"calvary" poems
348
I dreaded that first Robin, so,
But He is mastered, now,
I’m accustomed to Him grown,
He hurts a little, though—
I thought If I could only live
Till that first Shout got by—
Not all Pianos in the Woods
Had power to mangle me—
I dared not meet the Daffodils—
For fear their Yellow Gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own—
I wished the Grass would hurry—
So—when ’twas time to see—
He’d be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch—to look at me—
I could not bear the Bees should come,
I wished they’d stay away
In those dim countries where they go,
What word had they, for me?
They’re here, though; not a creature failed—
No Blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me—
The Queen of Calvary—
Each one salutes me, as he goes,
And I, my childish Plumes,
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment
Of their unthinking Drums—
14.6k
Dear God,
I heard so much about you
Until it is burning me in my heart
I want to tell you how I feel, but
I don’t know where to start.
They say that you are the answer
To the way I feel inside
And once I am in you, I will
Have something to be my guide
I picked up the bible that
Had collected dust on the shelf
I decided to read it and find out for myself.
I read about how they nailed your
Precious body to the cross,
And the reason for this; was to
Save that which was lost.
Tears poured from my eyes as
Joy overtook my soul
I found a lot out about you that
I was never told.
I read about Job and
All that he went through
And the three Hebrew boys
That had all faith in you
I just had to write you Jesus
And let you know how I feel
No matter what I am told;
In my heart I believe you are real.
As long as I have your spirit,
I will never be alone
You told me if I hold on,
You would give me a new home.
I am taking you at your word
Because it means a lot to me
The day you died on Calvary,
It was to set me free.
Thank you for bringing me out of the world
And giving me a brand new life
I promise to keep your commandments
And do that which is right
I promise to teach my children
To obey every law
And not let a day go by
Without you being in their thoughts
I have to go now Jesus
And share you with someone else
As much as I want to,
I can’t keep you to myself.
I want to thank you for saving me,
And being my friend
I thank you for your love,
And your grace unto the end.
Love Your
Precious, Precious Child
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 8:43 PM UTC
549
That I did always love
I bring thee Proof
That till I loved
I never lived—Enough—
That I shall love alway—
I argue thee
That love is life—
And life hath Immortality—
This—dost thou doubt—Sweet—
Then have I
Nothing to show
But Calvary—
10.1k
I'm not your saint, I am the thorn,
I'm the havoc you will mourn.
I cradled your heart, and bore this taste,
I smeared the carnage upon your face.
I took control, I snapped your will,
I taught you ****** not to ****
I ***** the violence, I made it raw,
I captivated hate with awe.
I stole your disgust and made it mine,
put your filth upon this shrine.
I abused the knowledge, twisted your fame,
in hope that I could be your blame.
I craved your envy, seduced your lust,
I shattered the belief that held your trust.
I made you all of which that you are not,
I am the decay which your body will rot.
Sabotaged your tender whims to mend,
to prove to you, that I do not bend.
Who had the control, was it me or you,
I will show you just what love can do.
Make you a God and then tear you down,
Lets show the world your painted crown.
The throne of cardboard, easy to inflame,
Your blood of Calvary, a stench of shame.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
(co-written by Sharon Robinson)
Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that you've been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows you've been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows
Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
And everybody knows that it's now or never
Everybody knows that it's me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when you've done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows
And everybody knows that the Plague is coming
Everybody knows that it's moving fast
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
Are just a shining artifact of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead
But there's gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
What everybody knows
And everybody knows that you're in trouble
Everybody knows what you've been through
From the ****** cross on top of Calvary
To the beach of Malibu
Everybody knows it's coming apart
Take one last look at this Sacred Heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows
Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Oh everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows
7.1k
553
One Crucifixion is recorded—only—
How many be
Is not affirmed of Mathematics—
Or History—
One Calvary—exhibited to Stranger—
As many be
As persons—or Peninsulas—
Gethsemane—
Is but a Province—in the Being’s Centre—
Judea—
For Journey—or Crusade’s Achieving—
Too near—
Our Lord—indeed—made Compound Witness—
And yet—
There’s newer—nearer Crucifixion
Than That—
6.2k
Dry land,
quiet land
of night's
immensity.
(Wind in the olive groves,
wind in the Sierra.)
Ancient
land
of oil lamps
and grief.
Land
of deep cisterns.
Land of death without eyes
and arrows.
(Wind on the roads.
Breeze in the poplar groves.)
Village
Upon a barren hill,
a Calvary.
Clear water
and century-old olive trees.
In the narrow streets,
men hidden under cloaks,
and on the towers
the spinning vanes.
Forever
spinning.
Oh, village lost
in the Andalucia of tears!
Dagger
The dagger
enters the haert
the way plowshares turn over
the wasteland.
No.
Do not cut into me.
No.
Like a ray of sun,
the dagger
ignites terrible
hollows.
No.
Do not cut into me.
No.
Crossroads
East wind,
a street lamp
and a dagger
in the heart.
The street
quivers like
tightly pulled
string,
like a huge, buzzing
horsefly.
Everywhere,
I see a dagger
in the heart.
Ay!
The cry leaves shadows of cypress
upon the wind.
(Leave me here, in this field,
weeping.)
The whole world's broken.
Only silence remains.
(Leave me here, in this field,
weeping).
The darkened horizon's
bitten by bonfires.
(I've told you already to leave me
here, in this field,
weeping.)
Surprise
He lay dead in the street
wit ha dagger in his chest.
Nobody knew who he was.
How the streep lamp flickered!
Mother of god,
how the street lamp
faintly flickered!
It was dawn. Nobody
could look up, wide-eyed,
into the glare.
And he lay dead in the street
with a dagger in his chest,
and nobody knew who he was.
Soleá
Wearing black mantillas,
she thinks the world is tiny
and the heart immense.
Wearing black mantillas.
She thinks that tender sighs
and cries disappear
into currents of wind.
Wearing black mantillas.
The door was left open,
and at dawn the entire sky
emptied onto her balcony.
Ay, yayayayay,
wearing black mantillas.
Cave
From the cave
come endless sobbings.
(Purple
over red.)
The gypsy
calls forth the distance.
(Tall towers
and mysterious men.)
In an unsteady voice
his eyes wander.
(Black
over red.)
And the white-washed cave
trembled in gold.
(White
over red.)
Encounter
For you and I
aren't ready
to find each other.
You... as you well know.
I loved her so much!
Follow the narrowest path.
I have
holes
in my hands
from the nails.
Can't you see how
I'm bleeding to death?
Don't look back,
go slowly,
and pray as I do
to San Cayetano
for you and I
aren't ready
to find each other.
Dawn
Bells of Cordoba
in the early morning.
Bells of Granada
at dawn.
You are felt by all the girls
who weep to the tender,
weeping Solea.
The girls
of upper Andalucia,
and of lower.
You girls of Spain,
with tiny feet
and trembling skirts,
who've filled the crossroads
with crosses.
Oh, bells of Cordoba
in the early morning,
and, oh, the bells of Granada
at dawn!
5.9k
[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:
overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.
[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything
[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.
[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
1072
Title divine—is mine!
The Wife—without the Sign!
Acute Degree—conferred on me—
Empress of Calvary!
Royal—all but the Crown!
Betrothed—without the swoon
God sends us Women—
When you—hold—Garnet to Garnet—
Gold—to Gold—
Born—Bridalled—Shrouded—
In a Day—
Tri Victory
“My Husband”—women say—
Stroking the Melody—
Is this—the way?
5k
The power of contentment is a strong force,
composed of the sense of inward sufficiency;
for we’ve been promised the strength to succeed
when we open spiritual eyes and dare to see…
His divine plan of grace and abundance for us.
Christ, the Alpha and Omega, beginning and end,
demonstrated His Love with actions at Calvary,
giving us the privilege to be called His friend.
We should not be worried about personal needs,
for we’ve been equipped to address all of them;
study The Word, apply His principles to your life
and you’ll enjoy Life, without feeling condemned.
For contentment has nothing to do with your wants;
it’s being satisfied on the way to where you’re going.
Boldly ask God for wisdom; trust Him and His timing;
continue to be blessed by the seeds you are sowing.
Don’t be affected by Life-stealing, negative emotions;
find your identity of being one of His girls and boys;
real contentment is the underlying power to be happy-
learn to lean on Biblical promises and the Lord’s joy!
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Rom 11:36; 1 Tim 6:6; Eph 3:20; Jam 4:2; Phil 4:11-13; John 3:16-17
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
Jesus!
We shout out in shame
as we are looking
for someone else to blame.
Lord!
We exclaim in vain
as we look to see
the falling rain.
Oh God!
We report in a storm
filled with salt
as we decide it is not our fault.
We know it
we say it
but do we believe it ?
Use our heart
Just help us start
On Calvary our heart's he won
So shout it out
to the Son!
Oct 1, 2011
Oct 1, 2011 at 9:58 AM UTC
364
The Morning after Woe—
’Tis frequently the Way—
Surpasses all that rose before—
For utter Jubilee—
As Nature did not care—
And piled her Blossoms on—
And further to parade a Joy
Her Victim stared upon—
The Birds declaim their Tunes—
Pronouncing every word
Like Hammers—Did they know they fell
Like Litanies of Lead—
On here and there—a creature—
They’d modify the Glee
To fit some Crucifixal Clef—
Some Key of Calvary—
4.4k
You were beaten and bruised,
for the sinful likes of me;
three nails pierced Your flesh,
as You were hung… at Calvary.
An unthinkable act of Love
was cruelly executed for me;
for You took the punishment,
that had been… meant for me!
With forgiveness on Your breath,
You requested a pardon for those,
who carried out judgment on You,
as a death sentence was imposed.
A spear was ****** in Your side,
as Your demise was underscored;
when it was mundanely removed,
both blood and water had poured.
[chorus]
On The Cross of Calvary,
Love was brokenhearted;
Salvation was paid in full;
Grace’s flow was started.
[bridge]
We don’t fully understand,
God’s goodness towards us;
Sin’s debt was wiped out,
by the sacrifice of Jesus.
We adore Him, since Christ
had truly loved us first;
He bore the painful brunt
of payment for Sin’s curse.
.
.
.
Author notes
Inspired by:
1 Pet 2:24; Gal 3:10-14; 1 John 4:19
Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 8:37 PM UTC
725
Where Thou art—that—is Home—
Cashmere—or Calvary—the same—
Degree—or Shame—
I scarce esteem Location’s Name—
So I may Come—
What Thou dost—is Delight—
******* as Play—be sweet—
Imprisonment—Content—
And Sentence—Sacrament—
Just We two—meet—
Where Thou art not—is Woe—
Tho’ Bands of Spices—row—
What Thou dost not—Despair—
Tho’ Gabriel—praise me—Sire—
4.1k
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
A God of everything
From my hopes to my dreams
and even more..
A miracle of the world
from its earthly to the heavenly
everyone adores..
A wonder to my eyes
from man whose blinded faith
he lets them see..
A voice of my song
symphonies of life lose its note
you conduct a new..
An ark of Le voyage
sailing tides of shore to shore
trod waters core..
A blimp up above
gracing colors of glacial on air
everlasting he care..
A rock of revelation
standing every storm to storm
Avant is his norm..
A shepherd of lambs
from my heart whilst was lost
to him, I found..
A cross to my soul
were Calvary’s sins he bargains
a new life regained..
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 11:22 AM UTC
[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:
overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.
[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything
[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.
[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
1432
Spurn the temerity—
Rashness of Calvary—
Gay were Gethsemane
Knew we of Thee—
3.2k
*And I fight hard,fighting the battles all alone
It doesn't matter whether I lose but I have to win
So I fight with love and courage in my bone
I fight for brothers and sisters gone
Getting filth of guilt on my soul hitherto clean
And I fight hard,fighting the battles all alone
I ensure my foes regret why they were born
Slaying them with neither Calvary nor shoulder on which to lean
So I fight with love and courage in my bone
Its for my people's safety and for my own
I don't want to see them chained in slavery where I've been
And I fight hard,fighting the battles all alone
I want them to cross to safety and not drown in jeers and scorn
To blind their sight to the injustice and despair I've seen
So I fight with love and courage in my bone
I wont dare let my family groan and moan
I can't forgive myself if they are trapped between
And I fight hard,fighting the battles all alone
So I fight with love and courage in my bone*
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
[Verse 1]
Baby, I’ve got a bad wander lust
Probably cuz I’m trying to get a head rush
The white ponies come to tie me down
But they don’t know I want them now
I’m covered in my own desire
And that reminder won’t make me cower
I’m hungry for the flash of white
For numbness in the cold of night
[Chorus]
Baby, it’s that wonder dust
Got me aching to get a head rush
I know they are coming to get me
Coming to get me, the ******* cavalry
I know pain comes when they are gone
I know it’s wrong, but it has been too long
I’ve got my arms spread open wide
For them to come and jump inside
They’re coming to get me
Coming to get me
The ******* Cavalry
[Verse 2]
I know what they want, and I can’t wait
Their bittersweet tang I long to taste
They will be here when I die
But at least I will be riding high
The cavalry won’t stop until
My nose is packed, my brain is filled
I can’t wait until that last day
When all the pain has gone away
[Verse 3]
I know you don’t see me like this
But it would be my dying wish
For my mind to fly upon white doves
And reach the place so far above
My face will never feel the pain
For the cavalry will have done its thing
They medicated all my soul
And now I’ll never feel the cold
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 8:39 AM UTC
I've been waiting on top
Of Calvary Hill
Watching the whole world go by
While I'm perfectly still
And as the winds of change blow over
My soul begins to break away
But I'm holding for the moment
My suffering will end
I'm waiting
Waiting
I'm waiting
Waiting on top
I'm waiting in the darkness
Of a bottomless pit
Crying out loud to my brothers
As they walk away
And as the silver falls into their hands
My heart begins to break
But I'm holding for the moment
My suffering will end
I'm waiting
Waiting
I'm waiting
Waiting in the darkness
I'm waiting in the desert
Of a foreign land
Driven from my home
By the kingdom of man
And I can still hear their screams
I have to leave them behind me
But I'm holding for the moment
My suffering will end
I'm waiting
Waiting
I'm waiting
Waiting in the desert
I'm waiting in the valley
In the shadow of a man
Curses leave his lips
As a stone leaves my hand
I bet my life on a promise
And I'm holding for the moment
My suffering will end
I'm waiting
Waiting
I'm waiting
Waiting in the valley
I'm waiting in the furnace
The flames roaring high
Condemned to be burned
For the King I can't deny
Though the world believes I'm done
My battle has already been won
I'm not alone
And we're holding for the moment
My suffering will end
I'm waiting
Waiting
I'm waiting
Waiting in the fire
I've been waiting on top
Of Calvary Hill
Watching the whole world go by
While I'm perfectly still
And as the winds of change blow over
My soul begins to break away
But I'm holding for the moment
My suffering will end
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 12:38 AM UTC
One ever hangs where shelled roads part.
In this war He too lost a limb,
But His disciples hide apart;
And now the Soldiers bear with Him.
Near Golgotha strolls many a priest,
And in their faces there is pride
That they were flesh-marked by the Beast
By whom the gentle Christ's denied
The scribes on all the people shove
And bawl allegiance to the state,
But they who love the greater love
Lay down their life; they do not hate
3k
561
I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes—
I wonder if It weighs like Mine—
Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long—
Or did it just begin—
I could not tell the Date of Mine—
It feels so old a pain—
I wonder if it hurts to live—
And if They have to try—
And whether—could They choose between—
It would not be—to die—
I note that Some—gone patient long—
At length, renew their smile—
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil—
I wonder if when Years have piled—
Some Thousands—on the Harm—
That hurt them early—such a lapse
Could give them any Balm—
Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve—
Enlightened to a larger Pain—
In Contrast with the Love—
The Grieved—are many—I am told—
There is the various Cause—
Death—is but one—and comes but once—
And only nails the eyes—
There’s Grief of Want—and Grief of Cold—
A sort they call “Despair”—
There’s Banishment from native Eyes—
In sight of Native Air—
And though I may not guess the kind—
Correctly—yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary—
To note the fashions—of the Cross—
And how they’re mostly worn—
Still fascinated to presume
That Some—are like My Own—
2.9k
As I sat there praying on my knees.
I thought of what Jesus did for me.
How he shed his blood on calvary
So that satan's shackles on man would be broken free.
How could someone so powerful and perfect,
Have so much love and compassion for the unworthy?
This is the love I want to share with others
He said "delight in giving to one another,"
“be quick to forgive"
So I lift my hands in joy for what Jesus did.
his love hung for hours on a tree
so that people all over the world could be set free.
That, my friend, is what Jesus did for me.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 1:41 AM UTC
Memories, just faded memories
By alan spivey
Looking out my window, Eleanor is playing on the old rope swing that’s hanging down from the old oak tree.
Mary is walking up the steps from going into town to open my front door. The horses are whining and ready to rest from their long ride. The carriage so black and shiny stands there with pride.
The Calvary just passed on their way to who knows, since I can’t move to see what’s going on, my bones are crackling I am getting old.
Memories, just faded memories,
Eleanor isn't there the swing has fallen years ago the old yellow ribbon Mary tied for her husband who never came back home only a little piece still shows on that old oak tree.
My doors swing open and closed with the wind, my window has since been broken. I .. I still see Mary and Eleanor but they never come through my doors or play on the old swing.
They just fade away like faded memories.
I am old my bones are crackling I am falling down more often for I am their house I am whom Mary’s husband made for her before he went to war.
Memories, faded memories
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC