Sunday-Sweet-Sunday
Bucholic 'tis this season...
Down the lane the church bells ring-
Springs in the air-and salvation 'tis everywhere...
As a choir of sweet song birds sing;
Pastoral influence dominates me now...
Ever aware in my believing mind...
I hold church twenty-four-seven-
Celebrating with my Savior most kind;
For He has given us so very much...
Why just look at the green tree and baby wren...
Move your eyes over to the babbling brook...
And smell the fragrant blooms in the glen;
He has given us so much to believe in...
Even in a world oft' painted in sorrow and pain...
He gives us blue skies when over-run by grey ones...
And sunshine following a tempest of rain;
For He is a most loving power...
So willing to love and forgive-
I will celebrate-Sunday-Sweet-Sunday-
For as long as upon this earth i live;
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
November Love (My First Poem) (Two Versions)
Below, you will see two versions of my very first poem.
Its important to understand that the first version of the poem
is exactly as I wrote it at 6: 15 to 6: 30 PM on November 2nd
1970. I made no changes to it. It is also important to know
that this was, in fact, my first ever attempt to write a poem
of any kind whatsoever. The second version is modified from
the first because I wanted to demonstrate how a few simple
word changes can convert a rather average poem of some
quality into a poem of great quality and structure.
In early November the air is clear
With many sounds of lovers near.
Not as the April birds that sing
Nor as the Sunday church bells ring.
But rather to the rhythm of rain,
The hearts of lovers beat again.
For it's not true love that blooms in spring
Nor is it of love that birds do sing.
Rather of that love soon gone
And never seems to carry on.
That April love that all partake,
But very few ever make.
It's all year long this false love swells
Till in November true love dwells.
In November the air is clear
With many sounds of lovers near.
Not as the April birds that sing
Nor as the Sunday church bells ring.
Rather to the rhythm of rain,
The hearts of lovers beat again.
It's not true love that blooms in spring.
Nor is it love, that birds will sing.
But rather of that love soon gone
Which never seems to carry on.
That April love that all partake
And very few will ever make.
It's all year long this false love swells
Till in November, true love dwells.
I have removed the voting option on this poem
and placed it in my Hall Of Fame, due to its
history described above and its usefulness as
an example to the readers.
poem by Greenwolfe 1962
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Another Sunday
I know you've been dreaming 'bout the times in our lives
But I've been screaming in my bed late at night
A space a little, little and your stack of pain
Makes it grip that skull, to me child that you'll stay
You've been in my life so long, can I get through to you
I touch you eyes and it shades my life blue
There's something I need to say before it's to late
But I won't hold you back, while I'm begging you to stay
Just another Sunday
Just another Sunday
Oh yaaa, just another Sunday
Just another Sunday, oh yaaa
There's too many games in a day for a simple man to face
That desperate moment in your life where you can't be afraid
Don't think your second chance will break around the bend
'Cos hearts don't always share love, or the person on the other
end
You've been in my life so long, can I get through to you
I touch you eyes and it shades my life blue
There's something I need to say before it's to late
But I won't hold you back, while I'm begging you to stay ya
Just another Sunday yaa
Just another Sunday oh baby
It's only one more Sunday
Just another Sunday, oh yaaa
Those are tickets for the same plane, bring it back to me
'Cos felling the same pain makes half the luxery
Take a walk away won't end the carousel
But if walking away can bring you back, then I wish you well
You've been in my life so long, can I get through to you
I touch you eyes and it shades my life blue
There's something I need to say before it's to late
But I won't hold you back, while I'm begging you to stay
Just another Sunday yaa
Just another Sunday oh baby
It's only one more Sunday
Just another Sunday
It's just another Sunday
It's just another
Just another Sunday
Just another oh yaa
Just another Sunday
song performed by by Guns N' Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Glen Song
There's a green glen in Eirinn,
A green glen in Eirinn!
Do you remember yet, a gradh, the sunshine of that day,
How the the river ran before us, and the fleckless blue hung o'er us,
And against the purple heather gleamed the yellow of the hay?
There's a green glen in Eirinn,
A green glen in Eirinn!
Where on a dew-wet swinging spray brown throstles trilled above,
And the blackbird carolled after in a silver rain of laughter,
And the little linnet piped its song that has no theme but Love.
There's a green glen in Eirinn,
A green glen in Eirinn!
'Twas sweet with you beside me in a world of harvest gold:
The sallaghs made a shadow in a corner of the meadow,
And your eyes were wells of kindness, and my hand lay in your hold.
There's a green glen in Eirinn,
A green glen in Eirinn!
The voice of Spring comes on the winds like cuckoo calling clear
She bids us fare together, nor heed the fitful weather–
And seek in yon green glen the joy that waits our hearts, my Dear.
poem by Anna Johnston MacManus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sundays Mondays
Written by: lenny kravitz/henry kirsch
The sun is out
The clouds are slowly going
And now my heart is growing fast
So lets get up
Put on you hat and clothing
Lets take a trip and lose our minds
Lets go walking through the park today
I love sunday mondays any day
When the skies are blue and its not grey
Ill take sunday mondays any every day
Sometimes its fun
To just escape and run
And leave the troubled world behind
So lets get lost
And get our juices flowing
And lets go see what we can find
Lets go walking through the park today
I love sunday mondays any day
When the skies are blue and its not grey
Ill take sunday mondays any every day
Lets go walking through the park today
I love sunday mondays any day
When the skies are blue and its not grey
Ill take sunday mondays any every day
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Morning
Maurice white, sheldon reynolds & allee willis
Intro chorus:
Ooh, sunday morning
You;re gonna find my love shining on you
Oh, Im waiting
And my heart is anticipating
Your face
On my pillow
Feel sunshine pouring through the window
Like the grapes on the vine
Love gets sweeter with time
You were made to love
Chorus:
Ooh, sunday morning (Ill see you sunday morning)
Ooh, sunday morning
Its like the best of everything falling on you
Your eyes
Shining on me
Youre the brightest star, that ever could be
Your kiss
Oh, Im so thankful
The love that we share, Im sincerely grateful
The wind blowin in the tree
Singing love songs to me
Singing you were made to love
Chorus:
Ooh, sunday morning (Ill see you sunday morning)
Youre gonna find my love shining on you
Ooh, sunday morning
Its like the best of everything falling on you
Ooh, sunday morning (Ill see you sunday morning)
When we shared sweet love like no other
Ooh, sunday morning
Like a summer day with your lover
Ooh sunday morning (Ill see you sunday morning)
When we shared sweet love like no other
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Mondays
The sun is out
The clouds are slowly going
And now my heart is growing fast
So lets get up
Put on you hat and clothing
Lets take a trip and lose our minds
Lets go walking through the park today
I love sunday mondays any day
When the skies are blue and its not grey
Ill take sunday mondays any every day
Sometimes its fun
To just escape and run
And leave the troubled world behind
So lets get lost
And get our juices flowing
And lets go se what we can find
Lets go walking through the park today
I love sunday mondays any day
When the skies are blue and its not grey
Ill take sunday mondays any every day
Lets go walking through the park today
I love sunday mondays any day
When the skies are blue and its not grey
Ill take sunday mondays any every day
song performed by by Vanessa Paradis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas party at the South Danbury Church
December twenty-first
we gather at the white Church festooned
red and green, the tree flashing
green-red lights beside the altar.
After the children of Sunday School
recite Scripture, sing songs,
and scrape out solos,
they retire to dress for the finale,
to perform the pageant
again: Mary and Joseph kneeling
cradleside, Three Kings,
shepherds and shepherdesses. Their garments
are bathrobes with mothholes,
cut down from the Church's ancestors.
Standing short and long,
they stare in all directions for mothers,
sisters and brothers,
giggling and waving in recognition,
and at the South Danbury
Church, a moment before Santa
arrives with her ho-hos
and bags of popcorn, in the half-dark
of whole silence, God
enters the world as a newborn again.
poem by Donald Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bredon Hill
In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away:
'Come all to church, good people;
Good people, come and pray.
But here my love would stay.
And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
'Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time.
But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strewn,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unbeknown
And went to church alone.
They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.
The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum.
'Come all to church, good people,' -
Oh, noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All I'm Thinkin' About
One, two, three, four
Blind man wavin' by the side of the road
In a flatbed Ford carryin' a heavy load
Sweet thing sipping on a blueberry wine
On a flat black highway down in Carolina
Black bird slipping in a sky of blue
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you, honey
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
There ain't nothing in this world I can do about it
All I'm thinkin' about is you
Little boy carryin' a fishing pole
Little girl pickin' huckleberries from off of the vine
Brown bag filled with a little green toad
We hook him through the the lip and throw him off with a line
A sweet pair of legs got me feelin' so blue
And all I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
There ain't nothing in this world I can do about it
All I'm thinkin' about is you
Black car shiny on a Sunday morn'
Mama go to church now
Mama go to church now
Friday night and Daddy's shirt is torn
Daddy's going downtown
Daddy's going downtown
Ain't no one understand the sweet thing you do
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
Ain't nothing in this world I can do about it
All I'm thinkin' about is you
Whoaaa
Field turned up, the seed is sowed
Rain comin' in from over across the road
Big black curtain comin' across the field
Blind will see and lame will be healed
Brown-eyed girl, turn my back on you
Now it's lonely
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
And all I'm thinkin' about is you
And all I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
There ain't nothing in this world take away these blues
All I'm thinkin' about is you
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
Well baby, all I'm thinkin' about is you
Yeah all I'm thinkin' about is you
Ain't nothing in this world I can do about it
All I'm thinkin' about is you
Whoaaa
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church Bells Ring
The church bells ring merrily
their wake up call
for all those sinner to repent
the sins they committed all week.
In their Sunday best
looking smartly dressed,
they amble down to the church
and take their place on a pew.
After several hymns they sing,
the minister gives his address
of how the evils of the world
are creeping up on all of us.
How we must be always wary
in everything we do
as the devil is always waiting
just to ensnare you.
More prayers and hymns follow
and then they are on their way.
However, did they learning anything
while they were at church today,
sadly for a lot
what was said went in one ear
and went out the other,
for during the week
they follow the same path
and go about sinning again.
19 February 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet Mama Blue
Written by orbison/melson.
I know a place in new orleans.
They call the castle of kings and queens.
Where an old sweet black woman sings.
And plays piano like a dream.
She puts out all her beautiful heart and soul for you.
Sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue will only sing about the truth.
And it will get to you.
Sweet mamma blue will sing of love as only she can do.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue
One night I stayed past closing time.
Sweet mamma blue my troubled mind.
She sang the night away for me.
She made me see what I couldnt see.
That only by loving life will all your dreams come true.
Sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue will only sing about the truth.
And it will get to you.
Sweet mamma blue will sing of love as only she can do.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue.
They say shes gone from misery.
But she still lives in my memory.
I still can see her smile and say
Ill bet you make it all the way.
If you will try the lord will surely see you through
.
Sweet mamma blue,
The world sure will miss you.
And when I feel blue I think of you.
Sweet mamma blue.sweet mamma blue.
Sweet mamma blue...
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church On Sunday
Today is the first day of the rest of our lives
Tomorrow is too late to pretend everything's alright now
I'm not getting any younger as long
As you don't get any older
I'm not gonna state that yesterday never was
Bloodshot
Deadbeat and lack of sleep
Making your mascare bleed
Tears down your face
Leaving traces of my mistakes
When I say
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
I hereby solemny swear to tell the whole truth
And nothing but the truth is what I'll ever hear from you
"Thrust" is a dirty word that comes from such a liar
But "Respect" is something I will earn
If you have faith
Bloodshot
Deadbeat and lack of sleep
Making your mascare bleed
Tears down your face
leaving traces of my mistakes
When I say
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
Let's go
Ohhhhhhhhh........
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
And this compromise
It's a compromise
song performed by by Green Day from Warning
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Kind Of Love
I want a sunday kind of love.
A love to last, past saturday night.
Id like to know its more than love at first sight.
I want a sunday kind of love.
And I want a, a love thats on the square.
Cant seem to find somebody, someone to care.
And Im on a lonely road that leads to nowhere.
I need a sunday kind of love.
I do all my sunday dreaming, and all my scheming.
Every minute, every hour, every day
And Im hoping to discover a certain kind of
Lover who will show me the way.
And my arms need someone to enfold
To keep me warm when mondays and tuesdays grow
Cold. and I need a love for all my life to have
And to hold.
I want a sunday kind of love.
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Village Green
Out in the country,
Far from all the soot and noise of the city,
Theres a village green.
Its been a long time
Since I last set eyes on the church with the steeple
Down by the village green.
twas there I met a girl called daisy
And kissed her by the old oak tree.
Although I loved my daisy, I saw fame,
And so I left the village green.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And now all the houses
Are rare antiquities.
American tourists flock to see the village green.
They snap their photographs and say gawd darn it,
Isnt it a pretty scene?
And daisys married tom the grocer boy,
And now he owns a grocery.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And I will return there,
And Ill and daisy,
And well sip tea, laugh,
And talk about the village green.
We will laugh and talk about the village green.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lilah, Alice, Hypatia
To Alice and Hypatia Bradlaugh
Who was Lilah? I am sure
She was young and sweet and pure;
With the forehead wise men love,-
Here a lucid dawn above
Broad curved brows, and twilight there,
Under the deep dusk of hair.
And her eyes? I cannot say
Whether brown, or blue, or grey:
I have seen them brown, and blue,
And a soft green grey-the hue
Shakespeare loved (and he was wise):
'Grey as glass' were Silvia's eyes.
So to Lilah's name above
I will add two names I love,
Linking with the bracket curls
Three sweet names of three sweet girls:-
Sunday of Saint Valentine,
Eighteen hundred sixty-nine.
poem by James Thomson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Surprise, Surprise
Sweet as the smell of success
Her body's warm and wet
She gets me through this god awful lonliness
A natural high butterfly oh i,
I need, need, need her
Just like a willow tree
A breath of spring you see
And oh boy you don't know what she do to me
She makes me sweat and forget who i am
I need, need, need, need her
Well i was wondering how long this could go on, on and on
Well i thought i could never be surprised
But could it be that i bit my own tongue
Oh yeah, it's so hard to swallow when you're wrong
A bird of paradise
The sunrise in her eyes
God only knows such a sweet surprise
I was blind she blew my mind think that i
I love, love, love, love, love her
I love her, i love her, i love her, i love her
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XXXI: Oft Do I Muse
Oft do I muse whether my Delia's eyes
Are eyes, or else two fair bright stars that shine;
For how could nature ever thus devise
Of earth on earth a substance so divine.
Stars sure they are, whose motions rule desires,
And calm and tempest follow their aspects;
Their sweet appearing still such power inspires
That makes the world admire so strange effects.
Yet whether fixt or wand'ring stars are they,
Whose influence rule the Orb of my poor heart;
Fixt sure they are, but wan'ring make me stray,
In endless errors whence I cannot part.
Stars then, not eyes, move yet with milder view
Your sweet aspect on him that honors you.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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Sundays Past
On Sunday mornings you would wear a dark suit
With a tie and shiny shoes you are ready to en route
The church bells would ring calling for morning mass
While you check the weather through the window glass
A last glance in the mirror and you are on your way
You join the church goers without any further delay
Walking over uneven cobblestones in our small town
Children would jump on the sidewalks up and down
Dressed up for church everyone is wearing their best
Thinking about the priest and what they have to confess
Men lifting their dark hats as they wish a Good Morning
Then pass by the cemetery bowing heads as in mourning
The church bells now ringing louder and more demanding
Calling all sinners to mass without misunderstanding
I always knew that right then the decision was made
And it was agreed to skip church without being afraid
Through the old alley you and others took a known detour
Heading straight to the pub on the corner that is for sure
Around noon I would go to meet my father by the church
And he would talk about mass having done some research
At home my mother would just smile and shake her head
While my father gave her a wink that was hardly misread
Joking around we would eat lunch smiling with every bite
Keeping my father's Sunday secret and the world was alright
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Joyride
Oh my sweet lover,
Save the last penny for me my love;
And let us play along only with the tunes of lovers!
Like the Hall of Fame and the cross cultures around.
Deep down in my heart is my mind on you always,
So ris eup and shine and never be late!
For being with you is always like the sweet songs of love;
Kiss my lips and never look back on this love.
You dancing shoes are needed tonight so,
Come and let me take you on a joyride with my heart;
And let me bring out the sunshine of light out of the darkness!
The church bells are ringing for you and i but,
This love is stronger than the sounds of the bells!
For you've got heaven in your eyes my sweet one.
Oh my dark lake of love,
Let me take a joyride with you!
For you are always on my mind and,
The sweet songs of love flows around you always;
For you are the one for me on this joyride.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Church Bells
Church Bells
Once I lived in a charming English village, near
an ancient church, every Sunday morning
on my only day off, the bloody bells chimed.
Thought I saw a woman cycling to mass in
the mist, and it wasn´t Germaine Greer.
When Muslims ruled Andalusia, they tolerated
Christians, but a poet of that time -Ibn Baqi-
circa 1059 1112, wished they wouldn´t clang
bells so hard waking him up when air was cool,
sleep sweet and his Christian mistress had to
get up and go to mass. So far nothing has
changed, dear Ibn Baqi, the bells keep on tolling
poem by Oskar Hansen
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