Father God is rich
Eternally rich in Grace
Yet His Son was poor
Born poor for our sake
So everyone's good enough
To receive His Gift
Divine Poverty
Blessed are the poor in spirit
Theirs is the Kingdom
The Word became flesh...
(To understand each other)
...And dwelt among us
My heart's full of song
Angels we have heard on high!
Angels are poor too
A message, a song
Words are angels' sweetest gifts
And they enrich us
We have heard angels
Just like the song says we do
Telling us: love God!
God is loveable
Especially as a child
Angels sing to Him
Angels sing to us
Come and see, come and see Him
He's born, hold-able
In a manger laid
Mary, Joseph, lend your aid
Angels accolade
Becoming a child
This is how God reached our lives
An example set
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Originally posted by me on PoetrySoup back in 2018
(under the user name: MichellePoeTry)
Based on:
"The Smile of the Ragpicker" by Paul Glynn,
“Angels We Have Heard on High” lyrics,
the Beatitudes,
Luke 2, and John 1:14.
The frozen voice hangs on the
door. A crowd waits.
Midnight explosions
will start soon
to herald a benevolent sky-
for squatters.
In rise and fall of an empire
I won’t put any label
to generation drift. The
changing geography will
take care of the ashes.
A ragpicker will tell the story.
Ambulatory moon
had become economical, blanching
the stained dreams only
like our land’s wounds.
The sea of hate lies naked before us
to sweep the carcasses. I know not
how to become omnivorous.
Satish Verma
I was very restless today
somebody had overplayed the hand
to grab the absolute.
Light was searching the earth
and earth was moving inside me.
I wanted to pack up and go
to meet the truth.
The lips had left their print
on the empty cups.
The ragpicker was waiting.
My toes had met the brutal stones
of godhood. I was puzzled by new
methodology to make man free.
As the grass grows through the carcass
a cataract is trumpeting blind.
I was afraid of the huge web.
The spider was nowhere in sight.
SATISH VERMA
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