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O mother of the Saviour of the world,
     Blesséd art thou, among all women blest,
For God Himselfe within thy womb was curl'd,
     And God Himselfe did suckle at thy brest;
And He that dy'd and rose and quitt the tomb
Blossom'd within thy house and there did bloom.

The firstborn fruit of God's inerrant seede,
     Press'd like a bunch of grapes beneathe His wrath
Untill the Man of Sorrowes sore did bleede
     And suffer more than any martyr hath,
Was offer'd vpp a sacrifice for mee
By Father God and, Mother Mary, thee.

Woman, behold thy Sonne, the glorifi'd,
     Transfigur'd Kinge of Heauen; lion, lamb,
Messiah, God and man who liu'd and died
     And liues againe for aye, and is I AM;
Like Abraham, the LORD did ask thy Sonne;
Like Abraham, thou saidst, Thy will be donne.
Mrs Timetable Mar 26
This rose has thorns
She let bees in
Needing to live
One sting from this
Can ****
That who pulls
The petal off a
Newborn rose
Before it blooms
Yes in sacrifice
In my garden
In keeping with the floral theme.
My Dear Poet Mar 26
I will never say
It is unfair that I am one
always sacrificing for you
whether you love me
or not, I do not
love you to receive
to change you or I leave
I love being the one
who loves you, regardless
I truly do

and If I be not willing
to lay my life down in truth
or be compelled by love
and sacrifice as I do
then please, please
walk away and tell me,
I’m not worthy of the way,
you would have
loved me too
Heaven running into your arms,
Was always a deep blessing.
You have always bought loving charms,
Your peace a rising dressing.
I have met the love of my life,
Meditated by mortals.
Missing true loved ones of all strife,
I must face dept of portals.
Did I do this for him dying,
Knowing the other side on?
Knowing left what was all trying,
Here not left suffer a son?
What left a wanted will become,
A sacrifice worth to be done…
Resurrecting Angels, Daemons In Love With Tangles… XIV

You wrote Your love in red
Deep love in pure sacrifice —
You were hurt more than I,
But it’s how You brought me back to life!

Your letters aren’t mystery
Bounded with Truth and Spirit,
Your love tames me from within,
No greater love what the world could give.

You call me not as a slave,
But as a child of my Holy King who saves!
My life, You pursued and grant me peace —
Oh how precious Your love in crimson is!
Bella Isaacs Feb 18
Came I hither with all the gold possess'd,
Came I hither with all the wisdom gain'd,
Came I hither with all the truth and jest,
Beauty, health, kindness, luck, thou'd'st have complain'd
That I came hither with an underhand
Desire of something greater thus exchang'd,
Unable to conceive or understand
How one who offers free is not derang'd.

Came I hither with all the gold possess'd,
And came I bearing rubies and pearls, too,
Came I hither bearing all the rest
To thine own mortal self, still erring true;
Came I hither, and ask'd nothing, giving
All that I have, and more, and still I err,
For the Lord ask'd nothing of the living,
But sacrifice is matter of a cur.

Mistrusting as you do, with sense, I see,
Love's made not for this world, nor I for thee.
Robert Ronnow Feb 13
There are 12 types of joy:
simple joy
almost joy
systemic joy
Saturday joy
expressing joy
knowing joy
all joy
max joy
constant inputs of joy
single greatest joy
sacrifice or joy
the face of joy
at the periapsis of earth’s orbit.
Mugerwa Muzamil Dec 2023
Collect his tears in a pail
They got the right nutrients
To water the tree of freedom
Fruits to bear for the youth
But how can we collect enough
If we don't fight enough

No time to cower under beds
The tempest blows the roofs off
He looks through the little light
That pierces through the needles eye
It's the same ray of hope
That stirs him

Collect his tears
Collect some more
Better live than exist
Better expressed than suppressed

14th December 2023
Jamesb Dec 2023
I am that prince
With a razor sword who
Ventured into that twisted
Thorny forest which
None thus far survived,

I am that knight
In armour bright who
Refused to fear the vines
And spines
And bubbling vitriol,

I  am the man
Clothed now in rags,
Torn flesh and bleeding
Heart labouring for
Lack of air and

Hurting for the lack of love
In the little ways,
The ways that count,
The ways that nourish
A relationship

And make sacrifice
Not just worthwhile
But a joyous act
Of service to one
I love,

Dragging myself  
Upon all emaciated fours
Through fresh thrown
Mud and hard edged

I am a pile of bones  
Bleached by the sun,
Gnawed upon by wolves,
Bereft of flesh yet
Bearing even now

A kiss to wake

My sleeping

Found this finished but still oddly in drafts. Exploring the tragedy of trying to reach someone who would rather be right and die alone than risk happiness.
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