Time-Servers
Time-servers are the cowering slaves of slaves,
Alone on earth, who serves the Lord is free,
Each soul shall win the gift that it most craves;
Seek God, my soul -- God shall your portion be!
Based on the translation by Solomon Solis-Cohen that's reproduced on pages 376-377 of A Treasury of Jewish Poetry: From Biblical Times to the Present, edited by Nathan and Marynn Ausubel (Crown Publishers, 1957).
poem by Yehudah HaLevi
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Fortune's Treachery
When Fortune's shield protects you, then beware --
Tomorrow, for your foot she sets a snare.
Her gift, an eaglet's pinion -- now your flight,
Anon, the lethal arrow -- to upbear!
Based on the translation by Solomon Solis-Cohen that's reproduced on page 377 of A Treasury of Jewish Poetry: From Biblical Times to the Present, edited by Nathan and Marynn Ausubel (Crown Publishers, 1957).
poem by Yehudah HaLevi
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Deliver Us From Temptation
Freedom" this cry of all slaves will be heard
And the tyrants will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever to be free from their load
Time has run out for all you tyrants on earth
Your slaves are heedin\' the call
Makin\' an end to all this terror and pain
An end to your lies and your law
Takin\' away all your gold and your money
\'cause dead men don\'t need it anymore
Much too long we felt the slash of your whips
So now you will feel or swords
Freedom the eternal cry will echo high in the sky
The day will come when all power has been broken
Your blood will flow down to the gates of hell
Satan will wait for your souls
Pray to your god he won\'t help you he\'s dead
He won\'t fool our minds and our soul... anymore
Chorus:
Freedom the cry of all slaves will be heard
The tyrants will now feel the steel of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on earth
Chorus
Forever to be free from their load
Chorus
... Forever to be free from their load
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cry For Freedom
(m&l - weikath/hansen)
Freedom this cry for all slaves will be heard
And the tyrans will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever to be free on their load
Time has run out for all tyrans in this world
Your slaves are heedin the call
Mankin an end to all this terror and pain
And the end to your lies and your law
Takin away all your gold and your money
cause dead men don´t need it anymore
Much too long we felt the slash of your whips
So now you will feel our sword
Freedom the eternal cry will echo high in the sky
The day will come when all power has been broken
Your blood will flow down to the gates of hell
Satan will wait for your souls
Pray to your God he wont help you hes dead
He wonpt fool our minds and souls... anymore
Freedom this cry for all slaves will be heard
And the tyrans will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever on their load
Freedom this cry for all slaves will be heard
And the tyrans will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever to be free on their load
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words Of Wisdom
King Solomon was not a fool
When to the Lord he prayed,
For he knew well the Golden Rule
And this had been obeyed...
Yet now a kingdom he must guide,
Regardless, rich or poor,
As long as God stood side-by-side,
He could not want for more...
King Solomon was just a man,
He did not know all things
And yet he knew God had a plan,
God was the King of Kings...
So while God offered him a gift,
He served the kingdom best
If he could stem the tragic rift
With God and all the rest...
King Solomon desired most
God's wisdom here on Earth,
Yet not to brag and not to boast
Or seek to prove his worth...
He asked for wisdom, nothing else,
Not treasures or long life,
For these he knew were short term spells
While men on Earth survive...
King Solomon had pleased the Lord
Who gave these gifts to him
And all God's wisdom was outpoured
To fill him to the brim...
Consider wisdom and take heed
This poetry you see,
The Holy Bible's there to read...
Begin at Calvary!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Rule Britannia
When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain:
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall:
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke:
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair:
Blest isle! with matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
poem by James Thomson
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Soul’s propeller
An infant craves for strokes.
A child craves for attention.
An adolescent craves for recognition.
An adult craves for identity.
An old one craves for gratitude.
A dead one craves for visiting as ghost.
Craving is the soul’s propeller.
11.09.05
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Vanity, Vanity
Vanity, Vanity, all is vanity; words expressed to you and me,
All our labors, here on earth, and what ultimately is its worth?
All men are born to just die, a common destiny for you and I,
And all this life is meaningless, words Solomon uttered to us.
The wisest man to ever live, parting words that he would give,
To all of the people of his age, recorded on Scripture’s page,
And even for our age to read; words of wisdom we can heed,
As we reflect, also, on our life, in the blessings and the strife.
He speaks of life upon earth, through to death, from his birth,
Of all the events in between, as we are in this temporal scene,
And just how empty it can be, when peoples discount eternity,
And that lasting Hope, God gives, to every soul that still lives.
Friend, Ecclesiastes is the book, if one desires to take a look,
At other things Solomon said; wisdom, many souls have read,
While he draws conclusions to, life lived daily, by me and you,
On the planet, of God’s Design, Who changes not, in our time.
With everything Solomon knew, what is a conclusion he drew?
In all times consider The Creator, this world’s Lord and Savior,
Fear God and keep His Law, as He alone, can save one’s soul,
And use your life to glorify, The Lord God, Who reigns on high.
(Copyright ©07/2010)
Slavery
I free the slaves of the desert,
They march through sand and stone;
Walking too much is prohibited,
Once they fail, once they crawl.
A freedom is sought, fully aware
Of the possibilities, the wrecks;
Anything of conquest is both
Understood and learnt.
Like the slavery of times too long ago,
We too gain slaves to be taught liberty.
poem by Naveed Akram
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God's Grace Our Choice
The Grace of The Almighty God has appeared to all men on the earth,
His Grace helps us to turn from all godlessness through a New Birth.
But many have turned His Gracious gift, His wonderful Gift of Grace,
Into a godless amoral life filled with wicked sin and utter disgrace.
But, Eternal God above is not deceived and won't be mocked at all,
For Eve who gave no thought to Satan's deception lead Adam to fall.
Solomon's words, there is nothing new under the sun, seem to resound,
As people today are being told a Biblical God just can not be found.
Instead they are being told to seek the little god found only within,
This is again a fatal decision and points back to man's original sin.
This message is being spouted by those, who believe they are strong,
Their cry is you don't need to find God, He's been in you all along.
This is today's New Age message, that isn't really that new at all,
Again, Satan first preached this in The Garden, back at Adam's fall.
For many the foolishness of this new thinking may not be very clear,
As Wisdom only comes to those who seek The Lord with a holy fear.
This fear is actually reverence towards God, which today is ignored,
However without His Grace and Holiness, no man will see The Lord.
A lack of Godly reverence in your life is something you can't afford,
For all men since God's Grace appeared, will stand before The Lord.
(Copyright © 06/2002)
Are we really free?
Freedom, a state of mind,
Freedom, an illusion,
Freedom, a nonsense of lunatic
Until it is spiritual.
As long as we are slaves of
Our petty self-interests,
Our prejudice,
And our false ego,
We are not free.
We may celebrate the festival of freedom Hundred times,
We are still slaves.
The Independence Day marks
Material freedom
not
the spiritual one.
Unless we are spiritually free,
We are like sheep devoid of sentiments.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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A Coin Of Little Worth
I have seen and liked
silver coins stamped
in ancient Greece Rome
these usually carry the image
of supposedly great men
kings emperors face in profile
but their deeds were often
treacherous harsh cruel
wars these started for more
wealth slaves land to rule
my favourite coin
is a very small coin
tiny of little worth
that a woman with nothing
once gave at the temple
a very very long time ago
My Lord praised her
for giving all her livelihood
for giving more than
all gathered rich worshippers
combined because
proud rich gave a percentage
from all their amassed profit
a percentage calculated
based upon requirements of
law; but a poor woman gave
everything she had
based upon her own giving heart
it is written how Jesus sat down;
with the treasury chests in view
observing how the crowd dropped
money into the treasury chests;
many rich people were dropping in
many coins however a poor
widow woman dropped in only two
small coins which had very little value;
these coins became known as the widow's mite.
Jesus called his disciples and said to them
"Truly I say to YOU that this poor widow
dropped in more than all those dropping
money into the treasury chests; for they
all dropped in out of their surplus,
but she dropped in all of what
she had, her whole living." Mark 12: 41-44.
For the love of God.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Christmas At Its Best
To know Christmas at its best, you must come to Christ and rest,
Far from that weary holiday time, into that Light, which is sublime,
For a real meaning to this season, one with a true spiritual reason,
Beyond the songs this world sings, to The Lord of Eternal Things.
Away from all that holiday rush, God brings upon the soul a hush,
Quieting both the heart and mind, to find that gift of another kind,
This really is that special gift, not gained by one’s shopping thrift,
The Gift provided by God’s Grace, one in which you gain by faith.
Men only need to rest and pause, ignoring trees and Santa Claus,
Looking for the deeper meaning, as they seek a spiritual gleaning,
From the unmatched Gift of love, presented by The Father above,
As He presented to men His Son, the Gift from God for everyone.
The Gift of God’s Son Jesus Christ, truly changes a receiver’s life,
Unlike any other gift on this earth, Christ gives to one a New Birth,
Born Again of The Spirit of God, while present on this earthly sod,
Born from above into God’s Family, not for a season but eternally.
Not only does God offer us rest, but, the Gift of Christ is the best,
His Gift, not available in a store, offers the receiver so much more,
Unlike all gifts from seasons past, the Lord’s Gift will eternally last,
For when in Christ you do believe, eternal life with Him you receive.
(Copyright ©12/2009)
Poetry of the earth
Poetry calls me out of darkness,
Poetry lights my candle!
When the king wears a crown,
When the beggar wears a frown,
I'll take you to town!
Poetry of the earth is never dead,
Poetry of the earth - never shall it end:
When the blackbirds sing,
When a boxer enters the ring,
When a bee gives you a sting,
Joy and comfort to your soul I'll bring!
poem by Comfort Ndlovu
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Psalm 103
My life is like one blade of grass
That grows gently in the field
My heart is but a single grain
That the Lord my Savior healed
This blade of grass is here today
But tomorrow it is gone
The sands are shifted by the sea
And the night gives way to dawn
Bless the Lord oh my soul
Your mercy set me free
Bless the Lord oh my soul
And all that is within me
Bless the Lord oh my soul
For in thee I have found my rest
You took my sins far from me
As far as the east is from the west
I will bless the Lord at all times
And this I know I must
For He knows my weak and feeble state
He remembers that I'm but dust
As high as the heavens are above the earth
So great is His mercy and His grace
To all who would fear our mighty God
And bow down and fall on their face
The Lord has established His throne in heaven
Rejoice all ye heavens and earth
We shall bless you and praise your forevermore
And before Your throne we forever shall serve
poem by Frank McEleny
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Crown Of A Poet
When my pens are all dried up
And my writing on Earth is done
I will then take off my tarnished crown
And I will hand it off to my son.
To continue the writing that I have started
As from this world I have parted.
A poet my son he will become
To reflect his life in rhyme
To bring forth beauty and wonder of himself
Which will take a never ending life.
For the last poem is like a kiss,
For one is born whenever there is a wish.
A poets pencil is his best friend
And a piece of paper is his canvas of white
To paint the words that have been unpainted
And to stir the soul and open the mind.
To bring forth again the smiles and tears,
That has been locked away for so many years.
And when my pencils have all been broken
And my writing pads are burnt in fire
I will then loose my poetry crown
As I will seek a higher power.
Where my poems will be written upon the sky
Where tears again I will never cry.
My tarnished crown will become my sons
To write on Earth what he sees best
To write during the day and at night to pray
For a poet, as he knows no rest.
For sleep does seldom ever come.
To the one whose fingers are always numbed.
And when his hands are old and tired
The Lord then will give him his sleep
For a job isn't finished until the Lord says so
But then never again will He weep.
And then my crown I will give to my son,
So the dream of ours, will never be done.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Bring Me Back To Me
Evry time I see u
Turn back
And walk away...
A bit of me
Breaks free from me
Going away...
Behind u.
Wid u...
Evrytime we say bye
And I look unto ur eyes
For the last glimpse
Of ur soul..
A portion of my soul
Cuts away
Diffusing into your soul...
Across borders...
against destiny...
Bit by bit
I disappear....
disintegrate.....
As bit by bit
I appear in you,
Integrating wid ur soul
And here I stand
Waiting for you again...
My self..a caricature of me..
will you?
will you bring me back to me? ......
poem by Anjali Kakati
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In Bondage
I would be wandering in distant fields
Where man, and bird, and beast, lives leisurely,
And the old earth is kind, and ever yields
Her goodly gifts to all her children free;
Where life is fairer, lighter, less demanding,
And boys and girls have time and space for play
Before they come to years of understanding--
Somewhere I would be singing, far away.
For life is greater than the thousand wars
Men wage for it in their insatiate lust,
And will remain like the eternal stars,
When all that shines to-day is drift and dust
But I am bound with you in your mean graves,
O black men, simple slaves of ruthless slaves.
poem by Claude McKay
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Psalm 121
I will lift up my eyes on high
And praise the God that I serve
He's an ever present help in time of need
He's the God that made heaven and earth
I stand upon the Rock that cannot be moved
And my soul He surely shall keep
I call upon the Lord, night and day
For my Lord He never does sleep
He is a shade to me in the desert sun
He is a fire to me in the night
He preserves my soul forevermore
He alone is my strength in the fight
poem by Frank McEleny
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Epitaph
I lived in those times. For a thousand years
I have been dead. Not fallen, but hunted;
When all human decency was imprisoned,
I was free amongst the masked slaves.
I lived in those times, yet I was free.
I watched the river, the earth, the sky,
Turning around me, keeping their balance,
The seasons provided their birds and their honey.
You who live, what have you made of your luck?
Do you regret the time when I struggled?
Have you cultivated for the common harvest?
Have you enriched the town I lived in?
Living men, think nothing of me. I am dead.
Nothing survives of my spirit or my body.
poem by Robert Desnos
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Poets & Slaves
Here comes the mechanical sun
working on the bones in the dry old creek bed
mist on the old river bend yellow box hangs like it's dead
the emerald silo is rusting from the inside.
You want to run like the wind you'll never come here again
you want a world you can save so c'mon you poets and slaves.
Circus olympia pulls into town
the dwarf and the fat man head out for beer
there is no lion that roars to one can stand on the horse
tomorrow is a no show the fortune teller cries.
You want to go down in flames you're gonna crash like the waves
you can't remember your name so come on you poets and slaves.
We got everything we need sugar and beef
we got some good ideas
we got the steering wheels and rolling stock too
clouds came down low on the corn
meat ants are gathering like storms
somewhere in the quiet wild darkness a crocodile cries.
You gotta you gotta you gotta
c'mon you poets and slaves.
You got to arrest the decay you're sinking down in the bay
you can't remember your name c'mon you poets and slaves.
You've got to count what you've made
you're gonna pass like the days
stop time and head for the stage.
And c'mon you poets and slaves
c'mon you poets and slaves.
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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