"hymning" poems
Give me a golden pen, and let me lean
On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far;
Bring me a tablet whiter than a star,
Or hand of hymning angel, when 'tis seen
The silver strings of heavenly harp atween:
And let there glide by many a pearly car
Pink robes, and wavy hair, and diamond jar,
And half-discovered wings, and glances keen.
The while let music wander round my ears,
And as it reaches each delicious ending,
Let me write down a line of glorious tone,
And full of many wonders of the spheres:
For what a height my spirit is contending!
'Tis not content so soon to be alone.
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... So, praise the gods, Catullus is away!
And let me tend you this advice, my dear:
Take any lover that you will, or may,
Except a poet. All of them are queer.
It's just the same -- a quarrel or a kiss
Is but a tune to play upon his pipe.
He's always hymning that or wailing this;
Myself, I much prefer the business type.
That thing he wrote, the time the sparrow died --
(Oh, most unpleasant -- gloomy, tedious words!)
I called it sweet, and made believe I cried;
The stupid fool! I've always hated birds ...
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Heaven, heaven is one breath away! Heaven, heaven is someone’s array of death and decay. May I say? The havens and heavens above is a way for the doves and for its love. For the day, the gay, the gray, the prey, the stray, the Sundays and sunrays! Heaven, heaven is a hideaway, a passageway, a safe way, a sway away! Heaven, heaven
is basically, eccentrically, theoretically and poetically for some of the
awesome that blossom! It’s an anthem or a poem! It’s fearsome, it’s freedom and a kingdom of wisdom! Heaven, heaven is a place of face, grace, race and trace. It’s full of allure and demure! It’s rest and a test assured! Where, there you can invest the best and insure your problems can be cured! Heaven, heaven’s characterized cries and eyes! The flies, the lies, the prize in disguise! Its skies, ties, the whys and the
wise. Footprints and imprints of ancient legends of heroes, Negroes and Neros of long, long ago! Heaven, heaven’s gorgeous doorsteps! Yep! Its havens grand, take a stand. Many brands, many hands, many
strands of many sands! Heaven, heaven is enormous and glamorous! It’s where adjacent, impatient humorous, numerous followers throng and prolong! The bleak, meek, the weak, the strong and wrong! There
is where, reactive in proactive citizens and frail senior citizens hail and sail! They prevail as they unveil! They thrive and throng to there,
where righteous, brightness belongs. Heaven, heaven all adhere and hear! The allowed, the followed, the hallowed, the supreme cloud towers and gracious powers! Heaven, heaven basked and tasked by thy masked gleam. Aside, inside it seemed I was alone…
As I cried, as I sighed! Tied in wonder, under the heaven’s throne of wonder! In blunder, as I wondered if I were dead? Instead, black crows in rows, attacked and flew over my head! Squawking, talking, flying asunder, with plunder, plunder, under the thunder, thunder! Definitely bringing me to my knees! Infinitely squawking, talking, flying around me with ease, glee and tease! Please heaven, heaven!
For instance in the distance... It’s dreamingly and seemingly quaint you see! Faint sounds of angel’s hymning and rhyming! Their heavenly, heavenly, singing, ringing triumphantly, triumphantly! Although, through the distance and persistence in time; we to will hopefully and loyally dine. Dine in thrill, on the heaven, heaven’s divine! Amen all children, men and women, heaven, heaven amen.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC
Dark Silhouttes are filled with billions of stories to tell about the righteous
A tragedy that truth had to die in the first century; buried by false statements that carry no debates
Still we search for something to believe in
Only to fatten ourselves with excess demons
Righteous men learn by themselves but in this generation the righteous men are the wolves
And they taught me that Jesus is lord, that Jesus is king of kings and that he will save us all
But deep down I know
THAT JESUS WAS NOTHING BUT A SCARECROW
for that remark, they will all mark me as a demned sinful human,
Only last week did i see-: mocking birds in the sky hymning a melody to the forsaken men who among themselves joined the wolves
"I am the sheep that the wolves will never eat" I said
And then christmas finally came and darkness crept in the room that I lay
As i was awaiting the Death of Death and the birth of Eternity
I am sorry, but the darkness was too much for me to handle when christmas came, Lest! a Mystery a werewolf I became!
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 5:42 PM UTC
oh what a beautiful friend
death then seemed to be
as the stars cannot shine for my eyes
as the night cannot shield daylight
as sleep could not take everything away
as day never refuses to exile night in dismay
as the sun could not help the wilted flower,
as the child holds its moans from its mother
as the mother takes the broken flower,
and cradles it gently across her palm,
hymning
he loves me,
he loves me not,
death loves me,
loves me not;
loves me,
loves me not,
loves me,
loves me n-
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
these are the times of flowering
throwing out seeds to the winds
birds eggs nests and hatchings
learning to fly in stillness and wind
to balance on spindly legs while
walking on the rotating seasons
bat flight in moon light and insects
by the millions all alive and living
short seasonal thanksgivings
hymning to the universe that's
black and cold with stars warming
other worlds who rotate barren
of life and look on with great envy
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC
mystery shaped voices sing
across centuries of language
songs of joy and the weeping
of mothers and widows for
loss of sons and husbands
these voices of many tongues
join into one choir of hymning
to life and love and parting
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
Hank Williams was hymning
“I Saw the Light” that night
when after dispatched glasses
of small-batch bourbon
and increasingly tall tales
of sorrow, heartache, and woe
Uncle Rick removed his right eye
and handed it to me unsolicited,
an alabaster marble in his palm,
the iris cobalt blue—coral icing
around a hearse-black funeral pie.
After a lifetime of wondering,
my fingers brushed his hand
and I knew he saw me plain.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
the wind is spiraling
the wind is spiraling
it is the rage
which has no object
the indignation
which cannot spread
is spiraling
the tempest is
scattering
the hell is
sparkling
under my skin
I am waiting for the thunder
I am waiting
to become the spiral
to shiver
and to sparkle
but the spiral is
withering within
and all my devils are
hymning to the wind
when will I learn
the hell
is me
and the devils
are mine
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 6:36 PM UTC
A Ritual is Never Hollow
A ritual is never hollow; sweet words,
Happy ancient words, from the dawn of time,
Sung through the air, refreshing as a waterfall
Discovered at dusk on a marching day:
A ploughman bidding his beads to Jerusalem
A child who’d rather not sit still during Mass
A holy sister hymning along the Rhine
A wise man seeking still that elusive Star
Heal chaos through their living in the Hours -
Oh, no – a ritual is never hollow
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
In an act of offering, a century-old love was forsaken
The memories of naked showering now swim
In a tank of rapacity, in the suit of purity
Slowly from one end to another
Holding the scripture of ignorance
And intolerance
The collection of roadside fortuities, so scrupulously made,
Now also swims in the tank of rapacity
In the suit of cordiality
Slowly from one end to another
Holding the scripture of impatience
And negligence
In the nights of obscurities, climbing the ladder of lust
Sins are toweled dry
Hymning is performed, smelling delicious
When few more desires rise *****
Eyes are welled up in contempt, yet in compassion
Standing on the ruins of confessions, the promise was protected
The promise was protected, on an act of offering
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 1:55 AM UTC