"christus" poems - Hello Poetry

They enter as animals from the outer Space of holly where spikes Are not thoughts I turn on, like a Yogi, But greenness, darkness so pure They freeze and are. O God, I am not like you In your vacuous black, Stars stuck all over, bright stupid confetti. Eternity bores me, I never wanted it. What I love is The piston in motion ---- My soul dies before it. And the hooves of the horses, There merciless churn. And you, great Stasis ---- What is so great in that! Is it a tiger this year, this roar at the door? It is a Christus, The awful God-bit in him Dying to fly and be done with it? The blood berries are themselves, they are very still. The hooves will not have it, In blue distance the pistons hiss.

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13.6k

Sylvia Plath

Years

They enter as animals from the outer Space of holly where spikes Are not thoughts I turn on, like a Yogi, But greenness, darkness so pure They freeze and are. O God, I am not like you In your vacuous black, Stars stuck all over, bright stupid confetti. Eternity bores me, I never wanted it. What I love is The piston in motion ---- My soul dies before it. And the hooves of the horses, There merciless churn. And you, great Stasis ---- What is so great in that! Is it a tiger this year, this roar at the door? It is a Christus, The awful God-bit in him Dying to fly and be done with it? The blood berries are themselves, they are very still. The hooves will not have it, In blue distance the pistons hiss.

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Bethlehem, so remarkably unimpressive and yet so holy. I long to visit you Small and humble but great and glorious. Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est an inscription reads as I get to a grotto. A fourteen-point silver star embedded into the marble is now indelibly embedded into my memory scorching its way into my heart burning the moment into my brain.

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Dec 11, 2015

Dec 11, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC

sofia-kioroglou

“Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est “by Sofia Kioroglou

Bethlehem, so remarkably unimpressive and yet so holy. I long to visit you Small and humble but great and glorious. Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est an inscription reads as I get to a grotto. A fourteen-point silver star embedded into the marble is now indelibly embedded into my memory scorching its way into my heart burning the moment into my brain.

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No man hath dared to write this thing as yet, And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great At times pass athrough us, And we are melted into them, and are not Save reflexions of their souls. Thus am I Dante for a space and am One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief, Or am such holy ones I may not write Lest blasphemy be writ against my name; This for an instant and the flame is gone. ’Tis as in midmost us there glows a sphere Translucent, molten gold, that is the “I” And into this some form projects itself: Christus, or John, or eke the Florentine; And as the clear space is not if a form’s Imposed thereon, So cease we from all being for the time, And these, the Masters of the Soul, live on.

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2.2k

Ezra Pound

Historion

No man hath dared to write this thing as yet, And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great At times pass athrough us, And we are melted into them, and are not Save reflexions of their souls. Thus am I Dante for a space and am One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief, Or am such holy ones I may not write Lest blasphemy be writ against my name; This for an instant and the flame is gone. ’Tis as in midmost us there glows a sphere Translucent, molten gold, that is the “I” And into this some form projects itself: Christus, or John, or eke the Florentine; And as the clear space is not if a form’s Imposed thereon, So cease we from all being for the time, And these, the Masters of the Soul, live on.

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Dom Peter in the workshop planing wood the wood in a vice, ad opus est ut oraret he said as I watched as I swept wood shavings, bell tolled for the office of None, sunlight on the cloister garth, monks around talking and sipping tea I sipped and watched but was silent, kiss me here she said my husband never kisses me here so I did, the bell tower tolled George pulled the ropes with Gareth, prier dans votre cœur a French monk said God hears all prayers, Hugh thin and gaunt helped in the kitchen with Dom Patrick soup made he said, Arbeiten im Glauben geschehen sind Godly Werke the Austrian monk said to me as we sorted books in the abbey library, I kissed along her inner thighs leaving moist kisses, Christian lernen von Christus wie Sie sollte Christus zu lieben St Bernard said so I read, I sat in the church in the semi dark after Vespers waiting for God to speak but no words came just a flicker of the red light at the altar end, Η ανθρώπινη συμπεριφορά πηγάζει από τρεις κύριες πηγές την επιθυμία συναίσθημα και γνώση Gareth said quoting Plato as we sat on the abbey beach watching the tide come in, I see her in my mind legs spread wide saying enter enter in.

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Oct 17, 2016

Oct 17, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC

TerryCollett

NO WORDS CAME MCMLXXI

Dom Peter in the workshop planing wood the wood in a vice, ad opus est ut oraret he said as I watched as I swept wood shavings, bell tolled for the office of None, sunlight on the cloister garth, monks around talking and sipping tea I sipped and watched but was silent, kiss me here she said my husband never kisses me here so I did, the bell tower tolled George pulled the ropes with Gareth, prier dans votre cœur a French monk said God hears all prayers, Hugh thin and gaunt helped in the kitchen with Dom Patrick soup made he said, Arbeiten im Glauben geschehen sind Godly Werke the Austrian monk said to me as we sorted books in the abbey library, I kissed along her inner thighs leaving moist kisses, Christian lernen von Christus wie Sie sollte Christus zu lieben St Bernard said so I read, I sat in the church in the semi dark after Vespers waiting for God to speak but no words came just a flicker of the red light at the altar end, Η ανθρώπινη συμπεριφορά πηγάζει από τρεις κύριες πηγές την επιθυμία συναίσθημα και γνώση Gareth said quoting Plato as we sat on the abbey beach watching the tide come in, I see her in my mind legs spread wide saying enter enter in.

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An Abraham, who, looking far Above upon a distant star Remembers his promised reward And knows his sighs are not ignored An Israel, with head held high Limping upon a wounded thigh Remembers through both thick and thin The wrestling match God let him win A Prophet, burning with the word Which on Emmaus road he heard Remembers standing, listening, still Aware of an Absolute will An Alter Christus, anointed Faithful to his task appointed Remembers with generous heart The One who loved him from the start And children of this Father dear Whether they are yet far or near Remember him, and grateful, pray: Ad Multos Annos, every day

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Apr 26, 2018

Apr 26, 2018 at 2:18 PM UTC

simoncmonahan

Hymn of Gratitude

An Abraham, who, looking far Above upon a distant star Remembers his promised reward And knows his sighs are not ignored An Israel, with head held high Limping upon a wounded thigh Remembers through both thick and thin The wrestling match God let him win A Prophet, burning with the word Which on Emmaus road he heard Remembers standing, listening, still Aware of an Absolute will An Alter Christus, anointed Faithful to his task appointed Remembers with generous heart The One who loved him from the start And children of this Father dear Whether they are yet far or near Remember him, and grateful, pray: Ad Multos Annos, every day

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every church service should be an open poetry reading; w/o enough poets there can still be reading; passing around bread & wine, maybe a nice wheel of bri; religious art should be graffiti; passion plays girlie-shows; beauty contests straight out of the book of Esther; that is, in the ****

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Aug 5, 2018

Aug 5, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC

johnny-noiπ

Ego x Christus

every church service should be an open poetry reading; w/o enough poets there can still be reading; passing around bread & wine, maybe a nice wheel of bri; religious art should be graffiti; passion plays girlie-shows; beauty contests straight out of the book of Esther; that is, in the ****

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Alter Christus, Alter Vir For Reverend Angelo J. Liteky He died three times, for other men Who lived because he died – once in Indochina Once in his vocation, and one last time Forgotten in a poor hospital bed Soul-wounded in the false, incessant wars Humanity inflicts upon itself Fallenness falling again, ever fallen And the ever-falling fell upon him Though he lifted his love - always for others - He died again – and who will live for him?

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Jan 24, 2017

Jan 24, 2017 at 8:28 PM UTC

lawrence-hall

Alter Christus, Alter Vir

Alter Christus, Alter Vir For Reverend Angelo J. Liteky He died three times, for other men Who lived because he died – once in Indochina Once in his vocation, and one last time Forgotten in a poor hospital bed Soul-wounded in the false, incessant wars Humanity inflicts upon itself Fallenness falling again, ever fallen And the ever-falling fell upon him Though he lifted his love - always for others - He died again – and who will live for him?

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A monk pushed a wheelbarrow along the narrow path in the abbey grounds giving off squeaky sounds, perdidit in Deo sitting in the abbey church gazing at the hanging tabernacle where Christ resided, dove Cristo è stato a metal globe hanging from chains from the church roof the priest monk pulled down and opened up during mass and held up the host and said ecco l'Agnello di Dio, lost in God Dom Thomas said in prayer and contemplation and he sat in the old armchair in my room hands forming a church like structure, estructura similar a una iglesia his hairy hands and fingers talking of contemplation his tonsured head shone in the overhead light, perdido en dios and the Crucified above my bed and the old brown cross and plaster Christ, perdido en dios smell of incense especially after Mass hung in the air like a woman's perfume, she held me close and kissed my forehead and said come to bed so I did, entertaining a thought without accepting it Gareth said quoting Aristotle is sign of a trained mind, the host held high and the Austrian monk said Körper von Christus and ate the white host after breaking, lost in God or so tried excepting at times he stayed lost to my soul or mind's cost.

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Mar 3, 2017

Mar 3, 2017 at 3:47 AM UTC

TerryCollett

LOST IN GOD MCMLXXI

A monk pushed a wheelbarrow along the narrow path in the abbey grounds giving off squeaky sounds, perdidit in Deo sitting in the abbey church gazing at the hanging tabernacle where Christ resided, dove Cristo è stato a metal globe hanging from chains from the church roof the priest monk pulled down and opened up during mass and held up the host and said ecco l'Agnello di Dio, lost in God Dom Thomas said in prayer and contemplation and he sat in the old armchair in my room hands forming a church like structure, estructura similar a una iglesia his hairy hands and fingers talking of contemplation his tonsured head shone in the overhead light, perdido en dios and the Crucified above my bed and the old brown cross and plaster Christ, perdido en dios smell of incense especially after Mass hung in the air like a woman's perfume, she held me close and kissed my forehead and said come to bed so I did, entertaining a thought without accepting it Gareth said quoting Aristotle is sign of a trained mind, the host held high and the Austrian monk said Körper von Christus and ate the white host after breaking, lost in God or so tried excepting at times he stayed lost to my soul or mind's cost.

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The old monk was dying one of the original ones from France back in 1907 and I washed and made him comfortable, sunlight through high windows warmth on flagstones in the church monks walking in slow heads down mindful of God, memores Dei I sat in the silent church at midday before the office of Sext stomach rumbling musing on Iesus Christus in the desert hungering, nel famelica del deserto that time in Tangiers avoiding Western food ate their stuff wholesome while others who ate Western crap puked, Hugh stern faced walked the cloisters taking in the way the sole tree in the garth swayed in the wind, déplacé dans le vent I mused on that time walking through a snow storm my body swayed by the wind back in 1965, she opened her legs to me and said make me whole my husband can't or won't so I did, così ** fatto or so thought seeking truth and Gareth said Σωκράτης είναι φίλος μου αλλά ο καλύτερος φίλος μου είναι η αλήθεια quoting Plato truth is my best friend even if Socrates is a friend Plato said Gareth explained, George felt the chill of the cloisters especiality in the evenings waiting for Vespers his hands blue he moving them into fists and undoing so, I watched the moon move across the dark sky and its glow.

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Jan 31, 2017

Jan 31, 2017 at 7:18 AM UTC

TerryCollett

MOON GLOW MCMLXXI.

The old monk was dying one of the original ones from France back in 1907 and I washed and made him comfortable, sunlight through high windows warmth on flagstones in the church monks walking in slow heads down mindful of God, memores Dei I sat in the silent church at midday before the office of Sext stomach rumbling musing on Iesus Christus in the desert hungering, nel famelica del deserto that time in Tangiers avoiding Western food ate their stuff wholesome while others who ate Western crap puked, Hugh stern faced walked the cloisters taking in the way the sole tree in the garth swayed in the wind, déplacé dans le vent I mused on that time walking through a snow storm my body swayed by the wind back in 1965, she opened her legs to me and said make me whole my husband can't or won't so I did, così ** fatto or so thought seeking truth and Gareth said Σωκράτης είναι φίλος μου αλλά ο καλύτερος φίλος μου είναι η αλήθεια quoting Plato truth is my best friend even if Socrates is a friend Plato said Gareth explained, George felt the chill of the cloisters especiality in the evenings waiting for Vespers his hands blue he moving them into fists and undoing so, I watched the moon move across the dark sky and its glow.

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