"plenteous" poems
(Matthew, xiii.3)
Ye sons of earth prepare the plough,
Break up your fallow ground;
The sower is gone forth to sow,
And scatter blessings round.
The seed that finds a stony soil
Shoots forth a hasty blade;
But ill repays the sower's toil,
Soon wither'd, scorch'd, and dead.
The thorny ground is sure to balk
All hopes of harvest there;
We find a tall and sickly stalk,
But not the fruitful ear.
The beaten path and highway side,
Receive the trust in vain;
The watchful birds the spoil divide,
And pick up all the grain.
But where the Lord of grace and power
Has bless'd the happy field,
How plenteous is the golden store
The deep-wrought furrows yield!
Father of mercies, we have need
Of thy preparing grace;
Let the same Hand that give me seed
Provide a fruitful place!
3.8k
Once in a dream I saw the flowers
That bud and bloom in Paradise;
More fair they are than waking eyes
Have seen in all this world of ours.
And faint the perfume-bearing rose,
And faint the lily on its stem,
And faint the perfect violet
Compared with them.
I heard the songs of Paradise:
Each bird sat singing in his place;
A tender song so full of grace
It soared like incense to the skies.
Each bird sat singing to his mate
Soft-cooing notes among the trees:
The nightingale herself were cold
To such as these.
I saw the fourfold River flow,
And deep it was, with golden sand;
It flowed between a mossy land
With murmured music grave and low.
It hath refreshment for all thirst,
For fainting spirits strength and rest;
Earth holds not such a draught as this
From east to west.
The Tree of Life stood budding there,
Abundant with its twelvefold fruits;
Eternal sap sustains its roots,
Its shadowing branches fill the air.
Its leaves are healing for the world,
Its fruit the hungry world can feed,
Sweeter than honey to the taste,
And balm indeed.
I saw the gate called Beautiful;
And looked, but scarce could look within;
I saw the golden streets begin,
And outskirts of the glassy pool.
Oh harps, oh crowns of plenteous stars,
O green palm branches many-leaved--
Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard,
Nor heart conceived!
I hope to see these things again,
But not as once in dreams by night;
To see them with my very sight,
And touch and handle and attain:
To have all Heaven beneath my feet
For narrow way that once they trod;
To have my part with all the saints,
And with my God.
2.8k
On an Archipelago
far from septic isles,
Deep in silent azure
I place broaches and pins
in a wooden box, for safe keeping
And set her dreams on a bed of lichen,
fields of leafy pathway stretching
she’ll nestle woven toad flax and larkspur
to steadfast her conscience.
The Birds of the flock
thrush and dove, sensing her bridle
rejoice in her Mother lode,
precious be their plenteous dawn.
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 1:18 PM UTC
(Ezekiel, xxxvi. 25-28)
The Lord proclaims His grace abroad!
"Behold, I change your hearts of stone;
Each shall renounce his idol-god,
And serve, henceforth, the Lord alone.
"My grace, a flowing stream, proceeds
To wash your filthiness away;
Ye shall abhor your former deeds,
And learn my statutes to obey.
"My truth the great design ensures,
I give myself away to you;
You shall be mine, I will be yours,
Your God unalterably true.
"Yet not unsought or unimplored,
The plenteous grace I shall confer;
No -- your whole hearts shall seek the Lord,
I'll put a praying spirit there.
"From the first breath of life divine
Down to the last expiring hour,
The gracious work shall all be mine,
Begun and ended in my power."
2.3k
A world chock-full of desolate,
To pride of supposed joy I scurry.
A world plenteous of seclusion,
To hubris of felicity I secrete.
A world so stuffed of vain,
To narcissism of hope I scamper.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
I have never been a man of many words.
That is you would not call me by any stretch of the imagination bombastic. Nor would you refer to me as long- winded. I try to be as concise as possible.
I feel that most people have a select few adjective to describe themselves.
Personally chatty, diffuse, discursive,flatulent, loquatious, palaverous, pleonastic, prolix nor verbose would be on this list.
My words are not ample aplenty bounteous bountiful generous plenteous plentiful profuse or super abundant.
And when i make a speech it is not oratorical or overblown...
I am not pompous...I try to be as consise as possible.
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 3:38 AM UTC
Blessed, yet sinful one, and broken-hearted!
The crowd are pointing at the thing forlorn,
In wonder and in scorn!
Thou weepest days of innocence departed;
Thou weepest, and thy tears have power to move
The Lord to pity and love.
The greatest of thy follies is forgiven,
Even for the least of all the tears that shine
On that pale cheek of thine.
Thou didst kneel down, to Him who came from heaven,
Evil and ignorant, and thou shalt rise
Holy, and pure, and wise.
It is not much that to the fragrant blossom
The ragged brier should change; the bitter fir
Distil Arabian myrrh!
Nor that, upon the wintry desert's *****
The harvest should rise plenteous, and the swain
Bear home the abundant grain.
But come and see the bleak and barren mountains
Thick to their tops with roses: come and see
Leaves on the dry dead tree:
The perished plant, set out by living fountains,
Grows fruitful, and its beauteous branches rise,
For ever, towards the skies.
1.6k
Think’st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,
Suffus’d in tears, implore to stay;
And heard unmov’d thy plenteous sighs,
Which said far more than words can say?
Though keen the grief thy tears exprest,
When love and hope lay both o’erthrown;
Yet still, my girl, this bleeding breast
Throbb’d, with deep sorrow, as thine own.
But, when our cheeks with anguish glow’d,
When thy sweet lips were join’d to mine;
The tears that from my eyelids flow’d
Were lost in those which fell from thine.
Thou could’st not feel my burning cheek,
Thy gushing tears had quench’d its flame,
And, as thy tongue essay’d to speak,
In sighs alone it breath’d my name.
And yet, my girl, we weep in vain,
In vain our fate in sighs deplore;
Remembrance only can remain,
But that, will make us weep the more.
Again, thou best belov’d, adieu!
Ah! if thou canst, o’ercome regret,
Nor let thy mind past joys review,
Our only hope is, to forget!
1.5k
Aug. 10. 1653.
Answer me when I call
God of my righteousness;
In straights and in distress
Thou didst me disinthrall
And set at large; now spare,
Now pity me, and hear my earnest prai’r.
Great ones how long will ye
My glory have in scorn
How long be thus forlorn
Still to love vanity,
To love, to seek, to prize
Things false and vain and nothing else but lies?
Yet know the Lord hath chose
Chose to himself a part
The good and meek of heart
(For whom to chuse he knows)
Jehovah from on high
Will hear my voyce what time to him I crie.
Be aw’d, and do not sin,
Speak to your hearts alone,
Upon your beds, each one,
And be at peace within.
Offer the offerings just
Of righteousness and in Jehovah trust.
Many there be that say
Who yet will shew us good?
Talking like this worlds brood;
But Lord, thus let me pray,
On us lift up the light
Lift up the favour of thy count’nance bright.
Into my heart more joy
And gladness thou hast put
Then when a year of glut
Their stores doth over-cloy
And from their plenteous grounds
With vast increase their corn and wine abounds.
In peace at once will I
Both lay me down and sleep
For thou alone dost keep
Me safe where ere I lie
As in a rocky Cell
Thou Lord alone in safety mak’st me dwell.
1.4k
I will tell you when they met:
In the limpid days of Spring;
Elder boughs were budding yet,
Oaken boughs looked wintry still,
But primrose and veined violet
In the mossful turf were set,
While meeting birds made haste to sing
And build with right good will.
I will tell you when they parted:
When plenteous Autumn sheaves were brown,
Then they parted heavy-hearted;
The full rejoicing sun looked down
As grand as in the days before;
Only they had lost a crown;
Only to them those days of yore
Could come back nevermore.
When shall they meet? I cannot tell,
Indeed, when they shall meet again,
Except some day in Paradise:
For this they wait, one waits in pain.
Beyond the sea of death love lies
Forever, yesterday, to-day;
Angels shall ask them, "Is it well?"
And they shall answer, "Yea."
1.4k
(Isaiah, xii.1)
I will praise Thee every day
Now Thine anger's turn'd away;
Comfortable thoughts arise
From the bleeding sacrifice.
Here, in the fair gospel-field,
Wells of free salvation yield
Stream of life, a plenteous store,
And my soul shall thirst no more.
Jesus is become at length
My salvation and my strength;
And His praises shall prolong,
While I live, my pleasant song.
Praise ye, then, His glorious name,
Publish His exalted fame!
Still His worth your praise exceeds;
Excellent are all His deeds.
Raise again the joyful sound.
Let the nations roll it round!
Zion, shout! for this is He;
God the Saviour dwells in thee.
1.4k
O Tree of art!
let me give you
ample sunshine.
Let me give you
plenteous water,
I pray you grow
tall and wide,
I pray your branches
grow day and night,
I pray you bear
fruits bright, but
be cautious, make
sure your branches
don't cross boundaries
of sharia, For beyond
its boundaries thier
is blazing hell fire.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
*'Brownleaf Chestnut giants rattle like Spanish dancers , maracas crackle in the changing wind , do perform auburn 'Lover of Autumn' before the plenteous , frosted daughter of Winter , before Sun sprinkled dale , fig , lilac
Atop the red-rock spillway , as the piping martins , the whippoorwill
question , the wild goose direction
Voice of the swallow , of tenderness and regal griffin
Coppering , flint sparked showers upon the grindstone , mesmerizing
twilight orbs , polished gems , starlight Guatemalan priestess* ....
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
from a wonderful night
she came alive
oh my country
obscured in her gloomy might
her love seemed so right
the feign of her tattered story
she bears the burden of Africa
the reign of her battered glory
her body abut and juxtaposed Madagascar
I wish that I fly away
from my path
I might not stray
from the start
I was taught to pray
my dreams to soar in beautiful array
as the nation saddles in its own barrage
lamentations of 56 years' blink
I see on eagle's wings what victory brings
the joy of 36 shining gold rings
too bright to look at
naming and counting one for each
and when twilight was reach
in plenteous joy and happiness
to the people my heart outreach
compensation for years lived
in wood and ash
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 11:47 AM UTC
The night is dark, and full of terrors
So much dark days
Even the lights seem to struggle.
I heard there is a beast now lurking around
Even lovers don't seem to cuddle.
Plenteous scarcity of good
Amidst the abundance of evil.
Some heard:
"Thou shalt not do evil."
Others only need a Simon,
to let em know:
"That there is no beast in these shadows
No,
It's only the King of the Flies perching around
Atop a filthy desire to create evil among their kind.
Alas, they'd better know tho'
That that incarnate resides in us all
We'd better Recognize!
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 4:56 AM UTC
everyday i'm discussing with everyday, myself as i make out to the glamouring
the inches and dashes of every self i have
and stitches of sinew here in which lies the me that is this i, i that am
i walked in leaves of grass, of wriggling splendor's summers of shoulders
and achy crimsoned necks by the suns meters of light
measuring the stints of our crawling opaque days and suns of many sons
it's very that is that even when sun should repose his ***** of uncadenced
carefully miraculous shimmering blood
like orange and ardent flesh he'd go on us it, giving his very stuff our bodies
to wear on our wheres and whens and whys. is night not also beautiful?
it is naked beautiful. **** and beautiful
plenteous and beautiful with all its hearts in tinder palely igniting every
atom of copious earth. bowls of copious illuminant children, the things
which will become after us
the us that we were before their coming. but they are gorgeous and neither
would i weep if in my going they should take that space where were was
i. resting the shouts of my self
in the orchards of youth, i am now so but it's quickly running, flitting
eagerly from my this. in vines and plurals i am single and many. neither
none nor many. but many ones,
little bubbles of tranquil vile fluid guttering the songs of wind.
i go to streams and they are me. i go to mountains and they are me. i go
to valleys and they are me.
can i be streams and mountains and valleys? can i not be streams and
mountains and valleys? they are weeds and i am a **** a **** is a rose.
i am rose.
i am blossomed in full spring. able of petals. i am turned to the sun, with my
root between the lips of earth. who is my lover. the earth is woman.
she is a ****
a **** is a rose.
by another name. they smell just as sweet.
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 11:21 PM UTC
Neither male nor female but Spirit. Referred to as He so that our puny 3 1/2 pound brains could understand that He is the Author of all things.
When asked Who He was, He simply said,
"I AM."
He is unlike anything we could possibly comprehend. Unlike our Earthly fathers, He will never leave you nor forsake you.
He loves and forgives unconditionally. He puts our misdeeds (no matter how heinous) in the deepest sea of forgetfulness. He is slow to anger and plenteous in Mercy. Even though we had forsaken Him, and all He had to offer us, He will run to us, hug us, and throw a feast for us when we return to Him!
He reads to us, and sings over us.
He gave us the Greatest Gift of all.
His own Son.
The Lord Jesus Christ.
Who died for us that we would not taste death. He was separated from His Father for a time (on the cross as He took on our sins) that we would be joined with Him eternally.
God the Father.
My Father.
Your Father.
Let's honor Him today!
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
My soul out in a burning mist
My body in the worst of dens
To feed it and forget it, the leaves among it
Silence with that murmur, the swung wicket
Its a broken hearted nemophilist
Here
The neck your mother's arms caressed
A handful of blossoms I plucked
Hands tied up and darkened
Great black spots where the blood has run
When we were rich in the crevice
We had our bodies burnished
Night shacking up, so we've furnished
Not a plenteous sort of season, time of year
Blue-black, lustrous, masculine eyes
Barricaded by trees, fields, and grime tears
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
&&&
still passionate though
/frothing/foams
"jeddah"
"a simpleton, gives wayy too ".
the landscapes.an excerpt_luxomberg-
along the /tumultus ,dry
the same dayy
footing
it coms 2 itt noww,,a cold..trance ,, embezeled
!! forr ,regressed. ,thoseof us VISIBL- Keene
it is finally-plenteous
breathing!a more juniper
. . cold. \ invisible,grooming////
turns outt___
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
*Does life teem beneath the ice ?
A hardened facade meant to protect
and hide , to reflect a star gone wild ,
a leviathan bridge to the other side-
as the tadpoles beneath continue to forage for
their lives in relative peaceful devise
Tis a moral dilemma to puncture such a shell
Ironically toying with a newfound civilization ,
inflicting damage , a population in fear of total
destruction just as we've gradually , thoughtlessly
pillaged our own , a once plenteous reserve becoming empty
Like Bluejays overtaking the nest of a weaker entity*
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
Dearly beloved,
Yet, here we are, again,
Winding down another year's grind & hustle,
365 daily sweating the bustle;
Forgive me, whither I crossed you,
Mine spirit doth deeply begeth your forgiveness,
Aye, the new year can only get better,
Sharing renewed happiness and plenteous laughter;
Our losses, though they hurt,
Yet all glory to Yahweh all mighty,
Christ, Yeshua, continues to reign,
Constantly soothing our searing pain;
I love and cherish you,
Please find a reason to love me, too,
Never doubt the authenticity,
Toward you, of my heart's clarity;
And as another journey beckons,
Into the the daily unknowns,
Remember, Yeshua will intercede for his own,
As he sits, aright, Yaweh's heavenly throne.
Dec 22, 2019
Dec 22, 2019 at 1:04 AM UTC
In the brief life of our mistakes
The Lord has given us our eternity
In what was never meant to last
here there was yet justification and if
It endureth even the briefest moment
Immortal; Eternal. Minimal yet
So plenteous they are they that is
Sufficient to life everlasting; and as
The memory of our mistakes blazes
Unto the unremembered ashes
As by the light of the sun are we given
All of our days on earth as in heaven
For the One who made us is merciful
For by Love all that is made to endures
Endures while what passes away leaves
Us with the gift of its time Our time
Be merciful and thank the Lord for the
Gift of what is gone while we yet love
Strange what is heard forever echoing down
The corridors of time is the children's laughter
and a still small voice saying: Come play with
me Come play with me again One more time".
Aug 18, 2022
Aug 18, 2022 at 12:57 PM UTC