Ode Lyric Poems | Ode Poems About Lyric

These Ode Lyric poems are examples of Ode poems about Lyric. These are the best examples of Ode Lyric poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ode |

Renaissance Reed

     Lou Reed , Mistral of his time
     so you walked this road on the wild side
     unique in music , never selling out 
     believing in Art instead of commercialize
     Lou Reed the musician never compromised ~
     Sweet Jane not enough for our crowd of eccentric rockers 
     still will live forever with the many that left before you
     one can imagine from John Lennon to Johnny Ramone 

     a party in Heaven of the finest rock bestowed 
     no text , no MTV when they pursued a dream 
     New York, hotel Chelsea an age of Renaissance
     ragged jeans and leather jackets ,Art on stage  

     No, your Rock not ever fade away , it will stay sweet Jane forever ~

      For the fine Man with words , ode to Lou Reed .



Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

In Memoriam (Che Guevara)

I woke up this morning with tears in my eyes,
your face was in the morning paper;
they shot you dead like a dog,
hunted you out all day and night.

They said you'd always been a bad seed
and youths were dying because of you;
they said you're a criminal on the run
with a dirty face and shaggy head.

But I know you better than they do,
you preached love to all the people;
you fought for them, young and old,
you lit up their nights with your heart.

And now as I see you lying dead,
it seems my dreams have vanished as well;
they can call you names, any names they want,
but I know there's only one like you, 
there's only one like you, 
there's only one Che Guevara.
              (Repeat Refrain)
You lit up their nights with your heart,
you lit up their nights with your heart,
you lit up their nights with your heart.

Copyright © Wilfredo Derequito | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |

Ode: A Love Song From the Amorous Shepherd to His Flock

THEY graze in beauty on the land
     of grassy glades and dewy dales,
and all that's best of tamed and tanned
     meets in their aspect and their tails;
thus mellowed to that tender hand
     which Shepherd to gentle glen compels.

One fleece the more, one spot the less,
     had half-repaired the shearless grace
which wreathes in every woolen tress
     or darkly tightens o'er their face,
where mouths serenely sweet express
     how pure, how dear their grazing-place.

And on that rump and o'er that round
     so fat, so plump, yet elegant,
the baas that win, the hooves that bound,
     but tell of days in meadows spent—
a flock at peace with all around,
     a drove whose milk is innocent.

01/26/2014, "First Poem On Soup" Contest

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |


Whenever tears roll down
somebody's face,
and whether it brings joy, reward or pain:
it matters to someone
whose life, somehow, has broken him down,
or has lifted him up through grace;
it matters when one rejoices,
and sees in victory
what his bewildered eyes
couldn't ever have imagined it to be...

He chose  the path to glory
without harboring suspicions,
or being frightened by unseen woes
and hard-and fast rules;  
he made swift choices    
and built up his courage from nothing;
and what his fearless mind couldn't perceive,
wasn't so impossible to dream,
but surely achieved
through grit and indisputable duty...

Whatever that solemn oath
relied on a certain promise, he never lost heart,
because his valor never seemed to lessen a bit;
and he was taken above and beyond his fears
by not foreseeing any disheartening defeat:
confidence had given his untiring feet a steady beat...

It matters to someone to be recognized,
and cherish that moment of gladness:
perhaps the only moment to be remembered
and be locked away in his past;
a brave soldier at his best,
never settling for anything less,
always going above and beyond his expectations,
to honor and safeguard the Country that he loves...


Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |

An Ode to a Memory

You stand there oh so tall,
bringing shame to those
who came before you
and still you expose

Their greatest weakness
is that they can’t compare
to your silhouette
and no it’s not fair.

They try to make me happy,
thinking maybe one day
she’ll see through this shell and
see the color beyond this grey.

Sadly, they are mistaken
there is no other that can make 
my heart a broken record
and still I find it breaks.

Broad shoulders,
a golden mane,
my eyes are blurred
I forgot your name.

Like Atlas you grasp
my world in your palm
I sing of you now and then
as though you were a psalm.

You’ll always be there.
Never will you leave,
the magical memory
of make-believe.

Copyright © Veronica Andemariam | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

Ode to Lobster

Under the depths below the deep 
of this Atlantic Ocean
live the lobsters that crawl and creep
with an articulated motion.

They thrive on the ocean’s sea floor,
from the sloping shoreline
to beyond the Great Shelf and more
where the sea reeks of brine.

They live and hide in crevices
and burrows under rocks,
snug amidst the interstices,
safe like a shepherd’s flocks.

Their diet is omnivorous:
live prey such as fish, worms,
crustaceans, mollusks, and…us!
(Ughh!! that last one makes us squirm.)

Stories of their longevity
are passed on more often than not;
some live to be seventy
years old when finally caught.

Long-bodied, with muscular tails,
ten walking legs (three pairs
of which are claws), framed in hard shells,
they can look like bugbears

and weigh as much as forty pounds
or more! A lobster this huge 
naturally dumbfounds and astounds
like some hoax or a subterfuge.

Believe it or not, back before
the mid-nineteenth century
lobster was a food for the poor--
a mark of want and penury.

Indeed, inmates disliked lobster
so much they ate it with distaste;
even a dignified mobster
could not eat it with a straight face!

It seems our ancestor’s distaste
for this invertebrate
was in error and was misplaced--
much to their discredit.

People today enjoy this beast
in several, delicious ways
alone or together in a feast 
as part of festive holidays.

When boiled or steamed live, they change
color within minutes
of cooking from blue to deep-orange--
ah!...the meat’s now exquisite!!

Enjoy it as “Lobster Newberg,”
a seafood dish du jour
cooked up by Captain Ben Wenberg!
Or as “Lobster Thermidor,”

a French seafood dish of creamy
blend of cooked lobster meat,
egg yolks, (often) cognac, brandy,
and Gruyére—a culinary feat!

Then there’s lobster soup and rolls,
a thick cream soup of bisque,
or Capòn magro--salad bowls
for your gastric pleasure and risk!

Lobster du jour or lobster you want,
whatever your palate requires
any New England restaurant
can fulfill your dining desires!

Lobsters are indeed a great food;
we fish, sell, buy and eat to such
large amounts: but we’d be unshrewd
if we eat and fish them too much.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

Ode: To Loveliness and Beauty

A Loveliness that's deep and rare
     is like a Rose that blooms afresh
(like the rosebud that's new and fair);
     lovely in aspect and in flesh,
it lives in sunlight without care
     as earth and sky breathe and enmesh.

Its loveliness is hard to find
     unspoiled and as innocent;
and with its grace and with its mind
    it quells my musing discontent.
As it sighs (softly and from behind),
     my nose takes in its lovely scent.

Its beauty transcends its locus,
     imbuing the eyes of my soul 
with romantic, ideal focus
     that makes the heart and spirit whole:
without it the world seems callous
     and grace would not be in control.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

These Peaks of Joy

These mouths of laugh
 these traps of many
these winds as peas,
 they grow;they are tall.

These fools to smiles
 these miserable men of ham;
these slings of love
 they fail;they are frail.

These fair feet;adorned
 these skins of cherubs;rare
these sparks of peace,
 they come;they go.

These rivers of soil
 these soils of mud
these rocks are flakes  
 they sink not;they sail.

But yet even the emblem of love
 becometh but fragile
even the light that was but:
 dawns to darkness
so the joy is as a rock
 In a sling it goes up hither;
but sooner falls.

These drains of sadness
 these moments;but few
these peaks of joy
 they;intense but brief.

These sobs of annoyance;
 these moons at graves
these blues are silent,
 they whisper;they are meek.

These lilies are not flowers
 these twigs but roses 
these;there fragrance
 they enlighten;they are life.

These mountains of prophets
 these seas of glass,
these heights of love,
 they work no ill;they are joy.

These peaks of laugh
 these deep winds,
these rare bushes of gloom,
 they burn;it's passion.
            -The end-

Copyright © Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

An Ode to the Bath-House (by Vladimir Vysotsky)


Vladimir Vysotsky

God, bestow on us your salvation,
God, your blessing bestow on us,
When we, dirty, begin the lavation,
Washing spirit and flesh in the bath!

Mother-water’s  renascent, reviving,
Healing ugliness, sickness and sores.
Here you feel how nature is thriving,
Here you feel that the birthright restores!

Sins and faults, in your soul embedded,
Any nuisance which grinds you or bores,
By hot steam that’s been lavishly added,
Are knocked out of you through your pores!

All your torments are evaporated
And dissolve in the sky to your mirth;
Being freed from your vices and hatred,
You can start a new life on the earth!

It’s not washing – it’s purification!
Don’t you rush outside, take your time!
Give your soul some hard perspiration,
Steam away all its mire and slime!

Naked bodies – defects are not hidden.
Never mind! You’ll be cleansed and renewed!
In the bath-house just like in Eden:
Only those can stay, who are nude!

Rid of pride when the pants you are stripping,
Rid of vanity, being undressed,
Since a besom is equally whipping
Any legs, any back, any breast!

How one is exactly like others
In a sauna you can esteem;
All are free in the bath, all are brothers
And the parity rules in the steam!

Through the bath-house pass generations,
Through the water, that’s holy and prized,
Through affection, through mercy and patience
We, barbarians, must be baptized!

Translated by George Tokarev


Copyright © George Tokarev | Year Posted 2005

Details | Cowboy |

Ode To A Blueberry Roan

I was heading to the bunkhouse, after a wild night on the town
dancing & romancing & one too many round
Back in my wild & woolly days, one more rowdy Saturday night
full of cheap beer & whiskey & the necessary fight
I set Ol' Gus on auto pilot, he knew the way back to the spread
And I set to fighting with those rotgut demons dancing in my head
We were getting pretty close to home, so I eased up on the bit
when all of a sudden that dang horse he up & quit
His ears were all pricked forward, listening quite intense
I caught a drift of what might pass for music, somewhere beyond the fence
It took a lot of persuading, cussing & cajoling
but I got ol' Gus headed for all the caterwauling 
the sound got more peculiar as we crested the hill
the memory of what I saw that moonlit night stays with me still
for I had stumbled on a peculiar party, hosted by a peg leg dog
and there was a one eyed pole cat doing comedic monologue
A Blueberry Roan soon took the stage, singing Motley Crue
I swear I saw a big ol' ornery hog with a "born to squeal" tattoo
There were bulls & Heifers dancing, I couldn't believe my eyes
why those bovine wore spikes and body piercings, in places utterly unwise
There where horses with mohawk hairdos head banging to the song
I swear to you, Ol' Gus, he began to sway & sing along
Now I know what you're thinking & I most heartily agree
it was the moon & wind playing tricks, along with rotgut whiskey
You city folks can keep your pink elephants parading in tutus
for this cowboy was shown the light by a Roan in blue suede shoes
I gave up hell raising & carousing, said so long to the honky-tonk life
Happy now to stick to ranching & dancing under the moon with my wife
But every now & again, when the wind blows & the moon is shining bright
I swear I can hear the livestock laughing & head banging through the night

Copyright © Catherine Devine | Year Posted 2005

Details | Lyric |

Ode To "Survivor"

Another season of Survivor is almost at an end.
That there will be a "shocking twist", you can depend.
Jeff will be snarky, and the Jury, too.
"Why should we give a million dollars to YOU?"
"Let me explain why I'm the best player EVER!"
That is every remaining contestant's endeavor.
Immunity Challenge victories are a must to move on.
If you fail at those, you will likely be gone.
There will be strategizing all day, and conspiring all night.
With only 5 Castaways left, the end is in sight.
At the final Tribal Council, we will finally get to the vote.
But before it is read, Jeff will hop into a boat.
The suspense is nerve-wracking, who will win Survivor this season?
Will the Jury be vindictive, or vote with common sense and reason?
After Jeff reads the votes, the winner is announced live.
The audience erupts like a swarming beehive.
The time has now come for the "One Hour Live Reunion Show".
The questions begin; there's so much we want to know.
Were there any secret scandals, does everybody hate each other now?
Will Jeff get an amazed look on his face, and say surprisedly, "Wow!"?
Last but not least, we will get Previews for next season's show.
The anticipation is crescending, soon it will overflow.
Next thing you know, Survivor is over once again.
Soon, the emptiness and despair will descend.
How will we survive the next 2 months of our lives?
The trauma will surely make us all break out into hives!
Just when we think we can function no more,
And we're crying like babies down on the floor.
Right at the time when we begin to think that our spirits have been broken,
We hear the glorious words of Jeff, "The tribe has spoken!"!
Our spirits are renewed, Survivor is back one more time!
I can finally put an end to this silly rhyme!
Thursday nights will once again be the best.
We will find another favorite player, to whom our hearts will invest.
We will hope they form the right alliances and play the game smart.
To be voted out, would be a dagger to our hearts!
Survivor will live on, this thread will NEVER die!
When next season ends, we will once again cry.
The summer will be boring, we will be counting the days,
Until the Fall Season arrives with a new group of castaways.
If you read this entire poem, I am extremely impressed!
Survivor fans are truly the best!
I can't wait to join you, on the Survivor journey next year!
Until then, I wish you good luck and good cheer!

Copyright © Elizabeth Stanley | Year Posted 2008

Details | Ode |

Girl on a Bicycle at the Fair

spokes of a turning wheel
strung with colored string
strumming fingers playing
plain and turning
turning plain
and simply round and round

colors whirl up and around
up and down
music moving turning sound
rhythm round

swirl of colorful motion
jaunty ribbons of song
bright and shining
shining bright
and lightly up and away

Copyright © Ginna Wilkerson | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |

Silent Night Sky

Oh how can one capture 
Your beauty on paper
Without you evaporating
Off as it is your nature

The stars are your jewels
The moon is your crest
Everyone drools
As if blessed

Your silence is serenity
That whisper to my thoughts
An overwhelming beauty
That ties my stomach up in knots

How humble I am sound
A beauty incomparable
With a radiance so profound
Your absence is unbearable

Copyright © Ana Ramirez | Year Posted 2011

Details | Ode |

Lovers Posted City

Lovers Posted City

Down the streets of 
little Italian Bistro’s..
cozy in the walls of the city line.

lovers converse,
meet hands.. as 
well as eyes intertwined.

An olive green automobile
propels down the highway’s,

the exhaustion of engine steam
and the scent of 
roasted, cracked pepper tomatoes...
with lasagna sheets- layered with 
herbaceous ricotta, mingled busily with 
each other;

the city of history.. brewing through the 
very torches alit.. with 
a maiden's last bewitching kiss,

at nightfall when the moon 
be but a sliver of 
the pearly ocean..
where fish bustle about the foamy 

scales glinting the silver of 
an old pocket watch, 
the sits and rusts in a pawn shop.

But when the looming 
of starlight murmurs in silence,
an older couple sit on 
the bench feeding pigeons,

And there be yet another lovers 
sight.. sharing a palms caress..
and a morsel of a chocolate chip

From that of Mike’s Pastries.

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |



Faded lavender petals murmur silently.
Waves of twilight cape the atmosphere above;
As polar eyes stare into the auroral view of violet-indigo, green and blue.
The silent Aster brims with audacious nature;
Its daintiness is whimsical in how they curtsy to the constellations.
There patience an endless stem of forethought;
Elegant they are…
Mystique in there frailty.
Yet when sighted on rare occasions, they will entertain you with a mystical light show;

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

Ode: To Rose

Of your repute may I gladly 
shout and aver this day most well? 
You are foremost a high-born lady 
of style whereof I'd love to tell, 
a princess that's sage and lovely—
whose mind is like a fertile dell. 
You are too oft’ a raven-haired 
of graciousness that's seldom seen.  
You are the friend that boldly dared 
to be the one and hopeful Queen, 
a source of ruth who cried and shared 
her tears through eyes of limpid green.  
You are to souls a fresh new start,  
a renaissance of hope that's true:—
a gift of grace to the contrite heart 
and to the lost that no one knew;
you are thus the most blessèd part 
of faith and joy that now ensue.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2016

Details | Ode |

An Ode to Supernatural

“Carry on my Wayward Son”,
Now you’re “Back in Black”,
You’re on the “Highway to Hell”,
But, I know you’ll be right back!
You act just like a “Renegade”,
Please “Don’t Fear the Reaper”,
“I Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore”,
I know that you’re a keeper!
You have the “Eye of the Tiger”,
But, you’re never “Cold as Ice”,
I get “More than a Feeling”,
Then I pay the price!
You were “Born to be Wild”,
“Bad Company”, is all you keep,
Whenever there’s a “Bad Moon Rising”,
You hardly ever sleep!
You always run “Hot Blooded”,
I’ll be “Burnin’ for You” forever,
We should take a “Slow Ride”,
Why can’t we just be together?

Copyright © Kay Roberts | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |


It does not cast a shadow,
Nor does it judge, mimic, or belittle,
But it is full of emotion,
When expressed, time stands still,
Ubiquitous to society,
And inspired by nature,
More valuable than gold,
But cannot be spent,
More real than the stars,
But cannot be seen nor touched,
It can calm the most incorrigible of people,
And create passion in the most stoic souls,
It remains the same,
But is constantly changing,
And is older than life,
But will never age nor die,
To move by it is beautiful,
But to create it is a gift from God… 

Copyright © Ian Sylvester | Year Posted 2006

Details | Cowboy |

Ode to the Cowboy Yodeler

One Day I was listening to an old Cowboy song
My boots began to tapping & I began to sing along
A Cowgirl stepped to the mic & as she began to sing
It sounded like a falsetto auctioneer pulling vowels out on a string

I perked my ears & listened, it didnt seem that hard
If I could learn to yodel, I'd be a Cowgirl Superstar
So I warmed up & just let loose
Was that the call of a lovesick moose?

So I adjusted my pitch, had my stance down pat
Just as I began to yodel, I swear someone stepped on a cat
I struggled on through most of the day trying to warble & trill
And If I'd not sprained my tonsils & tongue, I'd be at it still

Let's hear it for the Cowboy Yodeler, Head & shoulders above the rest
For in mastering the yodel, you surely passed the test
I only have one question, I'd really like to know
Why they sing about her & where did the little old lady go? 

Copyright © Catherine Devine | Year Posted 2005

Details | Ode |

She Is

She is footsteps on soft sand
A cat's yawn
Baby breath warm
Briny cheese eaten whole and plain
Tears running, don't swallow the pain
An Ostrich egg, bald
The rock and the sword
A silvery reflection on the water
The ocean is her daughter
The world's womb
She is the moon

Copyright © Zara Bosman | Year Posted 2017

Details | I do not know? |



Cruel God’s crooked clasp,
Is worse than the sting of a wasp,
Genius, healthy, wealthy man,
Becomes an orphan and forlorn!

Childhood innocent,
Youth fragrant,
Tranquil prime,
Become a weird dream!

Defies God’s clout,
Becomes fear-less ‘n’ stout,
Undertakes an uphill task,
And reaches the mountaintop!

Handicapped albeit,
Dares God’s verdict,
Proves the worth by his action,
He is worthy of admiration!! 

Copyright © Dr.Hemant Vinze | Year Posted 2005

Details | Ode |


There’s a place that I know  
Where monsters hide
There’s a part of me I never show
My dark side
There’s an animal in me
That can take you on a roller coaster ride
But I’ll confess all my sins
And let you see what’s on the inside
I tell you things nobody knows
And show you my dirty laundry
I’ll let you in on secrets only God knows
And let you explore the ugly truth
I’ll get naked and strip away my flesh
For you to see everything in detail
And let you see under the depth of my skin
So you know what you’re getting into
I’ll be transparent
For you to see through my eyes
I’ll be translucent
Just so you can go further beneath
Under me

Copyright © Oluwaseye Ayinla | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

Our Mega Icon Is Love

(In Memory of Micheal Jackson)

A mesmerizing Performance you gave with your
Many charades
Wearing wet, wavy looks, glittery gloves and dark
How this Image, eats away at Us, like Pacman, at
the arcades
Such as your dance routine, in BEAT IT, around the
switch blades
For it proved you had the knack to blow Us away, as
with hand grenades
Recalling the hearts you captured, singing CHILDHOOD,
in the everglades
It's as if you, at the game of LIFE, were being dealt some
Which is why Our undying LOVE for you, NEVER fades

Copyright © Karin Edwards | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ode |

A Soldier's Song

Sing, your favorite song slowly as it plays.
Dance, to that sweet melody as your body sways.
Transpose, each word as it reaches your heart.
Recall, all the memories tender, that never part.

What will we do when all the songs have been sung?
What emotion will we possess, when every tragic war has been won?
Will we stare sadly into each others eyes, and watch painfully tears go by?
Or, will we hold each other tight and simply sigh?

Can you conceive your favorite song, never to be?
Can you truly preceive the day when there are no more wars, threating us to be free?
Love would be felt in music, as our lonely hearts would recall.
Cold wars are still being fought causing death, as we stain their city walls.

Will our hearts remember rhythm?  When all the songs have been sung.
What conflict will be fought, when all the wars have been won?
Without wars, lonely soildiers hearts will sing in gladness.
Without song, our souls, hearts, and minds would sink into madness.

Gladly, sing your favorite song slowly, as it plays.
Let that sweet melody consume you, as your body sways.
Transpose, each word as it reaches your heart.
Recalling, all the cold wars, that man should never start.

Copyright © Nell Bolden | Year Posted 2005

Details | Ode |

Will You Be There?

(In Memory of Micheal Jackson)
  (For All of his fans)
I know My leaving you,
doesn't seem fair
Probably, even gave you 
a real good scare
Left you with a hurt, to which
none could compare
But, I am, in the Spirit, Every-
Who roams freely, about the
While awaiting your Arrival, a-
top the golden stair
In heaven, with the clouds moving
through My hair
As I hang out, at those pearly-gates,

Copyright © Karin Edwards | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ode |

The Poet Within

For you starless nights stretch out 
      and scare away the morn

And yet it's you who tint and tinge, 
      who paint and adorn

Every thread and strand that you stitch 
      and loop with the years

Into the fine fabric of Life, Love, 
      Death, it appears...

      As you daydream nights at the seam
            of a seamless shore

      Sketching the now and tomorrow,
            spinning yarns of yore

      Beneath borderless horizons
            of  the ocean skies

      Till love knows no more your heart, 
            till sight disowns your eyes.

Copyright © romeo naces | Year Posted 2006

Details | Verse |

Ode to A Hopeless Love

Here is a tragedy written in blood,
A story of a boy and his lifeless body in the mud.
They found his body in an open field,
The policeman said that he’d been killed,
His chest was black and his heart was gone,
Detectives said he wasn’t dead long,
He was laying there with open eyes,
How could no one hear his cries,
Just before they carried him away,
A note was found, It was written today,
It read, “she broke my heart so I ripped it out,”
No one there could figure it out,
He was killed by no other than the love in his heart,
The love that she gave him, that tore apart,
He said he would love her until he died,
he would kill himself before she was the reason he cried,
She saw his body laying on the ground,
Then let out a deathly sound,
She screamed out his name then dropped to her knees,
She tried her best to put her mind at ease,
She still loved him after all,
But its too late, she let him fall,
She tied the knot and kicked the chair,
The next morning she was hanging there,
She was hanging in her bedroom his picture on the floor,
She left a note saying ” I cant cry for him anymore,”

Copyright © Steven Lucero | Year Posted 2006

Details | Ode |

If You Love Him, Do Not Cry

(For Oliver, who made this statement) (in reference to M.J.)

If You Love Him. Do
Not Cry
Think of him often,but
hold your head, up high
Despite, it hurts, that you
couldn't say: goodbye
Because, We all, at some
point, are going to die
Whether or not, made known
is the reason why
Since, it's the Lord's preroga-
tive, in Our lives to pry
So, you Need not worry, about
his being given Wings to fly
If, He'll be waiting there, for Us,
in the sky

Copyright © Karin Edwards | Year Posted 2009

Details | Ode |


The good among us
will survive us;
the great examples
of warmth and good will...
tomorrow will
inspire others!

Too often we've heard
of meannes, of injustice
and of selfishness;
who's  to blame?

Those unjust acts
can't force us to hide
compassion and goodness;
every person who lives and dies
shouldn't suppress them
for the fear of judgment,
because the good among us
is based on love and kindness!

The good among us
is one of the blessings
that God has given us lovingly and freely; 
a most precious gift of everlasting beauty! 

The good among us
is our guidance...
in a life that can't escape death;
the good among us
is that lighthouse which shines...
when a dark night arrives!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ode |


This heavy heart of wanderer rode
on the unremitting winds of sin...
riding on waves that only lulled
my many unsurmountable fears
and with no wings to hold me up,
I couldn't notice I was drifting past hope;
the distant sun brilliantly shone,
unable to reach those dark places within...

Use me indefinitely,Lord...
and make that bond stronger,
which was lost when I was younger;
use me indefinitely,Lord...
to amend the unkept promises 
and the false will to live...
but looking to others for advice,
it all added up to wordly lies!

Why haven't I yet been blessed... 
to share my blessings with others,
and be shielded from my enemies
with that invincible sword called,"Faith.";
why haven't I given up all the earthly joys...
to look up and cleanse me of all ugliness?  

Use me indefinitely,Lord...
to never go back to those alluring ways:
to appease human behavior and bypass
a peaceful and long life ;
use me indefinetely,Lord...
at least,there is one left
to be redemeed by remorse and guilt,
and proclaim you shamelessly!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2006