Quotes about chapel, page 14
Homing Swallows
Swift swallows sailing from the Spanish main,
O rain-birds racing merrily away
From hill-tops parched with heat and sultry plain
Of wilting plants and fainting flowers, say--
When at the noon-hour from the chapel school
The children dash and scamper down the dale,
Scornful of teacher's rod and binding rule
Forever broken and without avail,
Do they still stop beneath the giant tree
To gather locusts in their childish greed,
And chuckle when they break the pods to see
The golden powder clustered round the seed?
poem by Claude McKay
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Tread Softly Soldier Boy
The chapel bells ring solemnly
for the young man in uniform
who has to fight on foreign soil.
His love on her knees prays
that he will return
to her arms safely one day.
No war is ever kind,
a senseless business some say
for the lives that are robbed
from loved ones each day.
Tread softly young men in uniform
in case on battlefields you fall.
Tread softly soldier boy
the enemy waits to hear
your footsteps fall.
Tread softly soldier boy
or in the morning,
you will miss the bugle call.
[...] Read more
poem by David Harris
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While waiting for you
I sit on this desk like a schoolboy
Waiting
I tap my fingers i keep my feet
Underneath
Nobody is watching
I am looking
Outside from here
The green football field
The trees pruned like boys
With new haircut
The chapel,
It is where I pray everyday
Before going to the usual university quibbles
Two hours passed
Still there is no you
Or your shadow
Sometimes I think
Most of the time I don’t
This relationship
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chapel Deacon
Who put that crease in your soul,
Davies, ready this fine morning
For the staid chapel, where the Book's frown
Sobers the sunlight? Who taught you to pray
And scheme at once, your eyes turning
Skyward, while your swift mind weighs
Your heifer's chances in the next town's
Fair on Thursday? Are your heart's coals
Kindled for God, or is the burning
Of your lean cheeks because you sit
Too near that girl's smouldering gaze?
Tell me, Davies, for the faint breeze
From heaven freshens and I roll in it,
Who taught you your deft poise?
Submitted by Andrew Mayers
poem by Ronald Stuart Thomas
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My Fortress
Is made of parcment paper
Manilla envelopes shade
The sun
Once a fortress made of
Steel
Now melted
By a welders torch
Tormented by lusts
Familiar call
The door is solid
Origami
Pasted shut with
Super Glue
Seven wooden soldiers
Mount my toothpick
Gate
To protect me
From you
In the daylight
Or in the shadows
[...] Read more
poem by Theodora Onken
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One Day of Peace
Wouldn't one day
You'd like to see
The world in peace,
And Harmony
No more war, and no more violence
Just our Earth and
The Sounds of Silence
Wouldn't you like to remember, a day,
Where violence and sin are no more
No more protesters in the street chanting, 'no more war'
No rape, no murder, no violence at all
No hate, or names on a chapel wall
Discrimination being something of the past
Finally being satisfied,
Thinking it all would last
For a day to come with
No violence, hate or war
[...] Read more
poem by William Milam
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Dead and Gone
I didn’t attend your funeral
I hated you that much
I did send roses
The thorns for you to touch
I hope they bury you on a slope
So your carcass gets no rest
Your knees will buckle
And your skull rolls past your chest
You know you broke me
Heart and soul and more
My reputation shattered
When you ran out the chapel door
Did I want revenge, you bet I did
Why did I waited so long
Now you’re dead and gone
And I’m at the pub in beer and song
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Ramos
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Consummation Of Grief
I even hear the mountains
the way they laugh
up and down their blue sides
and down in the water
the fish cry
and the water
is their tears.
I listen to the water
on nights I drink away
and the sadness becomes so great
I hear it in my clock
it becomes knobs upon my dresser
it becomes paper on the floor
it becomes a shoehorn
a laundry ticket
it becomes
cigarette smoke
climbing a chapel of dark vines. . .
it matters little
very little love is not so bad
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Odium
The Odium
Dead roses in a vase on my desk I moved
them away and remembered seeing my
brother, through a door ajar, getting up from
his chair, open the drawer where my pipe
collection was, and break them one by one.
A strange smile played upon his lips, and
I said nothing, didn’t know he hated me so.
He was the one with many friends, he was
the one who sat in the middle of the room
telling jokes at my expense while I sought
the corners. When he died, the chapel was
full of his friends the spoke so well of him,
but I sat there dry eyed all I could think of,
was my bloody meerschaum pipes
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Sonnet VIII
As Daniel, bird-alone, in that far land,
Kneeling in fervent prayer, with heart-sick eyes
Turned thro' the casement toward the westering skies;
Or as untamed Elijah, that red brand
Among the starry prophets; or that band
And company of Faithful sanctities
Who in all times, when persecutions rise,
Cherish forgotten creeds with fostering hand:
Such do ye seem to me, light-hearted crew,
O turned to friendly arts with all your will,
That keep a little chapel sacred still,
One rood of Holy-land in this bleak earth
Sequestered still (our homage surely due!)
To the twin Gods of mirthful wine and mirth.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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