Fate
that time there was bombing
of the old San Pedro church
and about six people died
instantly,
it was by luck that i had diarrhea
and i had to rush before the holy mass ended
that time i believe about candles
the light that cannot end itself
because it is not its time yet
it is an invisible candle that God only sees.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Time To Think
No time to think, no time for dreams
No time for anything it seems.
No time to stop, no time to waste,
No time for anything but haste.
No time to wonder at the snow,
No time to watch our children grow.
But time enough to race about
And time enough to scream and shout.
And time enough to rush, rush, rush,
And time enough to push, push, push.
But no time to care or to smile,
No time to ramble for a while.
No time to sit, no time time to stand,
No time to shake you by the hand.
No time to stop, no time to blink
But most of all no time to think
poem by Paul Anthony
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An array of candles
On that corner
There is this array of
Candles
That you see
If you only look
Carefully
There is one candle
There
Its light is about to
Stop
Its wick so short
To last for
Another minute
That candle is my
Life
And soon it will
Signify an
End
Do not ask me
I do not want an
Extension
Even for a
Second
I had enough of
This light
This little light
I had enough of this
Vast darkness
There is no time
Nicer enough
To convince me
For more of it
I had enough
Let me say it again
I had enough of
You.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Better Luck Next Time
Black is for the nighttime
Preys upon the day
Red is for the blood that flows like rivers in our veins
Gray is for betrayal
What you did to me
White is for the blinding light
That I know Ill never see, know Ill never see
Found you in the gutter
You needed tenderness
I gave you everything I had
I gave you all my trust
Handed out so neatly
Caught me in your trap
When I needed you the most
You stab me in the back, stab me in the back
Better luck, better luck, better luck next time
If you do it once therell never be a second time
Better luck, better luck, better luck next time
Find somebody else, youre never gonna be mine
How do you find the nerve
To lie right to me face
How do you find the nerve
Black is for the nighttime
Preys upon the day
Red is for the blood that flows like rivers in our veins
I try and find excuses
For what you did to me
Cant forget that burning rage
When I wake up thinking of your face
For the blinding swiftness of revenge
That I know Ill never see, know Ill never see
Better luck, better luck, better luck next time
If you do it once therell never be a second time
Better luck, better luck, better luck next time
Find somebody else, youre never gonna be mine
Better luck, better luck, better luck next time (better luck, better luck)
Better luck, better luck, better luck next time (better luck, better luck)
How do you find the nerve
To lie right to me face
How did you find the nerve
Better luck, better luck, better luck next time (better luck, better luck)
Better luck, better luck, better luck next time (better luck, better luck)
Better luck, better luck, better luck next time (better luck, better luck)
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Glorify War Heroes
Though talk of war and death and such I do not wish to hear
To glorify war heroes we have the balladeer
The old men displaying their medals march on war memorial day
Though they look tired and weary now and they are old and gray.
They weep for comrades who died young in battles far away
Young men who were buried in mass graves their bones far from home lay
'Tis said they died in freedom's cause though many with that do not agree
Since any lessons have not been learned from man's war history.
Each time I listen to the news the headlines mostly bad
A suicide bombing in Palestine a car bombing in Baghdad
More atrocities with a direct link to terrorism to many it would seem
But to those who give their own lives to kill the fulfilment of a heroic dream.
Of suffering and deaths linked to war so much has been written and said
And wives and mothers in the World today still mourn their war dead
And still the soldiers come back home to a victory parade
For people who shoot at other people too much respect is paid.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Run Out Of Time
Ooh hear me, ooh hear me
Time to tell the truth, no more lying
By the light of a candle
Through the base of a wineglass
You could almost take me for the real thing
But I know in my heart of hearts
I could never live up to what you want me to be
In the heat of temptation in a moment of crisis
I could never, never, never be what you need
Hard as I might try
I've run of luck
I've almost run out of time
Ooh forgive me, ooh forgive me
I don't mean to share all my fears
Like the man in the middle
Says he just passes on decision
I could always find someone to put the blame on
But I know in my heart of hearts
There is nobody else it was me from the start
As God is my witness, no matter the score
I could never, I could never not do it again
Hard as I might try
I've run of luck, I've run out of time
I've almost run out of tears
--------
I've run of luck, I've run out of time
I've almost run out of tears
--------
Ooh believe me, ooh believe me
I don't mean to hurt you, no more crying
A wolf needs no reason to hunt and kill it's prey
He could no more change than give up breathing
So I know in my heart of hearts
I will always be the way that I am
In the joy of a moment, in the blackest despair
I will never, never, never let anyone in
Hard as I might try
I've run of luck, I've run out of time....
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meditations Upon A Candle
Man's like a candle in a candlestick,
Made up of tallow and a little wick;
And as the candle when it is not lighted,
So is he who is in his sins benighted.
Nor can a man his soul with grace inspire,
More than can candles set themselves on fire.
Candles receive their light from what they are not;
Men grace from Him for whom at first they care not.
We manage candles when they take the fire;
God men, when he with grace doth them inspire.
And biggest candles give the better light,
As grace on biggest sinners shines most bright.
The candle shines to make another see,
A saint unto his neighbour light should be.
The blinking candle we do much despise,
Saints dim of light are high in no man's eyes.
Again, though it may seem to some a riddle,
We use to light our candles at the middle.
True light doth at the candle's end appear,
And grace the heart first reaches by the ear.
But 'tis the wick the fire doth kindle on,
As 'tis the heart that grace first works upon.
Thus both do fasten upon what's the main,
And so their life and vigour do maintain.
The tallow makes the wick yield to the fire,
And sinful flesh doth make the soul desire
That grace may kindle on it, in it burn;
So evil makes the soul from evil turn.
But candles in the wind are apt to flare,
And Christians, in a tempest, to despair.
The flame also with smoke attended is,
And in our holy lives there's much amiss.
Sometimes a thief will candle-light annoy,
And lusts do seek our graces to destroy.
What brackish is will make a candle sputter;
'Twixt sin and grace there's oft' a heavy clutter.
Sometimes the light burns dim, 'cause of the snuff,
Sometimes it is blown quite out with a puff;
But watchfulness preventeth both these evils,
Keeps candles light, and grace in spite of devils.
Nor let not snuffs nor puffs make us to doubt,
Our candles may be lighted, though puffed out.
The candle in the night doth all excel,
Nor sun, nor moon, nor stars, then shine so well.
So is the Christian in our hemisphere,
Whose light shows others how their course to steer.
When candles are put out, all's in confusion;
Where Christians are not, devils make intrusion.
Then happy are they who such candles have,
All others dwell in darkness and the grave.
But candles that do blink within the socket,
And saints, whose eyes are always in their pocket,
Are much alike; such candles make us fumble,
And at such saints good men and bad do stumble.
Good candles don't offend, except sore eyes,
Nor hurt, unless it be the silly flies.
Thus none like burning candles in the night,
Nor ought to holy living for delight.
But let us draw towards the candle's end:
The fire, you see, doth wick and tallow spend,
As grace man's life until his glass is run,
And so the candle and the man is done.
The man now lays him down upon his bed,
The wick yields up its fire, and so is dead.
The candle now extinct is, but the man
By grace mounts up to glory, there to stand.
poem by John Bunyan
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Time for everything
All things that happens in the world, happens at the time God chooses..The is a time of love, and a time of hate! The is a time of sorrows, and a time of joy! The is a time of war, and a time of peace! The is a time of birth, and a time of death! The is a of planting, and a time of pulling out! The is a time to succeed, and a time to fail! The is a time of finding, and a time of loosing! The is a time of smoothness, and a time of rudeness! The is a time to be fast, and a time to be slow! Everything has its own time to happen dont rush, wait for the time to come! BY K.r mafojane
poem by K.R Relebogile Mafojane
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Tempus
Time our foe,
Time our friend,
Time, the only one to mend
All we break and destroy in our time.
Time, the one to draw the line,
Between our present and our past,
Between our first and also our last.
Time the healer,
Time the knife
That cuts and scars us through our life.
Time our fortune,
Time our loss,
Time our slave,
And time the boss.
Time for our pleasures,
Time for our sorrows.
Time for our angst and hope for our morrows.
So much time yet not enough.
And finally, time, the candle snuff.
Work!
Work or no luck
If you don't have work
You get killed sitting still
Work or no luck
If you have too much work
You get killed struggling still
Work or no luck
If you finish fast
You get killed killing time
Work or no luck
If you don't finish on time
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you do well
You get recognized well
Work or no luck
If you do not do well
You get the pink paper wall
Work or no luck
If you are organized
You finish it on time
Work or no luck
If you are disorganized
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you are interested
Toughest becomes easy
Work or no luck
If you are not interested
Easiest thing becomes toughest
Work or no luck
If you are carving
You keep doing it great
Work or no luck
If you are not carving
You keep doing it a trait
Work or no luck
If you have work
You have luck
Work or no luck
If you have work
Still nothing to do
You have no luck
That's the fate of
Work or luck! ! ! !
poem by Umasree Raghunath
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Better This Time
Last Time It Was A Secret,
Last Time Ended In Tears.
Last Time Wasn’t Official,
Last Time Didn’t Go So Great.
The Time Before That Was Even Worse,
The Time Before That I Was Depressed.
The Time Before That You Cheated Me,
The Time Before That You Didn’t Love Me.
This Time We Started Off Amazingly,
This Time There Is No Tension.
This Time It’s Official,
This Time You Asked.
This Time There Are No Secrets,
This Time We Want The World To Know.
This Time We Are Unbelievable Together,
This Time We Have Full Trust.
This Time You Spoke First,
This Time You Said “I Love You”
This Time I Have Your Heart,
This Time You Have Mine.
We Are Better This Time...
poem by Alexandra Bowden
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Scenes from a Parish
The weekday Mass at 6 a.m.
brings old folks out
from bungalows
around the church.
They move like caterpillars
down sidewalks,
some with canes,
some on walkers.
Young Father Doyle says the Mass
and is renowned for giving
homilies on weekdays
superior to homilies
heard in other churches
even on a Sunday.
After Mass, he goes back
to the rectory to care
for a mother older than
most of his congregants.
A gracious lady, his mother
cannot move or talk
because of a stroke.
But every Sunday at noon,
when the church is overflowing
with people wanting Mass to start,
Father Doyle, in full vestments,
wheels his mother in a lump
down the middle aisle
and lifts her like a chalice
and places her in the front pew
before he ascends to the altar.
Sometimes at night,
when his mother is finally asleep,
he returns to the church
and rehearses in the dark
three hymns she long ago
asked him to sing at her funeral.
He practices the hymns
because the doctor said
she could go at any time
and when that time comes,
he doesn't want to miss a note.
The last thing she ever said was
'Son, I'll be listening.'
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Letter In The Mail
If I could go down now
While the whole town is sleeping
See the sun creeping up on the hill
I know the river and the railroad
Would run through the valley still
I guess it never was much to look at
Just a one-horse town
The kind of place young people want to leave today
Store fronts pretty much boarded up
Main street pretty much closed down
The church bell still rings on sunday
Old folks still go
The young ones listen on the radio
Saturday night nothing but a stray dog running wild
Like nobodys child
And little by little, light after light
Thats how it died
They say you never go home again
Thats no lie
Its like a letter in the mail
To a brother in jail
Its a matter of time
Until you can do a little bit better time
It used to be part of the heartland
Awful proud and strong
But deep, deep down peaceful and serene
When people used to talk about the country
Thats what they used to mean
I might go down come the weekend
Go on my own
Drop off annie and the baby
Maybe drive alone
Pay my last respects to a time
That has all but gone
We said, mama come look at the mountain
Fire in the sky
Its lit up like the fourth of july
The mill burning down
The jobs leaving town
The trains rolling by
And little by little, light after light
Thats how it died
They say you never go home again
Thats no lie
Its just a letter in the mail
To a brother in jail
Its a matter of time
Until you can do a little bit better time
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes When We Emote That Much
sometimes when we emote that much
like some bleeding hearts
blinded by
the colors of the blood and sweat
of the dying sun
we fail to see
that the day has ended
that it is time to sleep
and dream
that it is time to give way
for other souls to
cry to weep to sigh
that it is time for some
other creatures who died
when they were once
children
to play their forgotten games
in the dark
sometimes we must accept
this is not just ours
this is also theirs
and the tears that dry
on the sand may not be just
ours after all
we may meet them
in due time, but for now let me
meet myself, let me drink with it
let me know his name
we are still strangers of the
very shining light.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Upon The Sight Of A Pound Of Candles Falling To The Ground
But be the candles down, and scattered too,
Some lying here, some there? What shall we do?
Hold, light the candle there that stands on high,
It you may find the other candles by.
Light that, I say, and so take up the pound
You did let fall and scatter on the ground.
Comparison.
The fallen candles do us intimate
The bulk of God's elect in their laps'd state;
Their lying scattered in the dark may be
To show, by man's lapsed state, his misery.
The candle that was taken down and lighted,
Thereby to find them fallen and benighted,
Is Jesus Christ; God, by his light, doth gather
Who he will save, and be unto a Father.
poem by John Bunyan
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This Time
Last Time Is Was A Secret,
Last Time Ended In Tears.
Last Time Wasn’t Official,
Last Time Didn’t Go So Great.
The Time Before That Was Even Worse,
The Time Before That I Was Depressed.
The Time Before That You Cheated Me,
The Time Before That You Didn’t Love Me.
This Time We Started Off Amazingly,
This Time There Is No Tension.
This Time It’s Official,
This Time You Asked.
This Time There Are No Secrets,
This Time We Want The World To Know.
This Time We Are Unbelievable Together,
This Time We Have Full Trust.
This Time You Spoke First,
This Time You Said “I Love You”
poem by Alexandra Bowden
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Me-Time Continuum
I watch the clock ticking out its time.
I hear the gears tocking 'till the chime…
I hold my stare acutely
And focus ears astutely.
The whole gestalt of this assault by me on clock
Collapses in to hence become
A new me-time continuum,
This clock and I a vacuum;
Dial and me, we've come to be
A synergistic, fatalistic victim,
Hmm…
When it ticks, I then tock:
I am me as well as clock.
When it tocks, I then tick.
We burn together down the wick
In candle wax, both cold and warm,
Together now in molten form.
We jump the side but soon to stall,
Only to solidify
Until the active plateau
Chases…
Down…
Sinking…
To melt again the bit that ran (us) –
All in a time storm
With timeless plan.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Ti me time time time time time time time time
Time time time time time
Time time time
Time time
Time time time
Time time time time time
Time time time time time time time time time
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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His Final Justice
Even though He's an unchanging God filled with compassion and love,
Soon His Righteous Justice will be poured down on earth from above.
Throughout time God has reached down to earth with unmerited Grace,
All who believe will be taken from the earth before this takes place.
Although through the years both Jews and Christians have been hated,
The Eternal Will of a Holy Unchanging God will never be frustrated.
Because of God's long-suffering some men have said that He is dead,
But these deceived and arrogant people have no idea of what's ahead.
God's patience will finally end in the time of a wicked generation,
Then The Church will be removed and God will start the Tribulation.
The Time of Jacob's Trouble is the name for this time of tribulation,
It's when God deals with His People and judges every other nation.
It will be just as in the time Noah, right before Jesus comes again,
For He's coming the second time to judge the world and all its sin.
Because Israel rejected Christ the first time, according to The Word,
Zechariah states the total of the nation left will only be one third.
Because the enemies of God are so filled with hate and so enraged,
God said if He didn't cut short the time that no flesh would be saved.
God will end His Holy Wrath with a Spirit of Grace and Supplication,
Again they will be His People and He will be The God of their nation.
(Copyright © 02/2003)
Burning The Candles
You're going down
And it feels good
But you ain't wearing
What you should
All the people that you've had?
The Time is over
Count your blessings
Count the times
You forgot their names
Committed the crimes
All the people that you've had?
The time over
Oh ! it's time to make amend's
Cos' you've been
Burning the candle at both ends
Oh! it 's time to make amends
Cos' you've been
Burning the candle at both ends
song performed by by Dirty Vegas from Dirty Vegas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Better Luck Next Time
Some say life is what you make it
Some say life is for the taking
As for me Im only getting by
Somewhere somebody is waiting
Somewhere someone is escaping
As for me Im only killing time
Its your time
Sometimes you set the bar too high
Well better luck next time
Looks like you took the turn too wide
Better luck next time
Another dent is in your pride
Searching headlights on the ceiling
I need something more revealing
Cause I feel stranded here in my own life
In my life
Better luck next time
song performed by by Oleander
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War? No More!
I dream of a time, a time of peace,
A time in which all conflict, shall finally cease,
Evil bombing and unruly war,
All of it shall be no more,
I dream of a time, a time of trust,
Let all weapons lay still and rust,
Let us all be who we are,
whether or not we own a fancy car,
I dream of a time, a time of love,
When we can all look, up, high above,
And see vast skies of glistning blue,
I want us all to start life anew,
poem by Kieran J1996
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