The earth was ignored
Seven days were christened seven planets,
Of which the earth was not included.
The earth sustains man who christened them..
The host attends the guests, not the inmates.
06.07.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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She Walked in Beauty...
From a distance:
East, South, West, and North
Surrounded and maintains balance
going forth.
Upon mother earth:
Supported and nourished everyone
and merits each one's respect
Under Sun god:
Your light shines and gives light,
Warms, and embraces lovingly
Surrounded by wind:
Sometime blows strong, sometimes
A gentle caress from your breeze
With water:
That sustains all life form
That all know not thirst
Under moon and stars:
Illuminates the earth, and
Forever watches over your clan
Be in harmony
with selves, forever
Strolling in your beauty!
[ In honor of my late mother on 'Mother's Day' May 9,2010]
April 22,2010
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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When the child is christened you will have godfathers enough.
Opposition may become sweet to a man when he has christened it persecution.
quote by George Eliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who will ever know?
What calamity brought
evil Lucifer and his wicked host
through galaxies without number,
with countless stars and planets
to this earth, to where we are?
Was it just mere chance
to stumble on the place where man lived,
or didn’t they have any other place to go
to escape Michael and his holy host?
Or was it part of destiny, or eternal law,
in the ordinance of God without flaw
to sacrifice His own to save man
or was chance, will or law or none
responsible for this? Who will ever know…
poem by Gert Strydom
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A woman is to be from her house three times: when she is christened, married and buried.
Colours of Love
LOVE is
Life and also death
Servitude and devotion
A poem and philosophy
Stony but also compassion
Commitment and treacherous
Cold and also fresh air
Sin and virtuous
Body and also soul
Attraction and effort
Happiness and also displeasure
Affection and affliction
Action followed by union.
Love can not be christened
Name it
Lose it
But when I see you as an embodiment of love
I see you as
Radha
Durga
Meera
Marriam
(2010)
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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My father was Catholic, my mother was Protestant, and because of that I got Christened in both churches, so I've got all these names... but my Dad always called me Mick.
quote by Mickey Spillane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bush Christening
On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few,
And men of religion are scanty,
On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost,
One Michael Magee had a shanty.
Now this Mike was the dad of a ten-year-old lad,
Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;
He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest
For the youngster had never been christened.
And his wife used to cry, 'If the darlin' should die
Saint Peter would not recognize him.'
But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived,
Who agreed straightaway to baptize him.
Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue,
With his ear to the keyhole was listenin';
And he muttered in fright, while his features turned white,
'What the divil and all is this christenin'?'
He was none of your dolts, He had seen them brand colts,
And it seemed to his small understanding,
If the man in the frock made him one of the flock,
It must mean something very like branding.
So away with a rush he set off for the bush,
While the tears in his eyelids they glistened,
''Tis outrageous,' says he, 'to brand youngsters like me;
I'll be dashed if I'll stop to be christened!'
Like a young native dog he ran into a log,
And his father with language uncivil,
Never heeding the 'praste', cried aloud in his haste
'Come out and be christened, you divil!'
But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug,
And his parents in vain might reprove him,
Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke)
'I've a notion,' says he, 'that'll move him.
'Poke a stick up the log, give the spalpeen a prog;
Poke him aisy, don't hurt him or maim him;
'Tis not long that he'll stand, I've the water at hand,
As he rushes out this end I'll name him.
'Here he comes, and for shame, ye've forgotten the name,
Is it Patsy or Michael or Dinnis?'
Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout,
'Take your chance, anyhow, wid `Maginnis'!'
As the howling young cub ran away to the scrub
Where he knew that pursuit would be risky,
The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head
That was labeled 'Maginnis's Whiskey'!
Now Maginnis Magee has been made a J.P.,
And the one thing he hates more than sin is
To be asked by the folk, who have heard of the joke,
How he came to be christened Maginnis!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bush Christening
On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few,
And men of religion are scanty,
On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost,
One Michael Magee had a shanty.
Now this Mike was the dad of a ten year old lad,
Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;
He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest
For the youngster had never been christened.
And his wife used to cry, `If the darlin' should die
Saint Peter would not recognise him.'
But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived,
Who agreed straightaway to baptise him.
Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue,
With his ear to the keyhole was listenin',
And he muttered in fright, while his features turned white,
`What the divil and all is this christenin'?'
He was none of your dolts, he had seen them brand colts,
And it seemed to his small understanding,
If the man in the frock made him one of the flock,
It must mean something very like branding.
So away with a rush he set off for the bush,
While the tears in his eyelids they glistened --
`'Tis outrageous,' says he, `to brand youngsters like me,
I'll be dashed if I'll stop to be christened!'
Like a young native dog he ran into a log,
And his father with language uncivil,
Never heeding the `praste' cried aloud in his haste,
`Come out and be christened, you divil!'
But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug,
And his parents in vain might reprove him,
Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke)
`I've a notion,' says he, `that'll move him.'
`Poke a stick up the log, give the spalpeen a prog;
Poke him aisy -- don't hurt him or maim him,
'Tis not long that he'll stand, I've the water at hand,
As he rushes out this end I'll name him.
`Here he comes, and for shame! ye've forgotten the name --
Is it Patsy or Michael or Dinnis?'
Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout --
`Take your chance, anyhow, wid `Maginnis'!'
As the howling young cub ran away to the scrub
Where he knew that pursuit would be risky,
The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head
That was labelled `MAGINNIS'S WHISKY'!
And Maginnis Magee has been made a J.P.,
And the one thing he hates more than sin is
To be asked by the folk, who have heard of the joke,
How he came to be christened `Maginnis'!
A.B. (Banjo) Paterson
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Maundy Thursday
In a feast the host must receive the guests
With humility. Else he is the beast
That relegates his guests as mere beggars.
Jesus washed guests' feet on Maundy Thursday.[before the feast]
25.03.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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When God Is Angry
Have you seen the earth turn against it's inhabitants?
Or the earth become a line?
Has the earth ever lost it's gravitational force?
Or it's frictional force?
Do you know that lightening could change directions?
And that rivers could be poisoned?
Do you know that arrows could be shot down from heaven?
Have you seen men crawl in hunger and ill health?
Or has the earth been smashed by two or more bigger planets?
Have you seen animals overthrow the human race?
Is it clear that the earth could swallow?
That fire knows locations of people and places?
That man is powerless before his God?
And could crush and vanish in a second?
Do you know...
...that man still wants to know
when God is angry
poem by Ivan Chizurum Ezeigbo
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Saint Swithin's day
On the day that marks St. Swithun,
Watch the sky once the sun's risen,
Should the weather prove to be fine,
There'll be many days of sunshine,
Weather the saint's said to foretell,
Is it to be a rainy spell?
Pray that rainclouds will go away,
They can come back another day,
Apples are christened if there's rain,
But clouds will be set to remain,
A bleak forty day downpour,
Or a fine summer is in store,
We have want for more days of sun,
Let our summer not yet be done,
Whoever has sway over skies,
Is truly a saint in thine eyes.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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The Citadel of Lost Souls
When souls have completed their time on earth
they ascend to the wind’s highways,
which carry them back from whence they came
to spend the eternity of their days.
It’s depressing to know that many do not arrive,
and become lost on their way.
They become trapped in eddies, storms, and gusts
and some get whisked away.
Soul catchers travel the peripheries of the winds
knowing souls will drift off course.
They guide them to the Citadel of Lost Souls
to become guests of the evil force.
They spend their days tormented and lost,
and without hope, for eternity.
It seems that even when a soul leaves its host
its future has no guarantee.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Politicking
Completion,
Abode,
Politicking,
Christened;
But like a misplaced priority!
Because a teen fell in love with you,
And everything was normal with the society.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Bless The House And The Earth
Bless this house and the Earth
it is all renewing coming into rebirth.
Prophecies have forwarned the day
when all planets align and kudilini
on Earth and planets will raise
in the Milky Way.
We have no choice-
for a force is greater than we
it all is in God's cosmology.
So clear yourself of all disease.
Disease in your mind and body.
Let the solar angels help you be free.
Written by Christina Sunrise on May 11,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Broken Axletree
On the Track of Grand Endeavour, on the long track out to Bourke,
Past the Turn-Back, and past Howlong, and the pub at Sudden Jerk,
Past old Bullock-Yoke and Bog Flat, and the “Pinch” at Stick-to-me,
Lies the camp that we have christened—christened “Broken Axletree.”
We were young and strong and fearless, we had not seen Mount Despair,
And the West was to be conquered, and we meant to do our share;
We were far away from cities, and were fairly off the spree
When we camped at Cart Wheel River with a broken axletree.
Oh, the pub at Devil’s Crossing! and the woman that he sent!
And the hell for which we bartered horse and trap and “traps” and tent!
And the black “Since Then”—the chances that we never more may see—
Ah! the two lives that were ruined for a broken axletree!
“Fate” is but a Cart Wheel River, placed to test us by the Lord,
And the Star of Live Forever shines beyond At Blacksmith’s Ford!
Shun all fatalists and “isms”—heed no talk of “destiny”!
Ride a race for life to Blacksmith’s with your broken axletree.
poem by Henry Lawson
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There was an Old Man of Bohemia,
Whose daughter was christened Euphemia,
Till one day, to his grief,
She married a thief,
Which grieved that Old Man of Bohemia.
quote by by Edward Lear
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On Autumn´s Earth
This is the beginning
Now carry me away
On to the faraway new day
That now is born to play
Yes this is the beginning
Moments dreamed and found
Everything in its singing
That comes again around
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
On autumn´s earth
Yesterdays were all turning
In their beat´s echo heart
Forever in lay and burning
Poles and miles apart
Flames of their color giving
All that came from within
Days their dreams own living
As worlds take their spin
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
On autumn´s earth
Swept away in their call
Dreams that were carried on
Love songs of colors fall
Until their moments are gone
You and I had our calling
Dreams that were not to be
Now like autumn earth's falling
All that we had is now free
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
On autumn´s earth
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
On autumn´s earth
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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On Autumns Earth
This is the beginning
Now carry me away
On to the faraway new day
That now is born to play
Yes this is the beginning
Moments dreamed and found
Everything in its singing
That comes again around
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
On autumn´s earth
Yesterdays were all turning
In their beat´s echo heart
Forever in lay and burning
Poles and miles apart
Flames of their color giving
All that came from within
Days their dreams own living
As worlds take their spin
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
On autumn´s earth
Swept away in their call
Dreams that were carried on
Love songs of colors fall
Until their moments are gone
You and I had our calling
Dreams that were not to be
Now like autumn earth's falling
All that we had is now free
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
Times of days and worth
Each their together role
On autumn´s earth
Flowers on autumn´s earth
Reaching their own goal
On autumn´s earth
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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