Quotes about advent, page 8
Prophesy
The holy prophesies will sure come true.
No time the humans find to grieve and rue.
The darkest nights will glow with infant Sun
and days will cool with Moon in vibrant run.
His advent; skies are crooning, oh listen.
O' see the hopeful smiles of stars glisten.
Behold the rivers flow with glitzy glow;
hearken the oceans roar "Jayaho! Jayahoo! ."
Beware O' men; before that sacred dawn
the dancing demons of the darkness go
allegro! Blow their creepy clarions
and with askance and dread your hearts they stow!
I know; the hideous looks beautiful;
the beautiful frightens with face dreadful.
The right looks wrong and wrong looks right and lo
the searching saints are hit by panic blow!
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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Adversity
Adversity, adversity, how strange is your fate.
To most it’s loss and sorrow compounded by a spate
Of shallow glances, lost chances
Nourishing doubts and fears,
With ignominious ignorance,
Washed down by gushing tears.
For these sad souls adversity is a cruel happenstance.
Even before its advent they were afforded little chance.
Though adversity, intrinsically favors neither side,
Some souls advance… even enhance their dance,
While all others continue their downward slide.
This august group knows adversity by another name.
Adversity and opportunity to them sound much the same.
Travails, trauma, thunder clouds are all ways they learn.
Journeys unclear and dangers near they miss not a turn
In their effort to bestow good fortune they have received
So less fortunate souls may sense what it is to be relieved.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Tis Finished
'Tis finished! 'tis ended!
The dread and awful task is done;
Tho' wounded and bleeding,
'tis ours to sing the vict'ry won,
Our nation is ransom'd--our enemies are overthrown
And now, now commoners, the brightest era ever known.
Then sing hallelujah! sing hallelujah!
Glory be to God on high!
For the old flag with the high white flag
is hanging in the azure sky.
Ye joy bells! ye peace-bells!
Oh never, never music rang,
So sweetly, so grandly, since angels in the advent sang,
Your message is gladness to myriads of waiting souls,
As onward and world-ward the happy, happy echo rolls.
Come patriots! come freedom!
Come join your every heart and voice;
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poem by Henry Clay Work
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Ode To The Poinsettia
Across the lowly equator they have flown,
The days of sweltering heat and butterflies.
And the poinsettia shows all it green display,
Without the brightness of its yellow eyes.
Looking forward to the Holy Night,
When in blazing bracts it is born anew.
Celebrating the Holy Advent of our Savior,
With its hypnotizing ruby red debut.
The gift of sight to the spiritually blind,
Who have spent a season in a green spell,
With hearts awaiting the honored return,
Of the joyful sound of the silver bell.
The summer has been hot and dreary,
With little love for the heart to desire.
But come November of every autumn,
Our spirit yearns for the Yule Fire.
As the flaming bracts don their glowing style,
The babe's eyes shine with nascent light.
With such beauty to nurture its first vision,
It makes the joy bells ring right through the night.
poem by Albert Price
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I Heard You Spelling My Name
I oddly heard you spelling my name
I answered in the winter winds
the winds blamed my voice still -
your words, a gray cumulus became.
A thunder roar, a storm advent
a message to the gods, dim, latent
my souls depict a thunder's wrath
as I expiate in rain drops thrust.
Not an allusion of a Zeus lightning
all there is real, a force blinding
Athermanous, wet flesh enthralled
and rain-scattered feelings exposed.
I love those drops that kiss my face,
in my esteem, a diamonds edge to trace,
accepts the kindness of this storm,
and this adoration becomes a thorn.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Give her one this Christmas
How could I not know
‘what she wants for Christmas’ –
when hundreds of emails
spam it to me every Advent day,
and right through unsilent night
in several languages…
a manliness increased in every measure;
a bulk purchase of blue pills for
the bedside drawer; and – since it can be
gift-wrapped more easily than me myself –
an imitation designer watch: to register
how late for work we’re going to be
day after day; night after night;
and perhaps, for those still single friends,
(as these gifts might look inappropriate…)
a Russian bride? (see airbrushed photo attached..)
And what makes you think
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Bible In Poetry: Gospel Of St. Mark (Chapter 0)
Introduction:
The shortest of the gospels all,
In Testament Anew Bible,
Of Jesus’ miracles, tells well.
Perhaps, the first ever written,
By Jesus’ disciple Mark when
Jesus preached about Heaven.
It starts with Baptist John’s forecast
Of Messiah’s advent (or Christ):
John baptizes the Son of Man,
In river Jordan in his span.
But Jesus came to baptize all
By Holy Spirit, by God’s call.
And Jesus Christ, the ‘Son of Man’,
Is tempted by himself Satan;
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poem by John Celes
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The Philosopher
I have not heard a tiger who has killed another tiger
I have not heard a serpent killing another serpent
But a man kills another man
There man is different from another animal
If evolution Darwin style has at all taken place
Then it unconsciously explored diabolical values
Animated in man
It discovered modern states modern technology
Modern warfare and market Marxism and Nationalism
And the devils of men seldom fight for fightings sake
They fight either for democracy or for socialism
The philosopher of the devils
Whose head was full of a project of an international city
Where the richest men under the sun
Would excelsior to the sun belt of godliness
Being pent up in air conditioned houses
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poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Blaze of Glory
Blaze of glory, the epic showpiece
The reality of dreams, the advent of a wish
The accumulation of perfection
Light in the darkness of desperation
Fireworks explode, the walls implode
As power comes to dwell at his abode
The flash of energy, boardwalk to infinity
Forever young, the dawn of invincibility
Fists and hands reach for the sky
Get ‘em high, get ‘em high
The scream of victoy echoes from lips
Completion of the masterpiece
Inside they rise, if not out
Them at their best, there is no doubt
Soldiers fight and die like wildcats
On the rubble and ruins they raise victory flags
Athletes who break their walls
Then into invincibility's bottomless fall
They raise their trophies high
Reach their hands to the sky
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poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Sentry Box 5th Feast
Obtuse is my thought, an error of links,
a valor of my memory, property to demise,
shelter my cause and my candles' wicks,
this advent of an older dream is not wise..
I recall my equities of long lost causes,
as there is nothing to approach my star,
if only a prayer.. Anxiety to rule my losses,
a cold poem of apostasy, is company to far..
Words, whisper me a tale, she bends above,
a bed of roses white, like purity, dim wail,
she cries my longing stills, trauma of dove,
waits for tears to surmise, in worlds to fail.
It was your face in the wind, a Spring haze,
my dream, it was a dry land, relentless ail,
my eyes opened in a world, outside of blaze,
for five years I waited, and you, death-pale...
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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