Best Gospels Poems
I followed you from Galilee
To that sad day on Calvary
Of love You spoke
New hope You woke
Some said I was a prostitute
In me You saw no ill repute
My heart now cries
I watch You die
Sharp spikes that pierce Your hands draw blood
And through my heart emotions flood
A Son so blessed
Is laid to rest
Three days I stayed outside Your tomb
Never to see You I presumed
And though I mourned
Glory's reborn
I genuflect and watch You rise
To join Your Father in the skies
This blessed day
Showed us “The Way”
The sacrifice You made for man
Celebrated in many lands
Easter Sunday
Give thanks and pray
Written in the first-person view of Mary Magdalene, one of Christ’s best known
disciples. According to modern religious scholars, the Gospels of Mark and John say
she was the first person to see Jesus after he rose from the dead.
you ... are the paramour of right angles
the square of a square - complete, quite aware
how two must adore you
for all it sees is itself, reflected
an angular fist - quite the narcissist
and the first number, sublime, that is NOT a prime
you move with order ... perfection
enclosed, at the helm of a harmonious realm
antithesis of lucky clover, and balance of the cornered circuit
you are numbered of the elements - the seasons cycle your breath
and how would a deck of cards go out for a night on the town
without your fancy suits to wear ... debonair?
how lost the world would be without you
to show us direction - to section the areas of space ...
to sing to us in the voice of violins
to carry us safely to our joys, spinning beneath our seats
to give motion, food and escape to the creatures
features of the gospels and horsemen, dark
hark - even the chambers of the heart ...
thrum for your sake and coordination
you are safety and symmetry, precision and enclosure
e'en the wind knows your order and actuality, factually, see ...
is it any wonder, number ... that you are my favorite?
(when with your little sister, of course).
~ 1st Place ~ in the "What's In A Number" Poetry Contest, Juliet Ligon, Judge & Sponsor.
The hyacinth stood on the dusking rise,
cerulean the waters did traverse,
the reeds consenting daylight to the skies
as pewter stones recited lapis verse.
The burning pyres of sunlight floated west
untouched by orchid mountains in the mist,
the periwinkle shadows did invest
in rising to the lingering deep kiss
by weeping echoes trailing on the sea
of fire and mangoes in most vibrant past,
the lemon grasses lilting on the lea
and scented mornings in their pungent cast.
The shorebirds ceased their gospels upon sight
as glowing whispers vanished in the night.
I need your ultra desperation
your ultra conflagration of love making exhilaration,
I want your ultra shout and pout
give me your slap attack
the amber of your abuse, the saffron of your emotions,
I crave the playful plenitude of your ultra uppidy attitude,
you let me experience hyperventilation at your disappearance
then inflation of euphoria in my Heart's utopia by your reappearance,
I want to know your ultra sadness
that song you share with the twilight of despair,
your ultra madness, your vortex of female complex,
I desire your hot and haunted psychology
your genius of ultra ingenuity, the pulp of your passion,
sometimes you love me most when you hurt me
a pathology of love cut sympathy that I can handle best,
earning the ultra soft surface of your pillowed chest
where I can rest the weight of iron soul, and slumber at your behest,
I want the whip of your hips and the sip of your lips,
I want the pleasure plethora of your ultra vulva
to access the pagoda of your sexual yoga
to concoct in you the froth of organic soda,
I want your Gospels and Revelations
the Path and the Wrath, your cross of ultra conquest
the morning of your ultimate ascendance
the midnight of your ravishing bite
the bounty of your breast and the burn of your brimstone
give me the lyric of your ultra breath,
your ultra love keeps me alive!
J.A.B.
“WE AIN’T FORGOTTEN…”
You cried a smile
shadowing anger
beneath a canopy
of love
Your necks filled nooses
tied with Christian knots
that never failed
Your wombs challenged
the holding holes
of sanctified graveyards
You kneaded gospels
from the dough of pain
and fed starving souls:
You moaned songs
with groans echoing
echoes from the depths
of suffering spirits—
Suffering spirits
whose fortified bent backs
gave rise to a flourishing nation
The fruits of your labors
have now ripened:
dropping pregnant seeds
germinating liberty
upon justice…?
today
the rain fell
steadily;
her tears
reminiscent
of waters
drowning justice
struggling
to survive
tidal waves
of deception—
seeking to douse
the flame of hope
held high
in hand—
an elusive lady
struggling
to stand
her anchored
mooring
I
Did I tell you my poem on the urge to write was lost?
Did we talk about meeting Jesus in the Gospels, seeing His heart?
For days now, I’ve been unable to post
Yet, God has been the same, healing Pastor Ray Kingrea’s palate
After surgery to remove a cyst, and reconstruct sinus “bones”
Yet tonight we did our joint Church presentation, “Culture & Truth”
While globally, He is turning tides of war, to save, to love everyone
II
My LORD is beyond Bible & biography, not a God bent on being Missionary
To destroy every faith and culture that does not follow The Way
Jesus died so that he would have a big family
Multitudinous, multi-colored, varied-skinned sinners turned siblings
To the delight of Abba-Father’s heart, who never forgot Adam
Out of whom He took a rib, and made Eve, the one wife, First Woman
Ever wanting to make us complete, with Helpmate, Glorious Good Father
I smile as I look at the clock, know I must awake at 6, to worship together
With hundreds of children you adore, paid the highest price to save
I fail to do my part, to share your heart, from Mountaintops of Wonder
Once upon a Christmas dreaming
Alphabets of spelling sleep,
Coal and snow plumed shrouded wreaths,
Fantasia minds plunged ever teeming
Distant choral souls redeeming,
Silence weeping, starlight beaming,
Light years bursting solar sheaths.
Whatever lost craved warmth and finding,
Rang the bells and rapped the brass,
Crept a creep of holy stealth,
Midnight chimed, the clock unwinding,
Visual feasts of gospels blinding,
Shadows lifted, ever minding
Love bestowing priceless wealth.
In the veils of crystals falling
Carols gelled with latticed ice,
Knitted pearls of liquid frost,
The songs of Christmas past were calling,
Eerie, wistful caterwauling,
Heaven bent on reinstalling,
Beckoned home whatever lost.
Once upon a Christmas waking
To a world of perfect white,
Love and caring left the grave
And arms wrapped bodies live and shaking,
Purest beauty in the making,
Gifts for giving, gifts for taking,
And all we took was all we gave.
What Would Santa Claus Say
by Michael R. Burch
What would Santa Claus say,
I wonder,
about Jesus returning
to Kill and Plunder?
For he’ll likely return
on Christmas Day
to blow the bad
little boys away!
When He flashes like lightning
across the skies
and many a homosexual
dies,
when the harlots and heretics
are ripped asunder,
what will the Easter Bunny think,
I wonder?
NOTE: The biblical book of Revelation says that Jesus will murder children himself for their mother's sins, in the letters to the Churches. But he won't stop there, according to the writer of Revelation, because after all the earth's creatures have sung the praises of God, a third of them will be destroyed in acts of bloody carnage, along with a third of human beings. That's trillions of animals and billions of people. I can't believe the compassionate Jesus of the gospels, who had table fellowship with prostitutes and refused to stone an adulteress, is going to suddenly start murdering their children and become the greatest serial murderer of all time. And how can the man who taught us to put aside religious differences to practice compassion in the Parable of the Good Samaritan not follow his own advice? Jesus reserved all his sternest criticism for hypocrites, so wouldn't he have to live up to his own teaching?
"Oh Lord hear our prayer. Oh Lord hear our prayer. When we call answer us. Oh Lord hear our prayer. Oh Lord hear our prayer. Come and listen to us." Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom. Jesus remember me when you come into into your kingdom."
"The joy of the Lord is my strength. The joy of the Lord is my strength. You give me living water so I thirst no more. You give me living water so I thirst no more. The joy of the Lord is my strength."
"If we confess our sins he is faithful and Just to forgive us our sins. Even to them who believe in his name." 1st John 1:9. "For God so loved the world, he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life." John 3:16
The Lord shall hear our prayers and hearken unto the desperate pleas of his children. In times of sorrow and distress. Those of us who put our faith and trust by dedicating our lives and our gifts. To proclaim the glory, wisdom and might of the Most Holy God who will reign forever and forever more.
"Resist the devil and he shall flee from you." The effectual prayer of either a righteous man or woman really does avails much. Keep balance and faith in your faith, in you thoughts words minds and deeds.
"God will take care of you through every day through every way. God will take care of you. God will take care of you."
"Turn your eyes upon Jesus look full in his wonderful face. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace."
"Confess our sins and leave them far behind us. Turn far away from them. For the kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, repent and repent for the kingdom of God is at hand." Each in your own words and each in your own way. Ask the Lord to teach you how to pray, the way he taught his disciples. In the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
April 22-23, 2020
I am a Jew, but I am enthralled by the luminous figure of the Nazarene. Jesus is too colossal for the pen of phrasemongers, however artful." He further added: "No man can read the gospels without feeling the actual presence of Jesus. His personality pulsates in every word. No myth is filled with such life...Theseus and other heroes of his type lack the authentic vitality of Jesus. -Albert Einstein
When I die, please don’t cry
Instead, I beg – look to the sky
Where my spirit soars, flying high
A light, a love – this is not goodbye
When I die, don’t mourn the end
Instead, know you were a true friend
Gentle prayers you would always send
A story of hope on which I could depend
When I die, please look to the light
Where my soul lives on, it’s such a sight
Trembling and rising, with all my might
Knowing God’s presence makes it all right
When I die, don’t listen to those tears
They tell the story of doubts and fears
Listen, instead, to the joy through the years
Joy that comes to believers when death nears
When I die, please remember my life
And say a soft thank you for His sacrifice
Because He lived and died, faced the strife
We can know the love that comes in the afterlife
When I die, don’t believe the worry or dread
When she says I’m gone – despite what she said
Know that I’m still alive, even though my body’s dead
I live in the presence of God, eating heaven’s bread
When I die, please don’t weep for me
Just think!!! – I’m finally free
In His presence, you surely agree
I’ll find a bigger love than the largest sea
When I die, don’t grieve for what has been
Heed the light that flows, so serene
Remember I was loved by Him, though He was unseen
Because of His great gift, I’ll always love the Nazarene.
poets, the evergreens,
their poems, the word
gospels that didn't make
the big book like
birds on overhead wires
accidentally perched
in the sequence of a
Beethoven symphony
but those words divine,
while I figure out grain
on half lit wooden floors
reduced, now, to poems
in pyjamas, oh my life,
delayed, enforcing other
immortalities
Gentling verses, like softly spoken dawns,
Pour out rhythms, releasing hungers,
Stirring hearts to breathe, restoring hopes,
Prayerful moments trembling,
Echoing, glistening shafts of heated praises,
Mysteries in shadows, embracing – erasing
Shades of inspiration, focusing on joys
Alive like the dancing winds, traipsing
Through autumn, leaves crisp and light – waltzing
Colors – boldest scarlet, tangerine and gold,
Laughing whispers who respond to the skies
Rich with cerulean grace, risking the lazuline lines
In attractive fogs, mists rising over the mountains
Where memories blur the past with now,
Lighting the way for passions to cry out…
Inside the wall of pines, which could tell of so much more
Than memories could hold, more laughter,
More love, more entreaties to God who knows us
Like the ordinary groanings, who release burdens
Too heavy for souls, too difficult for moments when
Blessings rain down through the tears,
Liquid prayers, alive with feelings and fears,
Enemies of perfection but best friends with relinquishment,
Fulfilling wishes, bold and pleasant as the stars
Winking at the moon, holding burdens too heavy
With inklings of fiery melodies, tender
Like the noon when bees travel from rose to lily,
Milking the nectar, fostering frames – tiny
Gospels told by those who remember the sting,
Singing through the song, revealing
Purpose in the hurt, when the tingle – the throbbing
Inspires light to fade, weakening, dying …
Insipid, gushing, rhapsodizing a night when stars hide,
Exposing the naked truth – just like the sun
Who births light and reveals every new dawn, baring
With it – a beautiful far more soothing than the moon’s,
A beautiful that abides in the new day, the new smile,
The newness of a hope, a prayer, a dream…
Releasing vanilla sighs to signal the moon
That, yes, oh yes…
It is time for rest, time to test the skies
Who are eternally blessed with God’s wondrous light!
I felt the chaos like a capsule, small
It tumbled down my throat, dispersed throughout
To numb alert my body, I’d no doubt
Newborn idle entropy at sunfall
Senses are but half-blind court reporters
And memory’s known to give in to its whims
So man may doubt the gospels and the hymns
All the “truths” he’ll know will have no borders
For “meaning” needs more than a just-because
A cosmolog’cal constant, man requires
But now the tree of knowledge rots ‘mid fires
That char the good and all their obeyed laws
I felt like chaos in a bottle, capped
A message in a bottle’s still left wrapped
Plunged into darkness the coarsen tempest struck,
Shattering the silence calm facade.
Raging with passion reverberating laughter,
The gales unrelenting moaning and thrashing
Provoked and spawn inscrutable terror.
Hidden in the darkness by torrential rain
And shadows of the ardent temperament
vigorous gales and waves;
The lone sentinel peered out enthralled.
It began to shudder and tremble
Uncontrollably, but unmoving
Casting the gales a wicked smile
With its brilliant warning.
Arching over with pleasured force,
Winds raised the waves with a pounding rhythm,
Embracing and probing
For entrance with explosive weight.
Unleashing its briny wrath,
The tempest amuses itself
Toying upon the ships
With a deadly game of cat and mouse.
A calm comes over sooths the storm, whilst sunlight
Through a stain glassed window painting the rippling surface.
A final breath of woven weariness emerged from within.
7/17/2017
According to the Gospels:
He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?" They were terrified and asked each other, "Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!"
IN THE STILL OF NIGHT
(AKA BEFORE THE BREAK OF DAWN Draws Near)
I
In the still of night
we contemplate the dawn
of day when we shall be free
of the mind games shadowing liberation
sustained by generations whose lives were put on hold:
many ending in holes dug by tormentors of stolen sable souls.
In sanctified moments
blues, gospels and jazz harmonize
under the harvest moon
reaping the fruits of ripening minds.
II
In its due season
each stilled night generates
new revelations
revealing the I am because they were
the steady black bridges built
over the bloody chasm we have crossed.
III
Now is the time to roll like thunder.
Now is the time to roll away apathy.
Now is the time to roll out the dream's reality.
Let us leave new legacies
for those in the darkness of wombs.
Let us leave new footprints
leading to the light of a brighter day.
IV
In the still of night
let us remember the tempestuous seas
over which we have sailed.
In the still of night
let us remember the beatings and the jails.
In the still of night
let us remember the reeking bowels
of slave ships survived.
In the still of night
let us remember the strange fruits
of blood watered hanging trees.
V
In the still of night
before the break of dawn draws near
let us remember the blood debt owed us here.