The Virgin Poems - Poems about The Virgin

In an old vineyard When Jesus was just a lamb His coat eight years old Working with the chaste Joseph His father and guide As the beloved Mary Kneeled and prayed to God In their small and humble home A visitor came Golden and shining brightly Like beams of sunlight Shooting through the home’s window...

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I am a virgin! A virgin! A virgin! Carlistica sang. Her melody was offensive to many as it loudly rang. I have never been sullied, trifled with or abused she allowed. Which made her highly unpopular in this diverse teenage crowd. Her body was found a week after her song rose to a number one spot. On the pop records...

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My sister Mary was contrary She met a nice fellow named Harry He tried, without a doubt But she would not put out Virgin Mary will never marry. written July 20, 2021...

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Sweet song of the Virgin Mary, Most magnificent story, Heralding salvation’s message, Good News for the ages. Mother of the exalted Savior, Held in God’s greatest favor, By Miraculous Conception, Brought near our redemption. Chosen by the Father above, Unconditional pure love, The central theme of Advent time, Unique new paradigm. She obeyed yet was perplexed, As told in the holy text, In worshipful humility, Mary yielded graciously....

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Pure and clean this lily of the valley Innocent as the Virgin Mary Miles and miles is all I see These beautiful lilies of the valley This birth flower of May The 30th year anniversary day Chastity for all the new With color of deep maroon Daisy is my true love with purity Fertile with beauty The goddess of love Motherhood new beginnings she brings Rose...

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Crowning the Virgin Mary I was only six years old and was chosen by the first grade nun, To place a garland of roses on the Vigin Mary in May. It really was an honor and a blessing. Mom had pictures made of this event. As little girls, we all were so lovely. Dressed in lovely dresses and real shoes. We never dressed...

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When our cries travel not again through the sky And the sun shines directly on our barren heads Communal labour to clear filth render to apologies The wise who hear and cautions spoke of no truth And the land could only get itself stuck in innocent souls, Blood lakes in our brains. Sons comfort their mothers in bed A mouth opener...

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Three fennel seeds upon the snow she sows upon St. Valentine's, the virgin witch of Moulineaux. A magic spell that love shall grow in blood fresh pricked from rose's spines, three fennel seeds upon the snow. A kiss beneath the mistletoe, on Yuletide eve his arm entwines the virgin witch of Moulineaux. But now where is her wayward beau? Her hope lies there before the...

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THE BURYING OF THE VIRGIN The gloom of death gone bad so near that night, as circumstance played out a mournful tune, and echoed through my brain, as if it might, give credence to the shadows of full moon; and buried I my virgin, thin and bare, she bathed in lilac, head down to her toes; I laid her sixteen...

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The Cry of The Virgin I am weak, I am naive and innocent, Yet you marshal your deceitful might, And mount yourself upon me, To rob me of my innocence. My cry for help calls for your humane attention, But my plea for mercy is overridden By your malicious act. Why thrust your manhood upon me? Why spew your filth and pollute my purity? An...

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Sweet Prince of peace conceived in love Born Of God and the Virgin Mary And in the light of a star bright Angels came saying: "Behold tonight In the city of David a savior is born Most holy, Born of God And The Virgin Mary And as the Shepherds who watched Their flock on a faraway hill came to the Manger so quiet and...

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Love Letter to God from the Virgin Mary. (You could sing this one, tune is "What am I living for...? sung by Clyde McPhadder, way back when.) What are we fighting for? Look at the sparkling sea, So beautiful.. What are we fighting for? Look at the snow-clad Alps, So pristine, What are we fighting for? Look at the desert dawn, So...

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When first freed from mother's skirt, still arrayed in white, dew kissed, peach sweet, blush cored, I dove into love, Persephone pierced; where ox-eyed daisies grew within a field abreast a Roman ... in daylight. Dry merlot overcast the blooded spot on site where passion flowered upon the box stitched blue quilt Grandmother with constancy had imbued. Yet,...

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I once saw the Virgin Mary On a wall in San Francisco Black marks on a stucco wall I knew you by the streetlight A vision of sanctifying grace Then fussy on a tangled path Far from my roots of origin You spoke directly into me Through my rough exterior Reaching into the child in me A mother caring for her baby Forgiving before I...

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The Virgin Maid of Orleans, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s La Pucelle To Robert Caze* Even as the blaze crackled around the stake’s pyre, Joan was deafened by the clergy’s brutal chanting, Harsh eyes with hate from all the windows demeaning, She felt her flesh quiver and her soul budge on fire. And like lambs that resold to the butcher expire The...

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