The Middle East
When the persecuted became persecutors
chaos followed; what a mess the Middle East is
Both sides of the conflict like killing one other
up pops more fanatics with eager knives
If you are an Arab Christian, your life is short
if you are a Muslim, they will give you the key
to London and the neighboring locals
Is there such a being as a Christian Jew?
There are Orthodox Jews, men with braided
hair, wearing black hats and dark suits
round glasses make them look scholarly
Their women stay in the background when
on their back, giving birth to yet another
anti-war Jew
In Syria, Assad has fled, prisons are emptying
people are jubilant, but hang on, prisons will
be full again of the new regime's enemies
I read, but can it be true, that the Saudis are the Jews
of antiquity; one can say they love money
and kill their opponents, whether in an embassy
or in a café eating lamb chops
In the meantime, we ask ourselves, will Syria be
Afghanistan, where women get beaten for showing
not a leg, but a pale face of suffering
All is not lost,
the Syrians in Sweden and Germany
are heading back to their homeland
For S and G, a burden lifted
Categories:
persecutors, age, allah, arabic, feelings,
Form: Free verse
God, you see all my affliction
I cry out for you to deliver
one such as I remember your law
you are the one the constant giver
I request for your redemption
plead for me at the great throne
for in your promise, there is life
be faithful so leave me not alone
The unrepentant reject your salvation
having no thought nor any desire
but you are a God of great mercy
who is always a constant fire
My persecutors are full and many
your testimony they so much hate
in disgust, I look at the faithless
but I won't leave your word to their state
I ponder much upon your every line
your love of steadfastness is so sure
the word of God is full of your truth
for every part will surely endure
(This is my " Psalm 119 project" which I began to write a couple of years ago, so this is the twentieth poem of twenty-two poems I've written over that time to cover all of Psalm 119.)
Categories:
persecutors, bible, religious, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme
Salvation is such a real longing
for those having real godly hope
holding onto God's precious promises
looking for comfort enabling to cope
Wineskin in the smoke that's what it feels
no matter what never forget the Lord
in His word do trust all of the day
whatever time it takes hold His chord
Endurance must be prolonged so
come Lord my persecutors show hate
judge them soon bring righteousness
to point them to heavens gate
Pitfalls await dug by my accusers
who deny your law full of lies
the Lord's word so packed in truth
help me please hear my cries
Feeling almost beat on this earth
but I won't neglect your word ever
your love is always true and sure
that makes me listen to God's flowing river
(This is my " Psalm 119 project" which I began to write a couple of years ago, so this is the eleventh poem of twenty-two poems I've written over that time to cover all of Psalm 119.)
Categories:
persecutors, bible, god, longing,
Form: Rhyme
MONUMENTAL AMERICA
(c)11/1/20, Iris Sankey-Lewis
Monumental America, you said, "In God We Trust."
this super power thing of yours won't rust
the nerve of change to rearrange
internal wealth all by itself gives clue
beauty is in the eyes of Sages, good as new.
You've birth the good, the bad, and the ugly
on grounds of mighty enterprise; semi holy
oh, pray those carefree days are over
let persecutors pause; penn like Solomon, thoughts on vanity
oh say, can you see, the power of redeeming quality?
You stood shoulder to shoulder like twin towers
with panoramic views, and friends, and lovers
haters watch as you paint a new montage
the weight of it surpass the number of lives lost
now at a crossroad; let's make merry at no cost.
Erase the lies. Together your children will rise
oh stars as pure as midnight sky
no condemnation shall befall those sturdy
magnify the God in whom we trust
this super power thing of yours won't rust.
*
Categories:
persecutors, appreciation, care, change, peace,
Form: Rhyme
Do not fear the coming tempest;
See our God with faithful eyes.
He will care for you with interest.
This won't take you by surprise.
Do not worry that you'll perish.
He will raise you if you do.
By Jehovah you are cherished.
Our great God will rescue you.
Do not mind our persecutors-
those who strive to bring you doubt.
Let the Spirit be your tutor.
With our God your gait is stout.
Categories:
persecutors, anxiety, courage, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme
A howler when I purse my lips
Cutting off my nose to spite my face
When on purpose I beat my chest in cribs
Where restraint, respect and reflection erase the trace and brace
Immersed in consistency, competency and congruency
Within realms usually teeming with compromise
For the sake of efficacy
Riding on the back of surprise at sunrise
In a panorama that suggests ability
To consider in depth views of interlocutors
Unless fragility and futility
Boosted by persecutors and prosecutors
Whose short-sightedness comes to the fore
Upon close scrutiny
Of the core
That accelerated the mutiny
In which self-harm metamorphosed into an illusion
Pushed to the limit and beyond conjecture value
Raising the profile in the full glare of the delusion
Whose true blue glue without a clue
Led me to assert the naïve notion
That a wrong could engender a right
By virtue of mere assertion
In benighted circumstances whose blight
Came undone
When far from earning me fame
Succeeded in repelling prospects of the pardon
For which I long as to my name I attached a plethora of blighted blame.
Categories:
persecutors, poems,
Form: Free verse
In your golden wonder we daily dwell.
In the words of life and that said let there be.
From them do we manifest when we fall to hell.
The beginning of hope we do see but in foolishness we end in gnashing.
From then horn a channel of purity for reunion with our creator.
The savior of the Israelites but the destroyer of the Egyptians.
Let this be for my enemies.
Oh, i wouldn't have been a worst sinner if it's declared,
Love your enemies and pray for your persecutors.
The doctrine which manifests on the cross,
This you and I must do not to end up in hell.
He's coming,
Yes He's coming.
Neither for the unforgiven fellow like you.
But for those that are dead to sin and daily lay their treasures under His feet.
Categories:
persecutors, adventure, baptism, bible, christian,
Form: Pastoral
Swithun Wells
In his house Eucharist was celebrated,
that was his crime,
so he with others was hanged
in front of his house.
The queen or king were judges
of men’s consciences.
The past was cruel,
but man should just be free.
His persecutors believed in the same Christ,
only more local, not the global one.
As puppet church done by the king,
who claimed to be defender of the faith.
Saint Swithun for us pray,
let ecumenical movement grow.
Reunify us with Church
and help us reconcile all the wrongs.
Categories:
persecutors, spiritual,
Form: Verse
My Babe on the other side
Had a interesting, second lasting conversation with Suey who died, but I got the concept in that split second.
I asked her how old she was now, she said 10, seems she is ripping it up her Grandfather for his molestation of her at that age. Also giving daddy a serve cos he poo pooed her when she told him.
Spirits get to give the 3rd degree to their persecutors on the other side!
Eg a few days before Suey died, me and mum spoke to Sue about my Grandmother being given my
Eighty quid wages. Suey spoke to her sternly beyond the veil. And my Grannie from beyond the veil came to my bed in the night and asked my forgiveness, I saw her face she was crying, as she spoke to me. Of course I forgave her! Don Johnson
Categories:
persecutors, adventure,
Form: Ballad
They sit in cold judgement,
their modern eyes cast baleful stares,
passing their false prophet's law,
upon his ancient blood;
eyes of blackened ice reply in silent amusement.
Still they judge him according to their ways,
money, property, suited jobs and cars,
he has a future of reputation's immortality,
his art will last beside his words;
as the bones of his persecutors become dust.
He smiles in a single wave of cold indifference,
as he watches them realise their fate,
small minds shaped by small cages,
dying in their living corpses;
as the wanderer shows them his back.
©David Nickle Read 2015
Categories:
persecutors, judgement,
Form: Free verse
I went to the chapel today
And I thought of a mother's loss
When I saw a picture of Mary
Praying at the foot of the Holy Cross.
To see a child suffer
There can be no greater pain
Especially one of your own
The one you have blessed with name.
She was there for the Crucifixion
And after His persecutors had gone
They had tried to end His Sacred Life
"But the Lord had just begun!"
Brenda Elizabeth Rose
Categories:
persecutors, blessing, child, christian, easter,
Form: Rhyme
Intrusion on silence's speech
Ushered in by a black van's screech.
A wigged man in his spectacle
Sits in tentacles of fates and miracles
And bystanders troops in and out
Some either chants, sings or shouts.
An old man braced himself at the dock
Vehemently clinging to the tinge of luck
Gallery of evidence and exhibit were displayed
At the gleeful eyes of the persecutors and the dismayed
The judge have seen and heard it all
To give his sentence and leave the hall
"Death by the rope" he declared with the gavel
On a sound block just before it clocked eleven
Though, he knew his judgement has no laxity
To determine his professional sanity
Categories:
persecutors, feelings,
Form: Rhyme