City of Love
Ode to joy, from the chalice filled with wine, from the chalice filled with light.
Ode to darkness, the shadows dress confess the blackness, confined to trials and tribulations, we seek the hour of consumation. We seek the divinity, by candles, prayers and charity. The chalice of love, the city of love beside the sea.
Ode to the chalice filled with light, ode to the wind, carrying the breath
of psalms, upon ashes smeared on palms. Ode, to this light, to the blood raised in wine, the cross and loss, divine, the holy shroud of white.
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Three Wives Of A Mandarin
Lawful wife.
There is still some wine left in the chalice,
And the plate that’s served is nests of the swallows.
Since the birth of time, the legal spouse
Is respected by her mandarin-husband.
Concubine
There is still some wine left in the chalice,
And the plate is served – duck: fat and heavy;
Should a mandarin be deprived of children -
Concubine is needed for a mandarin.
Maid
There is still some wine left in the chalice,
And the plate is served - preserves and marmalade.
Why the two of you are in his house?
Every night a new woman he desires.
Mandarin
There is no more wine left in the chalice,
And the plate that’s served is hot red pepper.
Silence! O you: bunch of silly blabbers,
Dare you laughing at the poor old mandarin.
poem by Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
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Tin Cup Chalice
By: jimmy buffett
1974
I wanna back to the island
Where the shrimp boats tie up to the pilin
Gimme oysters and beer
For dinner every day of the year and Ill feel fine
Ill feel fine
Chorus:
I wanna be there
Wanna go back down and lie beside the sea there
With a tin cup for a chalice, fill it up with good red wine
And Im a chewin on a honeysuckle vine
Yeah now, the sun goes slidin cross the water
Sailboats they go searchin for the breeze
Salt air it aint thin
It can stick right to your skin and make you feel fine
Makes you feel fine
Chorus:
I wanna be there
Wanna go back down and a get high by the sea there
With a tin cup for a chalice, fill it up with good red wine
And Im a chewin on a honeysuckle vine
Yes and now you heard my strange proposal
So get that packard up and lets move
I wanna be there before the day
Tries to steal away and leave us behind
Ive made up my mind
Chorus:
And I wanna be there
I wanna go back down and die beside the sea there
With a tin cup for a chalice, fill it up with good red wine
And Im a chewin on a honeysuckle vine
Coda:
Yeah with a tin cup for a chalice, fill it up with good red wine
And Im a chewin on a honeysuckle vine
Again... to miss jane
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To My Godchild Alice
ALICE, Alice, little Alice,
My new-christened baby Alice,
Can there ever rhymes be found
To express my wishes for thee
In a silvery flowing, worthy
Of that silvery sound?
Bonnie Alice, Lady Alice,
Sure, this sweetest name must be
A true omen to thee, Alice,
Of a life's long melody.
Alice, Alice, little Alice,
Mayst thou prove a golden chalice,
Filled with holiness like wine:
With rich blessings running o'er
Yet replenished evermore
From a fount divine:
Alice, Alice, little Alice,
When this future comes to thee,
In thy young life's brimming chalice
Keep some drops of balm for me!
Alice, Alice, little Alice,
Mayst thou grow a goodly palace,
Fitly framed from roof to floors,
Pure unto the inmost centre,
While high thoughts like angels enter
At the open doors:
Alice, Alice, little Alice,
When this beauteous sight I see,
In thy woman-heart's wide palace
Keep one nook of love for me.
Alice, Alice, little Alice,--
Sure the verse halts out of malice
To the thoughts it feebly bears,
And thy name's soft echoes, ranging
From quaint rhyme to rhyme, are changing
Into silent prayers.
God be with thee, little Alice,
Of His bounteousness may He
Fill the chalice, build the palace,
Here, unto eternity!
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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The Sonnet
PURE form, that like some chalice of old time
Contain'st the liquid of the poet's thought
Within thy curving hollow, gem-enwrought
With interwoven traceries of rhyme,
While o'er thy brim the bubbling fancies climb,
What thing am I, that undismayed have sought
To pour my verse with trembling hand untaught
Into a shape so small yet so sublime?
Because perfection haunts the hearts of men,
Because thy sacred chalice gathered up
The wine of Petrarch, Shakspere, Shelley -- then
Receive these tears of failure as they drop
(Sole vintage of my life), since I am fain
To pour them in a consecrated cup.
poem by Edith Wharton
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Confession
I’m an unworthy vessel,
a rusty cup.
I foul your pure wine
with my common
corruption,
and yet
unreasonably
you fill me up again.
Brimful with your
glittering love
I become
a golden chalice
to hold your sacred
blood.
poem by Steven Federle
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The Day's Ration
When I was born,
From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice,
Saying, This be thy portion, child; this chalice,
Less than a lily's, thou shalt daily draw
From my great arteries; nor less, nor more.
All substances the cunning chemist Time
Melts down into that liquor of my life,
Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, beauty, and disgust,
And whether I am angry or content,
Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt,
All he distils into sidereal wine,
And brims my little cup; heedless, alas!
Of all he sheds how little it will hold,
How much runs over on the desert sands.
If a new muse draw me with splendid ray,
And I uplift myself into her heaven,
The needs of the first sight absorb my blood,
And all the following hours of the day
Drag a ridiculous age.
To-day, when friends approach, and every hour
Brings book or starbright scroll of genius,
The tiny cup will hold not a bead more,
And all the costly liquor runs to waste,
Nor gives the jealous time one diamond drop
So to be husbanded for poorer days.
Why need I volumes, if one word suffice?
Why need I galleries, when a pupil's draught
After the master's sketch, fills and o'erfills
My apprehension? Why should I roam,
Who cannot circumnavigate the sea
Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn
The nearest matters to another moon?
Why see new men
Who have not understood the old?
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Thirst Wine Sated
happy cherry taste to quench
thirst from an ice cold chalice
is a cool move without malice
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Inspired by the poem An Ice Cold Drink From The Good Chalice by Tai Chi Italy.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Unbeknown
The poisoned
chalice
of wine
so sweet
one sip
makes life
complete.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Love's Prayer
Beloved, this the heart I offer thee
Is purified from old idolatry,
From outworn hopes, and from the lingering stain
Of passion's dregs, by penitential pain.
Take thou it, then, and fill it up for me
With thine unstinted love, and it shall be
An earthy chalice that is made divine
By its red draught of sacramental wine.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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An Ode To Solitude
The sun unraveled its light, the river flowed untamed, a candle lit of a passing day. The way of solitude, the silent of the morn, the sun unraveled its light-endlessly reborn, blood color roses caged by thorns.Sweet solitude, affliction gained, a prayer on the heart is worn, I turn away, scars upon my hands, so little attained. My soul -the locusts sworm over egypt, the night became a poem, dust are we-the falling of the blade-the chalice wept its wine-I am everywhere and nowhere-the doors of perception are open-heavens of gold, in the sky I'm told-let madness take hold, I take to solitude in my humble abode. Much wine to drink-let the world die-let us drink, for soon I'll hide, so let the world die-so let the world die, for soon.....I'll hide.
Senseless Killing
I saw your sons and daughters today at church;
They were carrying the holy wine, the holy bread,
The chalice, the cross and your sins.
They were not too happy, you killed their mother,
For nonsense, because of your ignorance.
Killing is never acceptable, violence
Should be denounced and rejected.
The children were beautiful at church
Without you, the fool who killed senselessly,
Brainlessly; the zombie which should have remained
Dead in the dungeon of Frankenstein.
May you rot in your deservedly filthy cell;
Your first class seat is reserved in hell;
May your blood burn without fire.
And may your eyes remain wide open, during your entire
Residency in the morbid house of Dr. Halloween Stein.
Copyright © August 2009, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of:
“Mounts and Valleys of Love” and “ Monts et Vallées de l’Amour”
« Sparkles of Love » and « Etincelles de l’Amour »
You can get your copy at xlibris.com, amazon.com, borders.com,
Barnesandnoble.com or bn.com.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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Alice
KNOW you, winds that blow your course
Down the verdant valleys,
That somewhere you must, perforce,
Kiss the brow of Alice?
When her gentle face you find,
Kiss it softly, naughty wind.
Roses waving fair and sweet
Thro' the garden alleys,
Grow into a glory meet
For the eye of Alice;
Let the wind your offering bear
Of sweet perfume, faint and rare.
Lily holding crystal dew
In your pure white chalice,
Nature kind hath fashioned you
Like the soul of Alice;
It of purest white is wrought,
Filled with gems of crystal thought.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Blemishes
Without assent
I open your book
to find your crazy god on mat.
Love was a blind bird
in a state of agony.
Learning to fly.
Moon would not reply
through aslant door.
Something was between us.
Here, now a sordid tale
breaks the taboo. They
were investing on skin.
It was a cheap wine
in a golden chalice,
for a lipless mouth.
poem by Satish Verma
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What Semiramis Said
The moon's a steaming chalice,
Of honey and venom-wine.
A little of it sipped by night
Makes the long hours divine.
But oh, my reckless lovers,
They drain the cup and wail,
Die at my feet with shaking limbs
And tender lips all pale.
Above them in the sky it bends
Empty and gray and dead.
To-morrow night 'tis full again,
Golden, and foaming red.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The Tribe of Benjamin: XV
SONS born of many a loyal Muse to Ben,
All true-begotten, warm with wine or ale,
Bright from the broad light of his presence, hail!
Prince Randolph, nighest his throne of all his men,
Being highest in spirit and heart who hailed him then
King, nor might other spread so blithe a sail:
Cartwright, a soul pent in with narrower pale,
Praised of thy sire for manful might of pen:
Marmion, whose verse keeps alway keen and fine
The perfume of their Apollonian wine
Who shared with that stout sire of all and thee
The exuberant chalice of his echoing shrine:
Is not your praise writ broad in gold which he
Inscribed, that all who praise his name should see?
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Now It's More Than Seven
So maybe I thought that I could be satisfied
I assure you, I tried
But my heart would not corporate
Even though I have yet to even recuperate
From old scar and old pain
My heart still throws itself every which way
I seek a peace I cannot attain
Because the evil of my heart is becoming my master this day
It tries to lead my life and my soul
It tries to lead me again as a whole
Because giving into darkness is natural
Because there's a piece of hell
In the innermost parts, locked away, locked- but not secure
Locked because there's no cure
Striving for light is what is learned
Striving for light should have turned
My darkness into that light
But instead I'm overtaken by more darkness- blackness of night
Darkness, that can be felt, darkness that can speak
I've found the opposite of what I seek
And now it's more than seven
And I feel farther from heaven
Now I've almost lost count
I no longer know that amount
My heart is like a mirror
First darkened and filled with horror
And then shattered into pieces
And each piece only a fraction of who I once was, if that was anything
Criss crossed and broken heart? no more
Shattered
poem by David Knox
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An August Day
I found myself standing in a cornfield
on a warm summer’s day.
A Sunday wind blew into my face
and carried me away.
It swept me high into the sky
until I was a cloud so white.
My whisper of hello echoed out,
which brought a flash of light.
The northern wind became annoyed
and brought darkness to the sky.
Roars of thunder shook the heavens,
which caused the clouds to cry.
Strings of jagged flashes fired down,
as the blackness held back the light.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you, ” I shouted,
which calmed the heaven’s might.
Tranquillity filled the darkness,
which led to its fracture by the sun.
Threads of light became beams,
leaving the day as it begun.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Vain Gratuities
Never was there a man much uglier
In eyes of other women, or more grim:
"The Lord has filled her chalice to the brim,
So let us pray she's a philosopher,"
They said; and there was more they said of her--
Deeming it, after twenty years with him,
No wonder that she kept her figure slim
And always made you think of lavender.
But she, demure as ever, and as fair,
Almost, as they remembered her before
She found him, would have laughed had she been there,
And all they said would have been heard no more
Than foam that washes on an island shore
Where there are none to listen or to care.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Thoughts Of Him
Yes my friend, there's only one, He is Almighty God's Eternal Son.
Yes indeed He's coming again, so are you really ready my friend?
You can be filled with His Power, in this dark and crucial hour.
What ever you are contemplating, He comes to those who are waiting.
With a heart filled with love, you can be fit for The Kingdom above.
The only way to truly start is to accept The Lord into your heart.
If your decision is truly sincerely, you will have nothing to fear.
From the cross He has one plea, believe in Me and I'll set you free.
The Cross is something to cherish, for without we all would perish.
For Christ Jesus died upon a tree, for sinful people like you and me.
His words to us are very clear, the reason why we're left down here.
I was bought with an awesome cost, to seek out those who are lost.
Jesus filled me with compassion to win, those around me lost in sin.
He teaches me Truth so I may impart words of life to a needy heart.
Christ leads me to an open heart, so His Words of Life I can impart.
He gave me such a deep desire, to snatch lost souls from the fire.
He shed His blood on The Cross, so we would not suffer Eternal loss.
With His blood He cleanses sin, and the entire world belongs to Him.
All who choose to simply mock, will be crushed by The Eternal Rock.
And they will suffer Eternal Loss, for they were bought at The Cross.
(Copyright © 03/2003)
He's More Than Just a God To Me
Christ is more than just a God to me; He's my Savior and my friend,
He formed me in my mother's womb, and is my Hope as I near the end.
He governs the entire universe but walks beside me every single day,
And He's never too busy day or night to stop and listen when I pray.
As my Savior He became a bloody sacrifice and died on a cross for me,
So The Father could forgive all my sins and adopt me and set me free.
It was with His own blood that He bought me out of the market of sin,
Then He gave me The Holy Spirit as a guide and a new life to begin.
Now The Holy Spirit teaches me to live as a new creature in Christ,
And He helps me to crucify my old life to become a living sacrifice.
He gave me a hunger for Righteousness as I live to please The Lord,
For The Spirit taught me that His Holiness simply can not be ignored.
He took away my timid spirit and filled me with His spirit of power,
Now He helps me to boldly witness instead of shrinking back to cower.
He filled me with His love and compassion as I seek to win the lost,
So I can teach them Biblical Truth, while pointing them to The Cross.
He filled me with His Light to draw others so I can share The Word,
And sharing Christ is my compassion until all around me have heard.
It is only through The Cross of Jesus that one can have a new start,
Before you stand before my Savior, let Him also change your heart.
(Copyright © 01/2003)