Quotes about chapel, page 16
A Dirge For McPherson
Arms reversed and banners creped -
Muffled drums;
Snowy horses sable-draped -
McPherson comes.
But, tell us, shall we know him more,
Lost-Mountain and lone Kenesaw?
Brave the sword upon the pall -
A gleam in gloom;
So a bright name lighteth all
McPherson's doom.
Bear him through the chapel-door -
Let priest in stole
Pace before the warrior
Who led. Bell -toll!
Lay him down within the nave,
The lesson read -
[...] Read more
poem by Herman Melville
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Plucking Daisies..... Sigh Relief......
Adored cherished as one Sistine chapel
In time memorial
Time has become but a painful itch
Which barrs which cuts and scars
I dont want a poxy
Scratched back
Stroked sordid lie
I dont want roses culled in their masses
For Tescos, from Asda
For some shitty supermarket shareholder to rub his palms together stroking green superficial paper.....no
I hope
Yeah dream for a daisy plucked in honesty
With thought, with due care
Just that effort of leaning down and plucking one pretty weed
Just for me
My world for a daisy,
My love for a dandelion
For a kiss that is truthfully felt
Not one poxy crappy kiss of obligation
Strangulated in gold
[...] Read more
poem by Karen Sinclair
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Genius Michaelangelo Mozart
at the beck and call of mega rich patrons
privilege wealth painting your pride visions
to heights of Sistine Chapel David sculptures
our sight visions we are not time free to paint
our half dreams half truths become ultimate truths
altar where wealth coverts possesses genius
we gift love compassion nobility birthright feelings
this world toys with covert passion visions
artists catalogued buy sell exchange brochures
Mozart gifted music divine to sooth masses
Mozart body discarded into mass grave paupers
our heart beats stripped bare leaf brown ash on winds
sealed in wooden coffin at 35 countless are melodies
unwritten buried in plot with corpse four or five others
a plight poor wooden marker to identify group graves
poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
State of Grace
The bachelor and the spinster
stood together, hand in hand,
before the Priest who’d wed them
in the chapel Kilmainham.
With two prison guards as witnesses
there in Kilmainham gaol,
Joseph Plunkett and Grace Clifford
wed at midnight goes the tale.
At dawn a firing squad awaited
her brave bold Fenian man.
She’d remember their one, stolen, kiss
and the ring placed on her hand.
Her Joseph chose a dark way home
when he tweaked the lion’s tail.
In martyrdom he found a way
to rouse the sons of Gael.
[...] Read more
poem by John F. McCullagh
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Shancoduff
My black hills have never seen the sun rising,
Eternally they look north towards Armagh.
Lot's wife would not be salt if she had been
Incurious as my black hills that are happy
When dawn whitens Glassdrummond chapel.
My hills hoard the bright shillings of March
While the sun searches in every pocket.
They are my Alps and I have climbed the Matterhorn
With a sheaf of hay for three perishing calves
In the field under the Big Forth of Rocksavage.
The sleety winds fondle the rushy beards of Shancoduff
While the cattle-drovers sheltering in the Featherna Bush
Look up and say: "Who owns them hungry hills
That the water-hen and snipe must have forsaken?
A poet? Then by heavens he must be poor."
I hear and is my heart not badly shaken?
poem by Patrick Kavanagh
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
On a sleigh, padded with straw
On a sleigh, padded with straw,
Barely covered by the fateful mat,
From the Vorobevy hills to the familiar chapel
We rode through enormous Moscow.
But in Uglich, the children play mumbletypeg,
And it smells of bread left in the oven.
They carry me along the streets without my hat;
In the oratory three candles burn.
Not three burning candles -- three meetings.
One consecrated by God Himself.
A fourth would never be, but Rome is far --
And He was never fond of Rome.
The sled dashed through black ruts,
People were returning from the promenade.
[...] Read more
poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Morning Song Of Love
Darling, my darling, my heart is on the wing,
It flies to thee this morning like a bird,
Like happy birds in springtime my spirits soar and sing,
The same sweet song thine ears have often heard.
The sun is in my window, the shadow on the lea,
The wind is moving in the branches green,
And all my life, my darling, is turning unto thee,
And kneeling at thy feet, my own, my queen.
The golden bells are ringing across the distant hill,
Their merry peals come to me soft and clear,
But in my heart's deep chapel all incense-filled and still
A sweeter bell is sounding for thee, dear.
The bell of love invites thee to come and seek the shrine
Whose altar is erected unto thee,
The offerings, the sacrifice, the prayers, the chants are thine,
And I, my love, thy humble priest will be.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Drugs
Heed the jungle set in London where
man-animals thrive. Here lies sin, in
one enormous size. It's where junkies
seek solace in a place filled with
needles galore, which lie there like
forgotten playthings or the dead for
sure. But we see the trend everywhere,
not only in London City, we feel it in
our hearts, those strange drugs spell
out relentless death and sorrow. Why
might this be, those lives in a wretched
state? The answer lies, no surprise,
beyond the forgotten gate, to the
Church, to the Chapel on the hill,
where we all must journey to find, to
remind us once more of the love of
God for Mankind. A love so true,
extended through family to me and
you, it holds the key to salvation from
this drug laced Hell on Earth. We learn
[...] Read more
poem by Cleveland Gibson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Philosophy
it is not how tall the buildings have grown
the presence of three elevators
that is not what progress is all about
you are telling me about how ateneo
has become an ivory tower rising above
the silence of Mt. Apo
so unlike our times
when rooms are crowded when noise
grow like grasses on the wild fields
uninhabited
let me ask you what happened to the playgrounds
of the children
and the chapel where Fr. Dot says mass all day
is the pine tree still there
and the pond beside
where the gold fish are swimming?
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Has His Measure
Sister Cecilia fingers the beads.
The wood hard between finger
And thumb. The Christ has been
Rubbed smooth by years of prayer.
Shines like a new coin. Her feet ache
With cold. The fingers work their magic.
Her lips move to the rhythm of words
Carried on breath. She carries her
Christ in her breast close to her heart
His picture in the black and red book
In a pocket of her habit of black cloth.
She knows He follows her and listens
To her words and thoughts and watches
Her deeds done in darkness and light
In coldness and heat in cloister and chapel.
For weeks on end she feels His absence
Like a lover gone from sight on some
Distant voyage over rough sea or far off
Lands in search of some other treasure.
But she loves Him still her constant lover
[...] Read more
poem by Terry Collett
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!