A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXIII
Voltaire and Rousseau, these were thy twin priests,
Proud Mother Nature, on thy opening day.
The first with bitter gibes perplexed the feasts
Of thy high rival, and prepared the way;
The other built thy shrine. 'Twas here, men say,
De Warens lived, whose pleasure was the text
Of the new gospel of the sons of clay,
The latest born of time, by faith unvexed.
Here for a century with reverent feet
Pilgrims, oppressed with barrenness of soul,
Toiled in their tears as to a Paraclete.
On these white hills they heard Earth's thunders roll
In sneers outpreaching the lost voice of God,
And shouted ``Ichabod, ay, Ichabod!''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXI
To Switzerland, the land of lakes and snow,
And ancient freedom of ancestral type,
And modern innkeepers, who cringe and bow,
And venal echoes, and Pans paid to pipe!
See, I am come. And here in vineyards, ripe
With sweet white grapes, I will sit down and read
Once more the loves of Rousseau, till I wipe
My eyes in tenderness for names long dead.
This is the birthplace of all sentiment,
The fount of modern tears. These hills in me
Stir what still lives of fancy reverent
For Mother Nature. Here Time's minstrelsy
Awoke, some century since, one sunny morn,
To find Earth fortunate, and Man forlorn.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Childless Woman
O Mother of that heap of clay, so passive on your breast,
Now do you stare at death, woman, who yesterday were blest?
Now do you long to fare afar, and guide him on the way
Where he must wander all alone, his little feet astray?
But I now, but I now—
Sons of me seven and seven
The high God seals upon the brow,
And summons from his heaven.
Blest as a bride were you, woman, that time of years agone,
When love, giver of life, came close and led you to his throne.
And blest were you—have you forgot?—when through the moons of pain
The life love-given tugged at your heart and bound you with its chain.
But I now, but I now—
Seared by the high God's scorn—
Lives that will never come to birth
Body of me has borne.
And when the hour was come, woman, your dark and perilous hour,
When the twin spirits, Death and Life, clutched you with jealous power,
Rent by their war you lay half lost, until a baby's cry
Summoned you forth past world on world to sit with God on high.
But I now, but I now—
Never my baby's voice
Has called me forth from vales of woe
With seraphs to rejoice.
You in your arms have clasped him, woman, and fed him at your breast.
You sang him little songs at night, and lulled him to his rest.
The ages gone were yours then, and yours the years to be.
You gave him of your hope and saw the light no eye shall see.
But I now, but I now—
Sons of me born in dream
Cry out for robes of flesh; I see
Their wistful eyes agleam.
O mother of that heap of clay so passive on your breast—
Now do you stare at death, woman?—nay, peace, for you are blest.
Blest are you in your joy, woman, blest are you in your pain—
Once more he calls you past the worlds to sit. with God again.
But I now, but I now—
Sons of me nine and nine,
That looked on life and death with me,
Are neither God’s nor mine.
poem by Harriet Monroe
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Nature's Sellout
Nature's Sellout
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted August 26,2009
A sprinkling of sunshine to sellout on the plants
While mother nature wrapped up in her shawl,
She is watching nature’s splendors around her...
It really is a paradise:
A paradise of mother nature
From earths dust on nature’s crust.
The dewy drops on mushroom caps
Are nothing less than mother nature tears,
From rolling laughter... it’s perhaps:
Mother nature with claps of thunder with lighting.
Are mother nature tears throughout the years
The crystal glow in woodland streams.
Reflects the light of mother nature
Instead of sunshine, as it seems,
When mother nature showers fall to earth:
When mother nature falls to the earth.
It seems like sunshine on the streams
The twinkling in the starry sky.
Is nothing less than mother nature
That interrupt the flares on high,
The glow of nature’s moonlit blinks:
The moonlit blinks are mother nature
That twinkle high in starry sky.
poem by Lori Triggs
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A Tribute to S.P.T
The daring soul
Born to be born in death
A hundred deaths he shall endure
Only to be born again as martyr
To decorate his blood with bravery.
The lost is felt across the seas
All over the universe the tears roll
To bath your departure in this final path
Stars and moon too have been wailing here
A sign that in this fall you have risen again
To live in the hearts of many soul.
It’s painful to bear the end
That comes abrupt
The smile and voice buried now
Will come again a hundred fold
And run run and run, thy enemies shall run.
A smiling tiger, your departure is premature
Rare indeed a man of your stature
Born only to be born again as martyr
To decorate your blood with bravery.
Mother earth is proud to consume you
For you have stood the test for loyalty
In justice to free the anarchy of the south
Fearless indeed your move
Like a tiger your steps you placed ever.
Happy sojourn, dear fighter.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 041107.
poem by cyclopseven Ram
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The World’s Justice
If the sudden tidings came
That on some far, foreign coast,
Buried ages long from fame,
Had been found a remnant lost
Of that hoary race who dwelt
By the golden Nile divine,
Spake the Pharaoh's tongue and knelt
At the moon-crowned Isis' shrine-
How at reverend Egypt's feet,
Pilgrims from all lands would meet!
If the sudden news were known,
That anigh the desert-place
Where once blossomed Babylon,
Scions of a mighty race
Still survived, of giant build,
Huntsmen, warriors, priest and sage,
Whose ancestral fame had filled,
Trumpet-tongued, the earlier age,
How at old Assyria's feet
Pilgrims from all lands would meet!
Yet when Egypt's self was young,
And Assyria's bloom unworn,
Ere the mythic Homer sung,
Ere the gods of Greece were born,
Lived the nation of one God,
Priests of freedom, sons of Shem,
Never quelled by yoke or rod,
Founders of Jerusalem-
Is there one abides to-day,
Seeker of dead cities, say!
Answer, now as then, THEY ARE;
Scattered broadcast o'er the lands,
Knit in spirit nigh and far,
With indissoluble bands.
Half the world adores their God,
They the living law proclaim,
And their guerdon is-the rod,
Stripes and scourgings, death and shame.
Still on Israel's head forlorn,
Every nation heaps its scorn.
poem by Emma Lazarus
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Jump!
He heard the planets being born,
he heard the dinosaur's first roar
he heard the voice of Hebrew slaves
plummeting to earth that day.
He thought he heard the voice of God
the devil too and all his souls,
he thought he heard the angels sing
within white clouds, enchantingly.
And there above the planet, blue,
his heart beat out a merry tune
but none did hear it beat so swift
or heard his gasping, breathlessness.
‘Twas faster than the speed of sound
he catapulted to the ground
per chance to land upon his feet,
his own demise he aimed to cheat.
Then standing on the earths hard crust
he brushed aside his tousled fringe
as though he'd been out for a jog
all cavalier and nonchalant.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Not Against Anybody
I am not against anybody
I have clarified clear
If you are going to say
I feel painful to hear.
Animals birds fishes all are
My brothers and sisters
We are all sons daughters of
His Highness
All are sons and daughters of
This soil Mother Earth.
I respect shared value
I respect human value
I respect natural law
We are all matured man
Of this latest century
It is not good to think
Otherwise at any point of time
At any place against anybody.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Cry
its difficult to love you
when you do the things you do
time and time again
and when i try to turn it off
you turn from smooth
you play it rough once again
pride that pulls me into this ocean
subsides again
so high and so dry
with this bitter emotion lies again
you make me cry
make me cry again
and you make me cry
and the tears roll by again
saturday, same old story
sunday mornings wounded glory repeats again
and every day a dream thats born
is counted by a love thats torn, deep again
pride that pulls me into this ocean
subsides again
so high and so dry
with this bitter emotion lies again
you make me cry
you make me cry again
and you make me cry
and the tears roll by again
you make me cry (ha ah ah)
you make me cry again (ah ah)
you make me cry
and you make me cry (ah ha ah)
you make me cry again
and you make me cry (ah ha ah)
the tears roll by again
and you make me cry (ah ha ah)
you make me cry again
and you make me cry
the tears roll by again
you make me cry (ah ahhh)
you make me cry (ah ahhh)
you make me cry (ah ahhh)
you make me cry (ah ahhh)
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Laid So Low
Chewed the bone down too low
Got fed on tea and sympathy
Blew the sail like the wind
I wish you were my enemy
I was humble for you
What a fool i've been to have
Laid so low for so long
Into that void of silence
Where we cry without sound
Where tears roll down
Where tears roll down
And where your mother's violence
Sent your soul underground
Where tears roll down
Where tears roll down
Drew the blade way too slow
Was shackled by your honesty
Made a mess, i guess i have should have known
That life was lust and liberty
Not a chance mutation or the last temptation
Laid so low for so long, so low
Into that void of silence
Where we cry without sound
Where tears roll down
Where tears roll down
And where your mother's violence
Sent your soul underground
Where tears roll down
Where tears roll down
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mighty Mum!
As Mighty Mum prepared her day,
Her little list grew long,
But she cast all her doubts away,
My word, she's really strong!
Her faith was but a mustard seed,
A teeny-weeny thing,
Yet she knew where such faith could lead,
What wonders God could bring!
As Mighty Mum, with kids in tow,
Drove onwards to their school,
She prayed their minds would someday know
That love's the Golden Rule...
If not for love, she'd stand no chance!
Her powers soon would fade...
She knew God's powers would enhance
To help her make the grade...
As Mighty Mum kissed kids bye-bye,
She waved then bid farewell,
To speed along, morale still high,
As if saved by the bell...
Now orf to work! So orf she went
Intent to do her best,
Where every one was like a friend
By whom she was impressed...
As Mighty Mum arrived on time,
She organised each task,
As if each mountain meant to climb
And folks had but to ask...
She toiled and toiled and toiled and toiled,
Yet teamwork worked O.K.
Such that each setback had been foiled!
Yeah, praise the Lord! Hoorah!
As Mighty Mum left work once more,
The shopping must be done!
She'd saved a fortune that's for sure!
In fact, she thought it fun!
Then she drove home, then made the tea,
Then heard the mobile phone...
'Hey, Mighty Mum! It's half-past-three!
We're still at school alone! '
As Mighty Mum left home again,
She made her way to school,
She knew kids don't forget this when
Their Mum thinks she's so cool...
But Mighty Mum had come this far!
She prayed that she'd improve...
'God help me be their Superstar! '
And that's the Gospel Truth...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Bread-Knife Ballad
A little child was sitting Up on her mother's knee
And down down her cheeks the bitter tears did flow.
And as I sadly listened I heard this tender plea,
'Twas uttered in a voice so soft and low.
"Not guilty" said the Jury And the Judge said "Set her free,
But remember it must not occur again.
And next time you must listen to you little daughter's plea,"
Then all the Court did join in this refrain.
Chorus:
"Please Mother don't stab Father with the BREAD-KNIFE,
Remember 'twas a gift when you were wed.
But if you must stab Father with the BREAD-KNIFE,
Please Mother use another for the BREAD."
poem by Robert William Service
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The Laws Of Mother Nature
The bird born in an aviary and raised in captivity
Can never live in Nature's World amongst the wild and free
Even the birds of it's own species will peck it till it die
So never allow your feathered pet the freedom of the sky.
I am naive of the laws of Mother Nature and naive of Nature's way
And for interfering with Nature there is some price to pay
The bird born in captivity in a cage must remain
Why even it's own kind in the wilds would kill it is beyond me to explain
Humans try to manipulate Nature and Nature's creatures control
But Mother Nature far greater than Human kind her's is an eternal soul
For we are like Nature's Seasons we come to life and go
Yet of our Earth Mother who feeds us so little we seem to know.
The bird born in captivity in a cage condemned to stay
For if released the other birds will kill it since this is Nature's way
And Mother Nature herself as old as father time
She claims the young and she claims the old and those still in their prime.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Worship of Nature
The harp at Nature's advent strung
Has never ceased to play;
The song the stars of morning sung
Has never died away.
And prayer is made, and praise is given,
By all things near and far;
The ocean looketh up to heaven,
And mirrors every star.
Its waves are kneeling on the strand,
As kneels the human knee,
Their white locks bowing to the sand,
The priesthood of the sea!
They pour their glittering treasures forth,
Their gifts of pearl they bring,
And all the listening hills of earth
Take up the song they sing.
The green earth sends its incense up
From many a mountain shrine;
From folded leaf and dewy cup
She pours her sacred wine.
The mists above the morning rills
Rise white as wings of prayer;
The altar-curtains of the hills
Are sunset's purple air.
The winds with hymns of praise are loud,
Or low with sobs of pain, --
The thunder-organ of the cloud,
The dropping tears of rain.
With drooping head and branches crossed
The twilight forest grieves,
Or speaks with tongues of Pentecost
From all its sunlit leaves.
The blue sky is the temple's arch,
Its transept earth and air,
The music of its starry march
The chorus of a prayer.
So Nature keeps the reverent frame
With which her years began,
And all her signs and voices shame
The prayerless heart of man.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Mr. Clay’s Reception At Raleigh, April, 1844
Salute the august train! a scene so grand,
With every tuneful band;
The mighty brave,
His country bound to save,
Extends his aiding hand;
For joy his vot'ries hoop and stamp,
Excited by the blaze of pomp!
Let ev'ry eye
The scene descry,
The sons of freedom's land.
They look ten thousand stars! lamp tumbler blaze,
To give the Hero praise!
Immortal Clay,
The cause is to pourtray!
Your tuneful voices raise;
The lights of our Columbian sun,
Break from his patriotic throne;
Let all admire
The faithful sire,
The chief musician plays.
Ye bustling crowds give way, proclaims the drum,
And give the Patriot room;
The cannon's sound,
The blast of trumpets bound,
Be this our father's home;
Now let the best musician play,
A skillful tune for Henry Clay!
Let every ear
With transport hear!
The President is come.
Let sister states greet the Columbian feast,
With each admiring guest;
Thou art our choice!
Let ev'ry joyful voice,
Sound from the east to west;
Let haughty Albion's lion roar,
The eagle must prevail to soar;
And in lovely form,
Above the storm,
Erect her peaceful nest.
Beyond each proud empire she throws her eye!
Which lifted to the sky,
No thunders roll,
To agitate her soul,
Beneath her feet they fly!
Let skillful fingers sweep the lyre,
Strike ev'ry ear! set hearts on fire!
Let monarchs sleep
Beyond the deep,
And howling faction die.
Nor hence forget the scene applauding day,
When every heart was gay;
The universal swell
Rush'd from the loud town bell;
In awful, grand array,
We see them form the bright parade;
And hark, a gladdening march is play'd!
Along the street,
The theme is sweet,
For every voice is Clay.
To the Capitol the low and upland peers
Resort with princely fears,
And homage pay;
A loud huzza for Clay!
Falls on our ears;
Loud from his lips the thunders roll,
And fill with wonder every soul;
Round the sire of state
All concentrate,
And every mortal hears.
poem by George Moses Horton
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Rejected
Alas ! I have lost my God,
My beautiful God Apollo.
Wherever his footsteps trod
My feet were wont to follow.
But Oh ! it fell out one day
My soul was so heavy with weeping,
That I laid me down by the way ;
And he left me while I was sleeping.
And my soul awoke in the night,
And I bowed my ear for his fluting,
And I heard but the breath of the flight
Of wings and the night-birds hooting.
And night drank all her cup,
And I went to the shrine in the hollow,
And the voice of my cry went up :
' Apollo ! Apollo ! Apollo ! '
But he never came to the gate,
And the sun was hid in a mist,
And there came one walking late,
And I knew it was Christ,
He took my soul and bound it
With cords of iron wire,
Seven times round He wound it
With the cords of my desire.
The cords of my desire,
While my desire slept, ,
Were seven bands of wire
To bind my soul that wept.
And He hid my soul at last
In a place of stones and (ears,
Where the hours like days went past
And the days went by like years.
And after many days
That which had slept awoke,
And desire burnt in a blaze,
And my soul went up in the smoke.
And we crept away from the place
And would not look behind,
And the angel that hides his face
Was crouched on the neck of the wind.
And I went to the shrine in the hollow
Where the lutes and the flutes were playing,
And cried : ' I am come, Apollo,
Back to thy shrine, from my straying.'
But he would have none of my soul
That was stained with blood and with tears,
That had lain in the earth like a mole,
In the place of great stones and fears.
And now I am lost in the mist
Of the things that can never be,
For I will have none of Christ
And Apollo will none of me.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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Earth Wind & Fire
Maurice white & skip scarborough
Are you satisfied
In your life and time
Does it clear you mind
With all the hurt you find
Built on mother earth
They were meant to stay
Nations bloom today
On gifts of yesterday
Born of the earth, are nature's children
Fed by the wind, the breath of life
Judged by the fiery hands of god
World goes by the hand
Of the master plan
Can't you understand
You're but a grain of sand
Do you need a guide
To make you feel satisfied
Head to the sky
Will tell you why
Born of the earth, are nature's children
Fed by the wind, the breath of life
Judged by the fiery hands of god
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kings Of The Day
(regis diem)
Heroes of the future
The keepers of the past
And objects of our beauty
Remaining till the last
Walking on the water
The oceans at our feet
The passage of our nature
The taste of bitter-sweet
So shall we be kings?
Born just to win
Proud voices sing
And we wish that this life would go on and on
Looking in the distance
The fever on the street
Cast away the covers
Let my people see
Rulers of the network
Leaders from the dark
Embrace a generation
The first will be the last
So shall we be kings?
Born just to win
Proud voices sing
And we wish that this life would go on and on
Shall we be kings?
Born just to win
Proud voices sing
We will never give up till the day is done
Shall we be kings?
Born just to win
Proud voices sing
And we hope that the word will live on and on
Time waiting
Time taking
Life
Music & lyrics by: geoff downes & john payne
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Lady of Health, Vailankanni (Lourdes of the east)
Devotees walk upon their knees,
On sandy paths that's burning hot,
Unmindful of the scorching sun,
To see the Mother miraculous.
They show their faith and gratitude,
Through arduous journey from their homes;
And have a glorious glimpse of her -
The Virgin Mary, Christ's mother.
Throughout the year, millions throng here,
To see the one, who calmed the sea,
for sailors who had prayed for help,
and built a chapel, thanking her!
The shrine has turned Basilica,
Attracting pilgrims world-over;
Promising miracles to those,
Who put their trust on Mother dear.
Many come here to tonsure heads,
Or bore ear-lobes of their children;
As part of pilgrimage of towns,
To cope better life's ups and downs!
Many come here for inner peace
Of heart and mind, eluding long;
And purify their soul by grace,
By Mary's intercession fast.
Some come to spend their holidays,
To take some rest, and watch the sea!
The mystifying place has ways
To tread road to eternity!
Masses are said so frequently;
The church choir sings good melodies;
The lights and décor - feast to eyes,
that feel on earth, heavenly scene!
With gifts and offerings galore,
The pilgrims share testimonies
Of miracles that Mary wrought,
Healing the sick, diseased, infirm!
Candles are lit throughout the day;
Flowers are offered by pilgrims;
Prayers and hymns resound always;
Incense ascends heaven's stair-ways!
The Mother with her baby boy
Smiles heavenly to one and all,
And promises miracles, joy,
To those who pray, heeding her call!
The Indian Lourdes of the east!
Is spreading bliss and piety,
As Jesus lovingly obeys
His Mother's wishes, and requests!
Oh, what a way to get things done,
from Jesus Lord, Mary's own son!
The Queen of heaven and of earth,
God-blessed remains for Christ Lord's birth!
The tsunami that hit the coast
just stopped, short of the Church's steps!
Nature could not profane the place
of sanctity of Christ's Mother!
The place is much better these days,
As tall buildings afill landscape;
More pilgrims pray with piety
To Blessed Mary Ev'r Virgin,
Reciting rosaries to get
through Mary, favours from Jesus;
Purifying heart, mind and soul,
To enter God's abode - Heaven.
poem by John Celes
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The Beggar's Valentine
Kiss me and comfort my heart
Maiden honest and fine.
I am the pilgrim boy
Lame, but hunting the shrine;
Fleeing away from the sweets,
Seeking the dust and rain,
Sworn to the staff and road,
Scorning pleasure and pain;
Nevertheless my mouth
Would rest like a bird an hour
And find in your curls a nest
And find in your breast a bower:
Nevertheless my eyes
Would lose themselves in your own,
Rivers that seek the sea,
Angels before the throne:
Kiss me and comfort my heart,
For love can never be mine:
Passion, hunger and pain,
These are the only wine
Of the pilgrim bound to the road.
He would rob no man of his own.
Your heart is another's I know,
Your honor is his alone.
The feasts of a long drawn love,
The feasts of a wedded life,
The harvests of patient years,
And hearthstone and children and wife:
These are your lords I know.
These can never be mine —
This is the price I pay
For the foolish search for the shrine:
This is the price I pay
For the joy of my midnight prayers,
Kneeling beneath the moon
With hills for my altar stairs;
This is the price I pay
For the throb of the mystic wings,
When the dove of God comes down
And beats round my heart and sings;
This is the price I pay
For the light I shall some day see
At the ends of the infinite earth
When truth shall come to me.
And what if my body die
Before I meet the truth?
The road is dear, more dear
Than love or life or youth.
The road, it is the road,
Mystical, endless, kind,
Mother of visions vast,
Mother of soul and mind;
Mother of all of me
But the blood that cries for a mate —
That cries for a farewell kiss
From the child of God at the gate.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Oh! Departed Soul
Oh! Departed Soul,
Look behind a while,
How quicker the sighs consumed!
How sooner dried the tears!
How avaricious are the sons and daughters,
To feast heartily the carnal needs,
Upon the wealth you left behind,
Which you earned unscrupulously,
Being heedless to death and God.
It built the high walls of hatred,
Between brothers and sisters,
It made blood white and thin,
They fight as do the vultures,
To devour the putrid flesh,
From the skeleton of carcass.
While quarreling over the shares,
They often give indignant remarks,
On you who toiled a lot the life whole.
Oh! Departed Soul,
Now you might have realized,
That the worldly riches bear shame,
In the Glorious Court,
When heaped up not righteously,
And giving the posterity good men,
Is much better than hoarding
Gold and wealth, the cause of disruption
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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