The Father's Son
As he opens his eyes; its like the sunrise,
The cool water on his dimpled and parched face;
Is the welcome rain in a land of drought,
His hands runs through his un-kept hair;
Like a farmer ploughs his field,
For he returns to a world, where many battles are fought.
A mind as vast as the universe,
Eyes that have the eternal spark in them,
The Father's son doth walk; an example to all.
With wisdom of a million wise men,
The gifted child comes to save us all,
Who in our ignorance are heading for the fall.
Action and words true as prophesied by mere men,
Made the envious victorious by sick methods,
Did put our Son on the two planks to die.
The son's death sad but glorious,
With his parting breath taking all our burden,
As the son's holy soul soared into the sky.
poem by Andrew Lunel
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Related quotes
Eternal Truths
In God’s Word you will hear, Eternal Truths, all men should fear,
A fear that comes as you heed, the Truths of God that you read,
Eternal Truths for all us to see, revealed by God to you and me,
A Divinely inspired Revelation, by God to lead men to salvation.
Revealing His Truth, for us to tell, others about Heaven and Hell,
Through the Holy Spirit of Christ, He shows eternal truths of life,
And He, who gave all men breath, speaks to all of eternal death,
God sets right before everyone, death or Eternal Life in His Son.
The fear God puts in me and you, is reverence to see us through,
To Guide us on this temporal earth, to that place of eternal worth,
As God moves upon our heart, with a Love, which will not depart,
And a fear that makes men wise, as His Spirit opens up our eyes.
They just say we have no proof, about God’s Word we call Truth,
And so God’s Truth they deny, embracing instead, the Devil’s lie;
Although you will die my friend, the eternal soul will have no end,
Your body in the ground may rot, but, your eternal soul shall not.
Some may read and simply say, that all men will just die anyway,
With no care at all, when or why, or where they go when they die,
But, every soul at its last breath, will face God and eternal death,
Unless a soul knows Jesus Christ, then he enters into eternal life.
(Copyright ©02/2008)
Music
In vain, when music’s seraph-fire
Runs kindling through the air,
Making it such as gods respire,
(And gods perhaps are there!)
In vain would words of subtlest wit
Reveal, as on they roll,
The clouds of glory it hath lit
Like sunrise in the soul!
Like sunrise when its conquering glow
Smites through the vapours cold,
Till all their ragged inlets flow
With floods of burning gold.
--------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------
Like him who great reports of tilth rejects,
Because his own is a most barren field,
Is he who man’s divinity suspects,
Because his own soul doth so little yield.
Better is one who through himself can see
How good, how lovely, all mankind might be,
Though mere experience give his faith the lie,
And all his hopes breathe the world’s breath—to die!
poem by Charles Harpur
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Life Worthwhile
As the rains from Heaven fall, we’re reminded, God is Lord of all,
He’s Lord above the land and sea, and The Lord of all of Eternity.
As the Creator of all you see, He is The Lord of both you and me,
And more than just our Creator, to many He is their loving Savior.
As Creator, God fills the earth, giving this life meaning and worth,
Making all life worthwhile for us, mere creatures, made from dust.
By placing into the soul of man, a need according to God’s Plan,
While upon earth, He put desire, to reach for a Truth much higher.
Truth that encompasses everything, decreed by The Eternal King,
With His Authority over everyone, through The Lord’s Eternal Son.
An Authority that sets men free, as they seek the Lord of Eternity,
Who, from His Eternal Throne, sets apart earthly men for His own,
God opens the eyes and the heart, of those whom He sets apart,
All those who purpose in this life, to follow His Son, Jesus Christ.
It’s His Truth that makes men wise, as The Spirit opens their eyes,
Revealing God’s Plan to those, who, believe in the One who rose.
The Holy Spirit then dwells in us, when in Christ we place our trust,
Becoming members of a family; belonging to God for all Eternity.
This and much more we receive, when God’s Truth, we do believe,
As Truth He gives to you and me, leads believers to Life Eternally.
(11/2007)
The Holy Virgin
The Holy Virgin
The time has…has come the time of death,
The death of my life, death of my breath,
Death of all but one…death of one but all,
Yet into the void for death I shall call.
It is near but death itself is nearer,
For all those who shall not be cheerer,
Death was the love I called upon into the world,
It was love that trembled as my death built a new world.
A new world with one less,
A new world with a greater mess,
For death of one is death of all,
Still into the void, My love for death I shall call.
‘Cause there is none like death
And none like death can take my breath.
For I was me and me alone,
And I was mine and mine own.
‘Cause there is none like me-
None as different…and not one so free.
Death was all I had ever known,
From when I as a seed into the earth was sown,
To the skies I reached out yet grew not,
Higher than all I was yet was so merely short.
I knew not what I wanted,
But I knew that what I was gifted,
But I knew not what I had to do,
But I knew very well what to do.
Behind bars I had threw mine soul and heart,
But not my mind which was my delicate art,
‘Cause that was all I had,
It was merry yet sad,
‘Cause I was far from all, I severed myself,
Yet my love was not for myself,
Unfathomable was my love for love,
Yet I hid it all up in a cove.
But I did what I did,
For I was me and not some other silly did.
I told them not when they told I was wrong;
When they told I was bad I told I was wrong,
For I knew my action,
Yet lost was the proper reaction.
Sins were mine, sins to all,
Sins were mine but mine sins not all.
Robbed by death I was of all but one,
One was my mind- the special one.
For my mind was mine and mine alone,
Amidst all it sparkled and shone,
For death touched it not as what it was it knew not,
Yet of that it never forgot,
For it was the only that was beleft,
When death made love to earth and none was left,
Because when all was gone,
Left was the different one,
When gone was the origin,
Left behind was my mind – The Holy Virgin.
JamesGreen…
poem by James Green
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In Good Hands..
In the hands of a gifted teacher
A classroom is a magical place! ! !
In the hands of a gifted teacher
There's a smile on each child's face.
In the hands of gifted teacher Creative energy is every where.
In the hands of gifted teacher
There's a catalyst who genuinely care.
In the hands of gifted teacher Desire and wonder is awakened.
In the hands of gifted teacherEducation agenda is shaken.
In the hands of gifted teacher Self managment skills are manupulated In the hands of gifted teacherThe best of reality is modeled.
In the hands of gifted teacher Gifts and talents are refined.
In the hands of gifted teacher The desired future is designed.
AND YOR THE TEACHER GIFTED TO MY HANDS! ! ! !
poem by Maanasa Bhaskar
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Save Them Father
Father you are always on my mind, I love you Father and trust
in you with all my heart. I have no questions for your decisions,
my faith is strong and true.
Father I’m in awe when I look around this world, when I stand
and take in the awesome views, I know this is the work of the
Master, and that Master for certain is you.
This morning Father I pray for those without faith, who can not
see pass their noses. They have eyes that function, but they
truly can not see.
Father give these blind people the ability to come out from their
deadened shells, touch them with your spirit, let them see the
light.
Oh Father God, drench them with your love so they make no
mistake. Take them by the hand so some day they too will
walk through Heaven’s Gate.
Father sometime young people are taken in by those who have
no interest in their soul but only in the money that they hold.
The devil’s people live among us, taking advantage of many.
Your children need your guidance Father and your continued
patience for I truly believe some day they will come out of the
darkness, walk into the light and face the truth.
Father I leave these people to you, in your caring hands. May
they make Jesus the center of their lives and join their brothers
and sisters who know the truth, save them Father.
I Love you Father and I ask this Lord in the name of your only
Son Jesus.-Amen
Written: Sept.30,2007
poem by Melvina Germain
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Suppliant
Father, I lift my hands to Thee:
Reject me not!
Mine eyes are blind, I cannot see.
Be Thou the lamp unto my feet,—
Guide to the rock of my retreat;
O Light, my darkness cries to Thee!
Reject me not!
Father, mine eyes with tears are wet,
Reject me not!
Though Thou forgive, shall I forget?
Nay, though thy mercy fall like rain,
My spirit still must bear the pain
And burden of a vast regret.
Reject me not!
To whom, unfriended, should I flee?
Reject me not!
To whom, my Father, but to Thee?—
Ah! 'T was thy child forgave the sin
Of the repentant Magdalen
And blessed the thief on Calvary!—
Reject me not!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Aching Eyes And Neck Pains
aching eyes and
back and neck pains, they do not really matter
once i face this monitor
i assume i have many things to say
after a day's work. I TAKE pride about the
matters unsaid. I take note of the words
kept hidden inside my hair.They want
to jump and assume the shape of some
fleas.BITERS. bitter biters, for they were made
to be silent as we keep on doing
our own bread and butter thing
my eyes are aching. I feel the pain on my neck.
there is this burden, and this burden is the burden
of a writer, a poet, and it keeps on saying
write me, write me now: about a girl whose
father betrayed her, about a man whose fortune
is stolen in the blink of an eye
he died.she was thrown in the river
and the fish ate her in tiny pieces.
there is this little boy who imitated my actions
and he was laughing and i was laughing too,
i never thought that my hands are as clumsy as his
or his words too disappointing
the world is telling me: it is enough
too much of you is already suffocating
it is telling me that i must quit
but how can i? there is this little boy that keeps
on taunting me
to play again along the sands of the shore
and make my new sandcastles
it is not too dark yet, and he says it is still time
there is still time to play....
i get out of the car. It is raining. I look at the sky.
Drink some rain. I get wet.
It is not enough. It is never enough. There is still this little boy
in me. His eyes are always in wonder.
and so the poems keep on coming.
I close the car. I look at the trees.
How green are these trees! Greener than green.
How blue are the clouds! Bluer than blue.
And i really like all that i see.
This little child in me. Giggling.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Good Hands
In the hands of a gifted teacher
a classroom is a magical place
In the hands of a gifted teacher
There’s a smile on each child's face
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Creative Energy is Everywhere
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
There’s a Catalyst who Genuinely Cares
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Desire and Wonder is Awakened
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
The Educational Agenda is Shaken
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Self-Management Skills are Modeled
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
The Best of Reality is Bottled
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
Gifts and Talents are Refined
In the Hands of a Gifted Teacher
The Willed Future is Designed
poem by Ultimate Cyan
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I Grieved For Buonaparte
I GRIEVED for Buonaparte, with a vain
And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood
Of that Man's mind--what can it be? what food
Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could 'he' gain?
'Tis not in battles that from youth we train
The Governor who must be wise and good,
And temper with the sternness of the brain
Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
Wisdom doth live with children round her knees:
Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk
Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk
Of the mind's business: these are the degrees
By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk
True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.
poem by William Wordsworth
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A Humble Prayer
O God!
You have created the entire nature
made so many creatures and gifted
to live in, like
fire to burn
water to quench
air to breath and so on
all are important for life
If fire is your formidable signet
water is your cool signet
Air manifest the signet of
your supreme pleasure
O God!
I have an humble prayer for water
please give us water
to quench thirst of all
which gives us life too
We promise
we must not make a fun
of your cool manifestation
that is flowing in the veins of earth
we promise not to spoil it
Give us water through rain also
and make the atmosphere calm
We do promise and give a slogan
SAVE WATER
SAVE EARTH
SAVE LIFE.
poem by Ramesh Rai
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The Innocence Of Innocence
So tiny
The little hands
Holding my shrek-like hands firmly
She doesn't wanna be carried anymore
Crawl, crawl, fall, walk, run, the world to explore
Suddenly door bangings and boy dramas
Suddenly a silent sound, her heart hitting the ground
Suddenly identity crisis, clique mentality
Suddenly three-faced, one for mom and dad
One for the world
One, who am I?
Suddenly....
She used to play naked in the rain
She used to love cereal and biscuit
....She was so tiny
...With no care in the world
...But suddenly...
She's all alone...mom, dad died...
The world defined love as sex
The lungs that awoke her mum in the middle of night's sleep
Now nags the man she loves in the middle of love's death
She was small...the world was big
After burying so many dreams
She buried herself
The world got to her
The neatest view of a soul
Found in the eyes of a child
The cleanest room of mankind
Found in the mind of a child
No sooner hath the child begun to walk
Doth the world begin to dump its junk
On the most naïve creature
Naiveté oh naivete!
The things I long to un-know
The words I long to un-hear
The visions I long to un-see
The deeds I wish to undo
The phrases I wish to unsay
The right to smoke
The right to drink
The right to cheat
The right to sin
What happened to those tiny hands?
Lost somewhere in eternity, as shrek-like hands
Never fails to give a shrek for a shrek
If ever my friend, your memory lets you stroll down its lane
Find the innocence of innocence...
And rebirth it.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Save Water Save Life
'Water, water' asked soldier to another soldier
He was wounded and dying for the dropp of water
Shells were fired from all the direction
He was to be rescued first as humble action
Thank god the soldier was saved for timely action
We could see the happiness on his face as sweet reaction
He should have been no more on the battle field
Had he not been given dropp of water for ground held
Water is precious commodity now a day
We have not found any alternate way
Glaciers are melting and flooding the rivers
The sea level is increased by flooding of water
There is alarming situation in many parts
Either people vacate the areas and depart
Or stick to the areas and face the devastation
As they have stayed for ages in same station
Water harvesting is best solution for problem
In many cities water has been rationed to ward of trouble
Can you imagine costal areas suffer most?
To protect and provide water for big cities involve big cost
Yes precious lives are to be provided
With water and wastage is to be avoided
Not a dropp of water should go into drain
As we are mainly dependant on rain
Entire existence of human race is in jeopardy
We may have no other option then to pray only almighty
All sources might have then stand dried away or
Water might have been polluted in alarming way
Save water and save the race any where
Educate the people not to waste water and dare
As it may take their lives and put to more difficulties
Water may then be never had even if increased the capabilities
The sources are fast drying out
Some times there is excess and sometimes drought
Life battle is to be taken care of and fought
So the slogan 'save water, save life' is sought
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Love in all its Glory
Within the petals of the rose
Captured in the fragrance of the orchid
Nurtured by the holy water of love
Drenched in the sunlight of your being
My love is kept safe in the woman
That is you
Within your eyes there is a flame
Born of passion, fuelled by a sacred trust
A woman beyond Michael Angelo’s imagination
Beyond the dreams of first love.
Your face worthy of every love poem ever written
With a smile that my dreams can,
Play over and over again in a world,
That only you and I know
Where we can walk, hand in hand
Through dreams that have not yet spoken
Down paths where our emotions merge
Where two hearts beat as one
In this glorious thing we call love
Here our souls can lay down together
Away from this troubled world
To make love, for angels to envy
Where your kisses heal the man that is me
To bring me back from the abyss
To see the sunrise through your eyes
Hand in hand with my one true love
And when we are three
I pray that our child will grow
To find love and happiness
Just like you and me
poem by Steven Cooke
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Father Death Blues
Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going
Father Death, Don't cry any more
Mama's there, underneath the floor
Brother Death, please mind the store
Old Aunty Death Don't hide your bones
Old Uncle Death I hear your groans
O Sister Death how sweet your moans
O Children Deaths go breathe your breaths
Sobbing breasts'll ease your Deaths
Pain is gone, tears take the rest
Genius Death your art is done
Lover Death your body's gone
Father Death I'm coming home
Guru Death your words are true
Teacher Death I do thank you
For inspiring me to sing this Blues
Buddha Death, I wake with you
Dharma Death, your mind is new
Sangha Death, we'll work it through
Suffering is what was born
Ignorance made me forlorn
Tearful truths I cannot scorn
Father Breath once more farewell
Birth you gave was no thing ill
My heart is still, as time will tell.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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My Father, With His Arthritic Hands
My father, with his arthritic hands
Closes his door, picks up the bow
Tucks the bit under his chin
Tunes it real low
My father can compete with the world's best bands
My father plays the violin.
His eyes are dim but the notes are clear
His hearing is faulty but we can hear
The songs that pour out from within
People outside stop to listen
When my father plays the violin.
He opens up another world
Far from stress and pain
I become a child again
As without a word
He picks up the bow, tunes it real low
My father plays the violin.
My father with his arthritic hands
Holds a magnifying glass to his eyes to read
He sits out there under the clear blue skies
Now that he can hardly walk
(Luckily my sisters are there when he needs to talk) .
And when its dusk and he enters within
Then with his arthritic hands
Father picks up his violin.
poem by Rani Turton
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Moving Along Sacramentally
- If my house is burning
In a rain storm
And I do not call the fire station,
Am I a fool?
What if I trudged
Throughout Death Valley
In a pair of waders,
Then, am I to be considered a fool?
-at what depth is it called faith? -
Water drips onto the paper
Flowing over my poem,
The red ink runs
Across the entire page;
Blood.
Words, water...
A holy flow... moving.
- If I let go
Of meaningless stuff
I once worked so hard to attain,
Would I then become wise?
If I went where I felt I belong
Following the Voice
Of one who calls in the desert,
Then, would the Wisdom of my soul come alive?
-at what depth is it called hope? -
Life is written
With the Word of experience,
In the body and blood
Of saints and sages;
Word.
Wind, wayness...
The breath of God... moving.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Faith Like A Child
Faith like a Child
Faith innocent and pure,
Everlasting and forever endure.
Faith strong and heart wise,
Eyes seeing through any disguise.
Life is simple and naïve,
Making it not hard to believe.
Life is joyful and gay,
Taking everything day by day.
Faith like a child runs wild and free,
Runs though all land and sea.
Faith like a child grows by night,
Protects you from every fright.
If only I had not grown older,
My heart would not begin to smolder.
My soul would not have gone wild,
If only I had faith like a child.
Be Happy And Live On
A wise man once told me
There is no reason to regret
He said life is way too short
Why must we always fret
I watched his eyes and smiled
He had answers and truth
The story he told me one day
And those words came proof
Be Happy And Live On
His hair was whiter then snow
His eyes a dull sleepy blue
Such a joyful smile in his face
And a heart of gold how true
A farmer in his own trade
Years of hard working hands
But he was so very much more
He was a to me a magic man
Be Happy And Live On
One day sad news came across
The old man had passed away
Tears ran down my eyes hard
I had nothing anymore to say
It's hard to really be so strong
But his words live on and on
Be Happy And Live On
poem by Suelynn Walters
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Lover's Gifts XLII: Are You a Mere Picture
Are you a mere picture, and not as true as those stars, true as
this dust? They throb with the pulse of things, but you are
immensely aloof in your stillness, painted form.
The day was when you walked with me, your breath warm, your
limbs singing of life. My world found its speech in your voice, and
touched my heart with your face. You suddenly stopped in your walk,
in the shadow-side of the Forever, and I went on alone.
Life, like a child, laughs, shaking its rattle of death as it
runs; it beckons me on, I follow the unseen; but you stand there,
where you stopped behind that dust and those stars; and you are a
mere picture.
No, it cannot be. Had the life-flood utterly stopped in you,
it would stop the river in its flow, and the foot-fall of dawn in
her cadence of colours. Had the glimmering dusk of your hair
vanished in the hopeless dark, the woodland shade of summer would
die with its dreams.
Can it be true that I forgot you? We haste on without heed,
forgetting the flowers on the roadside hedge. Yet they breathe
unaware into our forgetfulness, filling it with music. You have
moved from my world, to take seat at the root of my life, and
therefore is this forgetting-remembrance lost in its own depth.
You are no longer before my songs, but one with them. You came
to me with the first ray of dawn. I lost you with the last gold of
evening. Ever since I am always finding you through the dark. No,
you are no mere picture.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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