Christendom Poems

Sweet Madness

Sometimes the things some humans do
when judged by reason’s point of view 
appear as acts of insane fools
which defies logic’s rigid rules.

The virtues that sweet madness breeds
inspiring heroic deeds
are from a realm beyond earth’s clime
suffused with attributes sublime.

The martyrs dear of Christendom
faced their demise with buoyant bliss
their tormentors were baffled by
the peaceful way in which they died. 

The joy that true love e’er evokes
the fire that its presence stokes
produce in hearts a madness sweet
that lovers like a treasure greet.

Oh, may God’s love, of heaven born,
cause us to love Him in return
so, with the martyrs we may know
the sweet madness that in them flowed.

Here riches abound'

To my vision; all around some very good poetry, here abounds.' 
Many born from 1950s and 60s express thoughts; emotions. That inspire no less!. Who were taught; by those from the
1920s and thirtys..My conjectue? Now on old schools qualitys i
Feel.' I Sense and so will venture. How many realitys caused this
Nomenclature? from a period quite challenging.' Iitself i beleive' I see
A very different manner.? Much more regard; for each other; a homelife
very focused on' by a father and mother, prayer at class
And full cream milk in your glass, fights in the playground
Unill teachers intervened at last; the piggyback rides and climbing trees, algebra caligraohy and math by rote, if you please, 
Respect for the elderly was rammed down your throat.' Maybe
All was not perfect.? And i do not gloat! Yet such rich yeilds' From these people, and their ideals' it comes to me'  that in all this essence grew; in many nations that their
Wide world knew' as Christendom,  am i in error? Or is this all; historically true?

Baptism

Here I sit at the table of The Lord
  with emblems to the elect grafted in -
my old faith in God and mercy restored
  by the love in he who died without sin.
I sojourner, in the walk to the truth
  cleansed by the holy waters of baptism -
to beseech, if not by your own reproof,
  to rise again like Your son has risen.
For soon you saints in Christ the hour will come -
  all who tarry in His tabernacle,
and behold the King of all Christendom
  in he who no grave could hold nor shackle.
The Word made flesh who in last dying breath
had lots cast and died a criminal’s death.


         Written: October 2010

valhalla

Valhalla 

rest day
Sunday is the day of rest for most people
except for cooks, servers, and housewives 
They have Mondays
that day hasn't got many customers  
they can warm up, Sunday's leftovers
it is said ennui is the day when the brain rest
that is why the slamming of car doors 
is frowned upon.
I know of a man when building a home, used
gravestones as building material
He stayed in the house one night
 could not stand
the whispering voice let me out of here
it was all a mistake
Moved into the barn shared with two cows
a mule, a dog, and several cats
From history, we know of Viking chieftains
recently converted to Christianity by Irish monks
that when sitting doing nothing, the thought
of sex struck him
took out his knife and nailed his left hand to
the table forswore Christendom 
converted back -to Odin and Thor's ancient faith
where Valhalla was a place of song and dance
and free Mjod for all

Joyful, Joyful Dawns the Day

Joyful, joyful dawns the day.
Night has gone, has gone away.
The long-awaited time has come,
The birth of Christ, of Christendom.
House of David, raise your voices,
All of heaven’s host rejoices.
Darkness trembles, Light abiding,
Hope in all our hearts residing.
Long the night, now close your eyes.
To the east are brightening skies.

Mary, Jesus both are sleeping,
Joseph vigil o’er them keeping,
Brilliance the black erasing,
Sunshine now the shadows chasing.
Multitudes are praises singing,
Ephraim’s seed salvation bringing.
Night has gone, has gone away.
Joyful, joyful dawns the day.

The Great Flood of 1342

There is a power the mightiest king can neither calm nor tether.
What power? you ask. The task I mean goes by the name of weather.
It was on Saint Mary Magdalene's Day in  1342,
on the twenty-second of July, a fact known but to few,
a raging fearful deluge descended from on high
like none since Noah's flood. In truth I do not lie.
It took away the rich man's house, it swept over hill and lea,
it blackened many a  verdant plain as far as eye could see.
Every  land in Christendom, from Wales to the tip of Spain
witnessed great loss of wealth and life, saw  sorrow and great pain.
'Repent, ye sinners! the prelate  preached. Pray God relieve this curse.'
In ignorance the people thought nothing could be worse.
but worse did come, not tarrying long, i whisper in low breath,
from Tartar land on the Black Sea shore. Alas, it was Black Death.

High Price

Hand already in pocket
For a charming locket
Could stop midway
Because of what it did say:
Hand in a sunny afternoon
Beginning to freeze
The enthused about Honeymoon
Enveloped in Unease. 

For every sweet
Asserting the sweat
And that the sweat
Glories in the sweet.

The fire in the buyers eyes
Are by it quenched,
Their anticipatory cries
By same benched.

About Worth and Value
We endlessly argue
Bares the truths and lies
Barred to even yeast - benefitting eyes

For Drugs 'One' and Two
Hinting at the more potent or safer
And for what we chew
The ones to treasure, even if a water

For Article A and B
Often The Differential 
And about which is almost for free
Permitting The Inferential

In the Christendom, The Blood of Jesus
In Satan's, Your own Red and White Blood Cells

High price!

I See You

You are beautiful but you don't see it.
Your black skin is so unique.
You haven't seen black excellence lived out.
You have mostly seen black that is dark.
You have mostly seen black that is lacking.
You have mostly seen black that doesn't seem to care.
It's the same with Christendom you haven't seen Christian excellence.
You have seen mostly so-called Christians that lie and deny the one true God.
You have seen so much hurt with your young eyes.
You have seen it in the one's you should have been able to trust the most.
You have rejected your roots and thrown them off in disgust.
Shaking your fist and saying I will not buy into this lie.
You should know not every one of us are liars.
You should know that you are great and that God makes no mistakes.
You should know that you can't be truly happy until you learn to embrace your roots.
You should know that greatness does lie within you.
I believe one day you will find that greatness before it's too late.
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Jesus Is

A light in the dark ages,
Foremost in history's pages;
Ruler of all human hearts,
A subject of all the arts!

Source of all Christmas magic--
Victor over death so tragic!
Doorway to the life eternal,
An everlasting flame internal!

The true spirit of all giving--
The meaning behind all living!
Blossom on hot desert sand,
And virtue taking its stand!

The beauty of all perfection,
Object of deepest affection!
A hand and hand entwined;
The rich and ageless wine!

Crossroads of martyrdom,
Founder of all Christendom!
A rare diamond in the sod,
Only Son of the living God!

Notre Dame - Your Spirit Lives

Your Spirit Lives


Oh, Notre Dame, sad days have come-
   that beast of fire's swift momentum,
brought down your sacred decorum-
   but not your heart of Christendom.

Fire does not care- treasure or not,
   its blaze destroys- no why or what.
Though you collapsed to ashes, hot-
   your soul is not destroyed, forgot.

For, from the fire, God saved your Cross 
   that shines so brightly midst your loss,
with hope that through this sad chaos,
   you'll rise above your albatross.

Oh, Notre Dame, your soul- still bright, 
    and with saved artifacts, gives might
to house once more your sacred rite-
   rebuild again to spread God's light.


Sandra M. Haight

~1st Place~
Contest: Notre Dame In The News
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Judged: 06/06/2019

Roy Moore Up the Crick

Roy Moore Up The Crick

We are Southerners who sure are slick,
So Roy Moore we sent up crooked crick;
Heard our voice;
A lousy choice;
To many he had been a pretty poor pick.

Jim Horn

Must Admit About It

About Alabama many of us have to admit;
Half of them are not really worth any of it,
Real hot to trot,
Was really not;
More then could chew off Moore had bit.

Jim Horn

Brought Moore To An End

What had brought Moore to an end;
Jew and a black are my best friend;
Wife he kissed,
Is prejudiced;
Now who could this possibly offend?

Jim Horn

Decent Poem Written Recent

Not only is this poem great and decent,
It occurred to me was written recent;
Poets are demanding;
They are outstanding;
Not only that you have my consent.

Jim Horn

Curriculum of Wisdom and Christendom

Much information may make up a curriculum,
For what we consider to be Godly wisdom;
Diverticulum extended,
And each law amended,
Comprised of and contained in a Christendom. 

Jim Horn

When We Are Apart

I love you with passion and pain
The two emotions were never the same,
Like a burning flame in my heart,
My reins stay in the speechless part.
So many questions we try to find,
The answers affecting our mind.
When we are apart, hell is where I reside,
looking for something new inside,
to calm the living rage against time,
a force racing towards the finish line.
till breath leaves the uneasy feeling,
and the acquaintance of faith believing.
I will see you again in light dreams
That hides in shadows darken screens.
the new reincarnation of Christendom,
tread softly in my soul, somewhere along.
I miss you as the days pass by,
And breathes life out in the breathless sigh.
Ambiance with dented air disguise,
Our hope exhales in restless lives.
holding back the tears we want to cry
So, pass on quickly before I die.

The Guardian At the Gate

Spawn of the arcane, glutted, she sprawls upon the sands 
of mythos. As victims, star-crossed lovers, outcasts,
we have all seen the traces of these nether lands.
Sphinx-like, besotted, she lays among the bodies dashed.

A pixie smith has cast her silver chains, retained her
inside this mystic plane, stained her hide vintage rose.
Among the cards on the table, it is plain; she purrs.
Do you know what she knows; guess, a riddle she poses.

Protection sought from life's trials is at her command.
But, few coupled or single have journey past her grasp.
Unknown, to the unschooled, their senses unused, banned,
Christendom, the sacred fecund grail has miscast.

From Hatshepsut's visage, bound to Sekhmet she's sworn
beware, beware The Chariot's card once it is drawn.

Self Inflicted - For Contest

Self Inflicted


The wounds were “self-inflicted”
unmindful of the pain
that surged within the shattered soul
a never ending rain.

The priest in sanctimonious lie
anointed, blessed, and prayed
the parish nodded knowingly
they too had been betrayed.

The charlatans of Christendom
succumbed to mourning wail
while covering for demons
who should have gone to jail.

Thus did the guilty wash their hands
lead guileless sheep to follow
the scent of incense acrid air
flickering through tallow.

Warped plywood covers tear-stained glass
the altar’s gods evicted
to suffer the never ending pain
of wounds they “self-inflicted”


1/21/2016

submitted to  - Self Inflicted – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Anthony Slausen

What If We Loved and Never Fought

Our world is in constant conflict, the Islamic State seeks conquest;
every country that loves freedom must face this threat and win.

We have seen the recent carnage in Paris:
bodies covered with blood strewn
everywhere; these threats can lead to a war 
that will involve many countries.

We can't delude ourselves that in all nations there always be peace;
keep a vigilant eye and spot who wants to inflict death and harm.

Will this Christmas and Hanaka be celebrated
with the same ardor of the previous years?
Don't ever lose heart: expressing your faith
will strengthen the bond between you and them.

Rome, the heart of Christendom, welcomes people of all races and creeds;
but doesn't impose conversion on others: it's the free will of loving hearts.

If peace is to prevail: a Christian,
a Jew, a Moslem and an Atheist
must live peacefully and greet
one another: how hard can it be?

Constant hatred leads to war and bloodshed: there are no winners or losers;
we all pay the prize with the loss of lives: what if we loved and never fought?


Written on 12/20/2015

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