"hosanna" poems
He came to Jerusalem mounted on a donkey
People went out to meet him,
Waving the palm branches they bring
And hailed him as their king.
Yet, people don’t know the sorrow
The coming week would bring
Soon, Glad acclaimed will give away,
To jeers and mockery.
In God’s redemption plan,
He’d be condemn to a cross on cavalry
But he knew that he was a sacrificial lamb
To die for the sins of man in misery.
Today is the day when Jesus will passed
Give praise to son of God,
Shout the benediction of his name
From the sky and to the sod;
Hosanna to the Highest!
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
The world waited with bated breath
What would happen to the man they put to death
The world in solemn stillness lay
It seemed that death had won and hope was far away
All his friends ran away in fright
They forgot the words of Jesus Christ:
"Destroy this temple and on the third day it'll rise
Then you will know this is true and there were no lies"
The people walked with heads bent low
As fear and anxiety continued to grow
Many went back to what they were before
And the faith of so many was shaken to the core
The sky was gray and the sun looked more dim
As if nature itself was dying with him
The world waited with bated breath
What would happen to the man they put to death
The world in solemn stillness lay
Death had won and hope had gone away
But we have seen what comes next
We have read the ancient text
We know the end of this great story
Christ alive and full in glory
Quiet love has conquered all
Scattered fear and darkness, brought down the wall
"The one who died is now alive" the angels sing,
"Rejoice! Sing Hosanna to the Risen King!"
Shout it from the mountain tops so all the world can hear
Spread the good news to all people far and near
We are people of Easter Light in a world dark and dreary
In Him we find our hope and strength when we too are weary
Rise up Oh Children like the sun on that Easter morn
Shine on, like the son for today you are reborn
The world waits with bated breath
The return of the man we put to death
Join me now with the world as together we say:
God has overcome and love has come to show the way!
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 5:53 PM UTC
Far away in ancient Jerusalem
Stood a garden, long, long ago
Home to giant oaks and figs
And plants and shrubs of every kind.
On every season, from time to time
Merrily they would burst into bloom
Filling the air with fragrance sweet
And fuelling the hearts with joy and cheer.
Amid the riot of flashing shades
Where Poppies and Pansies held their heads
In a corner, there a Lily stood,
Sans scent and sans grandeur.
A poor loner never once noticed
Nor skilled to steal the show,
Those, brilliant in shade and shape
With contempt openly quipped
‘It’s such a shame
She grows among us
With such pallid shade
And nothing to rave’,
‘Lilies are such lazy lot
Giving only seasonal blooms’
Rang aloud their haughty comments
Rashly blurted out and blunt
The poor Lily wilted in shame
Wishing she had never been born.
Late that evening, through the garden
Into the newly dug up grave
A band of people came with lights
Bearing someone cut and scathed.
With blood oozing, drop by drop
From wounds, left by piercing nails
The body, carefully wrapped in linen
Was the body of Jesus - Son of God
The one who bore the sins of the world
And courted the most accursed of deaths.
The body embalmed was laid inside
And sealed with a giant block of stone
Soldiers posted to guard the tomb
And every vigil so prudently kept.
Early by dawn, three days hence
While it was still very dark
From inside the tomb had come
Rumbling sounds and a blinding light.
Flowers en masse blinked their eyes
Beheld a man, gently walking out
The wounds still fresh on his palm
And the linen that swaddled, lying behind.
As they watched this queer sight
In awful amazement, they did see
A host of Lilies, white as snow
Far more beautiful than any of them
Bowing their heads in reverential glee
And singing Hosanna to the Lord of Life.
All the flora in silent shock
Sighted from whence the Lilies came
They sprang unforeseen in those spots
Where drops of blood from his body fell
Then onwards, without fail
April sees the grandeur and grace,
Of snowy lilies - those delicate blooms
Sprouting suddenly from the crust of the Earth
Joggling their heads in whiffing breeze,
And giving delight to all who behold.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
We entered the holy city with palm branches to welcome
Parading in as they sang 'Hosanna!'
They honored Him as if He were their king
As if He had come to set them free
Oh how right they were, the Promised King, come to set His people free
We shared in communion with the Lord and the betrayer
On the eve of the darkest day in history
Hate brewed at one end of that table
While love stirred peacefully on the other
And all of us living in blissful ignorance in between
We celebrated the passover with our master
And we prayed that The Lord would not pass over us again
That instead He would stoop down to us and save us
But we denied Him in His hour of need
We slept soundly as He was betrayed by us
Like a lamb led to the slaughter, He gave His life for another
They beat Him within inches of His divine life
They cast lots for his garments, and spit on His bloodied face
No longer did they yell 'Hosanna!' to welcome their king,
But they yelled 'crucify him!' to condemn their Divine Lord
They drove nails into his frail hands
He cried out to heaven asking why The Lord had forsaken Him
He declared in defiance ‘It is finished’ and He passed on to death
They threw a sword into his swollen side
His holy blood and holy water spilled to sanctify the earth onto which it fell
So silly they were, they thought that they could **** God
That they really believed they could depose the Lord of all with mere nails
But the sky darkened, and heaven turned away as to not see her Lord die
The earth shook and the world changed
Suddenly all knew 'surely this man was the Son of God'
The once bright and beautiful sky turned suddenly dark
The earth shook violently in disapproval that her creator lay dead on her face
The warm humid air turned suddenly bitterly cold and dry
For the promised Messiah had been defeated
Death itself had victory over the world, and the world knew it was so
There, on the cross, lay the Life of the World, dead
The Light of the World had been snuffed out, and the world left in darkness
The hope of all mankind suddenly vanished
The steady hand holding the world wavered in mourning
And darkness covered the seemingly God-forsaken earth
Who are we at the foot of the cross that stood silently?
We stood by and watched the promised Messiah be taken away and killed
We reap what we sew, and will now live out our days in darkness
Without hope we shall suffer for all time, a punishment fit for our crime
We crucified the Messiah, we gave the Lord to death, we killed God
For three days the sun did not rise
For three days the world swayed unstable
The demons danced in the darkness
Hell was victorious
Because for three days, God lay dead in a tomb.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
I
Just as my fingers on these keys
Make music, so the self-same sounds
On my spirit make a music, too.
Music is feeling, then, not sound;
And thus it is that what I feel,
Here in this room, desiring you,
Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk,
Is music. It is like the strain
Waked in the elders by Susanna;
Of a green evening, clear and warm,
She bathed in her still garden, while
The red-eyed elders, watching, felt
The basses of their beings throb
In witching chords, and their thin blood
Pulse pizzicati of Hosanna.
II
In the green water, clear and warm,
Susanna lay.
She searched
The touch of springs,
And found
Concealed imaginings.
She sighed,
For so much melody.
Upon the bank, she stood
In the cool
Of spent emotions.
She felt, among the leaves,
The dew
Of old devotions.
She walked upon the grass,
Still quavering.
The winds were like her maids,
On timid feet,
Fetching her woven scarves,
Yet wavering.
A breath upon her hand
Muted the night.
She turned--
A cymbal crashed,
Amid roaring horns.
III
Soon, with a noise like tambourines,
Came her attendant Byzantines.
They wondered why Susanna cried
Against the elders by her side;
And as they whispered, the refrain
Was like a willow swept by rain.
Anon, their lamps' uplifted flame
Revealed Susanna and her shame.
And then, the simpering Byzantines
Fled, with a noise like tambourines.
IV
Beauty is momentary in the mind--
The fitful tracing of a portal;
But in the flesh it is immortal.
The body dies; the body's beauty lives.
So evenings die, in their green going,
A wave, interminably flowing.
So gardens die, their meek breath scenting
The cowl of winter, done repenting.
So maidens die, to the auroral
Celebration of a maiden's choral.
Susanna's music touched the ***** strings
Of those white elders; but, escaping,
Left only Death's ironic scraping.
Now, in its immortality, it plays
On the clear viol of her memory,
And makes a constant sacrament of praise.
3.5k
Hosanna! Hosanna!
Salvation is near.
Hosanna! Hosanna!
Salvation is near.
Lift up your voice,
come lend your ears;
hear the message of Love
and joyfully rejoice!
Hosanna! Hosanna!
Save us, Dear Lord.
Hosanna! Hosanna!
Save us, Dear Lord.
Soften our hearts,
teach us Your Word;
draw us closer to You;
keep us, in one accord!
Hosanna! Hosanna!
Your mercy is here.
Hosanna! Hosanna!
Your mercy is here.
Erase all fear;
cleanse my mindset;
Holy Ghost flow in me-
continually this year!
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Isa 62:11; Matt 21:9; Psa 118:26; Eph 1:13
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 8:00 AM UTC
I live in strange cities and talk with strangers
About things dear to me
I walk on alien paths and eat foreign food
And remember
I paint **** women, their hips large
Dark hair and full *******
And I know
We all seek perfection, not knowing
We are already perfect
I sing, my notes rise and fall endlessly
Like a tireless swallow in the sky
And I praise
Hosanna in the highest
And as the dust motes dance in the wintry sun
In my wooden church, I am transported
To singing with Irish nuns
My skin browner, in a country of heat and dust
A country of mangoes and temples
Of saffron and silks
And as I don my jeans
Memories of my mother’s swishing silks
Take me home
But I live in strange cities and talk with strangers
And home is just another four letter word
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 4:29 AM UTC
I have come to the temple
Of your body. I kneel and prey
Like a sinner. The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances. Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 7:21 PM UTC
Bossa nova, Barcelona, Box and two weeks over,
Music to get hold of,
Newly weds to Right said Fred,
Calypso spot light sun beams down a twinkle baked shoulder to strike a pose.
Bossa nova, what's on, record it,
Promote It with some guile,
He She who stole it,
With limelight their staged arena owned it,
He She dished out the smiles,
They clapped as the show survives,
They danced to each others beat,
Bebop a lula its jive came unique.
Accapella, Bossa nova, Hosanna from the highest,
Bossa nova, a rock n roller, a ballad till midnight,
Encore if you got through the night in hindsight,
Stage Fright had this moment,
What is going on?
Bingo numbers,
Feathers a house!
Bossa nova it aint over till its over as for a starlight it may strike the board with a star face in the sun.
Now maybe, maybe not that's a Bossa nova!
O'Reily@20082014
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
ᚠ Φ
F
Θ ᚦ
no explanations
exist within a geometry outside
the circle, only architecture, sole,
yet the sole geometry of architecture
is an encircling, a lifting,
and had i wrote my poetry
in the comfort of rising beyond Marx
is socio-political schematic i would,
but i rather talk to scaffolders than to poets,
i'd rip my heart through enough thin
veil to prove it so that i shared an entombing of lips
wholly bodied with one! i rather!
care for this ******* Parisian princess
in your divorce as best you can...
i kept a cat for seven years before my neighbour
decided it was time to ***** affection
to an animal neither tilling for ably feeding
to instead choose his daughter as my wife:
i rejected feeling no compass of conversation...
the cat died, i went into the graveyard and dug
a gravestone out and buried my cat in
the moonlight: don't ever come across me and my pet!
you killed half the intelligence that was me!
**** you! humanity engaging with humanity
it plagiarises as itself an ownership to suit puppet
strings like it might tailoring,
POLAND ****** EUROPE!
POLAND ****** EUROPE!
POST COLONIAL NATIONS SEEK NEW *******
TO CRAFT THE LOST COTTON BUDS INTO
GRANULE CEMENT SET! POLAND ******
EUROPE! POLAND ****** EUROPE!
POLAND ****** EUROPE! POLAND ****** EUROPE!
MAMA RUSSIA! PAPA PRUSSIA! HOSANNA! HOSANNA!
LAUREL LEAFS AS I SAT ON THEM! THE CROWN
OF KING TU-154...
ROMANIA DONKEY DON QUIXOTE!
WHOOP WHOOP! WHOOP WHOOP GREK IZLAND
CORFU! then the postman comes with my jealousy
as within reach of hope to attain old age...
(snigger)... i hope i don't... i want million
dollar baby's truth to wake me.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC
You’re the next Jesus Christ,
Waiting to be crucified,
Among your flock of sheep.
Blue eyes ready to slice,
I, your prophet beautified,
Heresy to stab deep.
Let’s gather around you,
To magnify your glory,
Nails to skin under glass.
Raindrops rising from dew,
Superficial & weary,
Ready the blinding mass.
Hosanna of the high,
Dare you me to deny…
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 8:58 PM UTC
You think after so long
The pain would be gone
I know you're home with the Father
But I can't say the same for another
Is my sorrow for my own loss?
Or for others who have lost?
For I have hope, but they have none
But who's to really say till judgment day has come
Openly I weep, I don't care who sees
Out in the open my grief brings me to my knees
Some day I will see you again
So I'll press on until then
I wish you were still here
But I celebrate that you are there
Where angela tread and saints sing
"Hosanna in the highest" "Glory to the King"
How beautiful it must be
But I wish you were here with me
One day you will meet me a the gates
On the day that decides our fates
On the day my body goes to the grave
When my spirit soars and my soul is saved
Once again we will meet
And I'll cast my crown at the Fathers feet
Then we will embrace, before any other
A child reunited with his mother.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 12:51 AM UTC
I have come to the temple
Of your body. I kneel and prey
Like a sinner. The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances. Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 2:49 PM UTC
I live in strange cities and talk with strangers
About things dear to me
I walk on alien paths and eat foreign food
And remember
I paint **** women, their hips large
Dark hair and full *******
And I know
We all seek perfection, not knowing
We are already perfect
I sing, my notes rise and fall endlessly
Like a swallow in the endless skies
And I praise
Hosanna in the highest
And as the dust motes dance in the wintry sun
In my wooden church, I am transported
To singing with Irish nuns
My skin browner, in a country of heat and dust
A country of mangoes and temples
Of saffron and silks
And as I don my jeans
Memories of my mother’s swishing silks
Take me home
But I live in strange cities and talk with strangers
And home is just another four letter word
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 2:22 AM UTC
.
I have come to the temple
Of your body. I kneel and prey
Like a sinner. The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances. Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
TRUE CONQUEST
A bird's resting nest may be very small ,
But that is of no consequence at all !
Since the sky above its head is vast and
wide ,
Where it can spread its wings and fly, -
Across the vast expanse of the ethereal
blue sky !
Here on ground where we jostle for living
space ,
Man’s hunger and greed does not abate !
Alexander , Napoleon, and ****** had tried
conquer and shackle this earth,
But their conquests never could last!
I recall Leo Tolstoy's short story once more.
After having covered the furthest corners
of the land under his feet;
Galloping at top speed to make his conquest
complete ,
The rider totally exhausted falls on the ground,
Collapses and dies without a sound !
Only six feet of ground sufficed for his grave!
And so it has been for the bravest of our braves !
Now I recall the great Buddha under the banyan
tree ;
And the Messiah who entered Jerusalem mounted
on a donkey,
With shouts of ‘ Hosanna’ and with palms spread
across His feet !
Were true World Conquerors beyond defeat!
- Raj Nandy
New Delhi
•
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 12:28 AM UTC
I have come to the temple
Of your body. I kneel and prey
Like a sinner. The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances. Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
i. there’s a girl. narrow-boned, wild hair like a lion’s mane, sprawled underneath the shade of a looming fig tree. her teeth are all that’s sharp about her. soft curves, soft lips, a soft paradox in the Garden. in this lost land, there she is, subtle and tinged with the same stardust you once believed could save us all.
angelic, you’d call her, if she looked more grotesque. more like the cherubim of ol’, dressed in flames, impaled on swords, screeching the name “hosanna, hosanna” without mouths. but there are no wings, no heavenly trumpets, just the afterimage of divinity– something laced with hope, but already rotting. she spits out seven seeds and you don’t know if this is a land of God or gods anymore.
ii. she smiles and it feels like death.
you are unable to solve the riddle sprung from the lion’s ribcage– but the roof of your mouth tastes like honey and blood and you don’t mind. there’s no linearity, no familiar whine of a donkey, nor the sound of sand against gravel or sandaled feet marred by sunburns and blisters.
there is simply you and her and an eternity of possibilities that whisper in a forked tongue, “adam, oh adam,” and your heart drops. is this the end? but it tastes so sweet and you are alright to die like this, cradled between what was once in your womb and a creature of scales.
you do not expect the guilt that drips down your chin with each rivulet of juice.
iii. they call it love.
you call it divine absolution.
she calls it the beginning of humanity.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
Not unknown nor unseen,
but not as conquering hero came.
Not crowned with many crowns,
with unknowable Name,
but as Branch, on Beast that spoke,
departs from the Father, to serve,
with his Body, to pay the Bride's price.
And when in the fullness of time,
on the tenth of the first month,
with a blast of angelic trumpets,
He shall return as King
with Bride and twelve Princes.
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 8:35 AM UTC
sadness.
twisting and coiling its way,
around my frail heart.
sending its deep poison in
through its jeering fangs.
it numbs me.
sweet numbness,
take me away,
to the valley of all things
unfeeling and
uncaring.
i want to know no strength
i want to feel no pain.
sweet poison,
infiltrate my heart,
make me numb.
i am nothing but dead to the world.
because that is what dead people do.
they open a void that ***** people in,
wrapping their hands in chains of gloom.
they cry for help,
beg for mercy.
fools.
wasting their time.
the numb don't feel anything.
only a cold that spreads
through their body
like a virus,
or some sort of
disease.
spreading through them,
filling their arteries and veins,
until they are numb,
like the cold, grainy sands of the earth
they are numb.
they feel nothing.
sweet snake of sadness,
send your venom.
straight to the heart,
send it quick.
for before death,
there is always a great sadness.
but is death ideal?
do i want to eternally
wander the earth waiting for
the mystical hosanna to call us
all for our last judgement?
is death the only means of permanent numbing known?
i mean, there are drugs.
but do they last?
do we last?
what effect do we leave
on this coccoon,
this shell,
of protection called earth?
what do we leave?
do we leave hatred,
unsettled feelings,
and people in chains of sadness?
or do we leave a sunflower?
a sign of hope, peace.
a sign of looking towards the brighter light?
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
Jesus, make me your conduit
Make me your soldier
Who oozes righteousness and
Fervently speaks your word
With passion and praise
May my tongue never cease to praise Your Holy Name
Holy, Holy, Holy
Hosanna in the Highest
I proclaim Your Name on high
Oh, Jesus
Make me an instrument of Your Mighty Word
May my lips thirst for Your Word
May the Longing in my heart fail to cease
Make me Your Conduit
So that Your Word may easily flow through me
Praise Jesus
Yahweh
My King in Heaven
I give you praise.
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
Look! The sky is alive!
A writhing, spitting monster
marking off the years
Hosanna! hosanna!
The gay and massive celebration
swelling in the sweltering streets
hurling fire
and music
and the smell of fresh ribs off the grill.
Good God! Hosanna!
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
on my way to a rose, I passed your father.
he was brushing a moth
from the ageless fly
of his eye. his body
he said
had been called
by a bell. balefire,
mine body.claimed
he’d counted
ever hill
in the midwest. his bike
he’d pushed up
all three. in the late field
your father
did not ask.
I told him you were.
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 1:07 AM UTC
my body, once again, got in the way
of all the softness i can hold in my hands
this is what i seek the most
height, broken neck
i want to hit the water and be embraced
by all the cold, the harmful liquid
damage me more so i can't look at the mirror anymore
my body. it got in the way
of all the softness that i can hold in my hands
won't you stop by and say hi sometime?
this is worthless, for me to leave
i don't cut my hair, nothing has changed
i've been longing for the moment that i'm
finally neutralized
drink me like milk, i want to flow
through your tunnels
warm, smooth, and fatty
i want to find what's on the other side
i held my breath, but it's pointless
no one cares if i'm breathing anyway
see my body once again it got in the way
come, all the softness that i can hold in my hands
come, my forlorn hosanna
come to my throat and i'll drink you like milk
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
Hallelujah and hosanna
To the eternal King
That was in Bethlehem
Judaea gloriously born
That made the heavenly host
To joyfully sing
For man, at whose birth
The devil did mourn.
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 12:27 PM UTC