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To A Friend On His Nuptials

When Jove lay bless'd in his Alcmæna's charms,
Three nights in one he press'd her in his arms;
The sun lay set, and conscious nature strove
To shade her god, and to prolong his love.
From that auspicious night Alcides came;
What less could rise from Jove and such a dame?
May this auspicious night with that compare,
Nor less the joys, nor less the rising heir,
He strong as Jove, she like Alcmæna fair.

poem by Matthew Prior
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One Man Of Absolute Care

one man of absolute care

An arid world engulfs me

in its decay and despair

but one man uplifts me

absolves my sin I swear

one man enthroned to be

son and heir

whispered unto me

the Lord's Prayer

one man of virtue and purity

[...] Read more

poem by Mark Heathcote
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In The Hair Full Of Wind I Will Tell Thee

Broad air thin breathe a good place to be
A sorrow here soon thereafter or forever
Alike, handshake heir in the land of ‘never’

In a fruit full of juices I will tell thee
The dust is the dust, ash - a dusk mask of glow
Colours spreading painted tainted hues of blue
Above the moon too high beneath the earth too low
The skyline’s a skull line made for me and you
In over bridged horizon the sun I will tell thee

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Hymn 101

Joy in heaven for a repenting sinner.

Luke 15:7,10.

Who can describe the joys that rise
Through all the courts of Paradise,
To see a prodigal return,
To see an heir of glory born?

With joy the Father doth approve
The fruit of his eternal love;
The Son with joy looks down and sees
The purchase of his agonies.

The Spirit takes delight to view
The holy soul he formed anew;
And saints and angels join to sing,
The growing empire of their King.

poem by Isaac Watts
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A Plan...

in bed the rich
and old couple is preoccupied with
their plans for
their death and
discussions on who should be heir
is finalized

meanwhile those outside the house
pretending to clean this and
that are thinking too plainly about
burial and
claims

they have also secret plans
of their own
because their own respective futures are
waiting

like someone without any backpack
at the train station

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Is a Safe and Secret Place

There is a safe and secret place,
Beneath the wings divine,
Reserved for all the heirs of grace;
O be that refuge mine!

The least and feeblest there may bide,
Uninjured and unawed;
While thousands fall on every side,
He rests secure in God.

He feeds in pastures, large and fair,
Of love and truth divine,
O child of God, O glory’s heir,
How rich a lot is thine!

A hand almighty to defend,
An ear for every call,
An honored life, a peaceful end,
And heaven to crown it all!

poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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ong have I made these hills and valleys weary

Long have I made these hills and valleys weary,
With noise of these my shrieks and cries that fill the air;
She only, who should make me merry,
Hears not my prayer:
That I, alas! misfortune’s son and heir,
Hope in none other hope but in despair.
O unkind and cruel! If thus my death may please thee,
Then die I will to ease thee:
Yet if I die, the world will thee control,
And write upon my tomb, O sweet departure,
Lo! here lies one, alas! poor soul,
A true love’s martyr.

poem by John Wilbye
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Sea of Trilobites

S ilt
E mbalmed
A tumble
O f calcite-eyed
F alling Trilobites.
T urretted complex eyes
R emained stoically open
I n the submarine avalanche.
L enses of unscathed crystalline chalk
O bserved the enveloping velvet mud.
B link of an era passed unblinking rock eyes.
I n the hard southern flanks of the Atlas Mountains
T heir curled armored bodies are painstakingly released.
E ye to eye, facets to orbs, they meet our curious gaze.
S ilt embalmed a tumble of calcite-eyed falling Trilobites.

poem by Diane Hine
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A Man's a Sliding Mood

Ardent in love and cold in charity,
Loud in the market, timid in debate:
Scornful of foe unbuckled in the dust
At whimper of a child compassionate,
A man's a sliding mood from hour to hour,
Rage, and a singing forest of bright birds,
Laughter with lovely friends,and loneliness,
Woe with her heavy horn of unspoke words.
What is he then this heir of heart and mind?
Is this the man with his conflicting moods,
Or is there in a deeper dwelling place
Some silly shaping thing that bides and broods?

poem by Mary E Fullerton
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Soul-Drift

I LET my soul drift with the thistledown
Afloat upon the honeymooning breeze;
My thoughts about the swelling buds are blown,
Blown with the golden dust of flowering trees.

On fleeting gusts of desultory song,
I let my soul drift out into the Spring;
The Psyche flies and palpitates among
The palpitating creatures on the wing.

Go, happy Soul! run fluid in the wave,
Vibrate in light, escape thy natal curse;
Go forth no longer as my body-slave,
But as the heir of all the Universe.
Villa Borghese

poem by Mathilde Blind
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