Near Lanivet 1872
There was a stunted handpost just on the crest,
Only a few feet high:
She was tired, and we stopped in the twilight-time for her rest,
At the crossways close thereby.
She leant back, being so weary, against its stem,
And laid her arms on its own,
Each open palm stretched out to each end of them,
Her sad face sideways thrown.
Her white-clothed form at this dim-lit cease of day
Made her look as one crucified
In my gaze at her from the midst of the dusty way,
And hurriedly 'Don't,' I cried.
I do not think she heard. Loosing thence she said,
As she stepped forth ready to go,
'I am rested now.-Something strange came into my head;
I wish I had not leant so!'
And wordless we moved onward down from the hill
In the west cloud's murked obscure,
And looking back we could see the handpost still
In the solitude of the moor.
'It struck her too,' I thought, for as if afraid
She heavily breathed as we trailed;
Till she said, 'I did not think how 'twould look in the shade,
When I leant there like one nailed.'
I, lightly: 'There's nothing in it. For YOU, anyhow!'
-'O I know there is not,' said she . . .
'Yet I wonder . . . If no one is bodily crucified now,
In spirit one may be!'
And we dragged on and on, while we seemed to see
In the running of Time's far glass
Her crucified, as she had wondered if she might be
Some day.-Alas, alas!
poem by Thomas Hardy
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The Maori Pig Market
In distant New Zealand, whose tresses of gold
The billows are ceaselessly combing,
Away in a village all tranquil and old
I came on a market where porkers were sold --
A market for pigs in the gloaming.
And Maoris in plenty in picturesque rig
The lands of their forefathers roaming,
Were weighing their swine, whether little or big,
For purchasers paid by the weight of the pig --
The weight of the pig in the gloaming.
And one mighty chieftain, I grieve to relate,
The while that his porker was foaming
And squealing like fifty -- that Maori sedate,
He leant on the pig just to add to its weight --
He leant on the pig in the gloaming.
Alas! for the buyer, an Irishman stout --
O'Grady, I think, his cognomen --
Perceived all his doings, and, giving a shout,
With the butt of his whip laid him carefully out
By the side of his pig in the gloaming.
A terrible scrimmage did straightway begin,
And I thought it was time to be homing,
For Maoris and Irish were fighting like sin
'Midst war-cries of "Pakeha!" "Batherashin!"
As I fled from the spot in the gloaming
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Love Crucified
Love crucified will come to life
And banish agony and strife,
Love crucified will live again
And show to foolish, doubting men
That Jesus lives beyond the grave
And fulfils the promises He gave.
Love crucified has saved my soul
And made my broken spirit whole;
There is no need for indecision
Or for the world's puffed-up derision,
My splintered heart has peace at last
Now that its suffering has passed.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Venetian Night
Her eyes in the darkness shone, in the twilight shed
By the gondola bent like the darkness over her head.
Softly the gondola rocked, lights came and went;
A white glove shone as her black fan lifted and leant
Where the silk of her dress, the blue of a bittern's wing,
Rustled against my knee, and, murmuring
The sweet slow hesitant English of a child,
Her voice was articulate laughter, her soul smiled.
Softly the gondola rocked, lights came and went;
From the sleeping houses a shadow of slumber leant
Over our heads like a wing, and the dim lagoon,
Rustling with silence, slumbered under the moon.
Softly the gondola rocked, and a pale light came
Over the waters, mild as a silver flame;
She lay back, thrilling with smiles, in the twilight shed
By the gondola bend like the darkness over her head;
I saw her eyes shine subtly, then close awhile:
I remember her silence, and, in the night, her smile.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Hymn XXVIII: Love Divine! What Hast Thou Done!
Love divine! what hast thou done!
The immortal God hath died for me!
The Father's co-eternal Son
Bore all my sins upon the tree;
The immortal God for me hath died!
My Lord, my Love is crucified.
Behold him, all ye that pass by,
The bleeding Prince of life and peace!
Come, see, ye worms, your Maker die,
And say, was ever grief like his?
Come, feel with me his blood applied:
My Lord, my Love is crucified.
Is crucified for me and you,
To bring us rebels back to God:
Believe, believe the record true,
Ye all are bought with Jesu's blood,
Pardon for all flows from his side;
My Lord, my Love is crucified.
Then let us sit beneath his cross,
And gladly catch the healing stream,
All things for him account but loss,
And give up all our hearts to him;
Of nothing think or speak beside,
'My Lord, my Love is crucified.'
poem by Charles Wesley
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Hymn XXVIII: Love Divine! What Hast Thou Done!
Love divine! what hast thou done!
The immortal God hath died for me!
The Father's co-eternal Son
Bore all my sins upon the tree;
The immortal God for me hath died!
My Lord, my Love is crucified.
Behold him, all ye that pass by,
The bleeding Prince of life and peace!
Come, see, ye worms, your Maker die,
And say, was ever grief like his?
Come, feel with me his blood applied:
My Lord, my Love is crucified.
Is crucified for me and you,
To bring us rebels back to God:
Believe, believe the record true,
Ye all are bought with Jesu's blood,
Pardon for all flows from his side;
My Lord, my Love is crucified.
Then let us sit beneath his cross,
And gladly catch the healing stream,
All things for him account but loss,
And give up all our hearts to him;
Of nothing think or speak beside,
"My Lord, my Love is crucified."
poem by John Wesley
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I Will Trust The Crucified
Though the world my choice deride,
I will trust the Crucified
Who for my redemption died.
I will trust the Crucified.
Oh! my soul, how great thy loss
But for His redeeming Cross!
All thy treasures count but dross,
All but His redeeming Cross.
I will trust Thy Love divine,
Which has made me ever Thine,
Which has made Thee ever mine!
I will trust Thy Love divine.
Let Thy Love still hold me fast,
And when earth for me is past,
When I reach my home at last,
Still Thy Love shall hold me fast.
All my joy and all my pride
Centre in the Crucified!
And whatever me betide,
I will trust the Crucified!
poem by Alfred Gibbs Campbell
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Above All
Above all kingdoms
Above all thrones
Above all wonders
The world has ever known
Above all wealth
And treasures of the earth
There's no way to measure
What You're worth.
Above all powers
Above all kings
Above all nature
And all created things
Above all wisdom
And all the ways of man
You were here
Before the world began.
Crucified
Laid behind the stone
You lived to die
Rejected and alone
Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
Above all.
Crucified
Laid behind the stone
You lived to die
Rejected and alone
Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
Above all.
Crucified
Laid behind the stone
You lived to die
Rejected and alone
Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
Above all.
Like the rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
Above all.
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Annie Christian
Annie christian wanted to be number 1
But her kingdom never comes, thy will be done
She couldnt stand the glory, she would be 2nd to none
The way annie tells the story, shes his only son
Annie christian wanted to be a big star
So she moved to atlanta and she bought a blue car
She killed black children, and whats fair is fair
If u try and say ure crazy, everybody say electric chair
Electric chair
Annie christian, annie christ
Until ure crucified, Ill live my life in taxicabs
Annie christian, annie christ
Until ure crucified, Ill live my life in taxicabs
Annie christian was a whore always looking for some fun
Being good was such a bore, so she bought a gun
She killed john lennon, shot him down cold
She tried to kill reagan, everybody say gun control
Gun control
Annie christian, annie christ
Until ure crucified Ill live my life in taxicabs
Annie christian, annie christ
Until ure crucified Ill live my life in taxicabs
Liar liar liar! got ya in a jam
Put your head on the block, somebody say abscam
Abscam
Annie christian, annie christ
Until ure crucified Ill live my life in taxicabs
Annie christian, annie christ
Until ure crucified Ill live my life in taxicabs
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picasso
A sacred monster corridor crucified
Creating a fetish against the evil
Swallowed by perceptive realities
In an unlimited freedom of expression
Creating a fetish against the real
To scare off the pictures of mutilations
To scare off the SS Guernica creators
Handing her over into their arms
Saying Go ahead take this little postcard
You made it
A scared monster corridor crucified
Saw all the colours of the blue
Madness the doctors pronounced lol
He said sorry I had no other paint
Picasso sacred Picasso scared
Nailed within a spelling mistake
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A Lounger
He leant against a lamp-post, lost
In some mysterious reverie:
His head was bowed; his arms were crossed;
He yawned, and glanced evasively:
Uncrossed his arms, and slowly put
Them back again, and scratched his side--
Shifted his weight from foot to foot,
And gazed out no-ward, idle-eyed.
Grotesque of form and face and dress,
And picturesque in every way--
A figure that from day to day
Drooped with a limper laziness;
A figure such as artists lean,
In pictures where distress is seen,
Against low hovels where we guess
No happiness has ever been.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Crucifixion of Christ
Composed, by Special Request, 18th June 1890
Then Pilate, the Roman Governor, took Jesus and scourged Him,
And the soldiers platted a crown of thorns, and thought it no sin
To put it on His head, while meekly Jesus stands;
They put on Him a purple robe, and smote Him with their hands.
Then Pilate went forth again, and said unto them,
Behold, I bring Him forth to you, but I cannot Him condemn,
And I would have you to remember I find no fault in Him,
And to treat Him too harshly 'twould be a sin.
But the rabble cried. Hail, King of the Jews, and crucify Him;
But Pilate saith unto them, I find in Him no sin;
Then Jesus came forth, looking dejected and wan,
And Pilate saith unto them, Behold the Man.
Then the Jews cried out, By our laws He ought to die,
Because He made Himself the Son of God the Most High;
And when Pilate heard that saying the Jews had made,
He saw they were dissatisfied, and he was the more afraid.
And to release Jesus Pilate did really intend,
But the Jews cried angrily, Pilate, thou art not Caesar's friend,
Remember, if thou let this vile impostor go,
It only goes to prove thou art Caesar's foe.
When Pilate heard that he felt very irate,
Then he brought Josus forth, and sat down in the judgment-seat,
In a place that is called the Pavement,
While the Blessed Saviour stood calm and content.
The presence of His enemies did not Him appal,
When Pilate asked of Him, before them all,
Whence art Thou, dost say from on High?
But Jesus, the Lamb of God, made no reply.
Then saith Pilate unto Him, Speakest Thou not unto me,
Remember, I have the power to crucify Thee;
But Jesus answered, Thou hast no power at all against me,
Except from above it were given to thee.
Then Pilate to the Jews loudly cried,
Take Him away to be crucified;
Then the soldiers took Jesus and led Him away,
And He, bearing His Cross, without dismay.
And they led Him to a place called Golgotha,
But the Saviour met His fate without any awe,
And there crucified Him with two others, one on either side,
And Jesus in the midst, whilst the Jews did Him deride.
Then Pilate tried to pacify the Jews, they felt so morose,
And he wrote a title, and put it on the Cross;
And the title he wrote did the Jews amuse,
The writing was, Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews.
This title read many of the Jews without any pity;
And the place where Jesus was crucified was nigh to the city;
And the title was written in Hebrew, and Greek, and Latin,
And while reading the title the Jews did laugh and grin.
While on the Cross the sun refused to shine,
And there was total darkness for a long time;
The reason was God wanted to hide His wounds from view,
And He kept the blessed sun from breaking through.
And to quench His thirst they gave Him vinegar and hyssop,
While the blood from His wounded brow copiously did drop,
Then He drank of it willingly, and bowed His head,
And in a few minutes the dear Saviour was dead.
Then Joseph of Arimathea sadly did grieve,
And he asked if Pilate would give him leave
To take the body of Jesus away,
And Pilate told him to remove it without delay.
Then Joseph took the body of Jesus away,
And wound it in linen, which was the Jewish custom of that day,
And embalmed his body with spices sweet,
Then laid it in a new sepulchre, as Joseph thought meet.
But death could not hold Him in the grave,
Because He died poor sinners' souls to save;
And God His Father took Him to Heaven on high;
And those that believe in Jesus shall never die.
Oh! think of the precious Blood our Saviour did loss,
That flowed from His wounds while on the Cross,
Especially the wound in His side, made with a spear,
And if you are a believer, you will drop a silent tear.
And if you are not a believer, try and believe,
And don't let the devil any longer you deceive,
Because the precious Blood that Jesus shed will free you from all sin,
Therefore, believe in the Saviour, and Heaven you shall enter in!
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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A Love So Pure
Always did it on my own then one day I realized
I was blind,, nothing I could do on my own
Turn, we have found a way to see, look up... feel the Almighty
Take control as we gaze into your eyes
We're just the tool you use to bring this world to you
Oh, Lord, how we love you
With your grace, take away the hurt and the bruises inside,
reach down let your glory reside
The cross carried for all of us, paint the image in my mind
So I will never think I am something,
but nothing am I but you, you are something
Lord you keep me alive, you give me rest at night
When there seems no way to find calmness in the storm you come and
take me in your arms and then the waves drown me no more
With you I'll last this battle and many others
Through the ages your name will reigh forever... never to be replaced
In these trials I face, I pray you humble me
Humble me I want to be like you Jesus more and more like you
I was crucified on that day with Christ
Nailing you there with sin, accepting you
I nailed my soul to the cross and now my life begins
This world so cold but your love keeps me warm
My father holds me in his nailed scarred hands which I put there
But for some reason he still loves me with all his heart
Even through I betray him constantly
He always keeps his arms open waiting, till I give up my old was
God my father, you are the only one that can give me comfort
You touch my heart in such a way that all I can do is cry your name
Jesus Christ I love you
My heart aches for your love
song performed by by Underoath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Innocence never dies
Who says the Christ was crucified?
Who says the innocence ever died?
Christ just came to be our guide,
After the message he did hide.
Innocence is her Master’s bride,
Let your eyes be open wide;
San innocence life takes not stride,
San a villain the drama doesn’t glide.
Pleasures and pains are lighted fools,
They are just life’s drama’s tools;
Its stage is just a duality’s pool,
That is why Trinity our minds rule.
Nothing dies, nothing ever crucified,
The fault is with us, we are two eyed;
Unite with the One and ride your pride,
Let us be Radha, Lord Krishana’s bride.
This poem was composed in response to Vaibhav Shah’s composition ‘INNOCENCE CRUCIFIED’
poem by C.P. Sharma
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Art And Love
He faced his canvas (as a seer whose ken
Pierces the crust of this existence through)
And smiled beyond on that his genius knew
Ere mated with his being. Conscious then
Of his high theme alone, he smiled again
Straight back upon himself in many a hue
And tint, and light and shade, which slowly grew
Enfeatured of a fair girl's face, as when
First time she smiles for love's sake with no fear.
So wrought he, witless that behind him leant
A woman, with old features, dim and sear,
And glamoured eyes that felt the brimming tear,
And with a voice, like some sad instrument,
That sighing said, 'I'm dead there; love me here!'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Little People
'Twas a long bush night; and the old hut light
Shone out thro' the open door
To flood the knees of the great bush trees
And the scrub that grew before.
And, as I dreamed where the firelight gleamed,
And watched the long hours lag,
Came there to my shack Kilkenny Jack
With his fiddle in its green baize bag.
So I bade him sit and rest a bit,
And we yarned of this and that.
Pipes well alight, we watched the night
As he on his old swag sat.
'Lonesome, indade, this life we lade,'
Said he, 'Why let time drag
For me an' you?' And he stooped and drew
His fiddle from its green baize bag.
Then the scrub before the old hut door
Was people suddenly
With elfin' folk who rose and spoke
Strange, mystic things to me.
Then into the glare from the bracken there
The Little People crept;
And, suddenly, by fern and tree
The fairies danced and leapt.
Kilkenny Jack he leant him back,
And his bow went to and fro;
And there outside the banshees cried
In mournful tones and low.
And where the light stabbed thro' the night
To cast dark shades about,
In many a place I saw the face
Of a leprechaun peep out.
Then the music stopped; and Jack he dropped
His fiddle, and was done;
And into the night in sudden fright
I saw the small folk run . . .
Then off he went, his small form bent
'Neath his old, familiar swag
Upon his back - Kilkenny Jack,
With his fiddle in its green baize bag.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Sooner Than Later
At times, sooner than later, my friend, The Lord God will,
As The Sovereign Creator, His purpose in our lives fulfill,
Tying all back by the Savior, to the time on Calvary’s Hill,
When He forgave our behavior, as His blood men spilled.
It was God’s appointed time, in which Christ was crucified,
And the Father’s will and design, that Jesus bled and died,
Sins forgiven; yours and mine, no believer shall be denied,
Dying at that appointed time, “It is finished” our Lord cried.
From the cross to the grave, into the tomb Christ was laid,
In His death men were saved, as the price of sin was paid,
Into the world so depraved, by Him redemption was made,
And a way to Glory was paved, for His own, shall not fade.
From the grave into the sky; now at the Father’s right hand,
On a glorious throne on high, now reigning over every land,
Soon to return for you and I, in the rapture He has planned,
Then in view of every eye, on the earth, He again will stand.
In God’s time, all done for us, worldly men, lost in their sin,
For this sin, God will and must, judge this earth, all by Him,
Though we are all but dust, if we turn before He does begin,
And In Him, we put our trust, by His power, we eternally win.
(Copyright ©03/2008)
Maundy Thursday and Later.
Maundy Thursday. The church
Was packed. Full of incense.
Miss Dogberry sat at the back.
Mudrift watched her. He studied her.
The way her hair hung black and long.
Her broad bridged nose. Sat next to her.
She unaware. Priest proceeded with
The service. Miss Dogberry smelt Mudrift’s
Scent passions were stirred. She sniffed
Heavy her nose breathed deep. A bell
Was tolled. Candles were lit. Mudrift felt
Love or was it lust? Moved closer his thigh
Touched her thigh. Priest’s hands were
Raised host lifted high the Crucified the
Bloodied lamb. Miss Dogberry whispered
Softly do you sense it? Mudrift nodded
His loins stiffened. The last supper the Judas
Gone the Magdalene followed him out.
My place or yours? Mudrift muttered.
Mother’s at home Dogberry said no privacy.
Mudrift took her his hand in hers. I live alone
Mudrift muttered no disturbance. His room
Was warm smelt of old smoke and beds unmade.
He offered drinks and put on jazz with lights
Turned low. She undressed slow hand holding
Out each small item. Mudrift watched her
The nakedness revealed the plump body
The broad bridged nose the soft flesh lips
The melon breasts. Is that Stan Getz?
She asked Mudrift that baritone’s his
Saxophone. Mudrift nodded his mind on
Sex not saxophones or soft jazz tones.
He kissed her lips his arms embraced her
Ample flesh. She didn’t mind his lack of hair
On balding head or bearded face rubbing
Her chin. She wanted sex and saxophones
And him within. Maundy Thursday.
The Crucified above the bed upon a cross
Nailed hands out wide eyes looking down
Head to one side. Mudrift made love the
Magdalene Miss Dogberry gazed up above.
poem by Terry Collett
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December
December is the cruelest month
But this time for once my cheeks are warm
After long years in the monkey-house
I am ready for the storm
Let them throw all their cannonballs
Let all their strongmen come
Im ready to go anywhere
Through venom, sick and scum!
December isnt always cold
But this year shes mine and I know why
Somewhere a flower has to grow
For every flower that dies
Im stricken with fever
But my heart is strong as steel
Im ready to go anywhere!
I can believe, I can feel!
December is a trusted friend
I always recognise her face
Its a plague of fool blown aside
Forever by her soft and silent grace
She is reckless as a mayday
Gentle as a stone
And ready to go anywhere
To carry me back home!
December fell deep in the bleak
Mid-winter time when jesus christ
Howled a baby saviours howl
A primal truth as pure as ice
And though we crucified him on a cross
And dragged his name from payer to curse
He was able to go anywhere
He was almost one of us!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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December
December is the cruelest month
But this time for once my cheeks are warm
After long years in the monkey-house
I am ready for the storm
Let them throw all their cannonballs
Let all their strongmen come
Im ready to go anywhere
Through venom, sick and scum!
December isnt always cold
But this year shes mine and I know why
Somewhere a flower has to grow
For every flower that dies
Im stricken with fever
But my heart is strong as steel
Im ready to go anywhere!
I can believe, I can feel!
December is a trusted friend
I always recognise her face
Its a plague of fool blown aside
Forever by her soft and silent grace
She is reckless as a mayday
Gentle as a stone
And ready to go anywhere
To carry me back home!
December fell deep in the bleak
Mid-winter time when jesus christ
Howled a baby saviours howl
A primal truth as pure as ice
And though we crucified him on a cross
And dragged his name from payer to curse
He was able to go anywhere
He was almost one of us!
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Juliet After The Masquerade. By Thompson
SHE left the festival, for it seem'd dim
Now that her eye no longer dwelt on him,
And sought her chamber,--gazed, (then turn'd away),
Upon a mirror that before her lay,
Half fearing, half believing her sweet face
Would surely claim within his memory place.
The hour was late, and that night her light foot
Had been the constant echo of the lute;
Yet sought she not her pillow, the cool air
Came from the casement, and it lured her there.
The terrace was beneath, and the pale moon
Shone o'er the couch which she had press'd at noon,
Soft-lingering o'er some minstrel's love-lorn page,--
Alas, tears are the poet's heritage!
She flung her on that couch, but not for sleep;
No, it was only that the wind might steep
Her fever'd lip in its delicious dew:
Her brow was burning, and aside she threw
Her cap and plume, and, loosen'd from its fold,
Came o'er her neck and face a shower of gold,
A thousand curls. It was a solitude
Made for young hearts in love's first dreaming mood:--
Beneath the garden lay, fill'd with rose-trees
Whose sighings came like passion on the breeze.
Two graceful statues of the Parian stone
So finely shaped, that as the moonlight shone
The breath of life seem'd to their beauty given,
But less the life of earth than that of heaven.
'Twas PSYCHE and her boy-god, so divine
They turn'd the terrace to an idol shrine,
With its white vases and their summer share
Of flowers, like altars raised to that sweet pair.
And there the maiden leant, still in her ear
The whisper dwelt of that young cavalier;
It was no fancy, he had named the name
Of love, and at that thought her cheek grew flame:
It was the first time her young ear had heard
A lover's burning sigh, or silver word;
Her thoughts were all confusion, but most sweet,--
Her heart beat high, but pleasant was its beat.
She murmur'd over many a snatch of song
That might to her own feelings now belong;
She thought upon old histories she had read,
And placed herself in each high heroine's stead,
Then woke her lute,--oh! there is little known
Of music's power till aided by love's own.
And this is happiness: oh! love will last
When all that made it happiness is past,--
When all its hopes are as the glittering toys
Time present offers, time to come destroys,--
When they have been too often crush'd to earth,
For further blindness to their little worth,--
When fond illusions have dropt one by one,
Like pearls from a rich carkanet, till none
Are left upon life's soil'd and naked string,--
And this is all what time will ever bring.
--And that fair girl,--what can the heart foresee
Of her young love, and of its destiny?
There is a white cloud o'er the moon, its form
Is very light, and yet there sleeps the storm;
It is an omen, it may tell the fate
Of love known all too soon, repented all too late.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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