Best Worshiped Poems
I cannot compete with something as painstakingly glorious as you
Envy is but a humbling tumble down a steep, rocky hill
I am crushed in your fits of glory—your screaming for passion
My approaches are absolutely wrong
Therefore my communication is a weak, ransomed victim
Your poison arrow frog skin rubs against my exposed body
I happily accept my fate
For your beauty surpasses the ephemeral pain of the infectious reign
My erroneous, inevitable downfall
I hold you up—I feel the need to keep you tall!
Michael the Archangel did not insult you once, Lucifer
How then will I?
How can I possibly be higher than you?-
Why would I want to?
I admire your freedom
I simply disregard your macrodomes of ever-worshiped flaw
If I could allow myself, I would share in your glory
Only to add to it further
But as I am poisoned with the truth
I can only be your grounded pedestal
And though you flee from humility in its wake upon my brow
I realize everyday you are living for the grounded now
And I merely look to the unknown future
A place I dread where you unwillingly hold me up
Bonded in the ground with Death and Hades
You become my pedestal, and the worms my vineyard
My parasitic feet seer your glory
I am ever so sorry
I never wanted this renown
There was a time I do recall
When you overtook me in my sleep
I cried aloud in helpless acceptance
But soon I was forced in a croak of laughter
I felt your bitter poison
I felt pride at last
I thank you for it
I thank you for showing me
What I will never be
Dear Lucifer,
Provoke me no longer to praise your eternal existence
Generations of Evening take a hold of me now
And the fruit must be shared
Categories:
worshiped, absence, analogy, character, corruption,
Form:
Epic
Last year, her imagination went double
so she ignored her previous schedule.
She put all her dreams inside of clear jars,
decorated with different, assorted stars.
She believed if she always kept things rounded
she would also succeed in keeping life grounded,
So, she would circle every found square
believing it demonstrated her constant care.
Plastic, colored eggs hung from her ceiling
to keep her floor from creaking and reeling.
Pale pink and bold gold stripes on her wall
recorded every received telephone call.
She worshiped and loved both the sun and moon,
but only from inside her living room.
She feared really being observed outside,
a place where stray cats were known to hide.
She always loved to dance, but during this year
she’s been dancing to music only she can hear.
All these things bring her secure nuances near,
but make her sanity less and less clear.
Categories:
worshiped, change, character, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Rhyme
I have lived a thousand lives, died a thousand deaths.
I have loved women unbounded and fathered an army of children.
I have killed and healed, stolen and blessed, fought and fled.
Jew, Christian, Muslim I have been-- Buddhist, Hindu and Jain, too.
I worshiped the sun and Thor, pagan gods galore....
I was atheist, agnostic, Marxist, and often, just indifferent.
I was cruel, I was kind, I was hateful, I was forgiving.
I laid waste to cities and wrote operas and symphonies
and little songs to dance around forever in your head....
I was poet and philanderer, philosopher and philanthropist,
theologian and scientist-- also guard and prisoner, and
many, many times, false lover or the one betrayed....
All my lives were dreams, each slipping away to be forgotten
early in dawn of the next life, none to be recalled until I awaken
in the time beyond time....
Categories:
worshiped, atheist, mystery,
Form:
Blank verse
How could you leave your loving bride?
Cut down in youth, still in your prime
Your rare blood disease appeared suddenly
Just four years of bliss till you were taken from me
When first I saw your face, those blue eyes stunned
So many adored you, but your kind heart I won
Just by showing you love and sharing our joy
Even my mama worshiped my special, sweet boy
Death seems to take the finest too soon
Their faces smile in stars embracing the moon
One day we shall be reunited, my love
Until then, I search for comfort in night sky above
Comfort comes quickly when his spirit visits
I see his eyes twinkling, how could I miss it
Whenever I pull a fresh fish from the sea
A worthy fisherman, John would be pleased
When I'm feeling down I need only resurrect
Precious memories of John I cherish and protect
*John was my beloved husband. Elegy in honor of Dr. Ram's contest.
Categories:
worshiped, death, faith, husband
Form:
Ode
Under the Christmas tree sits a nativity scene in the old town square. I sit on a rustic wood bench and reminisce on the stories I’ve been told about Jesus being born on Christmas Day. When all of a sudden, I hear movement in the bushes; I turn my head and look over my shoulder. With a sudden fright, a tall pure white stallion with feathered wings, steps forward and says, “My name is Peg, climb on my back and I’ll take you to where it all began.” I arose to my feet and got on Peg’s back, held on tightly to his mane. He galloped off at full speed facing into the wind and took off soaring into the night full of stars, being guided by a large, bright, glowing star.
Peg turned his head and said, “That is the Christmas Star ahead.”
As I looked down below, I saw coming from the east, three men. Could they be the three Wise Men?
As we reach the star we slow down to a town. Peg said, “This is Bethlehem down below.”
Peg starts descending close to a stable and lands. I anxiously dismount and we both walk towards the stable. My spirit was overpowered with awe, there in the small dim lite stable, we found a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger, with his mother Mary kneeling beside Him.
The shepherds that were watching their flocks near the stable also came all elated, one of them said, “An angel appeared and told us a Savior, the Messiah, had been born and that we would find Jesus laying in a manger. So, we immediately came to see if truly Jesus our Savior was born.”
The three Wise Men arrived and said, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His Star in the East and have come to worship Him.” They gazed at the young Child and immediately fell down and worshiped Him, they presented their gifts to him of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
We stayed for a while in admiration of our Lord Jesus.
After a time, Peg said, “I need to get you back before you are missed.”
Together we flew into the endless night back home to the Christmas tree where I had been before.
11/18/2014 © 2014
Categories:
worshiped, birth, children, jesus,
Form:
Free verse
As long as man has lived upon this Earth
The quest for beacons of light has endured
Primitive cultures, man’s earliest ancestors
Found wonder in the moon’s allure
Upon the seas, more advanced civilizations
Made their way guided by celestial orbs
Eventually creating historic lighthouses
To guide their navigational course
Greeks found solace in a light
Emanating from Mount Olympus
Gods and Goddesses they worshiped
Until the discovery of those truly blessed
God’s light serves as our beacon now
Eternal glow that guides us through storms
And when we discover this light’s power
The spirit of the believer transforms
Satan’s path winds only through darkness
Images of eternal suffering emerge
When we fail to find the beacon of light
And remove the stain of sinful scourge
It is man’s choice to pursue radiance or darkness
The preferred path is usually lit by the bright
For just as early man perceived from the moon
Souls are ever drawn to beacons of light
*For Wounded Words "Eternal Figures" challenge
Categories:
worshiped, faith, hope, inspirationallight, light,
Form:
Quatrain
My ordinary life -
like the plain stretching across the region of my birth,
has been for the most part
rather smooth.
Though sometimes on my path, I’d encounter hills,
they were few and were not difficult
to get over.
One day on my travels when I was still young
I came across a man who, like a majestic mountain,
would take my breath away.
He captured my attention completely,
distracting me from all the normal things
my plain life had entailed.
When he smiled, it was as if
the sun were peeking over him
in golden splendor.
Madly in love with him I fell,
and every day I worshiped at the mountain.
This was a short phase in my life -
a time of pure enchantment but also woe.
I behaved as if I were a stream, a babbling school girl
murmuring with joy for a while
as I meandered
the mountain’s pleasant aspects,
but one day my meandering came to a halt.
Coming to a cliff’s edge, I became a waterfall
frothy with madness as
I plunged
to the rocks below.
Picking myself up, I had to turn my back
to the glorious mountain.
A final look at him, and I saw the red sun sinking
into June’s cool night.
Finding my way back to the plain, I trudged.
At the mountains of madness, I’d known something -
something I had foolishly mistaken for love.
Other mountains wait there, for me, for you,
for almost anyone who desires to find one.
But since my later summer years and in my fall,
I’ve kept walking on the plain,
for it is truly, after all,
my heart land.
for the But it was not real Poetry Contest of Lewis Raynes
Categories:
worshiped, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
Co-authored by: Teddy Kimathi
Sometimes I find bliss
lying on a carpet of grass,
and gazing at the moon -
wondering whether it knows
that stars surround it every time;
wondering whether it knows some
people have worshiped it for eons
until now;
wondering whether it knows I'm
staring at it......
Entrapped by beauty
enslaved to everlasting solitude
ages come and go
the peace of time remains; to the
--desolate surface of the barren night
wondering whether it knows,
I'm mesmerized by its natural state
with Solace to the open mind
my spirit that of a recluse
Wondering whether it knows
the silent open sky is the enigma
emerging from beyond, finding bliss,
wondering whether it knows I'm
captivated.....
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Categories:
worshiped, beauty, deep, imagery, moon,
Form:
Free verse
How to mold a villain?
They say it takes a village to raise a child,
Yet with a whisper, a villain can be styled.
the steps are simple,
Tell them gravity's grip is no chain,
Assure them they can soar with no pain.
Convince them their value's self-defined,
Obscure purpose, keep their minds confined.
Freedom is rebellion, love mere greed,
Life's but stardust, a random deed.
Independence over reliance, A fib to be sold!
New is bold, and on traditions do not hold.
Why settle when you can leap?
Why share burdens? Power is yours to keep.
Empower the lazy, let them sleep,
Drown them in the ocean of lies so deep.
Paint pride on that man's face,
Hold the guilty in your embrace.
Pour children empty promises,
convince them, friends are nemesis.
The staircase to the top is narcissism,
While the secret to the death pit is altruism.
Raise sin to be worshiped like a sacred lie,
Leave them praising until they rot and die.
Mock Earth with a little kid, let nature cry.
Destroy the dreams of some random guy.
Let them identify with the clouds of their sky
Plant the seed of dread with the question why?
Be a tempest, blow all the rafts of hope,
gulp them like waves down destiny's slope.
Pour them only from the carafe of pleasure,
give them nothing but a materialistic treasure.
And that’s how easy it is, my friend.
For in the end,
Change requires knowledge, wisdom and bravery,
Villains are mere products of mental slavery.
Categories:
worshiped, abuse, evil, hurt, leadership,
Form:
Rhyme
Women all around the world
a tribute to you twirling
everyday work and struggles
A woman, wife, mother, chauffeur,
nurse, doctors, lawyers, engineer,
short order cook, baker, teacher,
poet, artist, librarian, soldier,
sister, mother in-law, grandmother,
great-grandmother, daughter,
friend, peacemaker, dancer,
dog-walker, ... and a child of God.
Sappho, a lyric poet,
Joan of Arc, a heroine of France
for her role during the Lancastrian phase
of the Hundred Years’ war
Helen Keller, deaf and blind, an American author,
Eleanor Roosevelt, an American political figure,
diplomat, and activist and the First Lady of the United States
Amelia Earhart, aviator,
the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean
Mother Teresa, "Saint Teresa of Calcutta," Catholic,
was an Albanian-Indian Roman Catholic nun
and missionary, place herself completely at the service of others
A woman, mixed clay that was once rough as sand, dropped, spattered, and molded one that was flawed with the disorder of humanity, forgiven by the drops of crimson.
But the most important one, Mary Mother of Jesus
Why?
As I follow the footsteps of my son
My heart breaks at every word said
against Him
Why? Why?
As my tears run down my face
I vision, tenderly cradling him in my arms
when he was young
Why? Why?
Does it have to be this way?
They only loved and worshiped Him yesterday
What has happened in just a day to make everyone hate him so?
Why? Why?
As I take every step behind him watching him suffer so
My legs want to fold underneath me of the pain in my heart for my son
For every blow he takes, for every time he falls
Why? Why?
My eyes swell and my nose runs
from the suffering that my son is enduring
and I am not allowed to get near him to comfort him in my arms
Why? Why?
Please, let his suffering end
Endure and rise again
3/21/2015
Mary, witness to suffering with love and faith in "The Passion of the Christ"
Categories:
worshiped, mother, son, strength,
Form:
Ode
Walk with me in the dank moonlight
through the chill, rising, storm
so we can grasp the majesty
of Dullahan still born.
Without heads his horse and he ride
across the countryside
His head in hand they roam the land
none live where he abides.
A rush of blood, a gory spree
will take the sight of man,
then off they gallop wild and free
Dullahan, head in hand.
Here’s hoping he don’t call your name
for that would be worse by far
your soul would flee and fly with he
a soul as black as tar.
Carry your gold for I am told
this alone does he fear
and we can watch as he rides by
come give us a kiss now, me dear.
The winsome lass took his strong hand
and down the lane they walked
as in the distance hedgerows fired
and hooves clapped as they talked.
The sound drew near, a gate flew wide
the lassie shrieked and ran
so only her randy lad was
taken by Dullahan.
So, don’t think to woo by moonlight
near the shore in Galway
Dullahan hunts with cruel sight
each wayward soul a stray.
*While no-one knows for certain how the Dullahan originated, it is thought that he is the embodiment of the Celtic fertility god, Crom Dubh, who was worshiped by an ancient king of Ireland, Tighermas. Each year, Tighermas sacrificed humans to Crom Dubh, and the usual method was decapitation. The worship of Crom Dubh ended in the sixth century, when Christianity came to Ireland.
* music in About the Poem
Poet: D. Guzzi
Categories:
worshiped, adventure, death, imagination, mystery,
Form:
Ballad
Oh baneful yellow Moon in fullest rounded sphere,
Bright as Summers Buttercups in abundant yield,
Coldly riveted upon Winters beaten, thin silvered panels;
Thereof: By ye mighty hammer doth great thoth wield!
For what fearful trowel gouged out thine far flung valleys
Whilst piling high upon yon monstrous heights?
Wherest, scattering the bare pebbles, a ghostly sower
Coursing across vast cratered plains under Selenian moonlights.
Here once didst thou swelling tides ever invade long vanished shores
Dragged upon by some dwindling, exploded, far distant star;
An atmosphere girdling, warming and nurturing -
Torn from this barren rock and cast way out afar!
Eternally ostracized and deviled, adorned in black swirling robes;
Drifting angular grains heaped - raked by hot solar winds;
Your desolate kingdoms lit in all seasons under heavenly lanterns;
Worshiped and foully cursed upon: for any amount - and all manner of sins.
And ere did erstwhile lovers that ever come forth on bended knee,
To traverse the pale beams that twist about the crooked stiles,
Pledge well intended oaths beneath high, impossible windows:
Their grandly draped balconies and balustrades bathed in luminosities wiles.
When across the recorded centuries of histories misted-veiled years,
from the quill of the old sage, from the high lilt of the bard,
Your pensive countenance disaffected and of a cheerless tilt -
Hanging upon sharply crested vestiges of reckless disregard!
Categories:
worshiped, moon,
Form:
Rhyme
Crimson lips, lovers awaken with a kiss
Creamy white skinned Goddesses resting
In a time where Socrates lusted after Sappho's
Poetry and art.
The Grecian people worshiped her with
her beauty and exquisite prose. On the wings
of her art she played enchanting music arranged
for immortality.
Golden chariots in fields of apples bold,
yet, solitary like one fallen from the tree,
Sappho wrote her memoirs and music
while exiled, her death unspoken.
Categories:
worshiped, love
Form:
Sapphic stanza
Kingdom of Heaven
For there is but one that holds the key
with only one gate of entrance
so that the thief shall not enter
and when his sheep enter they are at rest
We can not build a tower to reach it
are even abide by laws of man to be good enough
For man is of Adam, who is of sinful nature
created of flesh and blood that cannot enter
ruled by the power of darkness and knowledge of man
that loves to boast in own work
and seek to please people for their pride
which all leads to bondage of death
Thankfully, Christ has come in flesh and blood
and defeated this captivity of the beast
For man tried its best to keep him quiet
and even killed him with a criminals death
because they can only see things of this world
oh how they love to be worshiped
for they claim to know it all but are blind
and keep leading others into the ditch
Christ came and allowed man to crucify him
in order to fulfill all the foretold prophecies
and defeat death with his sacrifice
For now he holds the key that can give us life
Christ is the visible of the invisible God
if one wants to see a sign
call upon his name
and your soul will be shaken
as the trees you see being tossed around by the wind
for you know not where it comes from or where it is going
but the effects cannot be unnoticed
we now have available to be circumcised
from our sinful nature of worldly things
That, Christ might enter us with his fire
to purify and mold one into a new creature
filling the cup with peace,love,and joy.
Christ came and paid the price
and to give us a way to the Kingdom of Heaven
For the Kingdom of heaven
is the power of Christ to reign and walk with man
in this moment and time
to speak from the lips and change the heart
to separate man from the power of darkness
that we might be given a heavenly body
that will resurrect from the dead
for flesh and blood will return to dust
But, oh Hallelujah my friends what belongs to Christ
will return to Christ.
Categories:
worshiped, christian, faith, gospel, inspirational
Form:
Pastoral
When the sun shone half the night
And the daffodils were blue,
Every door had not a key
And the tallest tale was true—
It was then that you loved me,
And I loved you.
When we flew string without a kite
And many bunnies turned to few,
When all the stars above could see
And life would come to things you drew—
It was then you cared for me,
And I for you.
When backward turned the hands of time
And water flowed upstream,
When laughs and hiccups hurt a flea
And life was just a dream—
‘Twas then you lived for me
And I for thee.
When blueblood horses cost a dime
And shadows went beneath the ground,
When coffee beans made only tea
And golden nuggets laid around—
‘Twas then I heard the sound
Of “I love you.”
E’er since the moment time reversed
My tale of woe I have rehearsed,
In case you’d recognize my face
And listen for a while with grace,
Then let me take you to that place—
That place where time is dead.
Ten thousand kisses I’ll repeat,
Which dreaming laid upon your feet—
That’s how I’ve worshiped you.
And every tender word I’ve said
For all these years to empty air,
I guess I’ll have to say again,
This time into your curly hair.
I really don’t know what’s to blame
For how you drifted far away;
I only hope you’ll feel the same,
And that we’ll meet again someday
Both find our way to that special place.
Where the sun shines half the night
And the daffodils are blue,
Every door has not a key
And the tallest tale is true—
For only there can you love me
Like I love you.
Where we’ll fly string without a kite…
Categories:
worshiped, absence, analogy, best friend,
Form:
Rhyme