Blinding blaze of light
Oak leaves turned into gold
No one can notice
The precious has no worth
Rubies litter empty streets.
tanka by Oskar Hansen
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You Said
You said there'd be Rubies.
You said there'd be Gold.
You said there'd be Emeralds
To have & to hold.
You said there'd be Sapphires
To lighten the load.
As we travelled together
Along this life's road.
You said there'd be jewels galore,
As we walked.
You said there'd be satins
And silks as we talked.
You said this path would
Be smooth indeed.
No cares or worries
Just follow your lead.
But I've now come to realise
That life's precious gift,
Doesn't lie in jewels or gold
As we drift.
It lies in the knowledge
That all things must be.
At the end of the day,
There's just you and me.
No I don't need the Rubies
And Diamonds to hold,
For we have something
More precious than Gold.
Our journeys to follow
To wherever the end.
And I know hand in hand
Our footsteps will wend,
Til the blueprint's complete
The world's at our feet
We'll fly with the Angels,
Our family to meet.
No I don't need the Gold
And the Spangles galore.
I just need you with me
At the closing of door.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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This Light
Hear my words oh you men,
Listen to me oh you that have knowledge;
Because i am the gold of Ophir among the stones of the brook;
But naked i came out from my mother's womb.
I am like the boundary between the light and the darkness,
And like precious crystal and the precious onyx;
But the price of wisdom is above rubies!
I am like the precious sapphire and the precious coal,
And my mind is like the path for the lightning bolt;
But my steps are bathed with the cream of love,
And like the precious pearls in the land of your muse.
Listen to me when i speak,
For my council is like Mount Everest far up high! !
And i am the eyes to the blind in the land of joy.
The old men rose and the old women gathered around,
And like a smelter for silver;
But i am the feet to the lame.
Listen to me oh you that have ears,
For a place of gold is now refined like my name;
But upon many will this light shine unto;
For my love is sweeter than the red apples in your hands.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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What price freedom?
People wandering, mingling
Along busy, crowded streets
A chorus of voices
Rises and falls
The loudest voice cries 'freedom'
A blinding, flashing light
The roaring boom of thunder
Mangled, torn bodies
Litter the blood soaked streets
The scent of death lingers
A sweet and ghastly smell
A crumbling building falls
Echoing screams of despair
What price freedom?
What price freedom?
poem by Niall O'Hagan
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The Poet that Prayed
A precious pilgrim poet prayed
Because no words would come,
He asked God if he'd disobeyed,
Because his heart felt numb...
A vision formed within his mind,
Like none he'd seen before,
With white-hot furnace gold refined
God stretched from shore to shore...
Like molten lava from the Lord,
The streets were paved with gold...
As if God's grace had been outpoured
For all men to behold...
As if the old paths must be changed,
Transformed by Jesus Christ
And once the streets were rearranged,
God's might was realised...
Thus those that fled could now return,
When God made all things new,
With wonders they could share and learn,
To know what they must do...
The poet asked the Lord's advice,
Were these streets here on Earth,
Or were they streets in Paradise
And of some future worth?
The Lord replied, the streets were those
Where Gospel truths are taught...
Where love can blossom like the rose,
Through peace that Christ has bought...
His Blood atones for souls set free,
No matter, young or old...
It's by our faith in Calvary,
Saints' streets are paved with gold...
(July 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
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Faith More Precious Than Gold
Although now, for a while,
Sore distressed by grievous trial,
And your love for your Lord may grow cold,
You are shielded by Him,
To His hope you’re born again,
And your faith is more precious than gold.
How intense is the fire
Of your grief and deep desire
And the pain of the sob of your soul;
Of God’s plan you’re afraid,
And by Him you feel betrayed,
But your faith is more precious than gold.
Though He slay, you can trust
Him who made you out of dust;
He is still the same God as of old.
Though you can’t see Him now,
Still you love Him anyhow
With your faith that’s more precious than gold.
God is now glorified
When in Him you still abide
And His fruit of endurance show bold.
You’re the work of His hand,
And on Him you must depend,
So your faith is more precious than gold.
You can greatly rejoice
In His name and in His choice
More like Jesus your being to mold.
So then run to the Lord,
To His side and to His Word;
Put to practice this faith more than gold.
When you flee thus in prayer
And experience His care,
Then the proof of your faith will be told.
Though some pain might remain,
You’ll thank God for all the rain,
For you’ll know your faith’s worth more than gold.
And this faith has an end
That you’ll better comprehend:
The salvation and life of your soul,
An inheritance sweet,
Bowing at your Savior’s feet,
Praising Him for this gift more than gold.
(Based on 1 Peter 1: 3-9)
poem by Edward A. Morris
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If I Were Gold
If I were Gold
I wonder my worth
Before men alike
Probably I’d be so cherished by them so much.
If I were gold
I would definitely be so precious
Compared by Men for superiority
And worn so gallantly by all around.
If I were gold
I wonder the worth of carat
I’d be by now
A twenty-four carat, or one less pure
If I were gold
I’d definitely by found all around the world
Doing my best piece
And decorating the best amongst the best.
If I were gold
I’d probably be a must for the high and mighty
And also a source of quarrel amongst them
‘Cos non-would be more content with me around.
If I were gold
I wonder how priced I’d be
And probably kept in the strongest safe
And most probably in the choicest Swiss bank.
If I were gold
I’d probably be worn by Men of class
While still adorning some choicest parts of the body
And being priced by all I come in contact with
If I were gold
No matter how rigorous it takes to make me pure
And how costly it is to acquire me around
I’d definitely put a simile on faces all over the world.
If I were gold
No matter how tarnished and tainted I may be
I’d still find a place in the hearts of all so dear
And be a pride to many anyway
poem by Okeke Emmanuel
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Love Is Never Easy
(j. macrae, b. morrison)
Love should be easy
Its such a natural thing
Nothing feels like the feeling
Only love can bring
Love can be laughter
Or heartaches in disguise
You could love a lifetime
And never realize
Chorus:
Love is never easy
Dreams are always hard to hold
Love is never easy
But its more precious than gold
More precious than gold
More precious than gold
Love is forever
Until the day that it ends
Love can just be for lovers
Love can be for friends
So dont give up looking
And dont be afraid to fall
Cause when you find that one love
Youll know its worth it all
Repeat chorus x2
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Adonis
1.
Each of us like you
has died once,
has passed through drift of wood-leaves,
cracked and bent
and tortured and unbent
in the winter-frost,
the burnt into gold points,
lighted afresh,
crisp amber, scales of gold-leaf,
gold turned and re-welded
in the sun;
each of us like you
has died once,
each of us has crossed an old wood-path
and found the winter-leaves
so golden in the sun-fire
that even the live wood-flowers
were dark.
2.
Not the gold on the temple-front
where you stand
is as gold as this,
not the gold that fastens your sandals,
nor thee gold reft
through your chiselled locks,
is as gold as this last year's leaf,
not all the gold hammered and wrought
and beaten
on your lover's face.
brow and bare breast
is as golden as this:
each of us like you
has died once,
each of us like you
stands apart, like you
fit to be worshipped.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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A Dream That Can Last
I feel like I died and went to heaven
The cupboards are bare but the streets are paved with gold
I saw a young girl who didnt die
I saw a glimmer from in her eye
I saw the distance, I saw the past
And I know I wont awaken, its a dream that can last
I feel like I died and went to heaven
The cupboards are bare but the streets are paved with gold
And all the lights were turned down low
And no one wondered or had to go
Out on the corner the angels say
There is a better life for me someday
I feel like I died and went to heaven
The cupboards are bare but the streets are paved with gold
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As The Eagle Flies
I would love to be an eagle
I would take off and fly beyond the clouds
If it rained a little, I wouldn't mind
At least I would be with my own kind
I would soar towards the heavens
Might even get a glimpse of a loved one
Singing and dancing in the streets
I have so many times been told
That even the streets are paved in gold
I would notice the pearly gates
And might even see the manions too
Then I would be sad because I had to go
And slowly fly back to my montain top
Till there was a place for me!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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Blaze Of Love
We are running out of time
Weve got one foot on the rock, and one foot over the line
This love, this loves not turning back
Well I dont know about you, but me Im following that
Late at night, watching you sleep, and I know inside, Im over the edge
Chorus:
Im goin down, down, down, in a blaze of love, in a blaze of love
Im goin down, down, down, in a blaze of love, in a blaze of love
Oh you, you can run away
You can shatter my world, scatter my dreams all over the place
But i, Ive grown to love these chains
You can tear em apart but I dont wanna escape
I close my eyes, picture your smile and I know inside, Im over the edge
Im goin down, down, down, in a blaze of love, in a blaze of love
Im goin down, down, down, in a blaze of love, blaze of love
Blaze of love
Blaze of love
(guitar solo)
Oh, Im over the edge...in a blaze of love
(down, down, down, blaze of love) blaze of love
(down, down, down) in a blaze of love, in a blaze of love
Im goin down, down, down, down, down, down
In a blaze of love (blaze of love)
Down, down, down, in a blaze of love...
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Value of Gold
There may be standard weight for precious metal,
But deeper meaning it must ever hold;
Thank God, there are some things no law can settle,
And one of these—the real worth of gold.
The stamp of king or crown has common power
To hold the traffic-value in control;
Our coarser senses note this worth—the lower;
The higher comes from senses of the soul.
This truth we find not in mere warehouse learning—
The value varies with the hands that hold;
The worth depends upon the mode of earning;
And this man's copper equals that man's gold.
With empty heart, and forehead lined with scheming,
Men's sin and sorrow have been that man's gain;
But this man's heart, with rich emotions teeming,
Makes fine the gold for which he coins his brain.
But richer still than gold from upright labor—
The only gold that should have standard price-
Is the poor earning of our humble neighbor,
Whose every coin is red with sacrifice.
Mere store of money is not wealth, but rather
The proof of poverty and need of bread.
Like men themselves is the bright gold they gather
It may be living, or it may be dead.
It may be filled with love and life and vigor,
To guide the wearer, and to cheer the way;
It may be corpse-like in its weight and rigor,
Bending the bearer to his native clay.
There Is no comfort but in outward showing
In all the servile homage paid to dross;
Better to heart and soul the silent knowing
Our little store has not been gained by loss.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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The Sadness of The Empty Home
The light flickers on
Illuminates the empty hallway
The thud, click of a door in closing
Brings a silence to the room
A heavy sigh escapes
A look to the mirror sees only
Tired eyes looking back
A bag lain upon the small table
The light turned back off
On route to yet another room
Light creeps through the window
Allowing enough to see
The sound of a running tap
Filling the kettle for a final drink
Keys thrown upon a side
The clatter of cups and spoons
Then further silence
Now the creaking of a staircase
Another door opened
Another light flicked on
The curtains drawn to the world
Drink set beside the bed
The silence of the empty home
Fills the heart with loneliness
A television switched into life
Nothing worth watching
Just a sound there to fill
The silence and the sadness
Of the empty home
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Consent
Late in November, on a single night
Not even near to freezing, the ginkgo trees
That stand along the walk dropp all their leaves
In one consent, and neither to rain nor to wind
But as though to time alone: the golden and green
Leaves litter the lawn today, that yesterday
Had spread aloft their fluttering fans of light.
What signal from the stars? What senses took it in?
What in those wooden motives so decided
To strike their leaves, to down their leaves,
Rebellion or surrender? and if this
Can happen thus, what race shall be exempt?
What use to learn the lessons taught by time.
If a star at any time may tell us: Now.
poem by Howard Nemerov
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The Downtown Lights
Sometimes I walk away
When all I really wanna do
Is love and hold you right
There is just one thing I can say
It's all right, can't you see
The downtown lights
In love we're all the same
We're walking down an empty street
And with nobody callin' your name
Empty streets, empty nights
The downtown lights
*How do I know you feel it
How do I know you feel it
How do I know you feel it
How do I know it's true
Can't you see
Nobody loves you this way
It's all right
Tonight and every night
Let's go walking down the city streets
Let's walk in the cool evening light
Wrong or right, the endless sight
The downtown lights
It will be all right
It will be all right
The downtown lights
Yeah, yeah, yeah
(*Repeat)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Downtown lights
The neons and the cigarettes
The rented rooms and rented cars
The crowded streets, the empty bars
Chimneytops, trumpets
The golden lights, the loving prayers
Colored shoes, the empty trains
I'm tired of cryin' on the stairs
Downtown lights
It'll be all right
It'll be all right
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm sorry, I didn't notice
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
When this started to happen
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
I just let it begin
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
The change in anythin'
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
When we stopped talkin'
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
We weren't letting each other in
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
That sad, sad trend
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
The beginning of the end
I'm sorry, I didn't notice
You were no longer my friend
But believe me, now I notice
And it hurts deep within
Now that I notice
I hope you'll be again
poem by Dylan Burkhart
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Christmas Eve
dawn creeping
o'er the mountains,
and through bare limbed trees....
Christmas Eve...
amid the hustle and bustle,
colored lights and wrapping paper....
families and friends....
the streets still alive with those
who have nowhere else to be....
empty houses, empty trailers,
stray dogs and abandoned cars....
somewhere church bells are ringing.
a baby born in a bare apartment,
the rats scurry to meet him,
the pot on the stove empty.
no curtains on the windows,
bare bulbs, no shades.
no angels, no wise men,
an eviction notice on the door...
yet another baby Jesus,
will he make it, will he die?
will he bring light and salvation?
or will they find his small body
in a dumpster with the trash?
fate, or understanding,
holiness knocks on the door,
again, and again!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I've Come to Notice More Now
I've come to notice more now,
The falling snow.
I've come to notice more now,
A certain purpose...
I had disavowed.
I've come to notice more now,
The core of my being with more meaning.
A joy I can express...
With less emphasis on things collected.
And a happiness I always had,
But somehow did not allow.
I've come to notice more now,
I can.
I've come to notice more now,
I will!
I've come to notice more now,
My needs are basically fulfilled.
Without desire to seek approval,
Sought to identify my peace of mind!
I've come to notice more now,
Thoughts like that I have left behind.
And notice, I do...
My blessings!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Observant To The Obvious
Sometimes I wish,
I wasn't so observant to the obvious.
Unlike many I can not pretend...
Something in my face is invisible.
And if I mention to others what I see,
They become offended.
As if what I have stated is a negativity.
'Why do you always look at the dark side of things? '
Well...
Increasingly what I see,
Blocks out the natural light.
'That's because your cup is half empty.'
Who do I thank for that?
Since most of those half full cup holders,
Like yourself...
Have yet to notice what has spilled over onto the streets.
And if that's not an acceptance of negativity...
A clarity defining it will never exist.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Walk These Streets Alone
I walk these streets alone why U ask, because that's all i know and the reason i'm so ignorant is because him always on the go
I walk these streets alone meeting customer after customer getting in and out of random cars
I walk these streets alone as if the streets are empty as i go on my devilish duty.
I walk these streets alone clueless to the danger surrounding me, as if him invisible to any danger.
I walk the streets alone as if every person i meet sees me as a stranger.
I walk these streets alone, as sad as it may seem i prefer my own company but at times i still get lonely.
I walk these streets alone but don't feel sorry for me, for i know what i'm getting myself into. and i know the consequences if i get caught
I walk these streets alone regardless of what I've been taught...
poem by Leon Scott
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