Author Topic: Favorite Poems  (Read 5688 times)

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Offline Arachne

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #45 on: January 22, 2019, 03:19:01 PM »
Hummingbird Pauses at the Trumpet Vine
by Mary Oliver


Who doesn’t love
roses, and who
doesn’t love the lilies
of the black ponds

floating like flocks
of tiny swans,
and of course, the flaming
trumpet vine

where the hummingbird comes
like a small green angel, to soak
his dark tongue
in happiness -

and who doesn’t want
to live with the brisk
motor of his heart
singing

like a Schubert
and his eyes
working and working like those days of rapture,
by Van Gogh in Arles?

Look! for most of the world
is waiting
or remembering -
most of the world is time

when we’re not here,
not born yet, or died -
a slow fire
under the earth with all
our dumb wild blind cousins
who also
can’t even remember anymore
their own happiness -

Look! and then we will be
like the pale cool
stones, that last almost
forever.

(I got to read several of her pieces after her death. This stuck fast.)
'Evil isn't the real threat to the world. Stupid is just as destructive as evil, maybe more so, and it's a hell of a lot more common. What we really need is a crusade against stupid. That might actually make a difference.'~Harry Dresden

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Offline WPM

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #46 on: January 22, 2019, 07:21:48 PM »
The Hebrew Knight of Golden Lore

Offline Iconodule

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #47 on: January 22, 2019, 07:29:17 PM »
The Hebrew Knight of Golden Lore

Came swirling through the lunar door
“Steel isn't strong, boy, flesh is stronger! That is strength, boy! That is power! What is steel compared to the hand that wields it?  Contemplate this on the tree of woe.” - Elder Thulsa Doom of the Mountain of Power

Mencius said, “Instruction makes use of many techniques. When I do not deign to instruct someone, that too is a form of instruction.”

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Offline Briven

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #48 on: February 15, 2019, 11:00:48 PM »
Ride this one out by Frederick Turner

Ride this one out, as you have done before.
Batten down what can be battened. Reef
What can be reefed, avoid the white sea-shore,
Do not expect a rescue or relief.

Endurance is its own kind of relief.
The other ships are sinking. You must be
Hope’s light for them, the north star of belief,
Time’s substitute for lost eternity.

And so resist the onslaught of sad thoughts,
That useless, wavering activity
Of mind stretched to its raveled uttermost.
Resist the hopeless cries, the grim reports.
Resist the landsman’s way, to hate the sea.
And hold on for the final sunlit coast.
“God,”
The words rumbled:
“There is much suffering,
But the church is alive. "

 “How long, Archpriest, are we to suffer thus?” I answered: “Until our very death, Markovna!” And she replied, with a sigh: “So be it, Petrovich, let us plod on.” - Life of Avvakum by Himself

Nastasya, Nastasya, be
patient and do not cry:
Not every happiness
Comes in the clothing of fortune.

St. Avvakum, pray for us!

St. Ambrose, pray for us!

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Offline platypus

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #49 on: February 15, 2019, 11:12:06 PM »
Aunt Helen, by T.S. Eliot

Miss Helen Slingsby was my maiden aunt,
And lived in a small house near a fashionable square
Cared for by servants to the number of four.
Now when she died there was silence in heaven
And silence at her end of the street.
The shutters were drawn and the undertaker wiped his feet—
He was aware that this sort of thing had occurred before.
The dogs were handsomely provided for,
But shortly afterwards the parrot died too.
The Dresden clock continued ticking on the mantelpiece,
And the footman sat upon the dining-table
Holding the second housemaid on his knees—
Who had always been so careful while her mistress lived.
I stare at the screen, my fingers gliding across the keypad. Uninformed opinions appear in neat rows of text. They are my own. "Click post!" Pride whispers gleefully into my ear. I obey without resistance.
Please disregard everything I say.

Offline Agabus

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #50 on: February 27, 2019, 05:04:16 PM »
Those Who Carry by Anna Kamienska:


Those who carry pianos
to the tenth floor wardrobes and coffins
an old man with a bundle of wood limps beyond the horizon
a woman with a hump of nettles
a madwoman pushing a pram
full of vodka bottles
they will all be lifted
like a gull's feather like a dry leaf
like an eggshell a scrap of newspaper

Blessed are those who carry
for they shall be lifted.
I DO NOT AFFIRM OR DENY THE CONTENT OF ANY GIVEN POST IN THESE FORUMS. THEY REFLECT DIFFERENT STAGES OF MY FAITH AND LIFE. IF ONE OF MY POSTS HELPS YOU, MAY GOD BLESS IT, AND IF IT IS A STUMBLING BLOCK, MAY YOU AND GOD FORGIVE ME.

Offline Gebre Menfes Kidus

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #51 on: February 27, 2019, 05:20:24 PM »
"Whether it’s the guillotine, the hangman’s noose, or reciprocal endeavors of militaristic horror, radical evil will never be recompensed with radical punishment. The only answer, the only remedy, and the only truly effective response to radical evil is radical love."
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Offline Arachne

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #52 on: February 28, 2019, 01:23:30 PM »
Holy Sonnet #14
John Donne

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

(Time without the laptop meant revisiting the old shelves.)
'Evil isn't the real threat to the world. Stupid is just as destructive as evil, maybe more so, and it's a hell of a lot more common. What we really need is a crusade against stupid. That might actually make a difference.'~Harry Dresden

~ bookshelf ~ ugly writing ~ jukebox ~

Offline Volnutt

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #53 on: March 01, 2019, 02:14:42 AM »
"Love the Wild Swan" by Robinson Jeffers

"I hate my verses, every line, every word.
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting
flash, of the splendor of things.
Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,
The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings."
--This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.
Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast
Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
Does it matter whether you hate your . . . self?
At least Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.
« Last Edit: March 01, 2019, 02:15:32 AM by Volnutt »
Christ my God, set my heart on fire with love in You, that in its flame I may love You with all my heart, with all my mind, and with all my soul and with all my strength, and my neighbor as myself, so that by keeping Your commandments I may glorify You the Giver of every good and perfect gift. Amen.

Offline Iconodule

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #54 on: March 20, 2019, 01:22:23 PM »
Sean Connery reading Cavafy's poem Ithaca, with backing by Vangelis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1n3n2Ox4Yfk

It's worth it just to hear Connery say "Shyclopsh" and "Posheidon".
“Steel isn't strong, boy, flesh is stronger! That is strength, boy! That is power! What is steel compared to the hand that wields it?  Contemplate this on the tree of woe.” - Elder Thulsa Doom of the Mountain of Power

Mencius said, “Instruction makes use of many techniques. When I do not deign to instruct someone, that too is a form of instruction.”

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Offline Iconodule

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #55 on: April 26, 2019, 09:16:47 AM »
An untitled poem by Emily Bronte:

Sleep not, dream not; this bright day
 Will not, cannot last for aye;
 Bliss like thine is bought by years
 Dark with torment and with tears.


 Sweeter far than placid pleasure
 Purer higher beyond measure
 Yet, alas! the sooner turning
 Into hopeless, endless mourning.


 I love thee, boy, for all divine,
 All full of God thy features shine.
 Darling enthusiast, holy child,
 Too good for this world's warring wild;
 Too heavenly now, but doomed to be,
 Hell-like in heart and misery.


 And what shall change that angel brow,
 And quench that spirit's glorious glow?
 Relentless laws that disallow
 True virtue and true joy below.


 I too depart, I too decline,
 And make thy path no longer mine.
 'Tis thus that human minds will turn,
 All doomed alike to sin and mourn;
 Yet all with long gaze fixed afar,
 Adoring virtue's distant star.
“Steel isn't strong, boy, flesh is stronger! That is strength, boy! That is power! What is steel compared to the hand that wields it?  Contemplate this on the tree of woe.” - Elder Thulsa Doom of the Mountain of Power

Mencius said, “Instruction makes use of many techniques. When I do not deign to instruct someone, that too is a form of instruction.”

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Offline Arachne

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #56 on: August 05, 2019, 03:33:45 PM »
Questionnaire
by Wendell Berry

1. How much poison are you willing
to eat for the success of the free
market and global trade? Please
name your preferred poisons.

2. For the sake of goodness, how much
evil are you willing to do?
Fill in the following blanks
with the names of your favorite
evils and acts of hatred.

3. What sacrifices are you prepared
to make for culture and civilization?
Please list the monuments, shrines,
and works of art you would
most willingly destroy.

4. In the name of patriotism and
the flag, how much of our beloved
land are you willing to desecrate?
List in the following spaces
the mountains, rivers, towns, farms
you could most readily do without.

5. State briefly the ideas, ideals, or hopes,
the energy sources, the kinds of security,
for which you would kill a child.
Name, please, the children whom
you would be willing to kill.
'Evil isn't the real threat to the world. Stupid is just as destructive as evil, maybe more so, and it's a hell of a lot more common. What we really need is a crusade against stupid. That might actually make a difference.'~Harry Dresden

~ bookshelf ~ ugly writing ~ jukebox ~

Offline Gebre Menfes Kidus

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #57 on: August 24, 2019, 02:24:46 AM »
Questionnaire
by Wendell Berry

1. How much poison are you willing
to eat for the success of the free
market and global trade? Please
name your preferred poisons.

2. For the sake of goodness, how much
evil are you willing to do?
Fill in the following blanks
with the names of your favorite
evils and acts of hatred.

3. What sacrifices are you prepared
to make for culture and civilization?
Please list the monuments, shrines,
and works of art you would
most willingly destroy.

4. In the name of patriotism and
the flag, how much of our beloved
land are you willing to desecrate?
List in the following spaces
the mountains, rivers, towns, farms
you could most readily do without.

5. State briefly the ideas, ideals, or hopes,
the energy sources, the kinds of security,
for which you would kill a child.
Name, please, the children whom
you would be willing to kill.

On point!

Selam
"Whether it’s the guillotine, the hangman’s noose, or reciprocal endeavors of militaristic horror, radical evil will never be recompensed with radical punishment. The only answer, the only remedy, and the only truly effective response to radical evil is radical love."
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Offline michaelcla

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #58 on: September 26, 2019, 07:25:12 AM »
You’re Always There for Me is my favourite poem

When the world comes crashing in
And chaos rules my mind,
I turn my heart to you, Lord,
And pure, sweet peace I find.

You lift me out of trouble
You comfort me in pain;
You nourish, heal and cleanse me,
Like cool, refreshing rain.

In times of joy and bliss,
When things are going right,
You lift me even higher,
And fill me with delight.

You listen to my prayers;
You hear my every plea;
I’m safe because I know
You’re always there for me.

By Joanna Fuchs
My Name is Michaelcla and I love to read articles or blogs that inspired and motivated people about Christianity. Most of the time I love to watch Christian movies especially that based on the Bibles Principle's that helps to teach the people about humanity and love.

Offline Arachne

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #59 on: October 16, 2019, 03:46:54 AM »
Anna the prophet
by Lillian Bouzane

Listen, it was an ordinary day.

For no reason I put on my violet dress, my green cloak, my red shoes; left my house, and pushed through the throngs that were flooding into the Temple.

As I passed near the pillars, I saw there a young couple doing for their son according to the law; the two turtledoves cooed pitifully.

Moved by so meagre a gift, I  stopped and looked into the delicate face of the child.

As I pondered a voice within me cried out:

     This is the One who has been proclaimed from ancient times.

     This is the One who will go before the Face of the Lord for the redemption of Israel.

     This is the One who will make the early and later rains come down on us.


Marvelling at what I had heard from my own mouth, I left the startled young family and went into the Temple and remained there, in contemplation of that voice that proclaimed the knowledge of the Living God.
'Evil isn't the real threat to the world. Stupid is just as destructive as evil, maybe more so, and it's a hell of a lot more common. What we really need is a crusade against stupid. That might actually make a difference.'~Harry Dresden

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Offline Apostolos

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #60 on: October 16, 2019, 05:45:12 AM »
"TOLLGATE" by Kiki Dimoula

Wake up, we are almost there.
The next stop will be our final.
We get off.
Wash your face a little
use that pencil to line your eyes
so that they are clearly understood
put your light 'LIFE' perfume on.

Don't think no one will see you
vanity will be there
to welcome you.

We are almost there, get ready
have your sins handy
do you remember their tax number?

you will be asked to verify
that all the above have expired
to verify also
that you have expired as well

the borders are heavily patrolled here.
Turn your pacemaker to silent.

Once you arrive, you can turn it on again
did you think otherwise
eternity too beats with a pacemaker.

(Translated by George Onisiforou)

"UNEXPECTATIONS" by Kiki Dimoula

Lord what's still not in store for us.

I'm sitting here and sitting.
It's raining without raining
just as when a shadow
returns to us a body.

I'm sitting here and sitting.
Me here, my heart opposite
and still further away
my weary relationship with it.
So we might seem many
whenever emptiness counts us.

Empty room blowing.
I hold tight to the way
I have of being swept off.

I've no news of you.
Your photo stationary.
You stare as if coming
you smile as if not.
Dried flowers at one side
incessantly repeating for you
their unadulterated name semprevives

semprevives—eternal, eternal
in case you forget what you're not.

I'm asked by time
how I want it to pass
exactly how I pronounce myself
as edging or ageing.
Foolishness.
No end is ever articulate.

I've no news of you.
Your photo stationary.
Just as it rains without raining.

Just as a shadow returns to me a body.
And just as we'll meet one day
up there.
In some lush sparseness
with shady unexpectations
and evergreen rotations.
As interpreter of the intense
silence that we'll feel
—developed form of the intense
intoxication caused by a meeting
down here—will come a void.

And we'll be enraptured then
by a passionate unrecognition
—developed form of the embrace
employed by a meeting down here.
Yes we'll meet. Breathing fine, concealed
form attraction. In a downpour
of heavy  lack of gravity. Perhaps on one
of infinity's trips to ad infinitum;
at the ceremony for loss awards to the known
for its great contribution to the unknown;
guests at destination's starlight,
at cessation's galas on behalf of dissolving
causes and the skies' farewell
importances once great.
Expect that this company of distances
will be somewhat downcast, cheerless
even if non-existence finds cheer from nothing.
Perhaps because the soul of the party will be absent.
The flesh.

I call to the ash
to disarm me.
I call upon the ash
by its code name: Everything.

You'll meet regularly I imagine
you and the death of that dream.
The last-born dream.
Of all I had  the best-behaved.
Clear-headed, gentle, understanding.
Not of course so dreamy
but neither worthless or mean,
no toady to all and sundry.
A very thrifty dream,
in intensity and errors.
Of the dreams I raised
my most loving: so I'd not
grow old alone.

You'll meet regularly I imagine
you and its death.
Give it my regards, tell it to come
too without fail when we meet
there, at the loss awards ceremony.

Love me as long as you don't live.
Yes yes the impossible's enough for me.
Once I was loved by that.
Love me as long as you don't live.
For I've no news of you.
And heaven forbid that the absurd
should show no signs of life.

(Translated by David Connoly)
Ἦχος Πρῶτος

Τέχνη μελουργός, σούς ἀγασθεῖσα κρότους
Πρώτην νέμει σοὶ τάξιν, ὦ τῆς ἀξίας
Ἦχος ὁ πρῶτος μουσική κληθείς τέχνη
Πρῶτος παρ'ἡμῶν εὐλογείσθω τοῖς λόγοις.
Τὰ πρῶτα πρῶτε τῶν καλῶν λαχῶν φέρεις
Πρωτεῖα νίκης πανταχοῦ πάντων ἔχεις.

Offline Arachne

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #61 on: December 18, 2019, 03:50:41 PM »
Christmas
by John Betjeman

The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.

The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.

Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.

And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true? And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?

And is it true ?  For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.
'Evil isn't the real threat to the world. Stupid is just as destructive as evil, maybe more so, and it's a hell of a lot more common. What we really need is a crusade against stupid. That might actually make a difference.'~Harry Dresden

~ bookshelf ~ ugly writing ~ jukebox ~

Offline Arachne

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #62 on: March 12, 2020, 05:28:57 AM »
The sun goes down upon the Ankh,
And slowly, softly fades –
Across the Drum; the Royal Bank;
The River-Gate; the Shades.

A stony circle’s closed to elves;
And here, where lines are blurred,
Between the stacks of books on shelves,
A quiet ‘Ook’ is heard.

A copper steps the city-street
On paths he’s often passed;
The final march; the final beat;
The time to rest at last.

He gives his badge a final shine,
And sadly shakes his head –
While Granny lies beneath a sign
That says: ‘I aten’t dead.’

The Luggage shifts in sleep and dreams;
It’s now. The time’s at hand.
For where it’s always night, it seems,
A timer clears of sand.

And so it is that Death arrives,
When all the time has gone…
But dreams endure, and hope survives,
And Discworld carries on.

(by Reddit user Poem_for_your_sprog)
'Evil isn't the real threat to the world. Stupid is just as destructive as evil, maybe more so, and it's a hell of a lot more common. What we really need is a crusade against stupid. That might actually make a difference.'~Harry Dresden

~ bookshelf ~ ugly writing ~ jukebox ~

Offline Arachne

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #63 on: March 13, 2020, 11:11:49 AM »
Pandemic

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
Promise this world your love--
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.

--Lynn Ungar 3/11/20
'Evil isn't the real threat to the world. Stupid is just as destructive as evil, maybe more so, and it's a hell of a lot more common. What we really need is a crusade against stupid. That might actually make a difference.'~Harry Dresden

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Offline Gebre Menfes Kidus

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #64 on: March 22, 2020, 05:31:52 AM »
Pandemic

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
Promise this world your love--
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.

--Lynn Ungar 3/11/20

BEAUTIFUL. AMEN. +++

Selam
"Whether it’s the guillotine, the hangman’s noose, or reciprocal endeavors of militaristic horror, radical evil will never be recompensed with radical punishment. The only answer, the only remedy, and the only truly effective response to radical evil is radical love."
+ Gebre Menfes Kidus +
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Offline platypus

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #65 on: March 24, 2020, 11:50:12 PM »
"St. Stephen" by Fr. Abram Joseph Ryan. I recently bought his Poems: Patriotic and Religious and have been quite overwhelmed. My new favorite poet.

First champion of the Crucified!
Who, when the fight began
Between the Church and worldly pride
So nobly fought, so nobly died,
The foremost in the van;
While rallied to your valiant side
The red-robed martyr-band;
To-night with glad and high acclaim
We venerate thy saintly name;
Accept, Saint Stephen, to thy praise
And glory, these our lowly lays.

The chosen twelve with chrismed hand
And burning zeal within,
Led forth their small yet fearless band
On Pentecost, and took their stand
Against the world and sin --
While rang aloud the battle-cry:
'The hated Christians all must die!
As died the Nazarene before,
The God they believe in and adore.'
Yet Stephen's heart quailed not with fear
At persecution's cry;
But loving, as he did, the cause
Of Jesus and His faith and laws,
Prepared himself to die.

He faced his foes with burning zeal,
Such zeal as only saints can feel;
He told them how the Lord had stood
Within their midst, so great and good,
How he had through Judea trod,
How wonders marked his way -- the God,
How he had cured the blind, the lame,
The deaf, the palsied, and the maimed,
And how, with awful, wondrous might,
He raised the dead to life and light;
And how his people knew Him not --
Had eyes and still had seen Him not,
Had ears and still had heard Him not,
Had hearts and comprehended not.
Then said he, pointing to the right,
Where darkly rose Golgotha's height:
'There have ye slain the Holy One,
Your Saviour and God's only Son.'

They gnashed their teeth in raging ire,
Those dark and cruel men;
They vowed a vengeance deep and dire
Against Saint Stephen then.
Yet he was calm; a radiant light
Around his forehead gleamed;
He raised his eyes, a wondrous sight
He saw, so grand it was and bright,
His soul was filled with such delight
That he an angel seemed.
Then spoke the Saint: 'A vision grand
Bursts on me from above:
The doors of heaven open stand,
And at the Father's own right hand
I see the Lord I love.'

'Away with him,' the rabble cry,
With swelling rage and hate,
But Stephen still gazed on the sky,
His heart was with his Lord on high,
He heeded not his fate.

The gathering crowd in fury wild
Rush on the 'raptured Saint,
And seize their victim, mute and mild,
Who, like his master, though reviled,
Still uttered no complaint.

With angry shouts they rend the air;
They drag him to the city gate;
They bind his hands and feet and there,
While whispered he for them a prayer,
The martyr meets his fate.

First fearless witness to his belief
In Jesus Crucified,
The red-robed martyrs' noble chief,
Thus for his Master died.
And to the end of time his name
Our Holy Church shall e'er proclaim,
And with a mother's pride shall tell
How her great proto-martyr fell.
I stare at the screen, my fingers gliding across the keypad. Uninformed opinions appear in neat rows of text. They are my own. "Click post!" Pride whispers gleefully into my ear. I obey without resistance.
Please disregard everything I say.

Offline Arachne

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Re: Favorite Poems
« Reply #66 on: March 31, 2020, 06:52:56 AM »
'Evil isn't the real threat to the world. Stupid is just as destructive as evil, maybe more so, and it's a hell of a lot more common. What we really need is a crusade against stupid. That might actually make a difference.'~Harry Dresden

~ bookshelf ~ ugly writing ~ jukebox ~