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The Triumph Of Heavenly Love Desired

Ah! reign, wherever man is found!
My spouse, beloved and divine!
Then I am rich, and I abound,
When every human heart is thine.

A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,
To think that all are not thine own:
Ah! be adored from pole to pole;
Where is thy zeal? arise; be known!

All hearts are cold, in every place,
Yet earthly good with warmth pursue;
Dissolve them with a flash of grace,
Thaw these of ice, and give us new!

poem by William Cowper
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Sonnet: Be Grateful to God

O Let my heart be loyal to Thee Lord,
My Creator and Maker of this world!
My Omnipotent, Omniscient God,
The mystery of mysteries unheard!

How can I ever repay Thy love, God?
Unfathomable love that made my soul!
And everything goes by Thy grace and Thine word,
In Heaven and on earth, from pole to pole.

No matter how the devil’s tempt me Lord,
Despite the many times, their prey I fall,
My soul get’s healed by Thy grace and Thine word,
And listens thereafter to Thine one call.

So, let my soul forever thank Thee, Lord,
Thou art my Savior, Friend and only God.

poem by John Celes
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A tribute to W.E.Henley 1849-1903

A tribute to W.E.Henley 1849-1903

Invictus.

Out of the night that covers me
dark as the pit from pole to pole.
I thank whatever Gods may be
for my unconquerable soul.

A Glosa

Out of the night that covers me.
I won’t relinquish my control
a man must challenge destiny.
To be the captain of his soul.

Black as the pit from pole to pole.
The darkness fails to frighten me,
I travel on towards my goal
pursue my quest relentlessly.

I thank whatever Gods may be
but I believe than on the whole.
That man has the ability
to win the battle for his soul.

For my unconquerable soul
will guard and guide me constantly.
As I perform my earthly role.
I can do all that’s asked of me.

04/05/2009

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Bande Mataram

Mother, I bow to thee!
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleams,
Cool with thy winds of delight,
Dark fields waving, Mother of might,
Mother free.

Glory of moonlight dreams
Over thy branches and lordly streams,
Clad in thy blossoming trees,
Mother, giver of ease,
Laughing low and sweet!
Mother, I kiss thy feet,
Speaker sweet and low!
Mother, to thee I bow.

Who hath said thou art weak in thy lands,
When the swords flash out in twice seventy million hands
And seventy millions voices roar
Thy dreadful name from shore to shore?
With many strengths who art mighty and stored,
To thee I call, Mother and Lord!
Thou who savest, arise and save!
To her I cry who ever her foemen drave
Back from plain and sea
And shook herself free.

Thou art wisdom, thou art law,
Thou our heart, our soul, our breath,
Thou the love divine, the awe
In our hearts that conquers death.
Thine the strength that nerves the arm,
Thine the beauty, thine the charm.
Every image made divine
In our temples is but thine.

Thou art Durga, Lady and Queen,
With her hands that strike and her swords of sheen,
Thou art Lakshmi lotus-throned,
Pure and perfect without peer,
Mother, lend thine ear.
Rich with thy hurrying streams,
Bright with thy orchard gleams,
Dark of hue, O candid-fair

In thy soul, with jewelled hair
And thy glorious smile divine,
Loveliest of all earthly lands,
Showering wealth from well-stored hands!
Mother, mother mine!
Mother sweet, I bow to thee,
Mother great and free.

poem by Sri Aurobindo
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Dear God

I’m yet to use my voice for Thine good sake;
I’m yet to use my sight wholly for You;
I’m yet to use my ears for divine cause;
Give me the chance to do so very soon!

I’m yet to use my hands for good purpose;
I’m yet to use my mind to search for truth;
I’m yet to use my heart to love Thee more;
Give me the chance to do so very soon!

I’m still to quench my thirst with Thine water;
I’m still to fill my soul with food of grace;
I’m still to touch the fringe of Your garment;
Give me the chance to do so very soon!

I’m still to use my talents for Thine sake;
I’m still to count the blessings God-given;
I’m still to reciprocate Your great love;
Give me the chance to do so very soon!
I’m still to confess all my sins to You;
I’m still to live as per the Word of God;
I’m still to walk with You in Heaven’s road;
Give me the chance to do so very soon!

poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: We Can See God

The Sun looks like Thine heart afilled with joy;
0 God, the Rain is like Thine compassion;
The Moon appears like Thine face as when coy;
The Galaxies are like divine Mansion.

The quadrillion stars look like Heaven's eyes;
The thunder seems to be Thine angry voice;
The Lightning is Thine pow'r of sample size,
The songs of birds akin Thine happy noise.

The verdure spring looks like Thine beauteous face;
The winter cold is Thine heart's discontent;
The summer’s yield is sign of Thine own pace;
The autumn’s wind appears to be Thine vent.

The earth is footstool for Thine lovely feet;
Thine Replica is Mother Nature sweet.

poem by John Celes
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Australian Anthem

Maker of earth and sea,
What shall we render Thee?
All things are Thine!
Ours but from day to day
Still with one heart to pray,
“God bless our land alway,”
This land of Thine.

Mighty in brotherhood,
Mighty for God and good,
Let us be Thine.
Here let the nations see
Toil from the curse set free,
Labour and Liberty
One cause—and Thine.

Here let glad Plenty reign;
Here let none seek in vain
Our help and Thine—
No heart for want of friend
Fail ere the timely end,
But love for ever blend
Man's cause and Thine

Here let Thy peace abide;
Never may strife divide
This land of Thine.
Let us united stand,
One great Australian band,
Heart to heart, hand in hand,
Heart and hand Thine

Strong to defend our right,
Proud in all nations' sight,
Lowly in Thine—
One in all noble fame,
Still be our path the same,
Onward in Freedom's name,
Upward in Thine

poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Virgin Of Bethlehem

Virgin of Bethlehem! spouse of the Holy One!
Star of the pilgrim on life’s stormy sea!
Humbler thy lot was than this world’s most lowly one,
List to the prayers that we offer to thee!

Not for the joys that this false earth bestoweth,
Empty and fleeting as April sunshine,
But for the grace that from holiness floweth,
Grace, purest Mother, that always was thine.

Charity ardent, and zeal that abounded,
Thine was the will of thy Father above,
Thus thy life’s fervor so strangely confounded
Cold hearts that mocked at religion’s pure love.

Meekness in suffering, patience excelling,
Bowed thee, unmurm’ring, beneath sorrow’s rod;
Spirit of purity ever indwelling
Made thee the Temple and Mother of God.

These are the gifts that thy children implore,
With hearts warmly beating, and low bended knee;
Oh! ask of thy Son, whom we humbly adore,
To grant us the prayers that we whisper to thee.

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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God Neither Known Nor Loved By The World

Ye linnets, let us try, beneath this grove,
Which shall be loudest in our Maker's praise!
In quest of some forlorn retreat I rove,
For all the world is blind, and wanders from his ways.

That God alone should prop the sinking soul,
Fills them with rage against his empire now:
I traverse earth in vain from pole to pole,
To seek one simple heart, set free from all below.

They speak of love, yet little feel its sway,
While in their bosom many an idol lurks;
Their base desires, well satisfied, obey,
Leave the Creator's hand, and lean upon his works.

'Tis therefore I can dwell with man no more;
Your fellowship, ye warblers! suits me best:
Pure love has lost its price, though prized of yore,
Profaned by modern tongues, and slighted as a jest.

My God, who formed you for his praise alone,
Beholds his purpose well fulfilled in you;
Come, let us join the choir before his throne,
Partaking in his praise with spirits just and true.

Yes, I will always love; and, as I ought,
Tune to the praise of love my ceaseless voice;
Preferring love too vast for human thought,
In spite of erring men, who cavil at my choice.

Why have I not a thousand thousand hearts,
Lord of my soul! that they might all be thine?
If thou approve—the zeal thy smile imparts,
How should it ever fail! can such a fire decline?

Love, pure and holy, is a deathless fire;
Its object heavenly, it must ever blaze:
Eternal love a God must needs inspire,
When once he wins the heart, and fits it for his praise.

Self–love dismissed—'tis then we live indeed—
In her embrace, death, only death is found:
Come, then, one noble effort, and succeed,
Cast off the chain of self with which thy soul is bound.

Oh! I could cry, that all the world might hear,
Ye self–tormentors, love your God alone;
Let his unequalled excellence be dear,
Dear to your inmost souls, and make him all your own!

They hear me not—alas! how fond to rove
In endless chase of folly's specious lure!
'Tis here alone, beneath this shady grove,
I taste the sweets of truth—here only am secure.

poem by William Cowper
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Hymn Of The Children

Thine are all the gifts, O God!
Thine the broken bread;
Let the naked feet be shod,
And the starving fed.

Let Thy children, by Thy grace,
Give as they abound,
Till the poor have breathing-space,
And the lost are found.

Wiser than the miser's hoards
Is the giver's choice;
Sweeter than the song of birds
Is the thankful voice.

Welcome smiles on faces sad
As the flowers of spring;
Let the tender hearts be glad
With the joy they bring.

Happier for their pity's sake
Make their sports and plays,
And from lips of childhood take
Thy perfected praise!

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Psalm 116 part 2

v.12ff
C. M.
Vows made in trouble paid in the church.

What shall I render to my God
For all his kindness shown?
My feet shall visit thine abode,
My songs address thy throne.

Among the saints that fill thine house
My off'rings shall be paid;
There shall my zeal perform the vows
My soul in anguish made.

How much is mercy thy delight,
Thou ever-blessed God!
How dear thy servants in thy sight!
How precious is their blood!

How happy all thy servants are!
How great thy grace to me!
My life, which thou hast made thy care,
Lord, I devote to thee.

Now I am thine, for ever thine,
Nor shall my purpose move
Thy hand hath loosed my bonds of pain,
And bound me with thy love.

Here in thy courts I leave my vow,
And thy rich grace record;
Witness, ye saints, who hear me now,
If I forsake the Lord.

poem by Isaac Watts
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Holy Communion

Father, for Jesus' sake,
Low at the footstool of Thy throne, I pray
That Thou, into Thine arms of love, to-day
My trembling soul wilt take.

Thine eyes can see, I know,
How many a dark and fearful spot of sin
Stains the white garment Thou didst clothe it in,
Once undefiled as snow.

I dare not come alone
Into Thy presence for that sin to plead;
But there is One who waits to intercede—
Whose merits will atone.

Into the holy place
He takes the incense of our common prayer,
Which, mingling with His own, ascendeth there
Up to Thy throne of grace.

All too unclean it is,
Too cold and weak, above this earth to rise,
Save He, in love eternal, sanctifies
And hallows it with His.

Therefore accept from me,
Through His hands, now, my weak and wavering will;
And deign my heart's deep longing to fulfil,
As it seems best to Thee.

Pour down Thy healing light
Into the dark depths of my soul this day;
Dissolve the mists and shadows—oh, I pray,
Let it no more be night!

Spirit of love, reveal
All hidden sins against Thy blessed name,
That I may weep for them in utter shame
As in Thy, church I kneel.
And now, oh cleanse them out!
Make fair again Thine olden dwelling-place;
And let the fruitful streams of love and grace
Compass it round about.

Lord, with repentance, give
Faith, deep and strong, that naught may undermine
Of all that's evil in this world of Thine—
Faith that shall breathe and live.

Pour from the hallow'd cup
Our dear Lord's stainless life into mine own;
Put it to my soul's lips—so thirsty grown—
And let them drink it up.

poem by Ada Cambridge
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Give to Love

Love came knocking on thy door
With you in sight to love and adore
But thine did give
All that thou have and
need to live?
You gave thine lips for love to speak
You gave thine heart for love's heart's weak
You gave thine face, to love to trace
its tears across thee a sorrowful place
thou give to thy loss when it comes to love!
You gave thine soul to love's control
You gave love thy hand to hold
You gave thy feet for love to kiss
You gave thy happiness to love's bliss
You gave thy breast for love to touch
You gave thine body for love to clutch.
But what did love give thee?
Love took and took and left thee with nothing!
With nothing now you are at peace, thou art free!
This is what love did to me!

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Oh sleep! It is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole.

quote by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh sleep It is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole.

quote by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul

The man who sailed around his soul
From east to west, from pole to pole
With ego as his drunken captain
Greed, the mutineer, had trapped all reason in the hold
The man who walked across his heart
Who took no compass, guide or chart
To rope and tar his blood congealed
When he found his self revealed ugly and cold
And the sirens that sing
By your nose with its ring
Theyll drag you in
For your sins
Now he sits all alone
And its no place like home
Its empty skin
A bag to keep lifes souvenirs in
The man who sailed around his soul
The man who sailed around his soul
The man who sailed around his soul
Came back again to find a hole
Where once he thought compassion and the truth
Had laid to warm his freezing carcass on return
The man who walked across his heart
Was doomed to journey from the start
Of every love affair hed broken
All the lies hed ever spoken
Tattooed on his arm
And the jellyfish stings
Even angels with wings
Who look too deep
And dare to peep
Now he sits all alone
Knowing flesh blood and bone
Is everything
He found the treasure hed been seeking
The man who sailed around his soul

song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lucky Penny

There was a boy
Who did not have a penny to his name
Pushed and shoved around
He had to fight to stand on the very ground
He walked on.

Yet he didn’t dream of bread and butter
He starved to achieve something better
Like a beacon, his eyes shone
His heart he wore, like a crest
And drummed his fingers to create
His very own beat
He reached in and found the lucky penny
That many others
Lose sight of, grappling, to emerge victorious in the human heats.

With this penny clenched in his soul
He could go further
Pole to pole.

poem by Kamini Arichandran
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At a Lunar Eclipse

Thy shadow, Earth, from Pole to Central Sea,
Now steals along upon the Moon's meek shine
In even monochrome and curving line
Of imperturbable serenity.

How shall I link such sun-cast symmetry
With the torn troubled form I know as thine,
That profile, placid as a brow divine,
With continents of moil and misery?

And can immense Mortality but throw
So small a shade, and Heaven's high human scheme
Be hemmed within the coasts yon arc implies?

Is such the stellar gauge of earthly show,
Nation at war with nation, brains that teem,
Heroes, and women fairer than the skies?

poem by Thomas Hardy
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Your Fishing Pole

There is something about you, something in your soul
something that seems to surround your fishing pole….

You moved to the coast, now that’s no lie
And we had a hard time with that little goodbye
But no need for heartache, no need to console
You had your boat and your fishing pole.

You know everyday you go out to fish
it’s like a genie granting every little wish
every time that bobber goes out of control
we know you are happy with your fishing pole.

Now on birthdays it’s special out on the water
I hear if you’re there, they’ll jump for the slaughter
You’ll be piling them in like your lucks on a roll
Reeling them in with your fishing pole

So today of all days take heed and relax
Pack up a cooler with drinks and some snacks
put on your shoes and go take a stroll
Down to your boat with your fishing pole.

poem by Kathleen J. Shields
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To Mine Heart's Captor

To mine heart's captor: thou knowest who for art thou!
With its absquatulation complete, what art thine plans now?
Art thine intentions altruistic and pure-
May thine jollity, these intentions, ensure?
Might thine heart be exalted in consort with mine?
If thee were to seek its consult, how would it opine?
Love knows not impediments, it lasts and grows forever;
Come with me, my beloved, we shall live this truth, together!

Have not thee thought of me, fondly, in mine absence?
The gift of our love is proof of His Divine Benevolence!
Walk this journey called life with me by thine side;
Mine unceasing love shall always, and e'er, be supplied-
For so long as thou art enamored by this offer;
First though, you need remove thine heart from its coffer!

-Maurice Harris,16 May 2011

poem by Maurice Harris
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To A Lady On The Death Of Her Husband

GRIM monarch! see, depriv'd of vital breath,
A young physician in the dust of death:
Dost thou go on incessant to destroy,
Our griefs to double, and lay waste our joy?
Enough thou never yet wast known to say,
Though millions die, the vassals of thy sway:
Nor youth, nor science, not the ties of love,
Nor ought on earth thy flinty heart can move.
The friend, the spouse from his dire dart to save,
In vain we ask the sovereign of the grave.
Fair mourner, there see thy lov'd Leonard laid,
And o'er him spread the deep impervious shade.
Clos'd are his eyes, and heavy fetters keep
His senses bound in never-waking sleep,
Till time shall cease, till many a starry world
Shall fall from heav'n, in dire confusion hurl'd
Till nature in her final wreck shall lie,
And her last groan shall rend the azure sky:
Not, not till then his active soul shall claim
His body, a divine immortal frame.
But see the softly-stealing tears apace
Pursue each other down the mourner's face;
But cease thy tears, bid ev'ry sigh depart,
And cast the load of anguish from thine heart:
From the cold shell of his great soul arise,
And look beyond, thou native of the skies;
There fix thy view, where fleeter than the wind
Thy Leonard mounts, and leaves the earth behind.
Thyself prepare to pass the vale of night
To join for ever on the hills of light:
To thine embrace this joyful spirit moves
To thee, the partner of his earthly loves;
He welcomes thee to pleasures more refin'd,
And better suited to th' immortal mind.

poem by Phillis Wheatley
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