Quotes about god, page 9
The Tower Beyond Tragedy
I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
burning-flower from Sparta, the beautiful sea-flower
Cut in clear stone, crowned with the fragrant golden mane, she
the ageless, the uncontaminable-
This Clytemnestra was her sister, low-statured, fierce-lipped, not
dark nor blonde, greenish-gray-eyed,
Sinewed with strength, you saw, under the purple folds of the
queen-cloak, but craftier than queenly,
Standing between the gilded wooden porch-pillars, great steps of
stone above the steep street,
Awaiting the King.
Most of his men were quartered on the town;
he, clanking bronze, with fifty
And certain captives, came to the stair. The Queen's men were
a hundred in the street and a hundred
Lining the ramp, eighty on the great flags of the porch; she
raising her white arms the spear-butts
Thundered on the stone, and the shields clashed; eight shining
clarions
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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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God Why?
God why do people die?
God why did you make pain?
God why weren’t you there on the day my grandfather died?
God why are there earthquakes?
God why do hearts break?
God why are people on there own?
God why do you make people get hurt?
God why is there fear?
God why are there storms?
God why are people all alone?
God why are there drugs?
God why do people committee suicide?
God why aren’t you stopping global warming?
God why do I have nightmares?
God why is there no peace in this place?
God why did Jesus really die?
God why did you make sin?
God why do people hurt?
God why do children get kidnapped?
God why does love hurt so much?
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poem by Skye Blah
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Muito Obrigado My God
Muito obrigado my God
For the last days of summer
That were full of sunshine
They were enough to take my breath away
Muito obrigado my God
For giving me the time to be on my own
Muito obrigado my God
For keeping your eyes on me
Muito obrigado my God
For giving me back the energy that I needed
To live every summer
Muito obrigado my God
For the beautiful sky that you created
So that birds and men, like snow birds, can fly
In the air
Muito obrigado my God
For the bible that you wrote
Many years ago
Muito obrigado my God
For allowing me to be your poet
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poem by Aldo Kraas
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God Knows
God knows you aint pretty,
God knows its true.
God knows there aint anybody
Ever gonna take the place of you.
God knows its a struggle,
God knows its a crime,
God knows theres gonna be no more water
But fire next time.
Bridge #1:
God didnt call it treason,
God didnt call it wrong,
It was supposed to last a season
But its been so strong for so long.
God knows its fragile,
God knows everything,
God knows it could snap apart right now
Just like putting scissors to a string.
Bridge #2:
God knows its terrifying,
God sees it all unfold,
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song performed by Bob Dylan
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First Book
OF writing many books there is no end;
And I who have written much in prose and verse
For others' uses, will write now for mine,–
Will write my story for my better self,
As when you paint your portrait for a friend,
Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it
Long after he has ceased to love you, just
To hold together what he was and is.
I, writing thus, am still what men call young;
I have not so far left the coasts of life
To travel inland, that I cannot hear
That murmur of the outer Infinite
Which unweaned babies smile at in their sleep
When wondered at for smiling; not so far,
But still I catch my mother at her post
Beside the nursery-door, with finger up,
'Hush, hush–here's too much noise!' while her sweet eyes
Leap forward, taking part against her word
In the child's riot. Still I sit and feel
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poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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Song: A Dog's Life
The life of a dog is a dog's life.
It is pain. It is suffering and grief.
The life of a dog is a dog's life.
Full of fear and gnashing of teeth.
God/dog, dog/god.
Palindromes and dreams of nod.
God/dog, god/dog.
And all I hear leaves me agog.
So lift up a leg to the Hound of Heaven,
to the Great Dog Star in the sky.
Sit up and beg to be forgiven,
and let this sleeping dog lie.
God/dog, god/dog.
It's heady stuff, all cloud and fog.
God/dog, god/dog.
With feet of clay and mind in bog.
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poem by David SmithWhite
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We're All God's Children
Album: Peace In The Valley
Here comes a Baptist, here comes a Jew
There goes a Mormon and a Muslim too
I see a Buddist and a Hindu
I see a Catholic and I see you
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
You like the day, and I like the night
He's into country and he's isn't quit
There's folks on the left and the far right
But that doesn't mean that we have to fight
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
White folks, yellow folks, black and tan
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song performed by Alan Jackson
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 8
And now the Angel, from the trembling sight,
Veil'd the wide world–when sudden shades of night
Move o'er the ethereal vault; the starry train
Paint their dim forms beneath the placid main;
While earth and heaven, around the hero's eye,
Seem arch'd immense, like one surrounding sky.
Still, from the Power superior splendors shone,
The height emblazing like a radiant throne;
To converse sweet the soothing shades invite,
And on the guide the hero fix'd his sight.
Kind messenger of Heaven, he thus began,
Why this progressive labouring search of man?
If man by wisdom form'd hath power to reach
These opening truths that following ages teach,
Step after step, thro' devious mazes, wind,
And fill at last the measure of the mind,
Why did not Heaven, with one unclouded ray,
All human arts and reason's powers display?
That mad opinions, sects and party strife
Might find no place t'imbitter human life.
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poem by Joel Barlow
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Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 1.
CHORUS OF ANGELS, Singing the Glory of God.
To Heaven's bright lyre let Iris be the bow,
Adapt the spheres for chords, for notes the stars;
Let new-born gales discriminate the bars,
Nor let old Time to measure times be slow.
Hence to new Music of the eternal Lyre
Add richer harmony and praise to praise;
For him who now his wondrous might displays,
And shows the Universe its awful Sire.
O Thou who ere the World or Heaven was made,
Didst in thyself, that World, that Heaven enjoy,
How does thy bounty all its powers employ;
What inexpressive good hast thou displayed!
O Thou of sovereign love almighty source,
Who knowest to make thy works thy love express,
Let pure devotion's fire the soul possess,
And give the heart and hand a kindred force.
Then shalt thou hear how, when the world began,
Thy life-producing voice gave myriads birth,
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poem by William Cowper
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Paradise Lost: Book 06
All night the dreadless Angel, unpursued,
Through Heaven's wide champain held his way; till Morn,
Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand
Unbarred the gates of light. There is a cave
Within the mount of God, fast by his throne,
Where light and darkness in perpetual round
Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through Heaven
Grateful vicissitude, like day and night;
Light issues forth, and at the other door
Obsequious darkness enters, till her hour
To veil the Heaven, though darkness there might well
Seem twilight here: And now went forth the Morn
Such as in highest Heaven arrayed in gold
Empyreal; from before her vanished Night,
Shot through with orient beams; when all the plain
Covered with thick embattled squadrons bright,
Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds,
Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view:
War he perceived, war in procinct; and found
Already known what he for news had thought
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poem by John Milton
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