Long Ignatius Poems
Long Ignatius Poems. Below are the most popular long Ignatius by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ignatius poems by poem length and keyword.
This is nourishing, redemptive; we become less alone inside.
-David Foster Wallace
Walking through a delirium,
I was tired.
The sand felt like purgatory,
A rising incline into a forever
That my mind numbed against.
I was awash of intentions, thought, even interest.
I had, in short, nothing left.
Then the pillars came into view.
As if begging for a story, a reason for being,
I was pulled, staggeringly, as if reeled from a
Fishing line to those salted gray walls,
The shards of church windows poking out of weathered frames.
What is that felt echo? St. Ignatius? The Archange? Michael? My brother?
I am so empty.
I sat down on the stone to rest the non-feeling.
The tide lapping into my mind.
I wanted none of it.
But there it was, anyway.
Persistent. Maddening. Life-giving.
*Matt Caliri
*The Church By The Ocean
*9/29/11
Barely weeks of seven of the orgy
Space crash of 117 people in a Bellview
Tragedy came knocking
This time harder with anger to
Ginger blood off its hunger
Unto the street of heaven came the commotion
On the Flyers descendant to the open
Field in the Rivers of Port-Harcourt
Emerge the Sosoliso Tsunami
Sixty future seeds of the Nation with
Fourty eight others including the Woman of God
Who churn out words for the Bachelors and Spinsters
Burnt into ashes as the Flyer caught fire with power
Before their very eyes they got burnt with
The Sosoliso bird of 1145 providing the
Shield to which the fire fired in Port-Harcourt
Parents of the future seeds of Ignatius Loyola Jesuit
Were garbed with the toga of helplessness
Other loved ones waiting at the open field
To receive them, had the cap of loneliness on
But for one survivor they had all perished
Burnt for their Negligence
Burnt for their palpable Levity
Burnt for their Greediness
To whom shall we point accusing
Finger of Sosoliso Tsunami?
Unto whose neck shall we hang
The blood of the Innocent lives of Bellview 117?
Unto whose head shall we heap all these
Garbage of calamity and catastrophe?
Who shall replace the three shinning
Future seeds of the Ilabor family?
Unto them that sold the People’s
Fliers for surplus value
Unto them at the top of the Rock
Who loot and siphon cowries meant for the People
Unto them I say ,Unto those who shirks their
Responsibilities and hang it on Private mediocres
Unto them whose insidious desire is to sell
Our land and the inhabitants
Unto them whose long throats and wicked eyes
Is driven only by profit
Unto them all who shall be burnt into
Ashes of Filthy history and memories
Alayande Stephen .T
14th of December,2005
11.23pm
For Victims of Bellview 117 and Sosoliso 108
Those that Nigerian Government sent on a
Mission impossible on air for their negligence
And looting galore in the Aviation Industry
Form:
TOO LATE TO PLEAD
( event to Republic of Biafra)
Long time ago, all the way
From northern Nigeria, a lorry
Load of a thousand headless
Corpses arrived at“Obodo Ajana
village square”. In that instance,
The earth shivered, shrunk,
Sobbed, wept and closed her eyes.
To see none of the Inhumanity.
It was as if rain hid in the
Sky,refused to rain..
No! It was as if the sun
Romanced the moon.
An eclipse? No! Mother
Earth weept for her children,
Refused Consolation… because they were no more
More appalling, heap
Of a woman cut in her travail.
We felt really bruised.
Bruised though we were,
The Victims were buried.
Its Mission fulfilled, the lorry
Got stuck at the village square.
No child ever toyed with it.
It’s inscription “Heavens Gate”
Gradually faded to time and weather,
Leaving a scare that neither rain nor
Sun could erase. Of its Painting
The village Catechist condemned,
“Everyman had been judged before
Arrival. Too late to plead,
Too late to pray
And too crooked to say
“NIGERIA PRAYS”
Somewhere at Aburi, Ghana,
Reason failed.
Brothers in brute
Passion matched to war.
The rest was history.
AKUDOLU IGNATIUS.
[email protected]
THE GLASS HOUSE AT IBADAN
The Glass House stands callous and stubborn,
Against her shanty neighborhood..
Whose children don't engage in indulgent Game of throwing stones at birds, lizards and Rodents..
Passing by,this February .. Faces of our people in laughters and dejection reflect.
I walked through Gate.. Gate to Ibadan..
*Like broken china in the sun*, lunatics
And madmen everywhere.
I Walked home, home sweet home...
Started singing,singing to my Valentine.
Tenderly Tenderly I go...
Tenderly tenderly I go...
Tenderly tenderly we go....
Going home
Home to Agodi
Home to Heaven
That eternal Glasshouse!
Akudolu Ignatius
THE PIPER He came from nowhere piping. We danced and danced in his trail. Our eyes popped out as elation swayed us. Suddenly, His pipe creaked and cracked. All feet hung as
sky dimmed her lights...
Silhouettes of Gun -shooting Devils everywhere..
Plodding hands of death lurking in the dark, lurking in the open... like hawk, Hawking chicken... Human heads fallen off as of woodcutters in frenzy.
cutting down trees.
Cry, my beloved Country!, Nigeria! how fast you fade, fading into oblivion, like a soviet. Oh Soviet! I bemoan you; once a cathedral's bell, you chimmed for all nations, now a shadow lying beneath history.
And the Piper! Now a prisoner for his people because he said no to a carnibal system, because he said no to a divide and rule system...
Your music is forever replaying to our hearts.
By Akudolu Ignatius
It was an EVEning to remAMBER for Jane,
WEN DA men gathered in the GLEN,
OL I VER there were Taylor's friends uNOAHn
So, she was STEPH AN' FREDDYn' alone
Then HER MAN, Taylor, called out
In an almost drunKEN stupor of doubt,
"WIL MA' DARLENE come here please?"
She was AL FRED but he PERSISts.
She went half-hearTEDly JUST IN time
To see him NEIL there in the grime,
"WILLIE MARY me, Jane?" he asked her,
even as the loud CAROLINE got BETTY.
She couldn't even MARSHALL her thoughts,
But simply NODDY 'yes' through the tears she fought,
"Oh! KENN ETH be?" Taylor said in a whispered hush,
Then cried out to the ESTHERs, "SHANN ON and IGNATI US".
His wish was GRANTed that memorABEL night,
Jane was ulTIMOTHY his after his long 'single' plight.
All his friends were FELICITY Taylor and Jane,
This memory would throughout their OLIVEs remain.
-------------25.11.16-------------
ALL NAMES ARE IN CAPITAL LETTERS;
The meanings of names used with POETIC LICENSE are given below:
Wenda - when the; Oliver - all who were; unoahn- unknown; Stephan' - stiff and; Freddyn' - fretting; Wilma' - will my; Darlene- darling; Alfred - all afraid; Neil- kneel; Willie- will you; Mary- marry; Caroline- carolling; Betty- better; Marshall- used as verb; Noddy- nodded; Kenneth- can it; Esther- stars; Shannon- shine on; Ignatius- ignite us; ulTimothy- ultimately; Felicity- felicitating; Olive- lives.
We cannot separate Mother Mary and Saint Joseph
They’re having so much connection
With the mystery of Incarnation of Eternal God
St. Joseph, being guardian of the Virgin’s spotless honor
Foster-father of the Divine Babe
Mother Mary’s family thought be made known
She might not be stoned by the Jews as an adulteress
Thirdly, that in her flight; have the comfort of a husband
St. Ignatius add yet a fourth reason namely that is birth might hid from the devil
Looking for Him to be born of a wife and not of a Virgin
Gracious God, I pray for my parents
For all family members who have positively influenced my life
For the happiness of good memories
For the forgiveness of those who have wronged me
And for peace of heart with those to whom I did not or could not say “I’m sorry”
For all the deceased members of my family
Your great mercy Lord
You may forgive their sins
And welcome them into eternal life
Written 6222018
Poetry Form: Terzanelle (19 lines poem)
O Ye
Titans of powder keg Ignatius ink
I speak to Thee
When flight and night
Draw
The thaw of bedded grass
Under village green sunlight flowers
I seek my charge
As fond letters
Adorned with stamps and frank's
Litter my thoughts
Provoking verse of stale curse
I while each stroke to the i
I dot and cross
For all is lost
More than the last
Each parting shot
Is such sweet sorrow
So i beg of your leave untill tomorrow
Goodnight god bless
No more no less
She takes to the Skies tomorrow
She leaves us at a loss
But somehow better
She is the personification of the letter in a bottle
My muse of peace
The season's follow
I set thou free
From my clench released
Go forth from me
Let me be
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...
I tell you, in the same way, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than ninety-nine righteous people who do not need repentance. Luke 15:7
We don't go to the doctor just for the fun of it.
We may be sick, or need a check-up,
or want the doctor's advice about healthy living.
There are many reasons to go to God in prayer
but none as important
as seeking a cure for our spiritual illness
and restoring our relationship with God.
After all, Jesus says
there will be great joy in heaven
over the one who repents.
When we repent, we come to ourselves in truth
and recognise our very real need
for God's forgiveness.
Then, we are ready to be washed in God's love.
Loving God,
you know everything that is in our hearts.
Help us to trust in your love
that we may turn to you in our sinfulness and be healed.
Inspired by St. Ignatius of Loyola