge us; God simply desires to love us.
He sent His Son for you and me, to a bloody hill called Calvary.
God had sent Jesus to that cross, for sinful men who were lost,
Where Jesus Christ died for all, taking the judgment for our fall.
He wants not to take your life, but give you one in Jesus Christ,
Who didn’t come to punish you, but to give you a life that’s new.
The reason why Christ was sent, was to receive our punishment.
On the cross Christ’s punishment, was in place of our judgment.
The Lord above is a Loving God, but His justice demands a rod,
One against the darkness of sin, and all enemies opposing Him.
Christ left His Eternal Light, to oppose the darkness of the night.
Christ had died for you and me, for us to live with God eternally.
It was God who loved us first, and in Christ offered us New Birth,
When we were but sinful dust, He had sent His Son to die for us.
And through His Son Jesus Christ, sinners go from death to life,
For at the time that God sent Him, we were still dead in our sin.
God will save you from all your sin, if you will only let Christ in,
If you let Christ into your heart, you will have a brand new start.
Then you will not fear His Rod, when you make Him your God,
You will instead reign with Him, when He judges death and sin.
(Copyright ©05/2006)
Poem: Song to the Holy Cross
The cross of love:
The cross I love:
The cross I'd loved all life;
The wooden cross:
The holy cross:
The cross that bore man's strife.
The oaken cross:
The heavy cross:
The cross Jesus carried;
The cross on which
Christ Lord was nailed:
And bore man's sins indeed.
The cross of death:
The blood-stained cross:
The Savior, man, redeemed;
The cross of life's
Victory o'er death:
That souls on earth must heed.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Embraced Death
He embraced Death,
Death, the thought of which,
Made men shiver and abhor it,
Death, which had the reputation,
Of being the ultimate victor,
Death, which could humble,
Even the mightiest.
He embraced Death,
Death, which laughed,
Even at the most robust of men,
Death, which mocked every birth,
Knowing that it would overcome,
Death, which thought,
That it had no challenger.
He embraced Death,
Death, which was mean,
And humiliating in its quest,
Ravaging some of its prey,
Till it gained infinite pleasure,
Death, which never would,
Accept ‘no’ from man or beast.
Yes, He embraced Death,
And took it by the throat,
Nailed it to the Cross,
Till Death in pain cried out,
To the Author of Life,
'You are the Victor'
And Victors will be they who believe in you.
poem by Caleb Jones
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The Prodigal Son
Young man—
Young man—
Your arm’s too short to box with God.
But Jesus spake in a parable, and he said:
A certain man had two sons.
Jesus didn’t give this man a name,
But his name is God Almighty.
And Jesus didn’t call these sons by name,
But ev’ry young man,
Ev’rywhere,
Is one of these two sons.
And the younger son said to his father,
He said: Father, divide up the property,
And give me my portion now.
And the father with tears in his eyes said: Son,
Don’t leave your father’s house.
But the boy was stubborn in his head,
And haughty in his heart,
And he took his share of his father’s goods,
And went into a far-off country.
There comes a time,
There comes a time
When ev’ry young man looks out from his father’s house,
Longing for that far-off country.
And the young man journeyed on his way,
And he said to himself as he travelled along:
This sure is an easy road,
Nothing like the rough furrows behind my father’s plow.
Young man—
Young man—
Smooth and easy is the road
That leads to hell and destruction.
Down grade all the way,
The further you travel, the faster you go.
No need to trudge and sweat and toil,
Just slip and slide and slip and slide
Till you bang up against hell’s iron gate.
And the younger son kept travelling along,
Till at night-time he came to a city.
And the city was bright in the night-time like day,
The streets all crowded with people,
Brass bands and string bands a-playing,
And ev’rywhere the young man turned
There was singing and laughing and dancing.
And he stopped a passer-by and he said:
Tell me what city is this?
And the passer-by laughed and said: Don’t you know?
This is Babylon, Babylon,
That great city of Babylon.
Come on, my friend, and go along with me.
And the young man joined the crowd.
Young man—
Young man—
You’re never lonesome in Babylon.
You can always join a crowd in Babylon.
Young man—
Young man—
You can never be alone in Babylon,
Alone with your Jesus in Babylon.
You can never find a place, a lonesome place,
A lonesome place to go down on your knees,
And talk with your God, in Babylon.
You’re always in a crowd in Babylon.
And the young man went with his new-found friend,
And bought himself some brand new clothes,
And he spent his days in the drinking dens,
Swallowing the fires of hell.
And he spent his nights in the gambling dens,
Throwing dice with the devil for his soul.
And he met up with the women of Babylon.
Oh, the women of Babylon!
Dressed in yellow and purple and scarlet,
Loaded with rings and earrings and bracelets,
Their lips like a honeycomb dripping with honey,
Perfumed and sweet-smelling like a jasmine flower;
And the jasmine smell of the Babylon women
Got in his nostrils and went to his head,
And he wasted his substance in riotous living,
In the evening, in the black and dark of night,
With the sweet-sinning women of Babylon.
And they stripped him of his money,
And they stripped him of his clothes,
And they left him broke and ragged
In the streets of Babylon.
Then the young man joined another crowd—
The beggars and lepers of Babylon.
And he went to feeding swine,
And he was hungrier than the hogs;
He got down on his belly in the mire and mud
And ate the husks with the hogs.
And not a hog was too low to turn up his nose
At the man in the mire of Babylon.
Then the young man came to himself—
He came to himself and said:
In my father’s house are many mansions,
Ev’ry servant in his house has bread to eat,
Ev’ry servant in his house has a place to sleep;
I will arise and go to my father.
And his father saw him afar off,
And he ran up the road to meet him.
He put clean clothes upon his back,
And a golden chain around his neck,
He made a feast and killed the fatted calf,
And invited the neighbors in.
Oh-o-oh, sinner,
When you’re mingling with the crowd in Babylon—
Drinking the wine of Babylon—
Running with the women of Babylon—
You forget about God, and you laugh at Death.
Today you’ve got the strength of a bull in your neck
And the strength of a bear in your arms,
But some o’ these days, some o’ these days,
You’ll have a hand-to-hand struggle with bony Death,
And Death is bound to win.
Young man, come away from Babylon,
That hell-border city of Babylon.
Leave the dancing and gambling of Babylon,
The wine and whiskey of Babylon,
The hot-mouthed women of Babylon;
Fall down on your knees,
And say in your heart:
I will arise and go to my Father.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Last New Years Eve Party
I recently moved house to reflect my personal situation,
my neighbours asked me to their New Year celebration.
I didn’t know anyone, so I mingled around for a while
I introduced myself and tried hard to raise a smile.
The guests weren’t the most sociable that I’d ever met
they didn’t want to mingle and get to know me yet.
They were preoccupied and didn’t want to know me at all
I thought I had the plague and was just about to fall.
The back ground music was depressing and very low key,
on the sombre and eerie side to do anything for me.
When I asked about a music change to a happier kind of mood
I received stares and glares, which I thought extremely rude.
It was then that I felt unwelcome and wished I’d gone elsewhere,
and began thinking of an excuse to get the hell out of there.
A young woman approached and said, “It’s much too early yet! ”
“For what, ” I said. “Why, for leaving here without regret.”
“What gives you the impression that I want to leave, ” I said.
“It’s written all over your face and it’s so easily read.
You look way out of place and bored out of your head,
you dislike the music, and the conversation is dead.”
“You’re not wrong, but do you know any of the guests here? ”
“No, I’ve only been to two of their parties this year.”
“I suppose everyone here including you all live close by? ”
“I do, but the others come and go in the blink of an eye.”
“What do you think of the music and the people here tonight? ”
“Oh, I’m used to the music, but this lot are a miserable sight.”
“Isn’t it unusual, everyone’s dressed in their Sunday best
and it leaves me wondering what’ll happen next? ”
At the very first stroke of midnight the morbid music ceased,
everything and everyone’s colour began to be released.
Each chime, brought a greyness and an added translucence,
and by the last chime, everything faded into non-existence.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Holy Cross
O Holy Cross of Jesus Christ!
How must I come to Calvary?
– By giving up world’s pleasures first,
Carrying my own and follow Thee!
O Holy Cross that Christ had borne!
Take me to Heaven’s narrow gate;
Much strife my body does adorn,
My sufferings never abate!
O Holy Cross on which Christ died!
At times, in life I grow weary,
Although in God, I do abide;
With charm all lost, life seems dreary.
O Holy Cross that satan fears;
Then guide me in the way of light;
My stay on earth almost well nears;
Let Truth be always in my sight!
O Holy Cross: eternal sign;
In Jesus Christ, I trust my soul;
In Maker’s Feast, I wish to dine:
My only aim and earthly goal!
O Holy Cross that saves mankind;
Show me the dress of grace to don;
For only pure a heart and mind
Can see the face of God’s one Son!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Easter Prayer
Insecurity in myself and lack of self esteem caused me to place the expectations on others.
I hoped they would fill me up.
Only You could do that.
I am worthy.
You made me look within
At how exactly my actions have been affecting others
Satan used this to tell me I was not worthy
But Jesus died on the cross to tell me I am.
Thank You Jesus for your gift and for always believing in me
Even before I was born
Even though I didn't believe in You or myself
I love you Jesus and thank You.
In your name.
Amen
You died on the cross for me, but you live in me today!
It makes my heart smile!
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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