Best Lepers Poems
Who was this man who spoke so bold?
Was He a prophet, like one of old?
He touched the lepers, made them clean,
Gave sight to those who had never seen.
His name was Jesus.
Who was this man who calmed the sea,
And from demons set people free,
Who loved to watch the children play,
And often slipped away to pray?
His name was Jesus.
Who was this man who loved the sinner,
And often met with them for dinner?
Self righteous leaders were distressed,
But this man was not impressed.
His name was Jesus.
Who was this man who raised the dead,
Who fed five thousand with five loaves of bread?
He healed the lame so they could walk,
And loosened muted tongues to talk.
His name was Jesus.
Who was this man, falsely accused,
Mocked and beaten, cruelly abused?
The Romans nailed Him to a tree,
While His own refused to set Him free.
His name was Jesus.
Who is this man who conquered death,
Who rose again filled with God's own breath?
His hands and feet scarred by the nails,
Reveal His love that never fails.
His name is Jesus.
His name is Jesus, God's only Son.
He gave His life for everyone.
To those who call upon His name,
He grants salvation, erases shame.
His name is Jesus.
Categories:
lepers, bible, christian, faith, jesus,
Form:
Rhyme
They were a carpenter's hands, calloused, yet so soothing,
Freely offered to those whose burdens needed smoothing.
He forsook the carpentry trade, His Father's will to keep,
And clasped a shepherd's crook to tend His precious sheep.
His hands blessed the children when others turned them aside.
His hands calmed the stormy seas causing them to subside.
His hands touched Peter's mother-in-law, her fever disappeared.
At Cana His hands blessed the water, miraculously wine appeared!
His gentle hands healed the lame and they were made to walk.
His tender hands caused the deaf to hear and the mute to talk.
His folded hands blessed some fish and several loaves of bread,
To multiply this simple fare for the thousands to be fed!
His hands reached down to rescue Peter from the roiling sea.
Healing hands caressed their eyes. Behold! The blind could see!
His hands touched outcast lepers, their diseases He erased.
His hands upset thieves' tables when His temple was debased.
Alas, His loving, compassionate hands were nailed to a tree.
There He suffered and died for wayward sinners such as we.
He yet offers steadfast hands to guide us o'er perilous strands.
His invitation is everlasting - we need only to grasp His hands.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
lepers, faith
Form:
Rhyme
What’s the color of forced migration pain?
Ask a black person in America,
and you’ll get fifty different slave answers
What’s the silent sound of invisible chains?
Fifty killahurts of black ...
Aryan brotherhood iron swastikas uniting
What’s the latest “pull the trigger” hate spin?
Fifty states of fascist terror —
Goshen ghettos under daily thought policing
Who got their Klan thumbs
pressing heavy on the justice scales?
Increasing the widow population of the cemetery cells
Who got their hooded hands
casino slot turning the roulette wheel?
Decreasing the charitable portion of the orphan meals
America’s moral debts are in the red
Haughty heifer blame your mounting troubles
on the poor black scapegoats instead
Fifty shades of dark overcast gloom
hanging over the branches of the oak tree
Liberty got locked in a buried room
waiting for captivity’s end to be set free
Fifty shades of rejection in vessels of doom
Thirteen colonies
of spotted lepers will be coming home soon
Fifty shades of black ...
let the moon eclipse the sun
Fifty shades of stars ...
let the striped prisoners run
Categories:
lepers, allusion, color, slavery, truth,
Form:
Narrative
I go by my many names, Luke calls
me son of man through humanity,
John portrays me as son of God in his deity.
I am, I am the one true Lamb.
The one true Lamb is what I am.
As Jesus pulled the bread apart,
he gave to each apostle, a piece of his beating heart.
He said, I am the bread of life sent from above.
Everything I give to you, comes from the Fathers love.
The one true Lamb is what I am.
I am, I am the one true Lamb.
I am the light of the world
sent by my Father to save and to serve,
all you sinners who hide in the night,
know that I am the radiant light.
I am, I am the one true Lamb.
The Lamb on the cross is what I am.
Truly I tell you to come more and more,
enter through me for I am the door.
I am the Good Shepherd who loves all his sheep,
the lost and the lonely and the lepers who weep.
I am, I am the one true Lamb.
Sacrificed on the tree, for who I am.
Come all of ye into the light,
for I am the resurrection of life.
Forever my flesh will always be lost,
but I rise in three days from my death on the cross.
I am the one true Lamb,
The one and only, is what I am.
The way, the truth and the life.
So believe, don't stray,
and keep your eye on the light.
I am, I am the one true Lamb.
The Lamb, the Lamb is who I am.
The one true vine is what I am,
supplying and providing all that I can,
for all of you I was hung on a tree,
and from my death comes your eternity
I am, I am the loving Lamb.
Categories:
lepers, bible, blessing, power,
Form:
Rhyme
I’m a free spirit rising
a freethinker dreaming
Stoically climbing
the surreal limbo bar,
But I don’t know why
i’m no bright spark
for split seconds on fire
lighting up the dark
Yet we have one
with burning aspirations
peers into his own sky
it goes over most heads
Just like mother earth
oh that monster
who never shared a bed
Unresurrected yet alive
drones from a hive
uniformity in his wardrobe
reminds me of
a Gucci slave
in fox fur skin
self imposed virgin
His yellow ribbon tie,
symbolic of no hope
tourniquet for the throat
leers around corners
peers over the edge
paranoid with multifaceted sides
seen through opaque eyes
equals the root of Pi r squared
be careful not to stare
Does his hell refuse lepers
can I comment
without being masked
stop me spreading gossip
through questions I ask,
Searching for answers
or setting traps
they come thick and fast
But like always
with many gaps
Cast out of Eden
for the beef he’s eaten
an iPhone heathen
Doesn’t know when beaten
perhaps tofu can sweeten
the Shakespearian cretin
By
David Kavanagh
Categories:
lepers, allusion, lonely, poets,
Form:
Blank verse
He created the universe
Darkness and gloom, He did disperse
All was utopia, before the curse
He's awesome !
He hangs the stars out every night
On a sinking boat, He removed fright
In a jail at midnight, He gave light
He's awesome !
He delivered Daniel from the lion's den
When He met lepers, He cleansed all ten
He promised that He would come again
He's awesome !
He encountered the woman at the well
Of her sordid past, He did tell
He gave her deliverance from sin's spell
He's awesome !
He can take a broken heart
His cleansing touch can impart
Strength, - to a new life start
He's awesome !
Never has He ceased to draw attention
Since the day of His ascension
Oh, - - - and did I mention ?
He's awesome !
Colan L Hiatt = 09-25-16
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
lepers, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
Painting ~ Freedom From Want ~ painted by Norman Rockwell
A skin and nerve disease unspeakable -
outcast, unclean; they came to be restored.
In all, ten lepers Jesus healed in full
but only one went back to thank the Lord.
November brings a holiday most grand
for it reminds us of God's bounty giv'n.
Serenity of blessings in our land -
with gratitude, we turn our eyes t'wards heav'n.
Ten holidays from work I get each year.
What sets apart Thanksgiving from the rest?
Awakening of gratitude sincere,
and praising God for all that He has blest.
Remembering the wealth of gifts divine,
may I be like the one and not the nine.
written 26 Aug 2020
Categories:
lepers, appreciation, blessing, god, holiday,
Form:
Sonnet
Continued from Part 1
The orphans and widows lean into the breeze
watching horrified hangmen descend to their knees
for the angel of mercy’s no longer inclined
to forgive vengeful phantoms (oh Furies of night!) ,
I’ll not leave you behind.
The bandits are brazen, the highwaymen lurk,
some imbibing dark brews of a hag’s handiwork,
mostly gulping from goblets like goblins maligned.
Woman! Widen your wings, catching wisps of the wind
I’ll not leave you behind.
The lepers laugh, leaping from tombstones of steel
chasing rollaway caskets on luminous wheels;
while their shadows shake, shrouded, twixt trees intertwined,
twisted time melts at midnight, take hold of my hand,
I’ll not leave you behind.
The gremlins grope, grinning face down in the dust,
while the sprites and the pixies are watching nonplussed.
They sling bolted arrows at spectres enshrined
within winds somewhat flustered, just fly from your fears
I’ll not leave you behind.
The tattered toy teddies and raggedy Anns
have escaped to the skyways in kid caravans
but now, spellbound by fancies, know not that they’ll find
their parade’s evanesced into echoes of dawn –
I’ll not leave you behind.
The wind’s my enchantress, beguiles and commands
me to search for my fortune in faraway lands
and whispers her mysteries of passions entwined,
for the wind is Isolde – unfurling my sails
I’ll not leave you behind.
End
Categories:
lepers, fantasy, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Part 3
9th Delerium: Emptyness
Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled ... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing... churning,
blaring bugles, tattooed drum
10th Delirium: Alienation
Rain unravelling, wistfully weeping... falling,
treacle trickling, fickle sky
Mushrooms sprinkled, visions sprouting... sprawling,
seagulls drowning, dolphins die
Rabble gasping, spirits broken... crawling,
lonely lonesome swallows cry
Babbling brooks and breakers ebbing... bawling
puppies paddle, puppets sigh
People passing ripple past me... calling,
rainbow colours, collars high
Chaos seething, lepers looting... stalling,
stealing stallions on the sly
Pencils pausing, scholars scrambling... scrawling,
scratching scribbles, asking why
11th Delirium: Jetsam
Silver sails sway pallid pirates... prowling,
Jolly Rogers, wind and sound
Parrots perching, tattered feathers... fouling,
tethered talons, tied and bound
Shipwrecked foghorns, trumpets stranded... howling,
spiral springs of time unwound
Magic moonlight, shimmers shaking... scowling,
burnt out matchsticks washed aground
Prairie wolfs, coyotes calling... yowling,
witching hours, midnight hounds
Tightrope walkers, grizzlies grunting... growling,
seeking islands, lost and found
12th Delirium: Relief
Slumber shattered, vapours captive... haunting,
chained in mirrors, breaking free
Scarlet skylines, daylight dawning... daunting,
rivers rushing to the sea
Silence softens, sandmen whisper... wanting,
piercing rafters, turning keys
Shadows shudder, notions fluster... flaunting,
moonbeam bullets meant for me
Mind in migraine, meadows trembling... taunting,
sparrows speak in harmony
REAWAKENING
Pitter patter, teardrops paling... pearling,
salting scarves in secret drawers
Mist amongst us, smoke rings rising... curling,
climbing from the ocean floors
See-saw circles, senses swerving... swirling,
swept away with silver oars
Courtyard jesters, sceptres twisting... twirling,
push the past to foreign shores
Passing pangs of passions heaving... hurling,
burning bridges, closing doors
Roses wither, icons waning... whirling,
time decays and time restores
End
Categories:
lepers, lost love, time,
Form:
Rhyme
The 'Beloved Community'
by
Rick Folker
One beloved community
in God's world
Where each soul honors
the Image of God in the other
Where neither Jew nor Greek
Woman nor Man
Delivers the 'manifest destiny'
From Sinai's peak
Where all are called to Isaiah's mountain
Eunuchs and lepers
Publicans and saints
Lips humbly muttering prayers
they cannot speak
Where all observe Jesus from afar
On lonely Gethsemane
Sweating blood
For the sleeping, satisfied, selfish crowd
The torpor of disciples, deaf to the
Impending flood
One beloved community, Or...
Some fairy tale kingdom struggling
To become a living thing or tossed in the trash
Or the mountains where "used-to-be"
crumble from sorrow
into a mournful ash
And well-meaning Christians hurry
For shelter, cowering in sack cloth
As the complacent sleepers of Gethsemane
creep back
Into the darkness, covering their ears lest they
AWAKE! to the night that is far gone
And hear of light and justice
Escaping the righteous rebuke of
WRONG! Wrong! Wrong
One beloved community
That Martin gave his soul and his life for;
A King who was prophet and priest
Whose dream was smothered in the still-born birth
in a would be manger in some slum in Montgomery
Where no sun rises in a forgotten, hopeless east
'Move to the front please'
One beloved community
shattered and now praised
for its greatness, its whiteness, its bravado
and hubris in soul-grinding waves
Ignoring the please of the blacks and the browns
and the braves
One beloved community that exists
in a dream
And one loveless community that ends
in a scream with a lone,frightened individual
Praying to be redeemed
Categories:
lepers, community, courage,
Form:
Ballad
Mother Teresa, I salute thee!
Thou art,a pious soul and
Indeed God's chosen messenger
and harbinger of hope to millions
of suffering downtrodden -
destitute women,orphaned children
Sick men and women and lepers
whom the society hated to see even;
The gentle touch of thine hands
healed their sufferings and gave them
A ray of hope to live and self-assurance;
And indeed you've performed miracles
Which the Pope has recognized, and of
which in your noble life time
You never even spoke or mentioned
And that speak volumes of your humility;
And you lived a glorious life of selfless service
To the uncared for poor and innocent humans
And I look forward to the day
The great church of God bestows
Sainthood on thee so that the world
would soon remember thee as Saint Theresa
God's chosen soul and saint of the twentieth century
I salute thee Mother Teresa!
Categories:
lepers, prayer,
Form:
Free verse
There was a king who invited Artists to sketch the exact hand of Jesus so he can hung it in His palace
One of them depicted a Jesus with an Animal looking hand
Another depicted that He had the Square or the working hand
One of the Artists depicted that Jesus had a skillful hand
Another established that the Savior had the Philosophical hand
The final Artist sketched a Jesus with a Plane hand
The king wasn’t thrill by all the art works, so he never signed it. Why?
Because none of the sketched hands reflected the crucifixion of Jesus.
Hand’s which once held nails and wood
Now being held by nails and wood
Battered and tattered hands
The hands of a village Carpenter
He nailed splinters and carved timbers
He gripped lumbers with his bare-fisted fingers
In an age without gloves and hand creams
In an age without sunscreen lotions
A Village Carpenter hands, God’s chosen Son
Hands that labored under the harsh eastern sun
Hands that raised houses and erected buildings
Hands that fashioned furniture and repaired kids’ toys
Hands that broke bread and fed multitudes
Is now being broken to feed multitudes
These were the hands that fed the poor
These were the hands that healed the sick
These were the hands that made the sea and the fish
These were the hands that took bread and dipped it in a dish
And gave it to Judas as a gesture of deep love and affection
Here was the bread of life Himself, the Son of the living God
These were the hands that framed the stars and the skies
These were the hands that opened the blind man’s eyes
These were the hands that loosed the cold hand of death
These were the hands that disarmed powers of darkness
These were the hands that washed the disciple’s feet
These were the hands that cleansed lepers in the street
Oh gentle hands! Never slapping another back
Oh lovely hands! Never touching too roughly
These hands that bore scars that no lotion could heal
These are the hands of Jesus, so powerful and so real
These are the hands that convey love, so lovely
Oh! What a powerful hands! Oh what a lovely hands
Categories:
lepers, art, bible, destiny, easter,
Form:
Quatrain
Dying starving kids in the streets of Calcutta.
Lepers, faceless and worthless pieces of flesh,
kicked and tossed in the nearest cesspool.
Low caste Hindus hated and harried from the Ganges.
Women raped in the streets of South Africa.
Their bloody torn panties---flags of rapist victory.
Tribal warfare, shooting each other for no reason.
Mutilation and torture in their hot sweaty cells.
Faces slashed by muggers’ knives on London tube.
Reckless thugs on Brixton side killing to get some change.
Beggars punched black and blue, left to rot in East End's slums.
While politicians sing tunes of law and order at Westminster.
Old freezing tramp seeks shelter in warm sty.
Jailed for break and enter, slowly dying.
Who cares, the law must be seen to do justice,
Our judges say as they hold a minute of silence for dead soldiers!
Let's bash these Jews and brown-black bastards in their chants of racial hatred,
Echoing in European and American streets, kill em to preserve their purity.
Their whiteness and Aryan image mustn't be poisoned by these animals.
Then the killing and slicing begin in the dark corners of the metropolis.
Fighting in Israel, the Middle East and Afghanistan is man's thrill,
as a flood of blood soaks the war-torn lands and they smile
at wasted lives to hail a religion and a useless cause.
Wars created by man for fun and games but we're the pawns!
Oh God when will the angry ravage and savage evil of man stop?
When will our children be able to run in golden fruit scented fields?
Drink cow’s pure milk and crunch crusty bread reaped from the land of wheat.
When will human suffering end and life of love and peace with God prevail?
Categories:
lepers, baby, conflict, corruption, earth,
Form:
Free verse
You need it, u want it, just to know how it feels
You’re tired of your hands shaking every time you handle the bills
You always have just enough to get by, but not past
You’re tired of wondering how long your credit will last
The secret to money and power:
Wasting not your mind on poverty another hour
The secret comes to the one who is most proud
Of whatever he or she affords to have around
If a broom is all you have, just smile and grab it
Sweep the floor clean, and you may find a coin to eat
The secret to money and power:
Living in a shack, but imagining it is a tower
The only thing to fear is fear, someone once said
Look at everything as if, it has all been paid
Where there is a will there is a way, all debts will clear
If every minute all the while, you choose to be of cheer
The secret to money and power:
Dropping your worries and picking up a pretty flower
You don’t need to be a billionaire, or be the pope
But you can be anything you want, if you nurture that little hope
Yes, that little hope, that comes and goes
Let it stay and never go, and watch yourself become a boss
The secret to money and power:
Singing a happy song while in the shower
Peasants have often become landlords, and vice versa
Lepers have survived plagues while champions die of cancer
For playing along or against this little secret
There is a reward to reap, or some empty regret
The secret to money and power:
Removing what makes your thoughts sour
Categories:
lepers, devotion, humanity, poverty, prayer,
Form:
Rhyme
I hail from the green land
Really green for sumptuous serenades
But too many grey lepers lay on the succulent carpet
And the milk of my land mills through rotten breasts
The windfall of power brings pesty prongs to her nipples
Let me tell you my sad story
Not the blues from the evening guitar
Listen to the pulse of time’s recording
The many moans of mangled voices
And the jubilant choruses of their silencers
Those now mangled, the lathers
The jubilant mounted through our greenest height
Let me tell you my story, sad
The blues, not from the evening guitar
We talk tough for change
They lay languid in old robes
Expectant of business as usual but
The beastly beards are shaven from goofs while asleep
Change soon sweeps through this clime
While the silencers snore off
Let me tell you my story, sweet
From the blue wake brass, not the night grey gong.
Categories:
lepers, abuse, africa, angst, betrayal,
Form:
Free verse