The Denial of St. Peter
(after Caravaggio's, The Denial of St. Peter)
On the edge
hands clenched,
sad eyes downcast
bitter fear forcing tight his lips
he holds his breath
he pauses
as the angry finger
of the state
points at his throat,
hard eyes searching Peter's
indecision
for rash conviction;
but she, she knows
has seen before
his adoring eyes, heard his
boastful voice
by the campfire
of the condemned.
Slowly he moves
toward the inevitable lie
as the bloody sun
stirs to song
the drowsy cock.
poem by Steven Federle
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Related quotes
The Song at Cock-Crow
1918 -- Ille autem iterum negavit.
The first time that Peter denied his Lord
He shrank from the cudgel, the scourge and the cord,
But followed far off to see what they would do,
Till the cock crew--till the cock crew--
After Gethsemane, till the cock crew!
The first time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas only a maid in the palace who heard,
As he sat by the fire and warmed himself through.
Then the cock crew! Then the cock crew!
("Though also art one of them.") Then the cock crew!
The first time that Peter denied his Lord
He had neither the Throne, nor the Keys nor the Sword--
A poor silly fisherman, what could he do,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
But weep for his wickedness when the cock crew?
. . . . . .
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
He was Fisher of Men, as foretold by the Word,
With the Crown on his brow and the Cross on his shoe,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
In Flanders and Picardy when the cock crew!
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas Mary the Mother in Heaven Who heard,
She grieved for the maidens and wives that they slew
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
At Tirmonde and Aerschott when the cock crew!
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
The Babe in the Manger awakened and stirred,
And He stretched out His arms for the playmates
He knew--
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
But the waters had covered them when the cock crew!
The next time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas Earth in her agony waited his word,
But he sat by the fire and naught would he do,
Though the cock crew--though the cock crew--
Over all Christendom, though the cock crew!
The last time that Peter denied his Lord,
The Father took from him the Keys and the Sword,
And the Mother and Babe brake his Kingdom in two,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
(Because of his wickedness) when the cock crew!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The fear of death was in their eyes
The fear of death was in their eyes
waves filled the boat to their surprise.
Then through the storm a voice was heard
the encouraging voice of the Good shepherd.
He'd seen His sheep struggling with their fear
and came to comfort them and to draw near.
They heard Him speak the words 'Fear not'
and amidst the storm their fears forgot.
'If it's You Jesus' Peter said to the Lord
'Bid me come to You, I'll obey your word.'
The command to come he heard from You
Gazing into Your face Peter's faith grew.
Putting his fears to one side courageously
he stepped outside the boat onto the sea.
Then he began to think 'What have I done'
and took his eyes off of God's Only Son.
He saw the wind and waves come crashing down
and became afraid thinking he would drown.
Taking his eyes off the Lord in horror
distracted by the waves and the winds roar.
'Lord save me' Peter cried out in his fear.
Jesus reached out for He was standing near
and then lifted him back inside the boat
back into safety he was kept afloat.
Sailing this earthly sea we experience fears.
The storms of life can bring such tears.
When He calls us to step out of the boat
eyes fixed on Jesus will keep us afloat.
For our hearts of fear the Lord can transform
and by faith in Him we can face the storm.
With are eyes firmly fixed upon the Lord
we can step out of the boat obeying His word.
written after reading Matthew 14: 22-31
The crying angel
What angel sits there
Hugging a doll
With tears in her eyes
She slowly whispers
Secrets in her ear
With tears in her eyes
Who but that doll sees?
The nights she spends
With tears in her eyes
Her mother doesn't understand
Why everyday she wakes
With tears in her eyes
Her father knows
As he puts a finger to her lips
He holds her tight,
And rapes her every night.
poem by Mariam de Haan
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Angry Eyes
Time, time and again I see you staring down at me
Now, then and again I wonder what it is that you see
With those angry eyes
Well, I bet you wish you could cut me down
With those angry eyes
You want to believe that I am not the same as you
And now I cant conceive, oh lord, of what it is youre trying to do
With those angry eyes
Well, I bet you wish you could cut me down
With those angry eyes
What a shot you could be if you could shoot at me
With those angry eyes
You and I must start to realize
Blindness binds us in a false disguise
Can you see me through those angry eyes?
You try to defend that you are not the one to blame
But Im finding it hard, my friend, when I m in the deadly aim
Of those angry eyes
Well, I bet you wish you could cut me down
With those angry eyes
What a shot you could be if you could shoot at me
With those angry eyes
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hard Eyes
hard eyes stare into the night...
hard eyes with calloused gentle hands.
hard eyes that have listened and seen.
hard eyes that have touched.
hard eyes that have fought
battles that couldnt be won...
hard eyes that have shared
the suffering of others....
hard eyes that have known beauty and loss...
hard eyes that make choices that are not easy.
hard eyes that have been betrayed,
hard eyes that have loved...
hard eyes that cross the threshold...
hard eyes of the sword and cross.
hard eyes that look into the soul,
and sometimes even smile.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Song and Music
O leave your hand where it lies cool
Upon the eyes whose lids are hot:
Its rosy shade is bountiful
Of silence, and assuages thought.
O lay your lips against your hand
And let me feel your breath through it,
While through the sense your song shall fit
The soul to understand.
The music lives upon my brain
Between your hands within mine eyes;
It stirs your lifted throat like pain,
An aching pulse of melodies.
Lean nearer, let the music pause:
The soul may better understand
Your music, shadowed in your hand
Now while the song withdraws.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Peter Sinning And Repenting
When Peter boasted, soon he fell,
Yet was by grace restored;
His case should be regarded well
By all who fear the Lord.
A voice it has, and helping hand,
Backsliders to recall;
And cautions those who think they stand,
Lest suddenly they fall.
He said, Whatever others do,
With Jesus I'll abide;
Yet soon amidst a murd'rous crew
His suff'ring Lord denied.
He who had been so bold before,
Now trembled like a leaf;
Not only lied, but cursed and swore,
To gain the more belief.
While he blasphemed he heard the cock,
And Jesus looked in love;
At once, as if by lightning struck,
His tongue forbore to move.
Delivered thus from Satan's snare
He starts, as from a sleep;
His Saviour's look he could not bear,
But hasted forth to weep.
But sure the faithful cock had crowed
A hundred times in vain;
Had not the Lord that look bestowed,
The meaning to explain.
As I, like Peter, vows have made,
Yet acted Peter's part;
So conscience, like the cock, upbraids
My base, ungrateful heart.
Lord Jesus, hear a sinner's cry,
My broken peace renew;
And grant one pitying look, that I
May weep with Peter too.
poem by John Newton
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Walk Through Kale.
Walking through a field of kale
Jane in front and you following behind
brushing on your hands over
the dew damp leaves
breathing in the morning air
she looking around
in case the farmer
or one of his farmhands
sees you wander
through the tall kale
you notice she has a slight wiggle
as she walks ahead
not intentional
not like some of the girls at school
you put on the wiggling hips
to attract the boy's searching eyes
it's just a natural movement
and you watch and take in
the decisive tread she makes
maybe in fear of mouse
or just cautious of doing damage
to the kale's green stems
then she pauses and turns around
facing you and says
I come here sometimes
and sit amongst the kale
just to be alone and away
from the pressures
and eyes of others
you nod and say
it gets like that sometimes
and as you speak
your eyes move over her face
and at her eyes
and the way her hair
is neatly brushed
and her lips parted slightly
as if about to speak
mother warmed me of boys
she says looking over your shoulder
at the farm beyond
she says they're not to be trusted
then she pauses
and looks you in the eyes
and oh you mutter inwardly
the way she looks
the way her eyes
move over me like an artist's brush
and you sense
a kiss waiting to happen
lips paused to press
tongues ready to explore
each other's orifice
warm and wet
but nothing happens
and you both walk on
through the dew damp kale
hoping for another time
another fresh dawn
another sexier now.
poem by Terry Collett
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An Irish Mile
In my dream I walk in the times gone by
On the western edge of a heartbreak shore
Where sleep’s dark fears are howling ‘round
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
Near the edge of a cliff there’s an angry
crowd with hungry faces crowding around
’fear in their eyes when they hear the drum
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
The troops come on with bayonets fixed
Pushing the people to the mountain’s lip
A cry goes out as the first goes down
in the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
The troops move off in single file.
The Empire grows by an Irish mile.
A voice cries out from the rocks below in
the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
In my dream I walk in the times gone by
As close to the edge as my fears allow
in the air there's a prayer for pity and revenge
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
poem by Sean Joyce
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The troops come on with bayonets fixed pushing the people to the mountain’s lip
In a dream I walk in the times gone by
On the western edge of a heartbreak shore
When sleep’s dark fears are howling ‘round
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
Near the edge of the cliff there’s an angry
crowd with hungry faces crowding around
’fear in their eyes when they hear the drum
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
The troops come on with bayonets fixed
Pushing the people to the mountain’s lip
A cry goes out as the first goes down
in the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
In my dream I walk in the times gone by
As close to the edge as my fears allow
in the air there's a prayer for pity and revenge
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world
poem by Sean Joyce
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Eyes
Eyes are blue
Eyes are green
Eyes are true
Eyes are mean
Eyes are bright
Give the light
Eyes are black
Like the night
Eyes are cold
Eyes are warm
Eyes are angry
Like a storm
Eyes are kind
Eyes are blind
Eyes are evil
Eyes of devil
Eyes are hungry
Eyes of walls
Eyes are empty
Eyes of dolls
Eyes are loving
Eyes are charming
Eyes are lying
Truth denying
Eyes are haughty
Eyes are naughty
Eyes are naïve
To all they believe
Eyes are strained
A fear remained
Eyes without hope
Ready for the rope
Eyes are vulnerable
Eyes that gamble
Eyes are sensitive
Eyes are attentive
Eyes are stubborn
Eyes are submissive
Eyes of a new born
Eyes are pensive
Loving eyes are true
Black, brown or blue
My eyes are green
A lot they have seen
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
January 11th,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Don't You Realize
Chorus:
Don't you realize
Don't you understand
It's the final cut
It's the bitter end
Don't you realize
We have reached the edge
Don't you see the cold
In my eyes
Verse 1:
Baby don't tell me we'll stay friends
Love never gets a second chance
Split hearts never mend
Don't call again
Baby don't send me "come back"-mails
I'm so fed up with fairy tales
The message is clear
Keep outta here...
Chorus:
Don't you realize
Don't you understand
It's the final cut
It's the bitter end
Don't you realize
We have reached the edge
Don't you see the cold
In my eyes
Don't you realize
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Verse 2:
Baby don't sell me dreams again
Cos I'm so sick of all of them
I've learned the hard way
They won't come true
Baby don't say you've changed your mind
Cos I've left everything behind
That made me love you
Baby I'm through
Chorus:
Don't you realize
Don't you understand
It's the final cut
It's the bitter end
Don't you realize
We have reached the edge
Don't you see the cold
In my eyes
Don't you realize
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Tell me why you tried to cheat
Now you're in a dead end street
Baby you can never beat
You fate - tonight
Chorus:
Don't you realize
Don't you understand
It's the final cut
It's the bitter end
Don't you realize
We have reached the edge
Don't you see the cold
In my eyes
Don't you realize
Chorus:
Don't you realize
Don't you understand
It's the final cut
It's the bitter end
Don't you realize
We have reached the edge
Don't you see the cold
In my eyes
Don't you realize
Oh-oh-oh-oh
song performed by by Vanilla Ninja
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas At The Pearly Gates
Three men die on Christmas day
And then arrive at the pearly gates
St Peter starts to turn them away
Since his records say they’re reprobates
But since it was Christmas …well
He might let them in
If they had any symbol
of Christmas with them
The first had an ornament in his pocket
St Peter ushered him in
The second had pine needles on his shirt
St Peter bade him within
The third gentleman with a look of chagrin
Pulled out a pair of panties of green and red
“How do these represent Christmas? ”
Astounded, St Peter said
“Well Pete, I know you are familiar
With beautiful, Christmas carols
And these skimpies might seem to you
Simply as risqué apparel.”
“Well…These are Carol’s, ”
the man said with a grin
Saint Peter rolled his eyes…
And then let him in
poem by David Whalen
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Walking On The Water (Bible Poems for Childen)
One night the disciples
were crossing the sea,
On their way to Galilee.
Jesus left the men that
day,
Went to the mountains to
pray.
Strong winds smashed
against the boat,
They could hardly stay
afloat.
Heard a noise, scared as
could be,
Someone was walking on
the sea,
Who is that, coming here,
Jesus said, do not fear.
It is I, come to me,
Peter arose, walked the
sea.
When Peter looked at the
brink,
He got scared, began to
sink.
Jesus held Peter's hand
tight,
Stepped into the boat
that night.
poem by Heather Burns
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Dunne Studying.
Dunne watches her mistress sleep.
There is the flickering of the eyelids
As if in dream. She gets out of bed
And with soft tread walks to her
Mistress’s bed side and looks down.
She holds her breath. She takes in
Each aspect of the face and neck
And how the hair is spread upon
The pillow. She wants to lean down
And kiss the lips, put flesh to flesh.
She hovers like some hawk waiting
To fly down and take her fine prey.
She breathes out slowly. She watches
The rise and fall of her mistress’s breast.
She moves out a hand to lay it there
But does not touch. She imagines so.
Imagines also climbing into the bed
And snuggling up close and kissing
The nape of neck. Her hand lingers
Over the breasts. Her eyes greedily
Study the soft cheek. She breathes
In deep. Her heart pounds within her
Breast. So near so near. She imagines
Lying within those arms and feeling
The hands caress her back. Her mistress
Stirs and she moves away. Walks back
To her own bed to await the light of day.
poem by Terry Collett
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Bianca
Her cheeks are hot, her cheeks are white;
The white girl hardly breathes to-night,
So faint the pulses come and go,
That waken to a smouldering glow
The morbid faintness of her white.
What drowsing heats of sense, desire
Longing and languorous, the fire
Of what white ashes, subtly mesh
The fascination of her flesh
Into a breathing web of fire?
Only her eyes, only her mouth,
Live, in the agony of drouth,
Athirst for that which may not be:
The desert of virginity
Aches in the hotness of her mouth.
I take her hands into my hands,
Silently, and she understands;
I set my lips upon her lips;
Shuddering to her finger-tips
She strains my hands within her hands.
I set my lips on hers; they close
Into a false and phantom rose;
Upon her thirsting lips I rain
A flood of kisses, and in vain;
Her lips inexorably close.
Through her closed lips that cling to mine,
Her hands that hold me and entwine,
Her body that abondoned lies,
Rigid with sterile ecstasies,
A shiver knits her flesh to mine.
Life sucks into a mist remote
Her fainting lips, her throbbing throat;
Her lips that open to my lips,
And, hot against her finger-tips,
The pulses leaping in her throat.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Breathe Me
Come closer;
I need to feel
your body
heat.
Your breath,
on my face;
I paint
you inside my eyes
so I can see you
all the time-
look at the
nape
of your neck,
its curvature;
your eyes.
All slopes away
to my waiting soul
which pauses
at odds times
in the day to
look at you.
My finger tip
has a tiny glow
as I trace
across your lips;
as I move close behind you
worshiping in that cathedral body space
between us;
static electricities crackle;
small lighting bolts
spark.
Give me;
your anticipation;
drape me
in your contour
as we
sooth screaming desire
furtively.
Put my hand
beside your face;
my mouth to your mouth
as I feel your body tingling
tremoring,
soft quakings
from kneading touches
which occasion
others:
stellar propulsions
and more lighting strike intensities.
You exhale slowly;
intake again,
swelling;
your breath is a
warm effusion and egress
surging into me
lung ward
between soft lips;
where all settles in
like home;
I feel you quiver
and release.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Near Yet So Far Away
you are just a breath
away from my
face. My fingers want
to jump off
my hands to
run over you
and indulge
in the lust of touch
and caress
my tongue wants
to run away
with your lips
my thigh
trembles beside
your hands
you are so near
yet
something holds
me away from you
(how can i
ever explain it?)
as i take
a glance, for the last
time at you
beside the glass window
of the car
i finally look down
and wish that
i kiss your feet
(i am in a
quandary between
shame and
satiation)
so near and
yet so far, i close
my eyes
and travel
inside my veins
my blood pumps
up and says
be good
take care as i leave
you are so
far now,
at the end,
at a certain edge
even the hands of my dreams
shy away
to hold and kiss
your shadow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Let Them In
[edwin]
Let them in, peter
For they are very tight
Give them couches where the angels sleep
And let those free
Let them wake up whole again
To brand new dreams
And fired by the sun
Not wartimes bloody guns
And may their peace be deep
Remember where the broken bodies lie
God knows how young they were to have to die
Well, God knows how young they were to have to die
[jewel]
Give them things they like
Let them make some noise
Give (? ? ) armbands and golden harps to these old boys
Let them love, peter
For theyve had no time
They should have birds, songs, and trees
And hills to climb
The task of summer
In a ripened pear
And girls as sweet as meadow wind with flowing hair
And tell them how they are missed
But say not to fear
Its gonna be all right with us down here
Its gonna be all right with us down here
[edwin & jewel]
Let them in, peter
For they are very tight
Give them couches where the angels sleep
And let those free
Let them wake up whole again
To brand new dreams
And fired by the sun
Not wartimes bloody guns
And may their peace be deep
Remember where the broken bodies lie
God knows how young they were to have to die
And tell them how they are missed
But say not to fear
Its gonna be all right with us down here
Its gonna be all right with us down here
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I heard my name associated with the Peter Pan syndrome more than once. But really, what's so wrong with Peter Pan? Peter Pan flies. He is a metaphor for dreams and faith.
quote by Mark Burnett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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