Best Apollos Poems
The waves crushing her tiny body with striking blows
White creamy wash caresses her golden skin as the wave slows
Moving sluggishly towards the horizon
Because of a recurring vision she hopes she’ll arise in
Her feet digging deep into the sand as it sinks between her toes
Emersed, with arms folded she prepares and off she goes
The cool oceans breeze kisses her beet-red cheeks
It knows what she’s come for and what she seeks
Sunshine drips onto coppery auburn locks shimmering, it lifts
A pale honey-wheat straw sunhat spins away and drifts
Almost completely submerged in salty brazen waters
Compelled at this point with the nauticus mythic plotters
Shut against blaring sunrays are her deep emerald eyes
Her sunburnt face gazing up at vanilla skys
She meditates on what had before appeared, a glimpse
Of the siren with long flowing raven hair and other nymphs
Teeth chattering to tapping sounds like wooden castanets do
Contain her trembling lips she can’t, they turn purplish merlot-blue
Shaking from an Autumn’s cold spell, she imagines she’s a mermaid
But diving in opaque murky silt wasn’t what she had expected
Her bare flesh emerging from impure poisonous rot of green
Blood red ripples dripping from the clouds that are unseen
Neither she nor the fierce Cyrene, Apollos wife the naiad should dread
Numbing overcomes her at last she hears the siren singing in her head
Paralyzing fragments of her hallucination now bestow
A gifted sacrifice her (secret thoughts) needed for soothing waves to flow
In the distance a cranberry sun sets, now streaks of pink implores
A darkened blue-green sea, maroon and sapphire shores
A beautiful mermaid appears and thanks her for her secret thought
That only love for the deep blue sea (the ocean is life) and to all this be taught
Pedro, the traitor of Jesus Christ
This man, if he could be called a man
Killed 12 followers of Christ
Like a crazed Wolfman
Pedro firstly meet with Christ in a forest
Christ asked him if he had mercy of other people
Pedro answered: Yes.
Christ presented him 12 followers of him
Pedro was excited. He never had any followers
Jesus said: they were my followers, now they will be yours
Apollos, Evodius, Archippus, Sosthenes, Barnabas, Onesiphorus, Andrew, Moses, Judas, Philip, Simon and Nathanael.
Began to follow Pedro
Pedro reportedly yelled to Christ "Oh father, thanks"
Jesus then seen Pedro as a reliable friend
He would everyday visit him at bars
And once helped Jesus to transform water into wine
But one day
Thing slipped
On March 30 Pedro called Jesus, to talk with him
After a little conversation, Jesus began to suspect of Pedro
And terminated the conversation with "You aren't the prophet; i want my sons back"
Pedro got infuriated.
On April 3, Pedro called his followers to a forest
Having called the followers, Pedro said that a miracle would happen
He said to them to look at the sky, because the sun would do a such thing
But while they were looking at the sky, he got a dagger
And fastly stabbed 12 of his followers, all of whom died.
He then called Jesus, yelling "Now came here father to see the disaster i made"
Jesus was terrified by the murders: "How could you?"
But he did not panicked; he put his hands into Pedro's head
Saying "Father forgive them, for they do not know what they do"
After saying the phrase seven times, he said Pedro "Go ahead."
Pedro did go out and was not heard anymore.
Jesus said to his followers that he had an follower named Pedro,
Who was a traitor to him
His followers were shocked to hear the story.
Pedro is still remembered, to this day, as a mass murderer, and traitor
His whereabouts are unknown.
Written by Brazilian bishop Robinson Cavalcanti in 1996 to American bishop Douglas Cameron.
Am not an aesthetic
poet.
I've no apollos
laurel in ode.
Too fragile is my
tongue to tell your
face;
For your look I dare
to speak.
Play me that
Amphion's harp
That in your mouth
dwells
For your sake I
shall be paris
For the Helen's face
you wear
I shall draw
Menelaus up again
To Trasimene Field.
I shall seek the
Delphian Oracle
That your heart I
may fathom.
Shall I employ Seba,
the questionnaire
That the discretion
of your choice I
win.
Sorania, my Helen
I am Ovid to his
Flea
And as jealous as
Oenon
Lead me to Venus'
chamber
And your dream I
promise be.
I stand by the
promise of Jephthah
To be your Romeo in
life and in death.
“Bel Air” ~ Lana Del Rey
Ashen stoic gargoyles sit amongst the gates
The sunlight shines through heaven's doors.
I'm impatient and apollos chariot awaits.
You'll be my golden wings as I soar
up into divinity engulfed by light and sights
of Bel Air. Roses and Palm trees wrap around
me as im waiting to greet you, come to me at night.
I'm resurrected ready to follow as you lead me to be found
I cry, you laugh and I take your hand as we descend right
into Paradise. The trials of men do not live up and
compare with the divinity of your soft philosophy
I wait for you at the holy land
knowing that our love is an anomaly
Through the heavy hand of solemn quest
Chosen vestibules in relentless jest
Onto the corporate head through exploits support
Just a question of fools spoiling all the rules
Phat cats with blue hats in silver snaps
Chaps
Power of manipulation trying to reach the top
Power of tolerance equated through a clogged filter
Power in the people chords are broken by its timeless shelter
All is a will for power even now before the throne
Absolute
Power to direct others yet can't themselves
Perhaps its best if I put that book right back on its shelf
Power of negotiations borrowed papal pew in sullen masturbation
Power if discourse measured through elapsed fervor in disguise
Power in coompromise to see through all lies
Power to be heard in silence not ever saying a single word
Power to control others & torn,
Whimsical power built on its fabricated quest
Power of persuasion when one is being put through a fiery test
Power is the lie that we all seek
Sin is a leech as in its midnight creep
We are each given free will yet power is never free/
Sullen fabrication to its frame,
Let me be the first to explain,
A slave is set free in time based in history/
Skull bones in fragments puzzle chart incomplete
Power is not for the weak,
Tempted further in fallen honesty
Provoked with tears after so many years
A poet scorned for further curse the actual day they were born
In a heart filled with pride the Apollos died
Shake the leaves from her hair my pretty child choose the day/
The night is far spent in casual waste
Vanity is then mixed with the make believe;
Folly
In fallen exploits amidst the dream,
Scattered garland in planted bulb
Sullen pride amidst the shrub
We rob the one who will forever take....
Power,
Maybe, it's just best to settle for a cold shower ?
Barren of People
Some people are so empty within
Do they hear the echo of the fallen footfall
There are museums without many statues
Grande they are standing with outstanding
pillars, porticoes and rotundas.
In the courtyard a fountain leaps and flows
back into itself
Some say they are nun-hearted and are blinded
to the worlds;
Like their marble lilies as they
Exhale their pallor of an enchanted scent.
I have envisioned myself with a great public eye
of style;
Many mothers were of Nike and saw
several bald-eyed Apollos.
In view of the dead can sometimes conjure
and injure me with furrowed attention
Thus, nothing had happened
Alas, the moon lay a hand upon my forehead,
So they can blank-faced and mum as a nurse.
Written: Oct. 16/14
Theresa Marie C.
I have found little to paint my life
As exquisitely as your song
For the sun did not shine on my bearing
Or grant me shelter from the rain
I am but an ordinary creature
Of no flair or finesse to circumvent
My gifts are not of beauty or brilliance
My breath a mere intrusion on your journey
You see…the seasons failed to transform
That which knows no glory
And the canvas remains ill-favored
Powerless to rise above well-heeled judgment
And just as a seedling with no light
Will not age in splendor to greet the heavens
A soul deafened to life’s symphony
Will never truly learn to sing out in jubilee
Twas only in the sweetness of Apollo’s kiss
That I dared to dream of places beyond my horizon
And for a flitting, I stood barefoot in the garden
And felt full the majesty of Elysium
I welcomed the offerings, my book flung wide
Inviting fate to ink the pages of my journal
Welcoming the stain left on my heart, and my life
Cherishing the makings of bittersweet memories
But oh how fleetingly those treasured moments passed
And I woke from my reverie to find myself alone
Imprisoned still, in the concrete of my reality
My tender heart reeling from the loss
Yet…I do not rue the passing of your shadow over mine
Nor will I forget the elation of sunshine on my flesh
And though the fire sparked but for a twinkling
I will long remember the warmth of the flame
For, I have found little to paint my life
As exquisitely as your song, my love
And I will carry breathless, your lullaby
Captured forever…in my heart
*********************************************
Copyright © 2009 Leria Hawkins, All Rights Reserved
November 2 Scripture Meditations Based on 1Corinthians 3-5
Key Verses – 1Corinthians 1:6-7 I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase. So then neither is he that planteth any thing, neither he that watereth; but God that giveth the increase.
MY GOD, THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME SURE INCREASE
Thank You for giving me sure increase for my spirituality
As You build my faith toward heavenly productivity
Against doubts and insecurity’s infirmity
So that I can continually persist by Your sovereign authority.
Thank You for giving me sure increase for my devotion
As You guard my heart toward sincere dedication
Against discontentment and discouragement’s affliction
So that I can joyfully abide in Your gracious compassion.
Thank You for giving me sure increase for my commitment
As You uphold my soul toward ministerial enhancement
Against worldliness and lustfulness’ enticement
So that I can wholly serve through Your divine involvement.
Thank You for giving me sure increase for my wisdom
As You transform my mind toward godly freedom
Against foolishness and humanism’s stardom
So that I can prudently learn about Your everlasting kingdom.
Thank You for giving me sure increase for my faithfulness
As You bless my perseverance toward fruitful progressiveness
Against disloyalty and pride’s stubbornness
So that I can fervently pray within Your available goodness.
Thank You for giving me sure increase for my stewardship
As You uphold my worship toward sweet fellowship
Against slothfulness and conflicts in partnership
So that I can diligently labour around Your secured leadership.
Thank You for giving me sure increase for my sacrifices
As You honour my adoration toward joyous exaltation that blesses
Against disobedience and rebelliousness’ forces
So that I can eagerly prioritize Your perfect will of truth-braces.
November 2, 2022
There is a very special place I know
Where the east and west are one,
As north and south bend Apollos bow
So you launch towards the sun....
And a star that shoots across the sky
Leaves its trails for all to see ,
That if you believe in me then I
Become the ray that sets us free...
So stand with me as we eclipse
The universe expand,
Till the only space between our lips
Is the one between our hands...
It is then we'll stand upon a star
Keeping gravity in place
So that heaven need not come so far,
Just to touch the only face...
That rises every time I dream
On the surface of my soul ,
In the cries that I have yet to scream
With one purpose to unfold...
Terry
WWW.WhiteLionPoetry.com
Alan Shepard, astronaut, took golf balls to the moon
He whacked them only when he knew that he’d be leaving soon
‘One flew two hundred yards,’ he said, ‘and as I recollect
one came down in a crater, although I never checked.’
In seventy-one that bit of fun by NASA was allowed
Such jollity in twenty-one would now be disavowed
Like all the stuff they’ve left behind those golf balls lay there stranded
At least they do if it is true that both those golf balls landed
And then it all got boring with rockets on the wain
Those Saturn V Apollos superseded by a plane
Referred to as the shuttle like a boat, a bus or train
I doubt that space flights ever will excite me once again
Be careful what you wish for: is that not what they say
Something mad is happening, in outer space today
It should be so exciting as beyond the Milky Way
A hurtling flying saucer makes our population pray
It’s passing stars and galaxies at speeds beyond compare
We know it’s heading here because it didn’t stop off there
And now the bloggers tell us what the BBC refutes
It doesn’t come in peace because it’s loaded up with nukes
And finally it slowed down as upon our moon it came
And then it simply hovered there like it was taking aim
Then each TV and radio and stuff with speakers in
Crackled into life with a God almighty din
You humans shall obey these words and leave to us your earth
Or you shall be destroyed because you are of little worth
And then that space-ship blew apart as something smashed its shields
In orbit its astounding how much power a golf ball wields
***
[Postscript: in 1971, Alan Shepard took two golfballs and a modified club to the moon. Apparently, aware that any ‘whoops’ moments might be blamed on ‘larking about’, this was sanctioned on the proviso that all scheduled tasks had already been completed: thus Shepard teed off shortly before leaving the moon. To this day, Shepard retains the record for the longest golf shot on the moon... Duh!]
Thoughts about how to be adequate flow through my mind like relentless waves,
Persisting in their demands as they echo my name,
This world, a wild beast that cannot be tamed.
The weight is immense and unyieldingly harsh,
Weakening my once tested stature,
Turning me into another Atlas,
Bearing a suffering that knows no cure.
How much longer can I endure this trial?
Feeling so inherently insecure,
My life shrouded in obscurity,
Am I destined to hold on, chained by destiny?
I fear that my strength will wane,
For if I falter, I’ll drown in my sorrows,
Seeking solace in bottles of emptiness,
Quenching my unquenchable thirst,
Fooling myself with tomorrows that softly whisper sweet lies.
I must not let go, for some depend on me like Apollos in celestial dance,
I yearn for strength, for inspiration to borrow,
To continue bearing this heavy, unrelenting yoke.
In a world tangled in the net of doubt,
I carry the burden like a tree bent by merciless winds,
Branches outstretched like the arms of an invisible titan,
Each leaf, a hope waving in the winds of change.
My thoughts dash through oceans of pressure,
Where the waves of ambition crash against the rocks of reality,
Their foam, a mist of confusion and fear,
Yet beneath the surface, currents still carry dreams bound in resolve.
I often wonder if the ground beneath my feet is solid,
Or if I will fall, a shooting star, into the abyss of misfortune,
Working silently under the weight of the world,
I find strength in the eyes of those who stake their hopes on me.
Though the path is overgrown with long, dark shadows,
The inner light still flickers, fragile but tenacious,
Finding solace in the unsung songs of the future,
An unwritten poem, a symphony of possibilities.
Thus, I keep walking this melancholic and mystical journey,
A solitary sentinel of my own thoughts,
Crushed under the weight of relentless trials,
Yet always hoping for the strength to endure one more day.
Shoulders heavy and strain.
Thoughts of being proper in my brain.
Keep holding them up as they say my name.
This world cannot be tamed.
The weight is heavy and unbearable.
Weakening my tested status.
Making me become another Atlas
Painful suffering without a cure.
How much longer can I endure?
Feeling so insecure.
My life is obscure.
Am I doomed to hold fast?
For I fear that I will not last.
For if I fail, I’ll drown my sorrows.
To relieve the stress, as follows.
By grabbing a bottle of hollows.
For my ever-unquenchable swallows.
Tricking my mind with thoughts of tomorrows.
I must not let go and for some, depend on me like the Apollos.
For I require more strength and inspiration to borrow.
I am but a poet not a scholar
but a writer creating my own
network of emotions balanced
over sudden mental break’s
absence of tolerance to be
quieted to be numb empty
eccentrically desired memoirs
that allow sullen matter with
the meetings of the minds
quoting my very existence
catered to the finite infamous
wisdom of my sheer beauty
bestowed hidden scrolls within
my grasp a goddess of art poetry
and song I am patient I am loud
only in my thoughts a muse
as I tremble like rumbling thunder
beneath the midst of Apollos
hear when I simple can’t find the
right words the gravity that forms
to actually place pen to paper
as I study the slow movement
the minute hand on vintage
brass clocks I master time
clinging to the chimes the springs
the nuts the bolts while the second
hand fascinates me counting ever
grain of sand within the hour glass
my figure outlined to make them
began again and again with my song
when there’s absolutely nothing
left I fear being lost without
rational thinking malice folds
beneath me like white linen
as I am aching pondering about
the essence of my own poetic
gesture that simply reads write
you beautiful exceptional creature