4: 59 In The Early Morning
the church bells nearby
toll
for whom, for you,
some prayers
broadcast on the microphone
in this place of
little christianities,
you wash your face
put on your clothes
church this morning
i forget, we used to
have church every
morning when we
were newly married,
changes, time,
ebb, high tides,
moons and more moons,
moorings and more moorings
mornings and lots of boring mornings,
i have changed and you have changed too.
i walk, i walk away, and you will pray,
i will pray too but in other silent places
far away from us, from you, from everything
familiar
too boring, but not sad yet, we are anticipating sadness
like noontime
lunch with so much chili and pepper,
and cold rice, the one we had
for breakfast,
these kinds, you know, are not my favorites....
yet without any word, you will serve them.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sundays Past
On Sunday mornings you would wear a dark suit
With a tie and shiny shoes you are ready to en route
The church bells would ring calling for morning mass
While you check the weather through the window glass
A last glance in the mirror and you are on your way
You join the church goers without any further delay
Walking over uneven cobblestones in our small town
Children would jump on the sidewalks up and down
Dressed up for church everyone is wearing their best
Thinking about the priest and what they have to confess
Men lifting their dark hats as they wish a Good Morning
Then pass by the cemetery bowing heads as in mourning
The church bells now ringing louder and more demanding
Calling all sinners to mass without misunderstanding
I always knew that right then the decision was made
And it was agreed to skip church without being afraid
Through the old alley you and others took a known detour
Heading straight to the pub on the corner that is for sure
Around noon I would go to meet my father by the church
And he would talk about mass having done some research
At home my mother would just smile and shake her head
While my father gave her a wink that was hardly misread
Joking around we would eat lunch smiling with every bite
Keeping my father's Sunday secret and the world was alright
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Bredon Hill
In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away:
'Come all to church, good people;
Good people, come and pray.
But here my love would stay.
And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
'Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time.
But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strewn,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unbeknown
And went to church alone.
They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.
The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum.
'Come all to church, good people,' -
Oh, noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Sex & The Church
Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Have Steeples. Some Don't
What do I think of church?
'Yes! '
Church?
Like in 'church' church?
'Yes! '
Well...
Some have steeples.
Some don't.
Some have people.
Some wont.
Some are religiously political.
And some are politically religious.
My vehicle is my church.
And that's all I care about.
'Oh?
So your 'car' is your church? '
Oh.
No no!
My 'body' is my church.
It is my sanctuary.
Now...
Keep in mind,
I am not devoted to keep it as pure,
As it should be.
But I do the best I can,
Not to be led away by temptation.
But everyday I pray to be forgiven,
Of those 'sins' I know I should not enjoy!
However...
You can find me anytime,
Self righteously defending...
My point of view.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sunday 4: 44 A.m.
the church bell sounds.
you wake up.
you wash your face.
comb your hair and
wear the best dress
on sunday.
you look again
in the mirror to check
if all about you is well
and presentable.
you take the rosary
and the prayer book.
you read the gospel.
you mumble your prayers,
you thank your husband.
you take the puppy.
you smile again in the
mirror. you thank God.
now you open the gate
and head for the nearby
church and hear mass
and the usual sermon
of the parish priest.
90% of your life
is devoted to religion.
10% is devoted
to anything else.
you have aged.
you still mumble.
i still wonder whether
it is you who misunderstands me
or i misunderstanding you.
everything seems to be
mangled and mingled.
when you come back
breakfast is ready and
everyone in the house
pretends that there is nothing
wrong with the table, or the
cover, or the broken pieces
of the glass.The maid is
quick in sweeping them
away from the door into
that thick grass beside
the window of this house.
sunday morning is still
our morning. A nice one.
the sun has come and
we are planning for another
picnic in the nearby beach.
there will be no questions.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Church Bells
Church Bells
Once I lived in a charming English village, near
an ancient church, every Sunday morning
on my only day off, the bloody bells chimed.
Thought I saw a woman cycling to mass in
the mist, and it wasn´t Germaine Greer.
When Muslims ruled Andalusia, they tolerated
Christians, but a poet of that time -Ibn Baqi-
circa 1059 1112, wished they wouldn´t clang
bells so hard waking him up when air was cool,
sleep sweet and his Christian mistress had to
get up and go to mass. So far nothing has
changed, dear Ibn Baqi, the bells keep on tolling
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Ritual
Every morning he goes to the church
though not religious, not really much
tidily dressed, looking so neat
the routine is a way, for him a habit
he prays for nothing, nothing he wants
it's all ritual, the prayers he chants
Years roll by, he grows frail and old
till he is laid in a coffin, dark and cold
the hearse carries him to the church he went
there is no prayer, he remains silent.
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Looking For A Valentine
most of the time, she goes home early
never fails to visit the church and pray
she has been this way, hollow, empty,
the prayers never make her full
sometimes she extends her time in church
looking at the other faces hoping to find someone
that may like her, propose her a marriage
that at her last trip to love, she may not refuse
or have the right to, she has no right to choose now
at 33, she prayed so hard, and gave bigger tithes,
sponsored masses, and offered masses for her
dead ancestors,
until one day, someone paid her a special attention,
and she promised herself, she would not refuse him,
she married finally the priest, and so the emptiness
from her heart, transferred to the hallways of the church.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Say
Some say that life is a burden,
Some say that life is a blessing,
Some say that life is a cycle,
But I say taht life is boring.
Some say that church is religious,
Some say that church is precious.
Some say that church is annoying,
But I say that church is and will forever be holy.
Some say that our culture is unique,
Some say that our culture is rich.
Some say that our culture is highly respected,
But I say that our culture is a lot to deal with.
Some say that school is a lot of work,
Some say that school is no place for a fool.
Some say that school is a drag.
But I say that school is awesome and cool.
poem by Moana Tuigamala
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Paradise the planets of bliss
Paradise is the planets of bliss
The home of God’s Body
The garden of Beauty
It is full of good flora and fauna
And made of gold, silver and precious other things
There are fountains and streams in paradise
They are also signs of God’s superb workmanship
There is morning, noontime and evening in paradise
But there is no night
At noontime it is full of silver light
In the morning and in the evening
Tints of various colors are visible in its sky
In paradise
The evenings are more colorful than the mornings
And the mornings are more refreshing than the evenings
The residential area of the poor people of paradise is near its gates
The middle class people live in the middle area of paradise
The high-class people live at the end of paradise.
There is currency in paradise and many market places
To buy things of one's choice
Where all salespersons are angels
The residential area of the prophets and the like
Is at the end of Ferdous paradise
Wherefrom God’s main court
Laohay Mahfuz and Sidratul Muntaha are nearby.
poem by Asif Andalib
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I Pray
When I was young I dreamed about
Oh so many places
When I was young I never thought Id be afraid
The years go by and with them comes
Oh so many changes
You know what I mean
I pray theres another day
Sunshine on the morning water
What a day was yesterday, hmm
I pray there will be an answer
I pray
And in my youth I realized nothing lasts forever
I find myself remembering those happy days
Follow me, Ill show you all the colors of the rainbow
You know what I mean
I pray theres another day
Sunshine on the morning water
What a day was yesterday, hmm
I pray there will be an answer
I pray
Dont wait, dont be late
You dont have a second left to hesitate
Walk, talk, do it all
Nothing you can do will break the fall
Turn and turn
Tell me what are you seeing
Clear your mind
If you want to be free
Be there
Turn around expectations
Say goodbye to complications
Be there, be there
I pray theres another day
Sunshine on the morning water
What a day was yesterday, hmm
I pray there will be an answer
I pray
I pray
I pray
I pray theres another day
Sunshine on the morning water
What a day was yesterday, hmm
I pray there will be an answer
I pray
I pray
I pray
I pray theres another day
I pray there will be an answer
I pray...
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mountain Of Love
(downbeat, denny. denny. downbeat!)
(*laughter*)
(what? )
(get out of here!)
(oh, man!)
(oh, rock out!)
Standin on a mountain lookin down on a city
The way I feel is a doggone pity
Teardrops fallin down the mountainside
Many times Ive been here, many times Ive cried
We used to be so happy when we were in love
High on a mountain of love
Night after night Im a-standin here alone
Weepin out my heart (*laugh*) till the cold grey dawn
Prayin that youre lonely and youll come here too
Hopin just by chance that Ill get a glimpse of you
(oh yeah!)
Trying hard to find you somewhere up above
High on a mountain of love
The mountain of love, the mountain of love
You should be ashamed
You used to be a mountain of love
But you just changed your name
Way down below theres a half a million people
Somewhere theres a church with a big tall steeple
Inside the church, theres an altar filled with flowers
Wedding bells are ringin and they shouldve been ours
Thats why Im so handy, my dream is gone above
High on a mountain of love
([...])
(keep playin it like it is!)
([...])
High on a mountain of love
The mountain of love, the mountain of love
You should be ashamed
You used to be a mountain of love
But you just changed your name
Way down below theres a half a million people
Somewhere theres a church with a big tall steeple
Inside the church, theres an altar filled with flowers
Wedding bells are ringin and they shouldve been ours
Thats why Im so lonely, my dream is gone above
High on a mountain of love
High on a mountain of love
High on a mountain of love
High on a mountain of love
(what, honey? )
High on a mountain of love.
(hahahaha.)
Ooh baby...
(thats good.)
...one more time. oooh baby. oooooo.
(thats a good voice.)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Cold For Prayer?
The houses of worship have grown too cold.
I can't get warm in them
with all their gold.
I leave the church. I look around.
Pitiful people do I see
listening to the sound
of children starving as they cry.
I feel cold
and I ask God why?
Why do they kneel and sing and pray
in places too cold
on each Sunday?
The answers I get are all the same.
They pray to God
in a ritualistic game.
Well, I pray to God on every single day
in my own temple
in my warm way.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sonnet: What a Christian Loves Most
I love to hear the church-bells peeling loud
For Angelus, before each service starts;
I am a Christian and I am so proud
To keep my soul pure till my life departs.
God’s peace descends on minds that deeply pray;
The atmosphere within a church is great;
I wish to get communion every day,
Confessing sins mortal, venial till date.
I love to pray kneeling ’fore grotto-gate
Emptying the heaviness from off my heart;
And then, I know my God will change my fate,
And help me do my duty and my part.
’Tis nice to live quite near a church always,
And spend in Piety our earthly days.
7-25-2002
poem by John Celes
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How to Pray?
Pray incessantly;
Pray most fervently;
Pray with all your heart;
God will do His part!
Pray most sensibly;
Pray most effectively;
Pray deep from your heart;
Pray as if an art!
Pray for prolonged time;
Pray in any clime;
Pray by singing rhymes;
God’s answers chime!
Pray in holy place;
Pray with heav’nly gaze;
Pray for human race;
Pray in many ways.
Let prayers rise up high;
Let prayers pierce the sky;
Let prayers touch God’s heart,
As blessings divine start!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-14-2009
poem by John Celes
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This morning six thirty we drive past a church
This morning six thirty
we drive past a church
where a lot of cars are already parked.
While we pass the church
I wonder about what
the people are praying
and I think that they
must truly be Christians.
The church has a neat yard
and looks out of place
in the inner city where everything dilapidates
and I hear a song softly
that people
is busy singing
and then I know that Gods amazing grace
goes through every thing and every place.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Prayer Warriors
We are the prayer warriors and we say the prayers
For all the people for whom we care.
It matters not the position you’re in
If you’re good or if you sinned.
We all need prayers some time in our lives
Especially when things don’t turn out right.
When you’re sick or in despair
The prayer warriors are always there.
You pray for me as I pray for you
And all our prayers will come true.
We do not have to be gathered
As a group when we pray.
In a church, a temple, in a steeple
He listens to all of us, for we are his people.
They say there is strength when we gather in prayer
A common belief that we all share.
So let us pray for our fellow man
Because he now needs a helping hand.
So father we thank you for the blessings each day
And helping all who come your way.
poem by Louis Rams
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A Resolution
early in the morning
as we pray in church
searching for
light
we ponder deep
like a well
without rope
on a rusty pail
and then we open our eyes
not seeing any light
we find the darkness instead
and then we step out
and walk on our
separate ways.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I’m Falling Again
I’m falling again
is it real this time,
or just an illusion
put up by my mind.
I’m falling again
like too many times before.
Will she have me
or walk out the door?
Love is a beautiful stranger
who waits with beckoning arms
to dazzle this fool
with the might of her charms.
I’m falling again,
how far will it go this time.
Will love say to me
will you always be mine?
I’m falling again
and I hear church bells ringing,
does this mean
I’ve really done it this time.
I pray that my prayers
have finally been answered,
that this time is the real thing
because I’m falling again.
2 November 2007
poem by David Harris
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Morning Morgantown
When morning comes to morgantown
The merchants roll their awnings down
The milktrucks make their morning rounds
In morning, morgantown
Well rise up early, with the sun
To ride the bus while everyone is yawning
And the day is young
In morning, morgantown
Morning morgantown
Buy your dreams a dollar down
Morning any town you name
Mornings just the same
Well find a table in the shade
And sip our tea and lemonade
And watch the morning on parade
In morning, morgantown
Ladies in their rainbow fashions
Colored stop and go lights flashing
Well wink at total strangers passing in
Morning, morgantown
Morning morgantown
Buy your dreams a dollar down
Morning any town you name
Mornings just the same
Id like to buy you everything
A wooden bird with painted wings
A window full of colored rings
In morning, morgantown.
But the only thing I have to give
To make you smile, to win you with
Are all the mornings still to live
In morning, morgantown
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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