"ambassador" poems
~ Ode to Joy ~
White gold ambassador
canine past eight
soul seekers ascend
(from cirque to seven)
to peak
to peak
to peak
Saddlerock spearhead
ptarmigan
and flute
Christmas trees
in winter glades
over dusted crystal scape
Fissile (eiger) sanction
open shale and tusk
indiscriminate members
roll the bluffs
and ice falls
above the
north face steep
Dead silent dawn
breathless, bitter cold
the beating hearts
and brahmas
warm the spirit
of pakalolo
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
I SAY that Roger Casement
Did what he had to do.
He died upon the gallows,
But that is nothing new.
Afraid they might be beaten
Before the bench of Time,
They turned a trick by forgery
And blackened his good name.
A perjurer stood ready
To prove their forgery true;
They gave it out to all the world,
And that is something new;
For Spring Rice had to whisper it,
Being their Ambassador,
And then the speakers got it
And writers by the score.
Come Tom and **** come all the troop
That cried it far and wide,
Come from the forger and his desk,
Desert the perjurer's side;
Come speak your bit in public
That some amends be made
To this most gallant gentleman
That is in quicklime laid.
14.6k
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like that of a full moon
bringing light
from the One
who has commanded me
to wear it
to my face
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like a merry-go-round
rotating with a joyful force
in places near and far
illuminating its power
a reflection of my soul
and inner beauty
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
the way whirling dervishes move
we're so high
aspiring nearness to Allah Masha'Allah
our act of wearing hijab daily
deserving of much respect
and Insha Allah
The Seventh Heaven
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like a spinning wheel
many made
in different colors
and in different textures
each brightening the world
and when wearing it
like Khadijah (AS), Fatimah (AS), and Aisha (RA)
attracts attention of the best kind
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like Big Ben
I'm so high
dignified
a visible ambassador
of Islam
saying no to immodesty
and saying yes to our Majesty
Hijab is my crown
shaped in a circle
around my head
like a halo
starting my day with Bismillah
and looking into the mirror
to carefully donn it
I remember
I'm doing this to help men
married and unmarried
from sinning
and to protect myself
from impurity and immoral acts
as
Hijab is my crown
for me a Queen
By: Najwa Kareem
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 2:42 PM UTC
She stood still before the choas; unshaken.
The wind blew its mighty breath against Her core but to no avail; unmoved.
Her coffee'd skin warm like the sun that kisses the Earth's horizon.
Something within Her had risen without warning nor permission:
She was a Goddess, in Her own right.
Brown. The soft tone of the Earth.
Golden hue painted widely across the canvas of Her *****
Her skin like caramelized silk, with the sunglow of Egypt itself.
She pressed Her face to the Earth's floor and moved mountains with Her prayers.
Queen of the meek, ambassador of the poor.
She was the perfect amalgam of beauty and brokenness.
~The Goddess of Humility.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
"Under a Mountain of green and a Sky of blue,
Lived a race trapped behind a Barrier forgotten after so many years,
Slowly their hatred over their predicament only grew,
Lost and Forgotten, Hurt but not Broken, some wept their last tears,
They heard them say, 'It's been four years since an Angel fell',
But the wary Traveler knew not what that meant,
It was up to the race to explain to the Traveler and tell,
Of a Tale long ago Dreamt,
Tale of a sun, and of a world Beyond,
Where two races once lived in Peace,
A world where both races could bond,
Where fighting could stop, where hatred would cease,
The Traveler knew then what to do,
To free these people of their Fear and Hate,
Some wished to help the Traveler, others where hesitant to,
This Traveler - however much they faced - promised there wouldn't be anyone they'd berate,
The Barrier was a force none had broken thus far,
But this Traveler - too kind, too determined - couldn't give up,
This Barrier they broke - an obstacle they hurdled like a highset bar,
The Race rejoiced for now all where free - even Jerry and that Annoying Pup,
This Traveler - who called themselves Frisk - was no more than a child,
Yet a new Ambassador had been set,
They told any and all that the journey had not been hard but mild,
This child was greeted with a smile by whomever they met,
'A new family born,
A past left to rot,
A new treaty sworn,
A kind present this lot!'
This child thought with a smile upon their lips,
As they moved forward with their friends,
A skeleton too smiles as out of sight he blips,
'there will be time later - he thought - for the kiddo and me to make amends'."
Continue Reset
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
A blanket of darkness caressed the street
Of people asleep with misguided feet
With hollow hearts devoid of light
They couldn’t see which way was right.
They flirted with death quite comfortably
Acquired great knowledge yet remained empty.
Nothingness stopped them from venturing out
They couldn’t see past their realm of doubt.
One girl arose and examined her soul
Unlike the others, her heart was made whole
Her citizenship was not of that street
Her home was beautiful, bright, and complete.
She was an ambassador from her homeland
Spreading its light with the book in her hand
Whenever she went to a cold, dark place
Her heart’s luminescence would radiate.
Attracted to her light, many gathered to see
What made this girl so loving and free.
As she read her book it opened their eyes
Many chose truth over superficial lies.
This book from her homeland was about her King
Who created beauty from every broken thing.
If the people came to Him, He would heal their hearts
And mend together all their fragmented parts.
Many said it was nice, but couldn’t be true
Others said it was myth, something construed.
Yet some believed, and received new life
Escaping the blanket of darkness that night.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
Yahya Kemal Beyatli translations
Yahya Kemal Beyatli (1884-1958) was a Turkish poet, editor, columnist and historian, as well as a politician and diplomat. Born born Ahmet Âgâh, he wrote under the pen names Agâh Kemal, Esrar, Mehmet Agâh, and Süleyman Sadi. He served as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, Portugal and Pakistan.
Sessiz Gemi (“Silent Ship”)
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch
for the refugees
The time to weigh anchor has come;
a ship departing harbor slips quietly out into the unknown,
cruising noiselessly, its occupants already ghosts.
No flourished handkerchiefs acknowledge their departure;
the landlocked mourners stand nurturing their grief,
scanning the bleak horizon, their eyes blurring...
Poor souls! Desperate hearts! But this is hardly the last ship departing!
There is always more pain to unload in this sorrowful life!
The hesitations of lovers and their belovèds are futile,
for they cannot know where the vanished are bound.
Many hopes must be quenched by the distant waves,
since years must pass, and no one returns from this journey.
Full Moon
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch
You are so lovely
the full moon just might
delight
in your rising,
as curious
and bright,
to vanquish night.
But what can a mortal man do,
dear,
but hope?
I’ll ponder your mysteries
and (hmmmm) try to
cope.
We both know
you have every right to say no.
The Music of the Snow
by Yahya Kemal Beyatli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This melody of a night lasting longer than a thousand years!
This music of the snow supposed to last for thousand years!
Sorrowful as the prayers of a secluded monastery,
It rises from a choir of a hundred voices!
As the organ’s harmonies resound profoundly,
I share the sufferings of Slavic grief.
Then my mind drifts far from this city, this era,
To the old records of Tanburi Cemil Bey.
Now I’m suddenly overjoyed as once again I hear,
With the ears of my heart, the purest sounds of Istanbul!
Thoughts of the snow and darkness depart me;
I keep them at bay all night with my dreams!
Translator’s notes: “Slavic grief” because Beyatli wrote this poem while in Warsaw, serving as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, in 1927. Tanburi Cemil Bey was a Turkish composer. Keywords/Tags: Beyatli, Agah, Kemal, Esrar, Turkish, translation, Turkey, silent, ship, anchor, harbor, ghosts, grief, Istanbul, moon, music, snow
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC
On the strings
Binding mortals together, you lay your dagger
And set apart,
The centre that holds us together…
You set
Our household in despair
And unending
Tears and sorrows, you fill our souls and hearts with...
You are...
Yes, a silent murderer, surely, you are:
You invade the joy that fills
The household of mortality and leave endless mourning songs on our tongues...
In your presence,
Where is the refuge of mortality?
In your eyes,
What is the value of mortality’s breath on this earth?
From nowhere
You have stepped your feet in our territory
Draining breaths
And raiding souls...alas, you plant the seed of fear in our hearts...
You fill
Our thoughts with forts of weary
And crush
Our hearts with dagger of fatality…
You set
Deafening quake and pains in our souls
And wane the survival
Of mankind on this shore with your arrival…
Ebola—
You, innocent faced murderer
Who has found
A niche in the home of strong-but-weak mortals...
Ebola,
Many you have set on that Voyage Of No Return¬¬—
Their wails, alas,
We hear in the silent night as their bloods smell on your arms…
You are
A scare to our existence
For life is death
And death is life with the arrival of your presence…
Ebola,
You’re but, a thief of souls...
Murderer!
Ebola, O’ yes, you are a silent ******
You are
The silent murderer reaping our souls and setting down our household—
You are the murderer
Yet, feared to be approached by even the 'mighties'…
You are
An unseen beast; you’re a barbaric stranger...
You are but,
A silent murderer in our home...
We wholly
Hate you from the depth of our souls—
Dark or white,
Ebola, yes, we truly all hate you!
Oswald Okaitei
(World Poetry Theatre Ambassador from Ghana Project)
From WHISPERS OF A HEART
(C) 2014
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
Like many other Christians,
I’m living here on Earth temporarily;
ask to see my “spiritual green card” -
For my citizenship is with Christ’s eternity.
Being a stranger in a foreign land
makes me a heavenly ambassador,
serving a lifelong assignment
on a Godly pilgrimage as His sojourner.
Earth is not my final home -
For I strive to overcome temptations of Earth;
found in my identity with Christ
is the true measure of my worth.
For those who are unsure,
The Bible is my eternal passport
that provides my credentials
until I’m present in Heaven’s court.
Author Notes:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2010, All rights reserved.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 6:03 AM UTC
Explosion of the white tree,
A synapse in the damp air.
The fluid around the corsair,
Ambassador of the secret;
The perfume of a comet
Descends upon the wetland.
A goosebump stretches my hair;
Ripples forming across the sea
As nostril and flowers meet
Miles and miles without end.
The green flame always return
In a frenetic haze, a burst of fire,
As the solar wave caresses the earth
At welcomed glances, so soft a fur.
A last effort renewed forevermore;
Delirious poison continually brewed;
An elixir against the veil of dusk;
Cause and effect from dust to dust.
As the mind steps out back further,
It finds itself returned at the core,
Til all of Spring elapses.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC
I was unmerciful.
I remember killing innocence.
I heard screaming and yelling.
I saw dust and blood spreading endlessly.
I worried that this would be my fate.
I thought that I would be taken over forever.
But, I want to change.
I am sweet and kind.
I think everyone deserves MERCY.
I need to free everyone.
I try to SAVE everyone.
I feel determined.
I forgive Chara.
Now I can change.
I will be brave.
I choose to be merciful.
I dream to free monster kind.
I hope everyone will get along on the surface.
I predict I will be an ambassador.
I know it will end perfectly.
I will change.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
REPUBLICANS
Former South Carolina GOP leader
kills dog to please God
Rob Beschizza
GERMANY
Germany's top domestic spy advised far right xenophobic political party on how to avoid being billed as "extremists"
Cory Doctorow
RUSSIA
Guy who pretends to ****** people for a living named Russian Goodwill ambassador
Seamus Bellamy
BUSINESS
We're going to be eating bugs really soon now, again
Cory Doctorow
POLICE
Surveillance camera shows off-duty NYPD cop dropping a weapon near man he shot in the face
Rob Beschizza
SCHOLARSHIP
When should the press pay attention to trolls, lies and disinformation?
Cory Doctoro
CORRUPTION
Wells Fargo: we stole houses and we're being investigated for ***** low-income housing credits
Cory Doctorow
LATE STAGE CAPITALISM
How Jpay gouges prisoners' families for "digital postage stamps"
Cory Doctorow
ALEX JONES
Alex Jones is suing the parents of a Sandy Hook victim for $100,000
Gina Loukareas
***
:(
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
Teen model Shonali Khatun strutted the catwalk as the audience cheered at a fashion show in Bangladesh's capital.
But Shonali is no ordinary model, and this was no ordinary show.
She and the 14 other models are survivors of acid attacks, common in this south Asian country, where spurned lovers or disgruntled family members sometimes resort to hurling skin-burning acid at their victims.
The fashion show, held Tuesday night in Dhaka and attended by fashion lovers, rights activists and diplomats including the US ambassador to Bangladesh, aimed to redefine the notion of beauty while calling attention to the menace of such attacks.
For 14-year-old Shonali, the event was nothing short of empowering. She was attacked just days after she was born amid a property dispute involving her parents, and was left with burn scars on her face and arms. She spent nearly three years in a hospital and underwent eight operations. Her attacker has never been caught.
"I am so happy to be here," she said. "One day I want to be a physician."
The models, including three men, walked the catwalk, dancing and singing and showcasing woven handloom Bangladeshi designs. The show was choreographed by local designer Bibi Russel.
Organisers said they hoped to highlight the fact that acid victims, too often overlooked, are a vital part of society. They deliberately chose to hold the event on the eve of International Women's Day.
"We are here today to show their inner strength, as they have come a long way," said Farah Kabir, country director of ActionAid Bangladesh, which organised the show. "I often take inspiration from them. Their courage is huge."
Bangladesh has struggled to deal with acid attacks in recent decades, and has instituted harsh punishments for the perpetrators, including the death penalty. The country has also trained doctors to treat such sensitive cases and attempted to control the sale of acid, but has failed to eliminate the scourge entirely.
In 2016, some 44 people were attacked with acid in Bangladesh - an annual number that has remained relatively stable.
"I am ashamed of having such things in the country," Kabir said. "Unfortunately, in Bangladesh we do have acid victims because of either gender discrimination or violence, or because of greed. And we want to remind everyone the kind of injustice that has been meted out to them."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 8:57 PM UTC
a deck
now with
Bedouin high
there dream
her red
quotient in
Catalonia with
Montserrat qua
mountain deem
hindmost their
trials to
independence back
to innermost
Barcelona as
watershed lariat
begun this
year Ole
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
every man for himself--am i a man or a self?
wearing long suspenders and
smoking my tonsils raw
a handful of questionable virtue
and inexpensive self confidence
i am no longer your folk hero,
but rather a jolly youth that hates degenerates
i'll fall out of my chair to keep
my ear to the ground
i must listen for change
yes, and between the mattress, shrieking
and the myterious column of faces
appears the fog in twilight, swallowing
***** tonk doors and vagabonds whole
i am a strange left handed moon man,
i'm high
i have that paralyzing lonesome feeling
i have nothing new to add, that feeling
i am an ambassador without *****
almost pornographic
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 12:40 PM UTC
When once the twilight locks no longer
Locked in the long worm of my finger
Nor ****** the sea that sped about my fist,
The mouth of time ****** like a sponge,
The milky acid on each hinge,
And swallowed dry the waters of the breast.
When the galactic sea was ******
And all the dry seabed unlocked,
I sent my creature scouting on the globe,
That globe itself of hair and bone
That, sewn to me by nerve and brain,
Had stringed my flask of matter to his rib.
My fuses are timed to charge his heart,
He blew like powder to the light
And held a little sabbath with the sun,
But when the stars, assuming shape,
Drew in his eyes the straws of sleep
He drowned his father's magics in a dream.
All issue armoured, of the grave,
The redhaired cancer still alive,
The cataracted eyes that filmed their cloth;
Some dead undid their bushy jaws,
And bags of blood let out their flies;
He had by heart the Christ-cross-row of death.
Sleep navigates the tides of time;
The dry Sargasso of the tomb
Gives up its dead to such a working sea;
And sleep rolls mute above the beds
Where fishes' food is fed the shades
Who periscope through flowers to the sky.
When once the twilight screws were turned,
And mother milk was stiff as sand,
I sent my own ambassador to light;
By trick or chance he fell asleep
And conjured up a carcass shape
To rob me of my fluids in his heart.
Awake, my sleeper, to the sun,
A worker in the morning town,
And leave the poppied pickthank where he lies;
The fences of the light are down,
All but the briskest riders thrown
And worlds hang on the trees.
2k
I love sleep
Don't get me wrong
Sleep feeds me
Without it I'm pretty much useless
Batteries always need to be charged eventually, right?
Sometimes I'll snuggle up and close my eyes
See the wonderous things that reside nightly
Behind my eyelids as my brain plays
The projector, eyelids play the screen
And I'll awaken feeling like I've just returned
From a land of fortune and prosperity
Like Columbus after he returns to Italy
But from time to time
It gets really, incredibly difficult
To willingly fall victim to the beautiful Sandman
And I'm left squirming uncomfortably
In the center of wrinkled sheets and blankets
Spinning endlessly between reality and dreams
My mind running a marathon through rough
Terrain and hopping hurdles that keep
Growing taller and wider and more menacing
I'm flashing beacons desperately trying to
Get the attention of the ambassador of slumber
And sometimes I'll "wake up"
As the Sun peaks it's God-like face
Over the unassuming horizon
Rays of warm light taking refuge where
The moonlight once settled and called its home
And I'm left there, head in hand, eyes nearly
****** and feeling like I've never slept a second
In my life
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 12:46 PM UTC
Back when I was a follower
I had a good friend Ed
He grew up amongst the Alps
His Pops worked for the Ambassador
Details left unsaid
Ed could climb the steepest crags
Like a mountain goat on ****
And ski the steepest slopes
Like a rocket on a sled
As I said
I was a follower back then
And my friend Ed
With his prematurely balding pate
Would chuckle at my dread
Following him up a sheer rock face
Free style climbing into outer space
Rappelling down the other side
No belay to slow my glide
I remember the first time
Ed led me wrong
Clinging tightly like a lover
Halfway up the face
Hugging tightly a giant rock
Like a gambler hugs an Ace
No holds left or right, up or down
Too scared to breathe or shout for help
Till there was Ed like a monkey scurrying round
A smile of reassurance
Laughing at my plight
“Left hand here, right hand there
“Right foot to the left, left foot to the right”
Till finally at the top
Sweating, swearing, trembling
Lying on my back
He sitting there without a twitch
Thanks Ed, you Son of a *****
And then we hit the slopes
Ed starting with the Black
Piece of cake he said
I thought I had the knack
First mogul flying high
Second one I kissed the sky
Third I began the tumble
All head and *** and skis
Face buried in the freeze
I knew it would come one day
Ed asking me to dive
He didn’t mean the water
Ed loved to dive the skies
Finally I decided
No more the follower to be
I repeated the grunts number one rule
The only things that fall from the sky
The snow, the rain, bird **** and fools
We shed our uniforms
Said our goodbyes and headed home
Me to the South and East
Ed further West and North to roam
Last I heard my friend Ed was dead
Jumping from a bridge
The final dive for my friend Ed
Deep into a river gorge
I think he just got bored
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
I am alive with Christ (Ephesians 2:5). I am far from oppression and fear does not come near me (Romans 8:2).
I am born of God and the evil one does not touch me (1 John 5:18). I am holy a d without blame before Him in love(Ephesians 1:4, 1 Peter 1:16).
I am God's child, for I am born again of the incorruptible seed of the word of God, whichvlives and abides forever(1 Peter 1:23).
I am God's workmanship, created in Christ to do Good works (Ephesians 2:10).
I am a new creation in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17).
I am a believer and the light of the Gospel shines in my mind(2 Corinthians 4:4). I am a doer of the Word and blessed in my actions(James 1:22, 25). I am a joint-heir with Christ(Romans 8:37).
I am more than a conqueror through Him who loves me(Romans 8:37).
I am an overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of my testimony(Revelation 12:11).
I am a peacemaker of His divine nature(2 Peter 1:3,4). I am an ambassador for Christ(2 Corinthians 5:20).
I am part of a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased person(1 Peter 2:9).
I am the righteousness of God in Jesus Christ(2 Corinthians 5:12).
I am his elect, full of memory, kindness, humility, and long suffering(Romans 8:33; Colossions 3:12).
I am forgiven of all my sins and washed in the Blood (Ephesians 1:7). I am redeemed from the course of sin, sickness, and poverty(Detronomy 28:15-68; Galations 3:13).
I am called of God to be the voice of His praise (Pslam 66:8; Timothy 1:9).
I am healed by the stripes of Jesus(Isaiah 53:5; 1 Peter 2:24). I am raised up with Christ and seated in heavenly places (Ephesians 1:6; Colossions 2:12).
I am greatly loved by God (Romans 1:7; Ephesians 2:4; Colossions 3:12; 1 Thessalonians 1:4).
I am strengthened with all might according to His glorious power (Colossians 1:11).
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 4:29 PM UTC
Tabloid, describes every speck of ****
that seeks a global audience
from your kid's kindergarten blog
to the Rockefeller save face
Yet, these big players are the worst tools
Richest person, never spending
except when it comes to public relations
Nowadays it's damage control before it even started
So just in case there's another Ludlow Massacre
26 men, women, and children, all dead
the people are trained to believe the trusted news sources
fake an eyewitness report using your wife
like the ambassador's daughter posing as a princess
to spark the Gulf War
There was no evidence of killing babies in a hospital
Just sensational
We've been molded for over a hundred years
to have global views
and distance keeps us from our like minded dissenters
We're dancing to the same undulating dissonance
We're losing our local centers and rhythms
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 11:18 PM UTC
Sometimes, I don't know what is the problem of my so called colleagues... There are so many issues worth tackling in the movie industry where as a movie maker u invest so much finance, time and energy and get back very little or nothing... Yet, what concerns our youths is celebrations, parties, function attendance and all... The so called movie ambassadors came up at the period of political campaign... Will this gathering still stand after they are bn used for political campaigns... That's a question that I'm sure can't b answered... D crazy aspect, s dt every name now goes first with Ambassador lagbaja or Ambassador tamedu... So crazy.... Rebranding starts from our selves... No group whatsoever, has d power to influence a corrupt, mis-managed, malfunctioning industry that needs urgent attention... I'm surprised to even find respected movie makers sleeping and putting heads in same direction... If we want to speak in one voice, I believe... There's an existing body, when d music sector got its branding and uplifted its current face to d very level its today, D's were not d measures and procedures takn.... Even in Hollywood, I have nvr heard of Ambassador Nicolas Cage, Ambassador Angelina Jolie etc... Neither in bollyhood have I heard of Ambassador Shakiru Khan or Ambassador John Abraham. What a pity..., even the newly experienced movie makers that doesn't even know what D's game is all about bear Ambassadors... I hear, there's fine for misbehaviour at events and all... Hmmmmmm, those that have sumfn upstairs, let them start thinking... Don't b used for sumfn that u will end up not benefitting and later b d glory of sum people that knows where this is going and the aim behind it.... However, if the motive is truly for d upliftment of D's great job that we all do with great passion... God help us all.... Tokunbo Awoga
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
It’s the dawning of a new day
and my heart can’t help but sing;
Your grace and tender mercies flow
from the eternal realm of my King.
Shine the brightness of Your Light,
deep into the blackness of my soul;
direct my steps away from sin’s abyss
with Your standard of self-control.
Illuminate my spirit with the radiance
of Truth, that’s found within Your Word.
Continue to educate and edify me daily
with messages that were previously unheard.
Although I presently reside on Earth,
Your Kingdom holds my first citizenship.
Train me to be Your ambassador by showing
how I am permanently… called to worship!
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Dan 7:27; Matt 3:2, 6:33; John 18:36; Rom 2:12;
1 Pet 1:5-7, 2:9-10; 2 Cor 3:17-18, 5:20-21;
Col 1:13
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.amazon.com/Reaching-Towards-His-Unbounded-Glory/dp/1419650513/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie;=UTF8&qid;=1388058560&sr;=1-1&keywords;=reaching+towards+his+unbounded+glory
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
I huddled into my collars and looked to the sky,
The day was overcast with yesterday’s lies,
The wind ripped through the streets and sang pain in my ears,
The clouds above heavily pregnant with tears,
On such a dark and cold day...
My eyes beheld a sight full of radiating rays.
Striding down the street in a landscape very urban
was a youth dressed in a gentle green turban,
His white salwar and kameez caressed by the air,
His fresh face beaming shining and clear,
And upon his lips and around his chin
curled a beard neatly combed and oiled from top to rim.
He walked with the confidence of a vibrant caliph,
I did for a moment in my mind stop and marvel at his belief,
This young man was such a contrast to the dark day,
He displayed brilliance and integrity and trod upon truth’s way,
He seemed one who was at ease with God and his deeds,
What a wonderful ambassador for all races and creeds.
As we two passed I offered up a greeting,
“Asalaam Alaikum”.
His eyebrows rippled and coiled like twin cobras lacking intelligence,
He replied to me with the surly silence of arrogance,
He ignored my universal humanity,
He ignored my peaceful charity,
He ignored my friendship and camaraderie,
He ignored God’s solemn word so rich and full of love’s clarity...
This young man...Who was he?
What did he think himself to be?
He was a stranger to me
and a stranger to himself. Could he not see?
He was a stranger even unto God Almighty Himself,
This self-assured man condemned his soul and lost touch with life itself.
©Rangzeb Hussain
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 1:57 PM UTC
Your eyes cataracts - fogged over, with a hint of blue
Still you saw more than most anyone I've known
I thought you a sorcerer, a mystic man
with lightening speeds you spun tales in thunder clapping rooms
A modern day chief, good will ambassador of Hope
you were the glue of an entire village,
sticking your heart on everyone like that
The Discovery Cafe, your story telling room, disguised as a restaurant,
a place you opened years ago
Many came hungry only for your stories
One could not easily eat and run or have a cup of joe and go, just not possible
when Tito had the floor
Tales of fishing, gold panning, black and brown bears, one with his head stuck in a lard bucket,
or the one that chased some lady up a tree.
The way your hands moved, while you went into a trance was a sight to behold
Though you never confessed it, I'm pretty sure you were a hypnotist
How many times I went for coffee at 9AM never leaving til' noon,
completely bowled over, ****** in by the fantastic rip tide of you!
I saw you just months before you passed
Though you had gone deaf and blind, your love was ever present, it's been felt everyday since,
in a world that has changed a darker shade of blue,
Tito how can I ever thank you?
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 12:00 PM UTC
She was the face of the century.
We'd all believed the age of heroes was past
but she was the real thing -
brilliant, brave beyond belief and wise,
and the planet - the whole planet -
was proud to have her as ambassador.
And when the broadcast arrived,
proof that we had spanned the solar system
and set foot on another planet,
every Earthling eye gazed, every ear strained,
so as not to miss a word.
"..."
Martian sky. Red dust. Second transmission.
"...
"I know...
"I know you are watching me.
"I know that this is the moment,
"the moment you have waited for.
"Seven months ago I left you. It's hard
"to hold your breath for seven months!"
Across the globe, people laughed and gasped.
"Seven months."
A pause.
"Seven months, and enough money
"To end poverty
"across most of the Earth."
Heads were scratched.
Where was this going?
"Well, everyone, here I am.
"I can see you, you know. A star,
"A dot in the black - that's you.
"And that dot -
"Oh, that precious, beautiful dot!"
Eyes moistened. Friends embraced.
"Where every speck of dust is a home
"for something.
"Where even the forgotten scrapings
"Of last week's dinner
"plays host to LIFE!
"Air to breathe!
"Water to drink!
"So many, many things to love!"
Thirty two seconds of silence.
"Why did you send me here?"
Fifty three seconds of silence.
"This is hell."
And with that
she placed the camera on a tripod
stood before it
and removed her helmet.
The once fierce eyes
quickly bulged and reddened
skin puckered and peeled,
frost scorched and suffocated
lips, best known for forming momentous words
turned first blue then purple
and blood flowed freely
from her nostrils.
She slumped, fell,
knocked over the camera.
End of transmission.
The whole broadcast had lasted just seven minutes.
She was already dead by the time we heard the first word.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 2:01 PM UTC