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=> Off Topic Discussions => Topic started by: Sorin on October 21, 2006, 06:59:53 PM

Title: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Sorin on October 21, 2006, 06:59:53 PM
Okay, so here's the thread to post your poetry in.
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: gmik on October 21, 2006, 07:25:23 PM
Tonite Shanghai is burning...
and I am dying too.

There is no death so real, as the death inside of you.

Some go down in ashes, some go down in flames.

But most men die, INCH BY INCH,   playing silly games'



readersdigest/anonymous



How I felt before I was dragged to Him
gena
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: a_child_of_God on October 21, 2006, 08:30:21 PM
Sorin, your poem sounds as if it could be a song. I also liked the other poem you posted on another thread.

Ruth
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 21, 2006, 09:04:15 PM
Great thread Sorin!

Will look at my poetry book and will be posting soon....! :D

...and they who know not
   HE has not forgot

  They smile all the while
  As their souls they defile

  We thank God every day
  That for us ALL HE did pay

Arcturus ;D
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Andy_MI on October 22, 2006, 01:06:16 AM
A Word to the Elect

by Anne Bronte

You may rejoice to think yourselves secure;

You may be grateful for the gift divine -
That grace unsought, which made your black hearts pure,
And fits your earth-born souls in Heaven to shine.
But, is it sweet to look around, and view
Thousands excluded from that happiness
Which they deserve at least as much as you -
Their faults not greater, nor their virtues less?
And, wherefore should you love your God the more,
Because to you alone His smiles are given;
Because He chose to pass the many o'er,
And only bring the favoured few to Heaven?
And, wherefore should your hearts more grateful prove,
Because for ALL the Saviour did not die?
Is yours the God of justice and of love?
And are your bosoms warm with charity?
Say, does your heart expand to all mankind?
And, would you ever to your neighbour do -
The weak, the strong, the enlightened, and the blind -
As you would have your neighbour do to you?
And, when you, looking on your fellow-men,
Behold them doomed to endless misery,
How can you talk of joy and rapture then?-
May God withhold such cruel joy from me!
That none deserve eternal bliss I know;
Unmerited the grace in mercy given;
But none shall sink to everlasting woe,
That have not well deserved the wrath of Heaven.

And oh! there lives within my heart
A hope, long nursed by me;
(And should its cheering ray depart,
How dark my soul would be!)
That as in Adam all have died,
In Christ shall all men live;
And ever round His throne abide,
Eternal praise to give.
That even the wicked shall at last

Be fitted for the skies;

And when their dreadful doom is past,
To life and light arise.
I ask not how remote the day,
Nor what the sinners' woe,
Before their dross is purged away;
Enough for me, to know
That when the cup of wrath is drained,
The metal purified,
They'll cling to what they once disdained,
And live by Him that died.
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 22, 2006, 07:42:15 AM
That was heart wrenchingly beautiful!.....

Arcturus :)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 22, 2006, 09:20:56 AM
Do not know who wrote the following:

THE DIVINE WEAVING

"See the mystic Weaver sitting
High in heaven - His loom below.
Up and down the treadles go.
Takes, for web, with world's dark ages,
Takes, for woof, the kings and sages.
Takes the nobles and their pages,
Takes all stations and all stages.
Thrones are bobbins in His shuttle.
Armies make them scud and scuttle-
Web into the woof must flow;
Up and down the nations go!
At the Weaver's WILL they go!

"Calmly see the mystic Weaver
Throw His shuttle to and fro;
'Mid the noise and wild confusion,
Well the Weaver seems to know
What each motion, and commotion,
What each fusion, and confusion,
In the grand result will show!

"Glorious wonder! What a weaving!
To the DULL, beyond believeing
Such no fabled ages know.
Only faith can see the mystery,
How, along the aisles of history,
Where the feet of sages go,
Loveliest to the fairest eyes,
Grand the mystic tapet lies!
Soft and smooth, and ever spreading,
As if made for angels' treading-
Tufted circles touching ever
Every figure has it plaidings,
Brighter forms and softer shadings,
Each illumined - what a riddle!
From a cross that gems the middle.

"Tis a saying -some reject it-
That its light is all reflected;
That the tapet's lines are given
By a Sun that shines in heaven!

'Tis believed-by all believing-
That great God, Himself, is weaving
Bringing out the world's dark mystery,
In the light of faith and history;
And, as web and woof diminish,
Comes the grand and glorious finish,
When begin the Golden Ages,
Long foretold by seers and sages."

Arcturus :D
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: iris on October 22, 2006, 11:03:52 PM
For God loved the world so much
that he gave his only-begotten Son,
in order that everyone exercising faith in him
might not be destroyed
but have everlasting life.
For God sent forth his Son into the world,
not for him to judge the world,
but for the world to be saved
through him.

John 3:16&17

(New World Translation)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 23, 2006, 03:28:39 PM
Hello everyone.



When I was eight years old, the founder of Scientology, L Ron Hubbard moved in next door to us and soon became house friends with my parents. It was not long after and he was deported from our Country. He blamed my parents and my Father was outraged.  We had nothing to do with it. 

More than a decade latter two of my work colleagues persuaded me to enrol as a student of Scientology. Soon afterwards I decided to make a two week visit  to the Scientology Head Quarters in Tampa Florida. I wrote this poem after I returned from that trip to Florida where I  had stepped into the Devils lair. ( I have since learnt here at Bible-Truths where Satan’s throne room is and I can tell you he has many lairs too…I have no doubt that many if not all of you here have come across a few yourself and carry the scars to prove it !)  I was appalled to experience a very painful shattering of my childhood illusions and trust in human nature. You may wonder what happened. I was not raped in my body, I was raped in my mind and soul, and in my faith and my trust of the Beast that appeared smiling as I was soulfully dying........

I was not to know then, that three years after writing this poem, my husband would be shot dead….. I also did not know that this, my first poem was named so very appropriately! It has been hidden, unseen and unspoken until now.

THE FIRST STEP 2.11.1983

I got crushed between the wheels of time
With no other place to draw the line.
I rambled on with great forlorn
Knowing my very soul was torn.
My feet I carried on thorny road
To find the Truth and her abode.
And more I lost as I went on
And all the time I heard the song
“Move on, move on! The riches there
  are greater than you can compare. “
So into me an evil thrust
Of the very words that draw to dust
The soul of man and every race
That thus makes hast to abase.
Seeking on in mournful song
Until what I had was all gone.

I returned again by some small chance
And to the wind I cast my glance
“Oh spiteful way that to me did say –
   ‘Come along with me to stray
    that you can make more rich the hay..’
So straws I picked with such intention
That I did lose hope of redemption
A game to play a heavy dice
That makes a loss every thrice.
To think to win the game to play
The third rolled dice does lose the way
And this the error in the plot
Deceptive guise that I knew not
And on such game to make my lot
While in my soul the treads do rot.

Upon this path dear soul I trod
To know the Truth of wicked plot
And all the love I could share
Was made to die in this full snare.
And even though my life I took
To dare to gaze and take a look.
And all the expense I suffered there
I don’t even dare to try to care.
For though I paid a price so heavy
I won the dice on the fall of thrice.

And looking back I see the Truth.
I won not because of youth or sleuth.
But into an arena I wrestled there
To play a game I thought was fair.
And so my soul I took to bear
To seek for Truth in the Devil’s lair.

So this the Truth I tell you now
You’ll find it not if you don’t toil
You’ll glimpse her not if you don’t boil.
For never will you spy her nought
And neither is she caught or bought.
Her love is greater than any man’s
And rewards she doesn’t hold in her hands.
She is simple and true to All and Love
And this does come from God above.


Part two 1.11.05

Wisdom is her name.
Life to her is not a game.
For it was won through great great shame
Cursed and bled and water shed
With crown of thorns upon His Head
He hung His sorrow till His life was shed.

So He could take and claim His own
You and I and His rightful throne.
Until He comes again to declare
It was Him alone who so did care
To share our burdens every where
So we could rise from the grave on that day
And on that day to truly say
He is Lord of Lords on earth above
As we exit our graves into the fullness of His great Love.
Jesus is His Name
Wisdom is His fame
And Human kind is not a game.

From earths great battle we should refrain
Till we can say Christ alone is our gain.
And return to Peace and threshold fair
To the one and only who does really care.

…………………………………………………

If you have read this, I want to thank you. I know it was very long. I want to say to you, tenderly and softly that I do know that this path has not been for me alone…. Many of us encounter much more heart ach, and gut wrenching mind numbing body and soul annihilating pain than I could ever describe. We have only to look at our Lord to know that we know so little of His unspeakable pain. Perhaps this is what makes my poem so small…. not short… because it is the unspoken pain, the unspeakable agony that writes the deeper language of the heart of God…and ultimately our joy in meeting that Love. For our God is Love making us into His image……..



He stood and bled so to His Bride He can wed
He died and rose so we can repose
~Till He comes again
When… When…who knows!…

And in my looking my waiting grows
As His dear life lives like a rose
In souls of those He knows, He knows.

Thorns that scratch and perfume dear
Not  driving  scars made bad with fear

His Sprit true, through and through
Birthed out of pain He only knew…23 October 2006


Arcturus… :).in training!
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: brothertoall on October 23, 2006, 03:45:50 PM
Thank you my friend for sharing that!!!!

bobby
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 23, 2006, 03:56:48 PM
His dazzling Peace, His endless Love

To you Bobby

 :)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: brothertoall on October 23, 2006, 03:59:54 PM
Thank you Arcturus and the very same to you my friend.

I always wished I could write poetry like that.

bobby
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: kennymac on October 24, 2006, 12:44:41 AM
Then cometh the end" – the end of what?The end that God so long hath sought!The end He always had in view,The end that man so little knew.

The end of sin’s triumphants way,The end of death – the grave’s decay.The end of judgment and of ire,The second death, the lake of fire.

The end when God will ever be. With us for all eternity:The end for which His love doth call,

The end when HE is All in all!

 

Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: gmik on October 24, 2006, 02:47:08 PM
 :'(   Thank you all for touching my heart!!! :)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 24, 2006, 05:05:59 PM
Amen to that Kennymac....Amen and Amen!
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: kennymac on October 25, 2006, 03:51:47 AM
 Pressed out of measure and pressed to all length, Pressed so intensely it seems, beyond strength;

 Pressed in the body and pressed in the soul,  Pressed in the mind till the dark surges roll.

 Pressed by foes, and a pressure from friends,  Pressure on pressure, till life nearly ends. 

 Pressed into knowing no helper but God;  Pressed into loving the staff and the rod.

 Pressed into liberty where nothing clings;  Pressed into faith for impossible things.

Pressed into living a life in the Lord,  Pressed into living a Christ-life outpoured
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 25, 2006, 03:22:20 PM
WOW!.....THE GOOSE BUMPS...

.KEEP POSTING  KENNYMAC.

WHEN DID YOU WRITE THAT?...IT IS TRULY GREAT! ;D

 :)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: kennymac on October 26, 2006, 09:02:38 AM
Do you think God does not love you When you're passing 'neath the rod? Do you grow a bit discouraged; Think the road is most too hard?

Oh, my brother, do you not know That our Father has a plan By which to purge and purify And perfect this race of man?

"Think it not strange," said brother Peter, When comes the fiery trial; It may come in fierce temptations That will call forth self-denial.

It may be in deepest sorrow Sad bereavement, or in pain. Your friends may all forsake you; God will work it for your gain.

The trial of your faith, said he, Is of value more than gold. His fire is burning out the dross From His chosen and His called.

Let us stay right in the furnace Though the flames seem hard to take; God ordained their raging fury That He a perfect vessel make.

He is calling out His remnant, Seed with which to plant again; He must test and try each vessel, Those to find who will remain.

Would you like for Him to use you? Would you like to add your voice To this new day trumpet sounding? Then the fire must be your choice.

Should any dross or stain remain, Then the gold cannot be pure. It will not reflect His image And you never will endure.

Go through, as faithful Abraham, For he proved his love by test; Climbing up old Mount Moriah, On God's altar laid His best.

Think of those three Hebrew children; They loved God with all their hearts; Yet each was tested by the fire, Nor from its pain refused a part.

God saw He could count them faithful In what'er their lot might be. He wants to prove the same of you, So from His testing do not flee!


Arcturus, read your poems, touched my heart.... Keep writing!

I am no poet. I am just a collection of the people I've met, the teacher's who have taught me, and the books I have read. I came across these poems while doing a study on Revelation and The Kingdom. I enjoyed them much.

God bless,

KennyMac



Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: joyful1 on October 26, 2006, 12:40:50 PM
What is the purpose for poetry/music? Is there only one purpose? joyce ???
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Andy_MI on October 26, 2006, 03:09:42 PM
Quote from: joyful1 on October 26, 2006, 12:40:50 PM
What is the purpose for poetry/music? Is there only one purpose? joyce ???

Hi Joyce,

Here's some scriptures that may answer your question

Eph 5:18-21 KJVR
(18)  And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit;
(19)  Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord;
(20)  Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ;
(21)  Submitting yourselves one to another in the fear of God.

Col 3:12-17 VW
(12)  Therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering;
(13)  bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if anyone has a complaint against another; even as Christ forgave you, so you also do.
(14)  And above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfectness.
(15)  And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called in one body; and be thankful.
(16)  Let the Word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.
(17)  And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God, even the Father, through Him.

Peace,

Andy

Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 26, 2006, 04:44:43 PM
I dedicate the following  poem to the founder and everyone here on this forum.

I composed this poem on 16.10.1986. I dedicate it for the first time.  All my poetry that has remained on record was acknowledged in a National competition. The last poem that I have on record was written in 1994. I was not a prolific or qualified writer, just a wounded one...

The reason I dedicate the following poem here, is because in the final sentence of this poem as I was reading it again, it reminded me of all of YOU…of the wisdom aglow through your posts here and every teaching that appears on Bilble-Truths.. “speakers speaking in full glow with words of wisdom he’s come to know”.

THE MOTH

In eyes so spoken in speech so rare
Are spoken words no words could dare
Like lamp and moth to task they take
See light and dark no eye can fake.

But if a moth and light by night are severed
The soul of Man cannot be measured
For blind to light an eye ill taught
And danger to folly this soul is wrought

No courtly gesture or posture to bear
the light of words that eyes do share
the glint and gleam of light aglow
in eyes that show the light they know.

Or for this purpose beyond the screen
Or eyes that cancel every dream
And shut the open eye may seem
If stolen to darkness and darkness it preen

Not words in which we fare
Nor grievous feeling we can bare
in clashing swords with words and more
combining wrath to even score.

Combining of minds and brushing astray
The task of words to battle say
In burning eye that speaks more brittle
Gesticulating hand doth say so little.

The moth that flies around the glow
With fluttering wings more words doth show
Her love of light in anguished flight
Can burn her wings and words alight

So what this playwright fights to say
In less than moth to light obey
A dimmer mind flutters not by lamp
But rests in darkness where no words camp.

Like man a moth in fluttering light
Puts humming of words to the soul of her flight
Not seeking ovation or to splendour enthral
To make of her journey the light to tell all.

So held by a flame reflected in eye
Each one a moth with memory shy
Catching each moment in time like light so divine
Using only but words the light to enshrine.

For light in emotion and noiseless commotion
Not seeking applause knows real devotion
Alone in her flight in bright of the night
Lit by endeavour her only leisure

Hypocrisy we deem is not we dream
Where man speaking to preen his self and esteem
To bring audience applause to make his delight
Shows lesser a soul than a moth in flight.

He who speaks knowing fear
Does normally participate words more dear
For pride he doesn’t fill his purpose
Like applause for a moth he knows is worthless.

This lesson we all can learn
To still a tongue doth make one burn
But nearer patience with this we grow
The nearer the flame we come to know.

For outward folly of word and eye
Is nowhere matched by light we spy
Of speaker speaking in full glow
With words of wisdom he’s come to know

Arcturus   :)...in l-o-n-g training :D

Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 28, 2006, 01:56:33 PM
HEALTH AND WEALTH

Does worry bring my bread?
“Not so!” a voice it said
“For bread to worry is not wed
and in your bed you should never dread.”

Then what will then be left and read?
“That you did dread within your bed?
or better said that in the day
you battled each plan to have YOUR WAY?

The Lilies are fairer – “so it is writ”
-but NOT of the one who thought they could sit
and in between  the idiom lies
“the one who DIDN’T sit to find time to despise”

What Lilies do conceal
- reason does reveal
“and even THIS POOR
a man knows not more.”

“To Lilies that do bend…”
man lends to a trend!
“to keep up his name
and fame to defend!”

“What know you of a Lilly?”
You’d think it only silly
“To be seen nothing more?….
and to seek NOT TO SCORE?
“In lifes maddened game?”
-   and man takes to SHAME…
-   “If he is to blame.”

To contrive to deny…
“That man seeks wealth before health?”-   
AND couples the two
As he would lace his shoe!

“On which foot does it fit?”
On the man who would sit
“and bend to his need?
-and say its not greed!”

And so in his sitting
“He knows he’s not quitting”
-   and neither does he smite
-   “the lilly that is white?”

“But neither does he walk….”
-   and neither does he fight!
“And neither does he take time
in God’s grace delight.”

But bent in endeavour…
“He craves for his pleasure.”-   
and uses his leasure to measure
“not sever the illusion of his mind that says..
YES! Be kind! And do it this way! And..
“Have it TODAY!”

“And so this shoe he doesn’t lace”
bent in his haste….
“and his disgrace.”
And even though a God he knew
...he finds more truth in his lace and shoe”
27.2.1994

Romans 1 : 20 For ever since the creation of the world His invisible nature and attributes, that is His eternal power and divinitgy, have been made intelligible and clearly discernible in and through the things that have been made, His handiwords. So men are without excurse, altogether without any defense or justification.

Psalm 37 : 1,2,3

Fret not yourself because of evildoers, neither be envious against those who work unrighteousness, that which is not upright or in right standing with God. 2.For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb.  3 Trust, lean on, rely on, and be confident in the Lord and do good; so shall you dwell in the land and feed surely on His faithfulness, and truly you shall be fed.

I hope someone enjoyed this.....

Arcturus :)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 29, 2006, 02:42:17 AM
YES! Sorin! ;D

That WAS GREAT! ;D

Thank you.....Where did you get the one from Ray?.....I have read I'd say 99% of what he has written on Bible-Truths and missed that one! ;D

Arcturus :D
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on October 30, 2006, 03:39:09 PM
Tks :)

....had not read this article by Ray....because I live in Africa and have seen  tremedous injustice, hate, war, ignorance, blindness and racial prejudice...

Have now to read and will have to catch up!.'....~Tks

Arcturus :)

Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on November 01, 2006, 04:34:11 AM
BLACK CONSCIOUSNESS

Long have my people suffered
Ruddered to such waste
And voting power now to grate
Upon the whip of human hate

Long have my people travelled
Wearied by the throng
Of worked to bone and marrow torn
In ignorance the robe so worn.

Long have my people burdened
The black of skin and simple song
And affluent the social norm
Of white woman’s lot to she is born

Long have my babies cried
In dust and penniless dignity
While glinting cutting sight of white
Cuts narrow strips off black mans bite

Long have my brothers in silence
In mild and blackness child
The lamb that doesn’t speak
The child that is so meek.

Long have my tears burned
Upon sand so hot and banned
The struggle for tomorrow
Born to-day in vote to borrow.

Long has been the wind
That now has turned to face the hurt
That rages now to burn
Not heal, or help, or learn.

Long has been the time
The journey black and white
And march all we do
Straight back into the night.

Long has been the cry
To free, to live or die
And so we continue on
The journey just begun.




WHITE CONSCIOUSNESS

Why don’t they speak
So dumb do they sound
So quiet so numb
From where do they come.

Why don’t they think
So back of beyond
Where our Shakespeare sound
Of such we are found

Why don’t they sing
Could they never compose
Such as Mozart or Bach
From Heavens repose.

Why are they black
Their  skins tarnished so
From hell’s kindled foe
Into sorrow they go.

Why can they smile
Such dazzling teeth to show
And eyes filled with love
Never seen from above.

Why can they kill
With screams oh so shrill
When we do so much better
Atom bomb death to fetter.

Why to they huddle
Midst themselves in a muddle
When we stand so proud
Alone in a crowd.

Why do they glide
In a huge human tide
And give birth as do rabbits
In pastureless habits.

Why do they live
Not like us ne’er to be
Why cann’t we be them
Or them just like me.





GOD CONSCIOUSNESS
 
Long have my people waited
-   Why didn’t they come?

Long have my people called
-   Why didn’t they answer
To My Love?  (14.3.1994)


Isaiah 50 : 2  Why, when I came, was there no man? When I called, why was there no one to answer? Is  My hand shortened at all, that it cannot redeem? Or have I no power to deliver? Behold, at My rebuke I dry up the sea. I make the rivers a desert, their fish stink because there is no water, and they die of thrust.

Isaiah 59 : 1 Behold, The Lord’s hand is not shortened at all, that it cannot save, nor His ear dull with deafness, that it cannot hear.

(These two  scriptures match up with the Black White and God Consciousness Trilogy that I wrote in 1994. I found this match TODAY,  from studying  L. Ray Smiths critique of James Kennedy’s sermon titled God is not responsible for the eternal fate of Africans listed on the home page!)





Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: gmik on November 02, 2006, 01:08:30 AM
Truly amazing. God has gifted you  :)

Sorin, aren't you glad you started this??  I didn't think it would show us such creativity and insight.  These are keepers.

gena
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: eggi on January 28, 2007, 06:12:39 PM
"I"
-----------------------
By Giorgio Gaber
-----------------------

The word "I"
it is a concept which grows little by little
for a child it is a sweet echo
it encourages your first steps
towards an intimate certainty of self

The word "I"
with time it assumes
a more precise tone
sometimes it is in danger
of being annoying
but it is also a sign
of a childlike logic
it is a recurring but venial sin.

I, I, I
only I.

But the defects of the adolescence
are not cancelled with age
and strangely in adults
they become more alarming and grow.

The word "I"
a strange fear
that is hidden in vain
the fear of not becoming somebody
it is an exaggerated need
and a little morbid
it is the distressing image of Narcissus.

I, I, I
and still I.

I that have not been born
to always remain
confused in anonymity
I put myself first
I don't like the idea of being
one among many
every day I expand myself
I can be the center of the world.

I am always present
I am disposed to whichever sentiment
which makes me feel important
I must be quick
exalted by this mania
to assert myself at all costs
I sell myself to the point of inflation
I want to be the center of the world.

I do not respect anybody
if it serves me I can also pretend
being good
I must dominate
I am a being without ideals
made thirsty of power
I am in command
I must be the center of the world.

Conceited, presumptuous I
exhibitionist, pompous, proud and
prideful I, megalomaniac, braggart
eager and invading
sickening, arrogant, unkind
I, only I
everywhere I.

The word "I"
this sweet little syllable
it is fatal that it is spreading
in the logic of the western world
perhaps it is their last sin.
I.
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: gmik on January 29, 2007, 10:45:21 PM
W  O  W  !!!!!!

gave me the goose bumps.
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: John on January 29, 2007, 11:16:18 PM
http://www.kids4truth.com/watchmaker/watch.html

Peace,
John
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: rrammfcitktturjsp on January 30, 2007, 12:37:08 AM
Got a question to you poets,

  I love writing things to music.  Might I try to put some music to these poems?  I can hear the music already, especially with Kenny's stuff.

  Sincerely,



  Anne C. McGuire
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Sorin on January 31, 2007, 09:37:05 PM
I've decided to post this here again and leave it this time. Sorry for removing it last time.

My poem about those greedy-deceiving two-faced televengelists that plague our television stations.

Jesus Is Profitable


Want to get rich and not work a day?
Get on tv and have something to say
As long as you're using Jesus' name
You're on your way to fortune and fame

Offer healing cloths, and miracle water
The scattered sheep will all come together
And give you whatever you ask for it
Even though it's water from your toilet

Jesus is profitable
So why be a fool?
As long as your able
Use Him like a tool

You'll have whatever your heart may desire
Your own multi-million dollar Empire
Supported by followers who are going to pay
For all your expenses, each and everyday

Tell them that you need their money to save souls
Otherwise Jesus wouldn't reach those
That have never even heard
And His death was in vain, and absurd

Jesus is profitable
So why be a fool?
As long as your able
Use Him like a tool

Once you bestowed the fear of hell
You'll have them all under your spell
They'll do whatever you say
And support your Ministry in everyway

They'll do whatever it may take
just to escape from the fiery lake
That on that ressurection day
Will be cast into anyway




Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Sorin on January 31, 2007, 09:40:40 PM
This one's about the Harlot.

The Christian Deception


Like a plague it spreads across the land
Poisoning the mind with all the lies
It strips you of all logical thoughts
It utterly rapes your mind

It causes you to worship out of fear
Of going to a place that's not even there
By using the fear of hell
It controls you like a puppet

It offers empty promises that will not come to pass
In vain you follow the religion of mass hypocrisy

The Christian Deception
Don't believe the lies
The Christian Deception
Is what I despise

It makes you believe in square circles and contradictions
It says your soul is immortal and will never die...
Then what's the point of the resurrection?

Free your mind, open your eyes, see the hypocrisy I despise
And
Dechristianize, dechristianize, dechristianize
The weakened mind!!!


Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: rrammfcitktturjsp on January 31, 2007, 11:12:47 PM
To all poets,

  There's a great deal of stuff that would make great songs.  May I have your permission to work these into music?  I just wanted permission before I began though?  Please respond either in this thread or to my pm.

  Thanks.

  Sincerely,



  Anne C. McGuire
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: hebrewroots98 on February 01, 2007, 01:36:38 AM
Indeed, beautiful and touching poetry.  THANK YOU :)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Sorin on February 15, 2007, 02:55:03 PM
I did not write this, but I just think it's such a great poem. Thus I decided to post it here for your viewing pleasure.  ;)



Jonathan Swift (1667–1745)

A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General

His Grace! impossible! what dead!
Of old age too, and in his bed!
And could that mighty warrior fall?
And so inglorious, after all!
Well, since he's gone, no matter how,
The last loud trump must wake him now:
And, trust me, as the noise grows stronger,
He'd wish to sleep a little longer.
And could he be indeed so old
As by the newspapers we're told?
Threescore, I think, is pretty high;
'Twas time in conscience he should die.
This world he cumbered long enough;
He burnt his candle to the snuff;
And that's the reason, some folks think,
He left behind so great a s---k.
Behold his funeral appears,
Nor widow's sighs, nor orphan's tears,
Wont at such times each heart to pierce,
Attend the progress of his hearse.
But what of that, his friends may say,
He had those honors in his day.
True to his profit and his pride,
He made them weep before he died.
   Come hither, all ye empty things,
Ye bubbles raised by breath of kings;
Who float upon the tide of state,
Come hither, and behold your fate.
Let pride be taught by this rebuke,
How very mean a thing's a Duke;
From all his ill-got honors flung,
Turned to that dirt from whence he sprung.


-------------


I wonder how many of us {humans} are going to wish we could sleep a little longer?
The last line is killer too.
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on February 15, 2007, 03:52:22 PM
Sorin

That was very well written 8) ;D

Will the world miss us when we go/
Oh no Oh no I do not think so

Will the crowd notice that we are no more
Only if we owe them a debt to even their score!

Will we be missed by those we have kissed
Only if love did not make us remiss

Did we notice others and love them true
Only they canl know and so will we too

When that Trump does sound and from graves we resound
Our exact soul rags or riches will be found

Will we be dressed in His Spirit of hope and of love
 Will we be dressed with Gods robes of grace from above

Or will we be mean and bitter to task
and into the fire of God be thrown at last

How will we fare on that fine day
When Jesus returns on His special day?

A heart that is clean and conscioence so true
This is my prayer for me and for you.


Peace to you

Arcturus :)

Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: iris on February 15, 2007, 08:32:07 PM
Quote from: Arcturus on February 15, 2007, 03:52:22 PM
Sorin

That was very well written 8) ;D

Will the world miss us when we go/
Oh no Oh no I do not think so

Will the crowd notice that we are no more
Only if we owe them a debt to even their score!

Will we be missed by those we have kissed
Only if love did not make us remiss

Did we notice others and love them true
Only they canl know and so will we too

When that Trump does sound and from graves we resound
Our exact soul rags or riches will be found

Will we be dressed in His Spirit of hope and of love
 Will we be dressed with Gods robes of grace from above

Or will we be mean and bitter to task
and into the fire of God be thrown at last

How will we fare on that fine day
When Jesus returns on His special day?

A heart that is clean and conscioence so true
This is my prayer for me and for you.


Peace to you

Arcturus :)




Hi Arcturus...I really liked your poem. Did you write it yourself?


Iris
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on February 16, 2007, 02:09:43 AM
Yes Iris, I did....

Thank you that you liked it... :D

Peace to you

Arcturus :)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: PKnowler on February 16, 2007, 03:58:17 PM
Here's a poem a friend wrote that I thought would fit nicely here.
He's a UR believer. It's powerful!

NO HOPE IN HELL!

I look at the church today, listen to what they say
We have no hope in hell, no hope in hell
They know for sure,they know this well
What to do, where to go
They say that God doesn't run the show
Christ died on the cross for your sin
But that is not enough to win

No hope in hell is what they say
Listen to them and there's hell to pay
We have to make the church to see
That Christ is the only reality
No hope in hell, no hope in hell
Christ died for Hitlers Soul
Just as He died to make them whole
To the cross is where I'll be
Because He died to set all free
God will have all men saved
For now we know hell is just the grave
He is the living God of all men
For we will not die in our sin
Saved by fire, but not from hell
These are the things they will not tell
No hope in hell, no hope in hell
Christ is the hope I saw, for now God is all in all

Mike Kramer
2/12/07
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Snowfire on March 08, 2007, 01:55:07 AM
The Touch of the Master's Hand

by Myra Brooks Welch

'Twas battered and scarred, and the old auctioneer
thought it scarcely worth his while
to waste much time on the old violin,
but he still held it up with a smile:
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar"; then, "Two!" "Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
going for three..." but no.
From the room far back, a gray-haired man
came forward and picked up the bow;
then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
and tightening the loose strings,
he played a melody pure and sweet
as a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
with a voice that was quiet and low,
said; "What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand! And who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
and going, and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand
what changed its worth." Swift came the reply:
"The touch of the master's hand."
 
And many a man with life out of tune,
and battered and scarred with sun,
is auctioned cheep to the thoughtless crowd,
much like this old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine;
a game; and he travels on.
He is "going" once, "going" twice,
he's "going" and almost "gone."
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
never can quite understand
the worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
by the touch of the Master's hand.
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Redbird on March 08, 2007, 08:58:09 AM
Snowfire,

That poem is a radiant start to the day. 
Thank you.
Welcome to the forum~
by the Way.

Lisa
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: LittleBear on March 08, 2007, 10:04:17 AM
What a beautiful poem Snowfire,

Welcome,

Ursula
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: iris on March 08, 2007, 12:48:40 PM
Snowfire,

Your poem was beautiful.  :)

Thank you for sharing it.

And,

Welcome to the forum!


Iris
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on March 08, 2007, 02:07:48 PM
Snowfire

What a beautiful entry into the Forum! Welcome.

Peace to you

Arcturus :)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Snowfire on March 08, 2007, 02:38:59 PM
Arcturus,

When I saw this poem ...  It reminded me of the vision that you had.


In Memory of a Happy Day in February
By Anne Brontë (1820 - 1849)

Blessed be Thou for all the joy
My soul has felt today!
O let its memory stay with me
And never pass away!

I was alone, for those I loved
Were far away from me,
The sun shone on the withered grass,
The wind blew fresh and free.

Was it the smile of early spring
That made my bosom glow?
'Twas sweet, but neither sun nor wind
Could raise my spirit so.

Was it some feeling of delight,
All vague and undefined?
No, 'twas a rapture deep and strong,
Expanding in the mind!

Was it a sanguine view of life
And all its transient bliss­
A hope of bright prosperity?
O no, it was not this!

It was a glimpse of truth divine
Unto my spirit given
Illumined by a ray of light
That shone direct from heaven!

I felt there was a God on high
By whom all things were made.
I saw His wisdom and his power
In all his works displayed.

But most throughout the moral world
I saw his glory shine;
I saw His wisdom infinite,
His mercy all divine.

Deep secrets of his providence
In darkness long concealed
Unto the vision of my soul
Were graciously revealed.
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on March 08, 2007, 03:50:50 PM
Oh Snowfire

....what a beautiful and welcome gift!

You know, there is nothing so sweet to me as pure, genuine, clean,  unaffected kindness.

I see that Anne Bronte lived only 29 years! Oh how sweet her sleep if in her life she knew such beauty!....

...and she will wake to the author of her life and sweet lover of her soul who shone such radiant a prose into her heart set to repose and then to sleep,  her powerful words no more to keep but set on course and into time where she via you would bring her rhyme. 

Snowfire....thank you to the God of beauty that caused you to send that to me.....It brought tears to my eyes at the extraordinary closeness in thinking that is visible in Anne’s poem ..........

It appears that both you and Anne know me. Anne for having shared something intimate about herself that is very acquainted to feelings I have not written but have felt and you for recognition of the essence of meaning in beauty beyond the  temporal plane of existence.

Peace to you

Arcturus :)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: skydreamers on March 10, 2007, 02:33:36 PM
What beautiful poetry everyone...awesome!!  I use to write a lot of poetry when I was younger but have let it go over the years.  But all of you have inspired me to pick up the pen and try my hand at it again!!  Stay tuned....

In the meantime I wanted to share not a poem but the lyrics to a song I really love:

Lost At Sea

by Jimmy Needham

How could you see what you see
and not totally
Want to discontinue me
for all eternity and then some
It bothers me so that I could be so
Completely unaffected when connected to the holy one
And so I sit here and stare at this page
and wonder at what age
it will become clear to me
So for now I am clueless
to how you do this
And how you move this spirit in me

Chorus:
I’m going Your way
Even though I cannot see in front of me
 I’m going Your way
Even though I feel lost at sea


How could your favor be the flavor I savor
When the fruits of my labor are so unfavorable
And old pages
are setting the stages
for something outrageous
A man who can save all our souls

Ride the wave, wave goodbye, by the way did I mention today
That I don’t know the way home
So could you take me by the hand
and lead me to the dryer land
So I can finally breathe again instead of sinking like a stone
And now I will diligently
and not religiously
but affectionately
come before the throne of your grace
in this place and seek your face
For all eternity and then some




{You can listen to the song if you like at this site:

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=21876848

Just click on the song title:  Lost at Sea, underneath the player on the right}

Peace,
Diana
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: skydreamers on March 10, 2007, 03:03:38 PM
Another song I love...

Face of Time

by Jason Upton


I can remember when I was afraid like you
Not so long ago
Confusion ruled my life wondering what to do
Not so long ago

These are resting waves from a memory
In a hiding place in my mind
But the sweetest taste is a history
When suffering wears the face of time

The pain hurt way too much the water was so cold
Not so long ago
That’s when light rescued me from darkness I was free
Not so long ago

In the place of suffering
There’s a God worth worshipping
On these wings of worship we will ride...
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on March 10, 2007, 03:07:51 PM
Hello Diana

I went to listen to that "Lost as Sea"song. I believe it captures the feeling most of us have when we begin to realise that we are lost in the sea of humanity! Thank you for the link. I couldn't help thinking that the song is also singing out elsewhere perhaps even at the same time in the home of a dear brother or sister here in the Forum!....I think we can all relate to the lyrics before we were blessed to find Bible Truths! :D 

Peace to you   

Arcturus :)
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on March 11, 2007, 08:26:51 AM
Hello Snowfire

For you. Don’t know who wrote it…..

Before the body
Before the story
Before the Name
Beyond the mind’s attempt to find or explain
Before the breath
Beyond the sense of pleasure or of pain
And after death
And after death I AM

Within the heart
The whole and part
Of everything I see
Behind the eyes
Beyond the sky’s
Reflecting Me
At the silent core
And yet before phenomenon began
Oh and after it
And after it  I AM

Many differences separate us on the surface yes
But I cannot find a boundary in consciousness
And when you ask me
Where does awareness begin and does it end?
I have to say
I have to say
I have to say….I’ve always been.

Within the body
Without the body and not subject to
Changing moods, states of health, points of view.
Without these, before deeds and the monuments of man
Oh and after them
After them I AM

Many differences separate us on the surface yes
But I cannot find a boundary in consciousness
And when you ask me
Where does awareness begin and does it end?
I have to say
I have to say
I have to say….I’ve always been……

At the silent core
And yet before phenomenon began
Oh and after it
After it I AM
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Snowfire on March 19, 2007, 12:35:38 AM
Thank You Arcturus for the poem.

Ricky

Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Sorin on March 23, 2007, 01:18:00 AM
...Of The Mind



I can't seem to choose a side
There's this war, deep inside


I'm being pulled from left to right
How much longer must I fight?

I can't seem to understand
On this battlefield I stand

Fought not with physical swords
But with thoughts and with words

How do you defeat an enemy
that you can not even see?

If only I can leave it all behind
for this is all.... of the mind

Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: joyful1 on March 23, 2007, 07:24:03 AM
Riding swiftly, swifter still...
my Redeemer comes, this beast to kill!
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Snowfire on March 26, 2007, 12:27:58 AM
Arcturus,

I've discovered that the opening stanz "Before the body, before the story, before the name... comes from  a beautiful song entitled “I Am” by poet, songwriter, and guitarist Kirtana (pronounced Keer-tah-na).

Again, thanks for sharing this with me.
Snowfire
Title: Re: The Poetry Thread.
Post by: Deborah-Leigh on March 26, 2007, 02:54:18 AM
Yes that is correct Snowfire

I had lost that information.
If ever you get the chance tolisten to that piece of music it is really worth it! Hope you do! Now I can go and purchase the CD again! Thank you!

Peace to you

Arcturus :)