The Secret Of The Grail
What was magi mystery;
of mesmeric long-haired kings?
What was the mystery of the long-haired kings?
A secret the Cathars knew.
The Knights Templar their military arm,
did guard this secret well.
On pain of rack, through branding iron
And cruel thumb-screw,
they gritted teeth and suffered hell -
still none would tell.
The word San-Greal means Holy Grail
Sang-Real means of the blood.
A royal bloodline from the son -
heirs of a spirit pure and just.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Long Haired Lady
Well, well, well, well, well,
Do you love me like you know you ought to do?
Well, well, well, well, well,
Or is this the only thing you want me for?
Well, Ive been meaning to talk to you about it for sometime,
Sweet little lass, you are my long haired lady.
Whos the lady that makes that brief occasional laughter?
Shes the lady we wears those flashing eyes.
Wholl be taking her ome when all the dancing is over?
Im the lucky man she will hypnotize.
Long haired lady. long haired lady.
Ah, love is long, love is long, love is long.
Ah, when youre wrong, love is long, love is long.
Well, well, well, well, well,
Do you love me like you know you ought to do?
Well, well, well, well, well,
Or is this the only thing you want me for?
Well, Ive been meaning to talk to you about it for sometime,
Sweet little lass, you are my long haired lady.
Bells are buzzing about my sweet delectable baby,
Birds are humming about their big surprise.
Whos your favorite person, dear phenomenal lady?
I belong to the girl with flashing eye.
Long haired lady. long haired lady.
Ah, sing your song, love is long, love is long.
Ah, love is long, love is long, love is long.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Secret Lives
I dont know
I dont know whats on your mind
I thought everything was fine
But it was my surprise.
I dont know
I dont know whats going on
Something surely must be wrong
Youre living secret lives.
Chorus:
Living secret lives, secret lives
And I wonder where she goes to in the night
In secret lives.
Wish I knew
Wish I knew where I fit in
Wish that I knew everything
About your secret lives.
If it means
If it means that much to you
I dont want to stop the things you do
I dont need alibis.
Repeat chorus
I dont care
I dont care what goes on there
So long as one day I can share
Share your secret lives.
Repeat chorus
Repeat chorus
Repeat chorus
Secret lives, secret lives
Secret lives, secret lives...
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My American Dream
Author unknown (sung by dan peek)
Found on heard.
I always thought that I wanted a long, new, shiny cadillac
That a real man wears five hundred dollar suits upon his back
I always thought that I needed a big, old house with a million dollar view
But baby, since we fell in love, all I needed is you
Waking up (waking up) to my american dream
Shes a long haired, blue eyed, country girl
Shes better than a fantasy
Waking up (waking up) to my american dream
And I would not trade the whole wide world
For what she means to me
Shes pretty as the moonlight on the gulf of mexico
And her heart is pure and true as any california gold
I put her on a pedastel like lady liberty
Know there is no finer girl from sea to shining sea
Im waking up (waking up) to my american dream
Shes a long haired, blue eyed, country girl
Shes better than a fantasy
Waking up (waking up) to my american dream
And I would not trade the whole wide world
For what she means to me
Waking up (waking up) to my american dream
Shes a real live, blue eyed, country girl
The best thing Ive ever seen
And I would not trade the whole wide world
For what she means to me
Im waking up (waking up) to my american dream
Im waking up (Im waking up) to my american dream
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tis America.... (You Vote)
the long haired tongues
of your poet kings,
burnt tenement stoops,
crack dusted windows.
bare breasted brown skinned girls,
popping gum on skates.
the ghosts of lost fathers,
who swallowed heroin spoons,
or bodies of the movement,
long dead of hunger and want.
no job, get a gun,
locks are made to be broken...
higher education,
behind white tainted bars.
when equality means,
an equal chance to die,
and living tastes like daylight,
sucked through a straw!
tis America, you vote,
sell blood, pop a car.
heroes die in Afghanistan,
schools smell like waiting.
and the name on the mailbox...
is vacant!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magus Magi (Gift of the Magi)
(use of famous quoutation[s] within poetry)
Here I sit booked and waiting
I recall your voices and remember
Remember the things you taught me
December the Kings who do me
Frankincense, Myrrh and Gold
Remember the things you bought me
The Three Kings and this star
Adoration of the magi
The Three Wise Men and the stars above
Journey of the magi
The many wise men and me
Gift of the magi
The Three Kings and me makes four
Magus society
Adoration of the magi
Journey of the magi
Magus journey
Gift of the magi
Magus society
'Did you stay up last night (the Magi did)
To see the star shower known as Leonid
That once a year by hand or apparatus
Is so mysteriously pelted at us? '
'To study the stars upon the wide, boundless sea, is divine as it was to the Chaldean Magi, who observed their revolutions from the plains.'
'We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.'
'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey'
poem by Alexis Pena Goco
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Montsgur
I stand alone in this desolate space
In death they are truly alive
Massacred innocence, evil took place
The angels were burning inside
Centuries later I wonder why
What secret that they took to their grave
Still burning heretics under our skies
Religion's still burning inside
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god will know his own
The innocents died for the pope on his throne
Catholic greed and its paranoid zeal
Curse of the grail and the blood of the cross
Templar believers with blood on their hands
Joined in the choruse to kill on demand
Burned at the stake for their soul's liberty
To stand with the cathars to die and be free
The book of old testament crippled and black
Satan his weapon is lust
Living this evil damnation of flesh
Back to the torture of life
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god know his own
Laugh at the darkness and in god we trust
The eye of the triangle smiling with sin
No passover feast for the cursed within
Facing the sun as they went to their grave
Burn like a dog or you live like a slave
Death is the price for your soul's liberty
To stand with the cathars and to die and be free
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Mrunal Nandankar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Brie Carter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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268
Can you keep a secret?
I ask you
I will test you
About my loneliness
It is a secret
That I keep
And I want to share
It with you
If you can keep
A secret
You cannot
Keep a secret
Today a friend
Calls
911
For me
And so
my loneliness
Has spread
From one mouth
To another
Throughout the world
And all my friends
And acquaintances
Call today
Telling me
We share the same secrets
But I am lonelier
ever
I have another secret
That I can no longer
Share with you
You cannot keep a secret
You never knew
what delicate means
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Secrets
Can you keep a secret?
I ask you
I will test you
About my loneliness
It is a secret
That I keep
And I want to share
It with you
If you can keep
A secret
You cannot
Keep a secret
Today a friend
Calls
911
For me
And so
my loneliness
Has spread
From one mouth
To another
Throughout the world
And all my friends
And acquaintances
Call today
Telling me
We share the same secrets
But I am lonelier
ever
I have another secret
That I can no longer
Share with you
You cannot keep a secret
You never knew
what delicate means
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Uneasy Curiosity
One particular night
I was drifting like an aimless breeze
And walked into a 24 hour grocery store;
I saw a raven-haired woman
In a long black dress
Purchasing cigarettes and mints.
I failed to speak to her
But was strangely obsessed
By her existence.
Breathing with uneasy curiosity,
I followed her down the summer midnight street
To a dark residence of illicit mystery;
I saw her exchange a secret sign
With a motorcycle hood
With a dragon tattoo
Branded upon his throat.
I also attempted to enter
This foreboding lair
By imitating the secret sign,
But the leather jacket
Attached to the motorcycle
Put a knife to my heart and said,
“There are a lot of ways
To be discovered dead,
Find a different one than this tonight.”
I then journeyed
To the nearest bar
To commiserate with a gentle alcoholic
Who was also taking his time to expire.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thumbnails and finger ends
A book of learned scholarship,
open in my hands, at the first page…
and then I saw, to the right of it,
my thumb nail…and marvelled –
at its perfection, at its beauty,
and at my own ignorance –
which strangely, was all part
of that same beauteous perfection…
the thumbnail: curved, as a hollowed claw,
the curve I knew would give it added strength;
sitting as secure as any child of love,
within the folded mystery of skin and flesh;
three-coloured: pale rising moon
emerging from its secret nail-bed
as some goddess might appear;
then the subtle shades of rosy pink,
hinting at blood serving readily
the nail’s demands;
finally, the top (long, shaped, as best to gouge
potato’s eyes, and other kitchen tasks…) :
I looked at it, and marvelled:
the whole creation, conspiring to present
this perfect thing…
Fifty years and more ago, I wrote,
in those years when I despaired
of making sense of so-called ‘adult’ world,
sitting at the desk, to find myself
before setting off to earn my daily bread,
I wrote – in lines that never quite linked up
their visioned moments into complete poems,
on white and yearning pages like a life unwrit:
‘we know not our own finger ends…’
The wrinkled thumb and finger – they have lasted;
the holy mystery - praise God - remains.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Knight Of The Realm
When he was young, he learnt to fight, yet not to prove his power.
He was a hero not through might, but that he would not cower.
He chose his battles not for fame, but for good reasons why,
For what good was a foolish aim if he should lose and die?
When he was young, he learnt to pray for courage and resolve.
He studied Scripture every day in order to evolve.
A man is more than flesh and bones and more than muscles, too.
More known for what his heart condones and if his word is true.
When he was young, his parents taught respect and courtesy,
So that temptations never caught the man he chose to be...
Thus years passed by and wisdom smiled and gave his spirit peace.
By faith he served, as if God's child, his good works to increase.
When he was young, Christ used him most, a champion of the Lord.
And while he travelled coast-to-coast, his fame was not ignored.
He counselled lost souls to repent, he shared God's gentle grace,
Because Christ was his one true friend, the Judge that all must face.
When he was young, he had no wife, no heirs to call his own,
Instead, he offered Christ his life, as knights serve kings alone...
The Holy Grail was like his muse, yet faith more wisdom brings...
No better king should a knight choose than Christ the King of Kings!
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Secret World
Within the world a mystery
A secret behind every eye
However small it may be
A thought or action taken
Retains the deceiving truth
That all we know, is what we see
And that a foundation of belief
To trust and hold faith in others
Is a choice to live in peace
And to disturb such innocence
Breaks the illusion created
And deepens the mystery
The look inside each eye
Tells of a duel being fought
To believe or to suspect
All that is seen and known
And there is found another truth
That the world retains itself
A secret to lie in mystery
poem by Matthew Holloway
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King Of Kings
Behold the son of royal birth,
Aligned by blood, no less,
To ancient kings who proved their worth
And ones God chose to bless.
Consider all that history
Has taught us through the years,
Each miracle, each mystery,
The laughter and the tears...
Consider how each king is raised
From birth to adulthood...
As if like diamonds, well appraised,
Superior not just good...
Reflect on posture that's portrayed
To signify his throne...
That tells you he must be obeyed,
For he is king alone...
Remember all his mighty power,
His strength and bravery.
For he is king and you should cower
At all there is to see.
That majesty, that dignity,
That stare that meets your eyes...
Should grant your soul some clarity
And help you realise...
That here he is, the king of kings...
Perhaps your friend or foe...
In either case, his underlings...
What more is there to know?
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'King Of Kings'.
While this poem is about the lion painting,
the poem is written without any reference
to the lion at all. That's because of the
Christian symbolism of Jesus, the Son of God,
whose royal ancestors meant that He was
called the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.
The poem ends with the realisation for each soul.
Are you a friend or a foe to the King of Kings?
More Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Emerald Eyes
Written by bob welch.
You dont know what she means to me
Shes a heart that beats close to me
And gettin back to the way I feel
Her honest word is my only real thing
When she comes to me then I feel fine
And Im not afraid but so gratified
Emerald eyes is a mystery
Starin through to the heart of me
Find, emerald eyes in the night
Gleamin shiny and bright
As if covered with silver
Shes still a mystery to me
The way she sails away slow
Makes your day to day life easy
Emerald eyes is a mystery
Shes my place of serenity
And gettin back to the way I feel
Her honest word is my only real thing
Only an honest word, maybe a sky report
Could be a weather bird it was so close to me
Emerald eyes is a mystery
Shes my place of serenity
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hutterite Mile
on from here walkin dreams awake
i think not i think not
the sky comes king blown in every direction
and of no country
i am straw
it is no mystery
i know my way from here
iron sharpens iron
crooked wooden and peacock black
i have your feathers
slung across my back
i'm not the only one
to help you down the hill
my blue knuckles do as they will
it is no mystery
i know my way from here
it is no mystery
i know my way from here
one as precious as the other
they go with me
today i am not a false conscience
a tyrant
angels line my pockets dear
i walk a hutterite mile
look at me this once
put an eye to my step
look and furrow
its only misery its only ankle deep
it is no mystery
i know my way from here
it is no mystery
i know my way from here
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The union of the Word and the Mind produces that mystery which is called Life... Learn deeply of the Mind and its mystery, for therein lies the secret of immortality.
Hermes Trismegistus in Divine Pymander
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grail
In the village Bellastrino
On the craggy Tuscan hills,
Lies an old abandoned Abbey
And the Church of San Michele,
Though the village was abandoned
There are two who would not go,
The Abbot, Father Grandier,
The Priest, Don Angelo.
The Abbey on the mountain top,
The Church down in the dell,
They'd fought, these two, for twenty years
Consigning each to Hell!
For in the Church of San Michele
Before the village failed,
Down in the crypt, beneath the floor
They'd found the Holy Grail.
A bowl, fine wrought in pale green glass,
There's no room for debate,
The Templar Knights had left it in
Eleven eighty-eight,
They'd always said they would return,
In fact, they never did,
They went to challenge Saladin
And died, as they had lived!
‘It's mine, ' said Father Grandier,
‘Not so, ' said Angelo,
‘I found it and I'm keeping it,
Here, in the Church below.'
‘It should be in the Abbey, '
Father Grandier opined,
‘Its glory on the mountain top…'
‘Not so! The Grail is mine! '
For years the two had tussled
Had approached the Holy See,
The Pope thought it ridiculous
And said: ‘Don't bother me!
We have two dozen of those things,
A heap of rusty nails,
All from the Cross at Calvary
But these are peasant tales.'
A Cardinal then came to call
And tried to sort them out,
Well practiced in diplomacy
He said: ‘No need to shout!
You have a choir each, ' he said
‘Who visit in the spring,
So hold a competition here,
What better way, than sing? '
‘The better choir shall win the Grail
And keep it for a year,
Up in the Abbey's mountain top,
Or down here, if you dare.
Then sing for it each passing year,
Three judges, understood?
If one should win it three years straight
They keep the Grail for good! '
With many muttered mumblings
And hellfire in their eyes,
The Abbot and the priest said yes,
Dissembled with their lies,
They each set out to cheat their way
To keep that Holy Grail,
The Abbot got to pick each judge
He thought he couldn't fail!
The Abbey won the first two years
And held the Grail on high,
While poor Don Angelo despaired,
The time was coming nigh;
They had to sing for it once more,
He knew that if he failed,
The Abbot would, victorious,
Not let him keep the Grail.
Don Angelo went down to Rome
And brought a tenor back,
His voice like rich red Tuscan wine
To join his choir's attack,
They sang their hearts out on the day
But saw the judges feign,
And shake their heads, Don Angelo
Had nothing left to gain.
The judge stood up to name the prize,
The Abbot had his way,
The tenor stood and sang a note
Not heard since Jesu's day,
He held it long, unwavering
The Grail began to ring,
A long high-pitched reverberance,
The Grail began to sing.
A minute there, without a breath
The tenor held his tone,
And Grandier stood up, alarmed,
Let out a fervid moan,
The Grail sang on, then shattered
Fell in pieces to the floor,
The judge stood up and shook his head,
Then said - ‘The sing's a draw! '
The Abbey holds the base of it,
Up on the mountain top,
All glued together, like some vase
Bought in the Red Cross Shop.
While down there in the little Church
On a thousand Euro tips,
They're coining them a fortune with
The rim that touched his lips!
1 September 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mystery and Secret
Where is the mystery
Where is the secret
Life is a bet
We are our mate
We must be truthfull
Within us
We embodied entire universe.
Come and sing
The glory of the universe
Come and see
Multicolored
Multifacted universe
Declared we are for us.
We know the purpose
We know how to depict the universe
And we know the universe is
Within us
It is the mystery
It is the secret
We have with us.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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