Distance Gives Merit
No temple is holy to its natives.
No woman is seductive to her co born
No astrologer is famous in his place.
No prostitute is known in her place.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Holy Woman!
Quietly sitting
In my chamber of solitude,
Old memories from my mind retrieving
And coping with a sadness of great magnitude...
O Holy Woman! I am thinking of you!
I think of you and I get the chill,
Trying so hard to put into words
What at this moment I really feel
And expose it to the entire world...
O Holy Woman! thinking of you, I will always!
Emptiness has invaded my heart,
Since I no longer see your face...
Feeling blue now that we are apart,
Knowing no other woman can take your place...
O Holy Woman! thinking of you I will always!
You gave me life and plenty of love,
You taught me to see the difference
Between right and wrong...
You never treated me with indifference,
To you, I dedicate this poem
While I imagine you smiling above...
O Holy Woman! thinking of you, always!
O Holy Woman! a part of me has died,
Since you have been gone,
For you, my eyes many times have cried,
Now, I place a yellow rose on your headstone...
O Holy Woman! without you there is not home!
O Holy Woman! for you I will always pray!
Aware that my time will also come,
Hoping to see you again in that special day! ...
COPY WRITE©2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Woman 26
Woman is the mystry of God
Woman is the miracle of creation
All greats are born out of woman
Woman is the womb of whole creation.
No man knows what is woman
It's onlly God knows what is woman
It's only God knows what for the woman is
Worship woman, woman is the religion
of all religion
Place your holy flower
On the budding nipple
of a virgin woman.
poem by Devil Poet
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Psalm 87
The church the birth-place of the saints.
God in his earthly temple lays
Foundations for his heav'nly praise:
He likes the tents of Jacob well,
But still in Zion loves to dwell.
His mercy visits every house
That pay their night and morning vows;
But makes a more delightful stay
Where churches meet to praise and pray.
What glories were described of old!
What wonders are of Zion told!
Thou city of our God below,
Thy fame shall Tyre and Egypt know.
Egypt and Tyre, and Greek and Jew,
Shall there begin their lives anew;
Angels and men shall join to sing
The hill where living waters spring.
When God makes up his last account
Of natives in his holy mount,
'Twill be an honor to appear
As one new-born or nourished there!
poem by Isaac Watts
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What Is A Barn?
A barn is many things-
A barn is a fun place
To run, romp, and play.
It is also a place of refuge,
On hot or stormy days.
A barn is a storage place
For all your tools, grain, and hay.
It is also a place to unwind,
When you have had a tough day.
A barn becomes God's sanctuary,
When you begin to pray
It is also a place of work,
When work is needing done.
A barn is a place
Where freindships can be made
It is also a place
Where new life is born.
A barn is a place
To try with all your might
And finally when its doors are closed,
'Tis safety from the night.
A barn is a place for horses,
And it is a place for cows
A barn is also a hayloft,
Full of little meows
A barn is the Inn
Where our Savior was born
God, our Savior,
Christ, our Lord.
A barn is a work place,
A barn is a play place
A barn is a great place
A barn is a training ring...
A barn is..
Well, when it comes right
Down to it,
A barn is everything!
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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A Woman's Place
tell me where is a woman’s place
where a woman can be
and know it is the place
she is needed to be
tell me where is a woman’s place
where she can place her heart
and know her heart
is not out of place
tell me where is a woman’s place
where her spirit is free
poem by Jacqui Miller
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A Woman’s Place
Many say
A woman’s place belongs in the kitchen
As if it a sin
That statement is pathetically mean
I mean why are we so keen
To have men as chefs
Gone are the days
When she’s only good in bed
Fattened up from being well fed
Now A woman’s place
Is with her child
To tame it from growing wild
Apart from flashing her smile and her eyelids
She’s a gem
She knows how to dance
And the true meaning of romance
To state a woman’s place
Is simply a hopeless case
A woman’s place
Is hard to say
A woman’s place
Is in her brain
She knows how to save your pennies
For the day it heavily rains
Saving you from losing face
A woman’s place is at work
For without her
There will be no sweet talk
Her place is also with her man
The guy who is her ultimate fan
She is the only one that
can soothe a mans disturbed mind
Her specie is really one of a kind
That melodic union she must span
A womans place
in this day and age
is one which we must embrace
Her changeless face
invigorates any race
© Sylvia Chidi- 17 October 2005
www.sylviachidi.com
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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a poem written at the Taoist Temple in Cebu City a few days ago
the place is well trimmed
bushes with leaves well arranged
like the haircut of a soldier
the dragon guards the place
the one that does not spit fire
nothing to fear in this place of
worship this place of calm and
quiet where cameras are prohibited
but we all tread our steps towards
the holy and the divine that
unholy hour of our existences.
i was once here and there is
someone i cannot forget
the close friend i had who
clicked her camera who told
me to pose here and there only
to realize later that there was
no film.
oh, those were the younger years
that speak of lies
that gives nothing but false hopes
meanwhile, i am amazed at this
temple
a tip that tries to reach the clouds
telling us
though that we are less inferior.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Have I got to close the books?
No bad weather,
murderous natives
or even the British Empire
could stop our ancestors
to make a place
their own
at the southern end
of Africa.
Till on a day
some strange people rule
that has no concept
of that which is high and holy,
and tread every thing
with time into ruins
and believe that things are better
while criminals are stealing cars,
robbing banks, murdering people
and steal just where they can
and deceivers sit in parliament
and work are reserved
for only some.
Have I now also
got to close the books,
and leave the country forever
and climb on a jet plane
and make another place
with foreigners
my own
to have a life again?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Lack Of Credit
Questions,
Raises,
Ban,
Virtually;
But, i don't belong to this place! !
For, the acts of the natives are so negative to my thinking.
Players,
Containing,
Cintinuous,
Conforming,
Lack of credit;
But i need to rest my mind with my plans in focus,
Because, one day, i will leave this place.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Body Is A Temple
They say your body is a temple, and I found
This to be true, for in my temple I found you.
I felt your soul surround me like a mist
On a foggy day, and right then I knew
That in my heart forever you would stay.
My body is a temple and
You are the foundation
you control my heart
And every sensation.
Now this temple had become a temple of two
For it belonged to me and you.
We built this temple for all the world to see
That thru love this is the way it should be.
When you’ve shared the most precious
Moments that GOD did provide
When not on all topics did we see eye to eye
When in sickness you was the comforting stone
And you know that you’re not alone.
When that temple seems to be falling apart
And you‘ve lost all hope in your heart.
When it seems like you have no other place to go
And your thoughts are moving slow
That is when you turn to the lord above
To show you how to rekindle that love.
The body is a temple and in it I found you
And with your strength I know what I have to do.
I will rebuild this temple with the love of my life
For you are my partner, my lover, my wife.
poem by Louis Rams
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Famous Fable
The famous fable,
The famous table,
The famous stable,
The famous cable,
The famous babble,
The famous gable,
The famous parable,
The famous variable
The famous sable;
But, able to crown your love with my muse!
For, you are all that i need.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Astrology is a mockery.
Astrology is a humbug.
Place before an Astrologer
A horoscope of the dead one.
He can’t find it out.
They are adept at deducing causes.
They thrive on your weakness.
16.10.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Same Place, Same Time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
The coffee’s hot
And the company is good
Conversation flows, as it should
A joke or two
And when all is said and done
We’re right back to where we begun
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
These crowded streets
I balance tight roped on the curb
Car screeches past, a scream is heard
De ja vu
Yes I’ve been here before
Time moves slowly as traffic stalls
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Break
It was good
You were sublime
I’m so glad that we spent the time
Time is short
What we have is rare
Love is oxygen with you there
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Copyright 2006 (updated 2010)
poem by Colin Coplin
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The upper room
There is a special room set apart and blessed
a holy place and sanctuary where we can rest.
We enter in protected from this worlds care
and sweet communion with the Lord we share.
It is a place where our souls can come in sanctity
a meeting place where we can open and honest be.
A place of tears and a place of worshipping You.
Where deep searching things can be worked through.
'Come to me, Roy and Dot', We hear You say
as burdened with sorrow and care we make our way
to that Holy meeting place of solitude and peace
and commune with You to find blessed release.
The tests of this life can take its toll upon us Lord
and battered and bruised we turn to Your word.
It is so good to retire to that room upstairs awhile
and pour out our soul to You and see Your smile.
Thank You, Jesus for such a blessed place as this
where we can experience again Your heavenly kiss.
Resting in Your presence and feeling Your embrace
strengthened once more for the challenges we face.
My Motorcycle
i bought one in 1998.
i left it to the care of my
brother-in-law and it was
well taken-cared of. Shiny.
Then he broke his leg
because of the black dog
that crossed the street
early dawn when the
streets are still dark.
then my other sisters
and brothers claim that
they have rights over the
wheel, and the cover and
the steer. I keep my mouth
shut. And they were talking
about the prostitute,
how cheap she was, and
still roams the street at
night looking for her
prey. I think she is the
victim of a vampire.
and then everyone takes
a ride on my motorcycle
inventing the names of
the places they want
to go. I keep my mouth
shut. About the prostitute
about rights that were
not there.
and they ask me about
a name. Who? and they
demand the exact place
where she lives. But most
of them ask me: why?
i guess they know better.
but let me answer them
straight;
The motorcycle is
the prostitute and they
are the ones
who are cheap. They
cheat and i am the victim
and they are the
vampires.
do not ask me now.
i am in the middle of my anger.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Place
There is a place
In my heart that still dances
A place in my soul that sings
- And sings, and dances and dances -
A place so deep, so set
A place that even the mundane drudgery
The routine day-to-day
Can not kill
A place so close, so distant
A place that was, and is yet to come
A place where belief originates and lives
The birth place of
The most human humanity
The most divine divinity
A place where
Majesty, mystery and magic still speak
A place of all origins.
Some will not hear it any longer.
But, I still listen...
Waiting... hoping... trusting...believing...
The Place... is real.
It's way out there - it's everywhere...
It is ever within.
This Place... is my place.
It has called to me by name
Since the day of birth,
It's name is simple and profound;
I call him
Jesus.
He calls me
'My child.'
It's to him we go.
It's for us he came.
He is where I belong.
I am always on the Way
To the Place
Where he is.
The Place... home.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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May I Constantly Find You
May I constantly find You,
may You cross every road with me,
may I always stand before Your face
as long as blood flows through my veins
and may my house wherever it is
be called a home of prayer, a holy place
and a place that never goes against Your will
where only Your Holy Ghost comes in,
make me to only your property,
that only Your works flower in my life.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Definition of happiness
ITS A place we have all been to:
a place were difficulties are forgotten
were only joyful events are certain
its a place you cant go to everyday
when you get there not long enough you can stay
a place safe and secure
a shield that deflects any bad thing that could accrue
a place were poise and pride are not neglected
a place were negative thoughts, ideas are not selected
a place far away from here
a place that does not recognize fear
a place that needs along time to get to
yet you arrive and forget any negative thing you have been through
a place that effects so deep
a place were you cant fall asleep
a place that does not exist
yet we have all been there I still insist
a place that’s not defined as a dream or a fantasy
a place that is only called happiness and ecstasy
Yet it is the most beautiful place
where sound of laughter and shape of smile race
on ones face like it would be in grace
poem by Ayesha Sartawi
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House of prayer
Do you have a hallowed place where you can call upon His grace? In His celestial place do you hear His voice or seek His face. From thy fount above fill my cup with love at heaven to eat thy word as meat above. Light my life with holy fire, consume the mire, be my passion and desire. Let these dry bones revive so the devil doesn't thrive, let him not build a wall to rise. Break the latchstrings upon every door that I might soar, let every evil to abhor. Let the partition be torn down, and every wall to frown, that I might obtain a crown. Let me refine my time that thy word is on my mind, you are my looking glass to show reflections that last not the brass. Let thy temple shine, a house of prayer as Thine let my lips awake in praise a holy time to enshrine.
poem by Vanita Allgood
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My Birth Took Place In This Place And I Must Die In This Place
My birth took place in this place
And I must die in this place
Because it is only fair that I die where I was born
poem by Aldo Kraas
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