Best Roman Poems
[Imagine this talk is coming from a Roman news reporter who is describing to a group of citizens on the town square wanting to know what is going on and why there is turmoil in their city. This story comes directly from the Bible and is an inspiration for myself and many Christians.]
It’s happening right now on the town square,
I just came from there,
It was a terrible sight to see,
They’re nailing some guy to a tree.
It looks like they beat him to death,
The poor man can barely take a breath,
They jammed a crown of thorns on his head,
It looks like he is almost dead.
He claims to be the King of the Jews,
Have you heard his radical views?
He says we do not have to die,
How can this be true? It must be a lie.
They said Pilate tried to set him free,
But the high priest would not let that be,
So Pilate washed his hands of this mess,
Because he found no wrongs confessed.
There are two others with him on the hill,
All three they plan to kill,
The two criminals I understand why,
But this Rabbi should not have to die.
Most of his friends cannot be found,
Someone said they must have fled town,
His Mother and a few are at his feet,
They followed him up the bloody street.
There is a sign nailed above his head,
“King of the Jews” is what it read,
The Messiah is what you claim to be,
Save yourself, come down, set your self free.
A soldier said his final time has come,
He is asking God to forgive everyone,
He said “God why have you forsaken me?”
Looking towards Heaven as if to see.
Guards are throwing dice for his clothes,
There is no pity for him God knows,
Struggling to speak, “It is finished” he said,
He finally laid down his head.
The day turned to night; the ground began to shake,
Graves are opening, the dead are awake,
People are afraid and running around,
They pierced his side and pulled him down.
Shouts in the temple, the curtain is torn in two,
The elders and priests now know what is true,
Just then I heard the centurion say,
“This truly was a Holy man we killed today.
A conversation with a fictional character Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Natasha L. Scragg
2/3/22
Nero’s citizens enjoyed games of death
People and beasts for their sadistic fun
Animals and slaves drawing their last breath
Death in the arena, no place to run.
Gladiator fights were the ultimate
Hero worshipped champions of the gore
A sword thrust or spear sealed many ones fate
Crowds roared approval and called out for more.
Was man against man with sword, net and spear
Fight to the death, only one would remain
Experts in combat, none showed any fear
The loser on the ground writhing in pain.
Thumbs down, thumbs up victor looked to Nero
Thumbs up, swings sword crowd have a new hero.
Gaia in white flame burns
Yaldabaoth himself spurns
A second cycle turns
The Golden Age returns
The first-begotten son
Comes down from heaven’s sun
Barbelo, Armoured Queen
Look gently at this scene
Of Christ’s birth long foreseen
In this iron machine
Hearts of iron will melt
Hearts of gold will be felt
Hearts, gold and meek
Will rule from the word’s peak
Valis will rule and speak
With the lute of mystique
This birth in mystery
Will be our victory
As Polloi rules here
The first child will appear
Clearing the mist of fear
Every past sin and tear
Will be washed away
Clearing a narrow way
The world soul will rain down
Hedera all around
Lilies to make a crown
Acanthus for renown
Myrrh, gold, and frankincense
Without any expense
All goats will return home
All blind cobras that roam
Will be under death’s dome
Miles under farms and loam
Sheep will not fear lions
Men will see aeons
In the stream of Dead Sea
He’ll become a man free
Oak trees will weep honey
On every wild thorn-tree
Grapes will turn Persian plum
Gold will be the plain’s sum
But iron will remain
At sea, war ships will reign
Wars will bring pain
Walls will cover the plain
But when you will grow up
Gaia will drink the cup
Please, come soon, in our plight
You, the viceroy of might
The globe bows to your light
The earth and the blue height
Beseech you to be set free
From Yaldabaoth’s dark sea
You, our lord and brother
Child, smile at your mother
Speak words from the Father
If your lips will not stir
No light will bless your wine
And wisdom shall not shine
(Gnostic poem based on the ancient Roman Virgil's fourth eclogue, often interpreted as foretelling the birth of Christ)
X marks the spot if it’s V plus V
Or what XC needs to add up to C.
To the left of L or perhaps the right
There’s a difference some would consider slight.
Once the C’s add up, then it’s time for D
Which will last ‘til M’s a necessity.
Then it’s fun to challenge a boy whose path
May be one that follows the joys of math.
Placing X and I, L and M and C
To make sense brought smiles to both him and me
So we stopped at the point when I’d taught him plenty
And he knew MMXX was 2020!
sol’s golden glory
crowns neptune’s powerful force
majestic splendour
Jesus or Father Christ established or started
The Catholic or Roman Catholic Church
With our first pope St. Peter on Second Century
People have two sides
Like The Roman God Janus' coin
A good side, a bad side
A past, a future
One must embrace both in
Someone we love
A baby, pious, was born by aide
He named it Gaias, and felt like a jade
While he cried,
Cause mommy died.
His wife hired yet another maid.
Years back, I shimmered in her glow
a city wrapped in rich crochet…
my best friend sipping espresso
down Vatican and lit subway,
where nights of Rome danced a relay
the hilltops breathing a pearled sigh,
embellished with aisles of bouquet…
I relished her soil brushed in dye.
While Latin tunes drooled an alto
near ruins of Colosseum …
glory be, Pope John Paul we saw,
as crowds waved, rare his decorum.
Until tears sparkled misty gray
inside vaults and arches nearby;
tales flowed of ancient kings’ decay…
I relished her soil brushed in dye.
The streets pattered, run-and- go
Along a queue for concert’s replay;
then awed by Sistine’s pomp fresco
while eyes fluttered in a thrilled sway!
How we raced as quaint shops called, “buy,”
arms cuddling tokens like piled rye
wishes blown, glazed as eve’s firefly!
I relished her soil brushed in dye.
On our last day, I needed to say
“Yes, I’ll come back before moons cry”…
since this heart pined for Rome each day.
I relished her soil brushed in dye!
Lin Lane's Take A Vacation Contest
Ballade--28 lines 2/16/2016
Don’t want an argument or a fight
I’m speaking for what is the truth
Catholic or Roman Catholic was established or started by Jesus or Father Christ
Jesus or Father Christ established or started with our first Pope-St. Peter
St. Peter’s Catholic or Roman Catholic’s first pope
Pope or Apostle of Jesus or Father Christ
Jesus or Father Christ is the High Priest
The priest in the Catholic or Roman Catholic Church is called “Father”
Father representing Father Christ Jesus
It is not Eternal Father
It is Father representing the Catholic or Roman Catholic’s priest
Just want to clarify previous comments on the poem
Ignatius inspected his cohort
The unknown one and his men
He needed the best to fight for him
He needed the best to fight for them
Iduma stood tall, with a beard of fiery red
Didn’t like Ignatius, he wanted his job instead
Now was the time, he could prove his worth
He was born to be a leader; he knew it from birth
Ianus the two-faced one, wasn’t sure whose side to take
He watched Ignatius and Iduma, he waited for his break
The cohorts were ordered to drink, and sup from the pool
Then Ignatius would pick his men, he was nobody’s fool
To take Britannia from Caesar, that was Ignatius’ game
And then he wouldn’t be unknown, everyone will know his name
The ones that sipped from the pool, while keeping watch around
They were the cohorts Ignatius used, his cohorts he had found
Caesar when he slept, would be in his tent set by the river
Ignatius sent his men, to bring back the Caesar’s liver
Iduma heard the plan, his temper rose and boiled
He would not let Caesar die; it was Ignatius that would be broiled
Ianus watched them both, a side he needed to pick
He wanted to be on the winning one, he knew he must act quick
The cohorts crept into the camp; to take Caesar was their plan
Then Ignatius knew he would be leader, he would be their man
Ianus decided to foil the plan, and so he set a small trap
He told Caesar what was afoot, and then his thigh did slap
He hid in Caesars’ tent and waited for the cohorts
But it seemed to him that Idouma… must have read his thoughts
His two-faced trickery failed, at the conception of his plan
Iduma didn’t trust him, he was a two-faced man
Ianus of the two faces would pick sides when things were good
But he hadn’t counted on Idouma; it was something that he should
Ignatius failed to take Caesar, and will forever remain unknown
Londinium became a diocese, of the Roman throne
With Ianus dead and Ignatius too, that left only Iduma with his men
For Caesar to promote him, not of one cohort, but ten.
Ignatius . Loose translations in Latin …..Unknowning
Iduma… ……………………………. red
Ianus… …………………………… two faces.
Caesar……………………………………King
Cohorts…….. The Legion was split into 10 Cohorts. The Cohorts were divided into
Centuries. The First Cohort contained five centuries of 160 'crack troops.
Collapsed so they say long ago
due to Cleopatra’s long nose
that pierced a General’s heart
got him stuck there in love
till the army was demolished
what terrible accident in history!
Every man, every women
big, small, learned or never
empires, kingdoms, nations
a Cleopatra with long nose
will appear from no where
to intercept and bury surely
things that matter in life
Crumbling effects she brings
the way of life in this world
a mystery it is, doubt you may
but we all live in the world
we know not its laws of work
finger-crossed and dumbness
are the ways but not the habit
Gentle breezes blow across my face
as I gaze endlessly down the steep precipice.
Strangely the forces of nature are kind
when I am about to die.
Blood stained stone behind me marks death.
Death for Jesus who hanged on the cross.
Murderers and robbers alike must die here.
I hanged them all with pride and vigilance.
Time spares no mercy for these,
extracting life slowly and painfully.
Vindication of this crime receives death only.
My position compels me to vindicate.
Hypocrites have no post in life,
I must die.
Lurching towards my death I see a man.
Beaten and bruised, he reaches out to save me.
"Why do you stop me from justice?"
"Let not your flesh die; however,
die to your flesh and you will be vindicated."
The ground was dark and bloody,
My hands held the hammer,
I had only done my job.
But was that right?
He lay upon the wood in agony,
No one cared,
None helped,
All watched.
As he was lifted into place
I felt nothing.
I had done my job.
But now I am less sure
as I stand watch.
He speaks.
I can hardly hear the words.
The sky darkens,
The earth shakes,
He has gone.
But I only did my job.
Didn't I?
Believing in Jesus Christ or Father Christ
Is being and with Catholics or Roman Catholics
Church He established or started
5202014