Long Aquinas Poems
Long Aquinas Poems. Below are the most popular long Aquinas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aquinas poems by poem length and keyword.
They took me at seven, not with chains —
but with silence, incense, and Latin refrains.
Fr. Toni, black-robed, sharp-eyed and still,
Read my soul like scripture, broke my will.
Not to destroy — no, they had higher plans:
To sculpt a mind that could command all man.
Philosophy before puberty,
Logic before love,
I drank Cicero like milk,
Dreamed in Aquinas above.
They whispered of Ignatius,
Whose sword turned inward flame —
"Control the self, and kingdoms fall
Before your silent name."
They taught me not to chase delight
Nor fall for lustful charms,
But to store the seed like sacred fire —
A weapon in my palms.
They gave me maps not of the earth
But of the mind and State,
And said: “To rule, wear peasant skin —
Let ignorance be bait.”
In catacombs beneath their vaults
They showed me hidden gears:
How nations rise by whispered lies,
And crumble by their fears.
They told me:
“History is not written,
It is programmed.”
And I, a boy among the masses,
Became a lamb with teeth of damn.
I was the gun they never saw,
The blade dressed in a book.
A ghost among the breathing,
An earthquake where none looked.
No army could unbuild my mind,
No king could crack my code.
For I was trained in paradox,
Where shadows wield the road.
I learned to weaponize the smile,
To vanish in plain sight.
I played the fool, but in my eyes
Was war, dressed up as light.
Women came — soft winds of night —
But I held the storm within.
The Jesuits warned: “One drop lost
And you lose the war you’re in.”
So I built with seed unspilled,
An empire in my chest.
A soldier dressed in Sunday cloth,
A dragon masked by rest.
Now the world sleeps in its myths,
Blind to the ones who steer.
But I remain — the Jesuit boy,
The silence kings still fear.
And when I die, don’t seek my name —
It was buried with my youth.
Look instead in every war,
And you may find the truth...
Thomas Aquinas ,a 13th century Italian friar first recorded use of the anapestic meter in the AABBA form with prayers in Latin until Edward Lear used theform for humourous verse.The title Limerick is more uncertain but might have aconnection to the Irish town of that name
ORIGINS
There once lived a friar,Thomas of Aquino
in latin,did his poetry flow
In a prayer anapestic
this form was to stick
until Lear gave AABBA ,a go
ALONG THESE LINES
There was a young man from France
who led his friends a fine dance
Some thought him a prude
others said he was rude
Looking at him quite askance
We sit together in the shadowed halls beyond time—
Plato, Socrates, Spinoza, Protagoras,
Aristotle, Pythagoras, Kant, Descartes, Aquinas—
our words once rivers,
now dust in the mouths of men.
I, Plato, speak first:
“I left you the Sun,
the realm beyond your cave of illusions—
but you turn your face from the light,
content with dancing shadows.”
Socrates leans forward,
his eyes burning with quiet fire:
“I said, I know that I know nothing,
but you still clothe ignorance in arrogance,
mistaking noise for wisdom.”
Spinoza raises his head to the heavens:
“I told you God and Nature breathe as one—
but you split them apart with the knife of pride,
searching for the divine in the clouds,
while trampling it underfoot.”
Protagoras’ voice cuts the air:
“Man is the measure of all things—
yet you measure yourself by gold,
by conquest,
by the trembling of those beneath you.”
Aristotle sighs:
“I gave you the golden mean,
the path between excess and deficiency—
but you still feast on extremes,
drunk on desire,
starved of virtue.”
Pythagoras strikes the table once:
“I showed you the harmony of number,
the music of the spheres—
but you play only the drumbeat of greed,
drowning the stars in smoke.”
Kant’s gaze is unblinking:
“I told you there are things
reason can never touch—
yet you batter mystery with logic,
as if infinity would bow to your syllogisms.”
Descartes whispers coldly:
“I think, therefore I am,”
but you think without being,
you are without knowing,
you live without awakening.
And then Aquinas, heavy with sorrow, speaks last:
“I showed you the marriage of faith and reason—
but you have divorced them,
making orphans of truth and grace alike.”
We sit in silence now,
watching your world from the edge of eternity—
a world that thinks itself wise,
yet gropes in darkness,
holding the candle
backwards.
The love of a mother for her newborn babe,
The love of a child for adoring parents;
The love of a nun for Lord Jesus,
The ardor of a monk for his order.
All of these are loves so true.
The love of a kitten for her mama cat,
The love of a dolphin for her calf;
The tenderness of a mare protecting her foal,
An eagle carrying her young on her wing.
All of these are loves so true.
The love of a soldier for his country,
The love of an owner for his company;
The love of a patriot for his flag,
The love of a wise man for his disciple.
All of these are loves so true.
The love of a teammate for his fellows,
The love of a dreamer for his dream;
The love of a poet for his craft,
The love of a fisherman for the sea.
All of these are loves so true.
Romeo's love for Juliet, Antony's for Cleopatra,
A Pilgrim's love for the Haj, for Mecca, for the Shrine of Aquinas;
Rapunzel's love for her hair, and Samson's for his strength;
Tom Sawyer's for Becky Thatcher, and Sidney Carton's for Lucie Manette.
Yes, all of these are loves so true, yet still confined to this earth;
My love for you breaks through to Heaven---'tis Eternal, forever aye.
February 25, 2018
Inside this cave, my refuge, nave
I bend and stretch and breath,
to find myself among the ruins
of ancient places, faces, and history.
Although I strive to change the tide
of my own motivations,
something akin to a Zephyr wind
has me returning to old foundations.
Cornerstones, above the bones
of ancestors crying out in vain,
“I too once lived, loved, and looked above,
beyond mountains, clouds, and rain.”
Within my walls I read the call
of (by far more) learned minds,
who looked beyond their own demise,
to future points in time.
Beyond hate and war, the kind that tore
humanity apart at the seams,
cataclysmic, apocalyptic,
nightmare scenes.
Socrates knew, as Plato too
but they were only the beginning,
of a line of thinkers, knowledge drinkers,
all of them underpinning.
How we should live, think, act, and dream
From day to day and night by night,
great thinkers lived that they might give
a more beautiful, brighter, shining light.
Their list is longer than King Tut’s curse
and all the books throughout the earth
could never touch
their individual or collective worth.
From Pythagoras to Parmenides
Democritus to Hobbes,
St. Augustine to Aquinas,
Ayn Rand to John Rawls.
From Thales and Anaximander,
Homer to Thomas Kuhn,
AL-Ghazali to Maimonides,
From Budda to Sun Tzu.
From ancient days to modern ways
of beckoning the questions how and why,
Inside this cave, my refuge, nave,
I bask and ask, the Oracle at Delphi.
When people comment
on the style or way
I write and the words
I use to express and convey
my thoughts and views.
I tend to stop and ponder
my road less traveled .
Acknowledging, appreciating ,
admiring the authors, teachers
scribes of many nations
and the outer regions of the universe ,
who have inspired , guided encouraging ,
me to develop and advance
my writing skills along the way.
People like Manly P. Hall
Socrates, Plato, Thales of Miletus ,
Thomas Aquinas , The Apostles ,
Sigman Freud , Carl Jung , Galileo Galilei,
Benjamin Franklin , Thomas Edison , Nikola Tesla ,
William Shakespeare , Homer , Aesop
and other well known Philosophers and
critical thinkers in the world's history.
Authors like Dr. Edgar Cayce
Dr. George Brown ,
Literary genius and artist such as James Joyce ,
Walt Whitman and of course some of my favorite
Authors George Orwell , Robert Frost , with their
extensive and vibrant vocabularies
and their ability to bring words to life.
The most impressive author
with the ability to put you in the room
And stimulate our sensations such
as aroma and taste and sound to make you feel
as if you are sitting in the cat birds seat.
An author with incredible and fascinating
writing technique , a man with a colorful and sparkling array of words , and superlative writing flair and talent
that tickles the imagination.
Capable of painting a scene with words ,
bringing it to life ,
like no other author has ever done before or since.
A story teller who can magically ,
create a vision so vivid so profound ,
one just might forget and step away
from reality for a brief moment in time.
An individual who can descriptively describe
the Animation of his imagination
like no man or woman in the history of recorded time.
Creator and contributor
of some of the finest sculptures
in the world of literary works of art.
Born into reality in the year 1809 , on the 19th day of January.
He would go on to reside
in the harts , souls and minds ,
intricately woven into universal fabric of time
October 7 Nineteen Hundred Forty Nine.
The individual who put the authenticity of Poe
Into Poetry
Ladies and Gentlemen.
Edgar Allan Poe.
Michael E.Harris
10072024
Thinker, scholar, sophist; Duns was, yet, a humanist,
His thoughts actions exhibited him as true philanthropist…!
Constructing a metaphysical argument, he said,
Of the existence of God, that like rivers moves ahead…!
Aristotle or Aquinas need not be great masters,
When divine decree, like creation, does all things alters...!
A Franciscan priest and theologian, he explained,
The Immaculate Conception, with due coherence gained...!
Theology should be a sensible science of God,
Human beings should find love of Trinity never flawed...!
He differentiated faith of heart from thought of head,
Added tinges of humanity, and true love did spread...!
By John Paul II was John Scotus Duns canonized,
For metaphysics with Christian faith, he is eulogized...!
18 March 2022
John Duns Scotus Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick