"shalom" poems
If you should hear me
Say Ave,
Don't presume
You hear me pray;
It's just one way
For me to say,
How 're you?
If you should hear me
Say Shalom,
Don't assume
You heard a Jew,
I'm only offering
Peace to you.
If you should hear
Namaste,
Don't be amused,
I'm not Hindu,
I bow to the good
I see
in you.
Then again I say
Waz sup,
You don't think
I'm Gangsta,
You know I mean to say
Les hang togetha.
Does it really matter
What you heard;
The silent or the spoken word.
Words spoken in brevity
Are heard with sincerity;
But there's none more true,
Than
I Love You.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 7:35 AM UTC
Suspected of attack
On fascist Graziani
He was in house arrest
As the case was with
Suspects the rest.
A prisoner of war
Then via Somalia
He was sent to Rome
Found a black lion
If left at home.
Together with
A prison inmate
From Yugoslavia
Called Julio
He made a rope
Out of a blanket
The reason
To descend down
And escape
From a tower prison.
In a show of contempt
Defying officials' attempt
To smoke out a fugitive
On the hide
The two at eventide
Returned to open fire
And attack guards
To set free prisoners
Indeed, victory was
On their side.
Leading partisans
Abdissa made it his duty
To gruel fascists
With insurgent activity.
What was the outcome?
Parallel to the allied forces
When he entered Rome
With Ethiopia's tricolor
Around his wrist
He was accorded
A warm welcome.
Then he turned his face
To allied-forces'-
'For Berlin' race
In rooting out **** troops
He spurred the pace!
Asked to stay in Europe
He said shalom
"Home sweet home!
As written on the bible
Can an Ethiopian change
His skin
or a leopard its spots?
Doing so
Will it not be a sin?"
The unsung hero
Returned to Addis
Turning Fascist and Nazis'
Wild dreams to zero!
Sep 11, 2020
Sep 11, 2020 at 11:53 PM UTC
There is a certain mystique about Essex County where Wiccan boutiques smite the eyes with linguistic confusion.
Salaam reminds me of cold meat and Shalom reminds me of Welsh breakfasts even though the 1700s knew nothing of peace.
So, now that we almost reach the threshold of Spring Aequus Nox, I commend Julius Caesar for his respect towards atmospheric refraction.
We need to talk.
Come on, and let us delve into classical and mythological philosophies where games of death are an aphrodisiac with a sprinkling of risqué.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
(Judges, vi.25)
Jesus! whose blood so freely stream'd
To satisfy the law's demand;
By Thee from guilt and wrath redeem'd,
Before the Father's face I stand.
To reconcile offending man,
Make Justice drop her angry rod;
What creature could have form'd the plan,
Or who fulfil it but a God?
No drop remains of all the curse,
For wretches who deserved the whole;
No arrows dipt in wrath to pierce
The guilty, but returning soul.
Peace by such means so dearly bought,
What rebel could have hoped to see?
Peace by his injured Sovereign wrought,
His Sovereign fasten'd to a tree.
Now, Lord, Thy feeble worm prepare!
For strife with earth and hell begins;
Conform and gird me for the war;
They hate the soul that hates his sins.
Let them in horrid league agree!
They may assault, they may distress;
But cannot quench Thy love to me,
Nor rob me of the Lord my peace.
2.3k
I am hurtling through tight pressed air,
524 miles per hour, 33,000 feet;
all recycled oxygen and stiff limbs,
with miles below and miles above.
These are miles that think;
miles that raise questions
leave the answers floating
like clouds; peaceful, turbulent.
I know the boy next to me,
deep thoughts muddled and made murky
in the midst of the changes;
and I hear the kid behind me,
screams of laughter
or maybe terror, I can’t tell which;
and I see the girl across the aisle,
flinching with every turbulent cloud;
and I wonder if we are all in the same boat,
or plane, if you will.
My clouds are much the same,
murky and turbulent
thinking about where I have been
where I am going,
returning only to leave again,
this time unfamiliar, unwanted, not understood.
But I am now winged with new friendships
ready to test time,
and a strong prayer for faithfulness
to outlast all.
I am not ready for what lies ahead,
but I have come to find
that I often never am,
and never will be.
I am one for whom
peace is not easily found,
thus instead I am practicing patience;
and I have begun to say shalom.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
A different skin tone
A different tongue
What does it matter?
We’re all born young –
Innocent and naïve
Until the world infects
Our minds and makes us harm
The world we should protect
A different belief
A different home
But what is the difference
Between “Hi” and “Shalom”?
Or “As-Salamu Alaykum”
And “Peace be with you”
In the end we’re all humans
Christian or Muslim or Jew
And it’s all rather silly
If you care to think it through
How we need to differentiate
And separate me and you
Just because we were born
In a slightly different place
Into a different religion
Into a different race
‘Cause we’re humans and we bleed
The same colour of red
We need the same things
To be loved and fed
Even if I lived a world away
It matters not in the end
We’re all in this together
You and me, my friend
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC
When she talks about it,
it makes it real.
Her vulnerability,
is their's to steal.
It's what she fears,
forever and always.
So she speaks not a word,
she shies away.
In large group,
she feels their eyes.
Fixating on her,
calling on her lies.
They know that she,
is holding something back.
But she hasn't told them,
yet what it is she lacks.
She's scared, she's afraid,
what will they think.
As they stare at her,
she feels herself shrink.
The memories so tough,
she wanted to forget.
This isn't what she signed on for,
this isn't what she meant.
But once she starts,
she just can't stop.
She hands start to shake,
her cheeks get hott.
When she finishes her story,
she looks up with tears.
They put their arms around her,
comforting her fears.
They accept her for her,
past present and all.
Holding her up high,
comforting her when she falls.
These people are members,
of the House of Shalom.
With open hearts and arms,
this place is home.
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 11:46 AM UTC
Pax.
Pax.
Be with you.
Peace train.
Peace Corps.
Power to the peaceful.
Peace or violence?
The peace of the grave?
Shalom, amani, pagas:
Peace.
To the far off.
In the streets.
Peace child.
Peace.
Strums a guitar.
The sound of the stars.
Your face in my heart.
Blessed are those who make: peace
on earth,
between brothers,
with God.
Peace
of path.
Of mind.
Of sleep.
Peace
I leave with you.
Peace, foreigner
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 5:33 AM UTC
~~~
I pray this every morning.
And with every ♥ I put on your
Site I ask God to remember this
Prayer for you.
Creator Father,
**Jehovah Rohi ~ our Shepherd
Jehovah Nissi ~ our banner
Jehovah Rophe ~ our healer
Jehovah Jireh ~ our provider
Jehovah Shalom ~ our peace
Jehovah Shammah ~ our ever present help in times of trouble
Jehovah Tsidkenu ~ our righteousness
Jehovah M'Kaddesh ~ our sanctification**
God in all your manifestations
Be with my friends today.
Give them
*emotional
mental
physical
spiritual
relational (interpersonal)
marital
******
financial
educational
employmental
creative*
healing, growth and restoration.
Make every aspect of their humanity
WHOLE. HEALED. DELIVERED.
Let no weapon formed against them
prosper as it says in Isaiah 54:17
Let all who look upon them
do so with favor.
Place warring angels all around
them to protect them.
Put your loving arms around them
and bring them hope.
In Jesus Christ's Name I pray,
AMEN
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
I am not of darkness, but i'm in the dark.
If I am not lost, I am slowly losing it.
As the Babylonians babel on, i wander on,
lost while wondering when the future shall fall.
Shalom, shalom,
and into the night of day we go.
each with flame that flutters and fluctuates amidst the noise of reality,
certain to ignite a side to the worlds duality.
there is a lost freedom in this land,
and if we are but angels
we are but angels at war with God with gods.
and if we are but gods
we are as foolish as they come.
is this darkness on the dawn?
shadow in the night,
find the light
find the light
find the light.
Even I whose soul is as the night can love its loving bright.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
Mind and body were weary...it was the
Third night of nine anticipated dawn masses...
Most people were yawning,
Fighting the urge to nod and start snoring...
Trying to finish what they started,
To have their petitions granted.
The Reverend read the gospel,
Emphatic, spotlight was on him as he preached
About greetings, prayers and good wishes.
He didn't want to see more sagging heads
Among his audience,
So the Reverend spoke louder,
In high tones, but with a smile,
Aiming for his sermon to reach every ear.
Surprisingly,
The sleepy atmosphere became lively...
Every face turned to a smiley,
Laughing, murmuring about the funny stories
The good Reverend was sharing
During his homily.
Recessional hymn started...
We all rose from the pews.
On my way out,
I bumped into somebody
I had avoided meeting for sometime now...
But there she was, in front of me...
We both stopped, at a loss for words,
With no ****** reactions.
It so happened that
The good Reverend passed us by...
He looked, absorbing emotions...
He bowed his head,
Then turned to me, and smiled...
I sensed the air, the hint.
Without much fuss,
I smiled at the unavoidable someone,
The one with the unwelcome face,
Who brought some unpleasant news
With her usual audacity.
No more turning back,
I was already there, in that part of the evening's drama...
So I held her hand,
And as she hugged me,
I heard myself utter, "Shalom!"
The way the Reverend said it in his sermon.
Why was it not so difficult that moment,
When I used to be so unwilling before?
But...it was over, done.
We went our separate ways...
I could not believe I told her
"Hello! Goodbye! Peace!"
Walking home, a thought kept nagging me...
I dwelt on it, for it had happened twice already.
In the church, strange things do happen,
Strange occurrences that lead to
Happy endings.
I recalled the good Reverend...
He didn't usually pass my way...
Why that strange but encouraging, soothing smile
As he passed us...WHY?
Also, I could never forget his homily...
His funny, lively stories
About a greeting, a prayer...
A word that brought good wishes...
A single word that said a lot---
" S H A L O M ! "
Sally
Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. bayan
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
i stepped on toasty autumn leaves
following shadows of honey bees
while test tubes filled up with rain
i counted the miles between us again
you washed your hair in peanut butter blues
licked raspberry jelly off the top of my shoes
laughin your way up until
i drank the breeze through the window sill
i did all i wished with our time
in bed and out of line
our story began in a sunday dream
while i did my laundry
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 9:33 PM UTC
Surrender, Submit & Commit
Just do it and be Legit.
Commit to Yah with your Heart, mind, body and soul.
Let Him take hold and be in Control.
Stop hiding, stop fighting, just Surrender.
Lift your hands and bask in the ambience of His great splendour.
Submit to him full custody
Put your faith and Truth in Thee.
Choose Wisely before you Serve Adonai.
Because you must serve him Spiritually and Truthfully.
Enter into Shalom, no more rigamarole.
The goal is to console,
Renew your mind and be made whole.
Surrender, Submit & Commit
Sit and think on it for just a tad bit.
I hope you can understand these words i spit.
Because its for your benefit.
Take heed to these words and embrace it.
Are you ready to Surrender, Submit & Commit?
Mentally without a doubt
Are you are ready to see what he's is all about.
Gracefully to him bow,
So do it, right here, right now!
Fully give yourself to him, Admit.
Surrender, Submit & Commit.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
With the Hebrew letters of MEM,
VAV, LAMED and SHIN, one finds
an inner meaning overlooked by
most people; it also condemns
those who are following Satan.
Although its primary influence
is a declaration of serenity
and peace, souls may be shaken-
as they learn about the prayer’s
prophetic nature; its numeric and
pictographic language contributes
another, sizable spiritual layer
to its foundational definition.
At its core, it translates to:
“Destroy all authority connected
with any chaos and confusion.”
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 1:10 PM UTC
Am truly grateful for hosting you
In my life you lived like a superstar
More popular than the TV soaps.
In the Hollywood of my friends you shinned,
Before disaster was born to us
We made thousands of decisions
But Never was fate included.
Many had made glorious entries
But unbearable departure.
It was intended to love and never to hate
To have and never to loose.
What would you do if one morning
All joy turned to fear (dreams to past)
Hopes into sorrow
To chase so shortly
And gone too soon
I presumed I was preventive
But it happened; like death steals the living.
A disease undiagnosed
With no announcement to make.
Have got no more to chase
Cause the choice isn’t mine to make.
The beauty and fantasies
Now buried in disappointment .
Your face smiles with hatred and shame
………..Shalom to you
Who crippled the Love that I had
And washed my efforts to dust
Nothing left to protect
Rather all left to the blowing wind
To determine its direction and destiny.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
I am a passerby. A hello and goodbye. A "it is nice to meet you and I hope we meet again soon." I am a "I love you, I wish we could have been more."
I am a mystery. A staring of the eyes and hoping the person's yearnings were heard, seen, understood. I am what you wish to have, but will never obtain.
I am silence. I am a midnight blues and you are the sun. Wishing to cast your light on me, praying we could journey on.
I am a passerby. Watching those that walk by come and go. I am a passerby, witnessing many, wish to understand me more. I am a passersby, in love with solitude and galore..
A passerby that wants nothing more than simple conversations, intriguing looks and long gazing truths. I am a passerby, that has no time for relations, no time for more.
So please pass me by and let the memory of me, hold you close at night. I am a passerby, only meant to be spoken to for the night.. Shalom
Sincerely,
a servant
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 7:42 AM UTC
Let us sleep
like the staircase
that once led up to the Temple Mount
no longer able to carry pious feet to prayer,
but the well experienced cracks
over which they once walked
expose the heavy burden
of well worn memories
under which we now slumber.
Sunrise from Masada.
The view from the casemate wall
of Silva's camp below.
Shadowy ghosts
are cast and scattered
and given voice as the wind
shouts through the buildings ruins
L'-he-rut Zi-yon
and there is no reply.
Only the songs of the Tristramit
who mimic the voices
of every child martyred here, singing:
*Shalom al Ziyon, Shalom al Ziyon"
and there is no reply,
only the dreams of the interrupted
and the disturbed peace
of excavated ruins.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
Shalom
you said
but Fay's father
ignored you
on the stairs
of the block of flats
you were only trying
to make peace with him
because of Fay
but he wasn't
buying into any Jewism
as he termed it
forgetting that
his Jesus said head
of his Catholic Church
was a Jew himself
but that was
another matter
so you let him go
on his way
up the stairs
humming some
Latin hymn to himself
later seeing Fay
on the way
to the grocer's shop
through the Square
she said her father
had forbidden her
to even talk with you
(the Jew Boy
he had said)
but she knew it was
impossible even
if she wanted to
which she didn't
despite the risk
she ran in seeing you
or talking with you
I only said shalom to him
you said
she frowned
it means peace
you said
I could have said
something else to him
less friendly
she smiled weakly
best say nothing
she said
o.k
you said
so you walked with her
to the grocer's shop
across the road
and along to the grocer's shop
by the newspaper shop
where they had
The Three Musketeers book
in the window
which you wanted
to buy at sometime
and you showed her
the book and the cover
with a picture
of three musketeers
sword fighting
and you walked on
to the grocers
and she bought
what was on her list
and you got
what your mother
had written
on a small scrap of paper
and afterwards you said
how about a penny drink
at the Penny shop?
and she looked anxious
and said
not sure Dad said
not to linger around
well don't linger
you said
but have a drink
and we can sit
by the wall outside
and see the world go by
and sip our drinks
she hesitated
but then said
o.k
so you took her
to the Penny shop
and bought two bottles
of penny pop
and sat outside
by the wall
your shopping bags
beside you
the morning sun
blessing your heads
and she talked
of the nuns
at her school
how strict they were
but one she said
was kind
and taught her
the Credo in Latin
word by word
and you sat
listening to her
and she sitting there
momentarily free
like an uncaged
song bird.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 3:03 AM UTC
The Brits were twits in '29,
I reckon mandates were not their cup of tea.
I suppose silence speaks louder than a noose,
And that as long as one is civilized, we may agree to disagree.
Enemies share common grounds-
Blood to be spilled, one pair apiece of shoes,
Salaam, shalom, auf wiedersein, tootleoo.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 3:02 AM UTC
Our Dear
Mother
Father
God,
I am thankful for every blessing you send.
And have gifted us
throughout all the ages of our existence.
The present.
The past and the futures to come.
If I may
ask of you, please,
as you have touched my spirit,
let others see my souls illuminations.
A glowing of your infinitively divine
love and mercy.
Touch all things.
My brothers,
sisters,
the soil and growth,
the animals and trees.
All of us, together on this earth.
We all vibrate with your melody.
A techicolor sound.
Hums and wispers
of you.
I ask of one more thing,
if I may.
Spark curiosity of this glow that we have
deep within our souls.
Let others see the colors,
the light,
the joy and the peace.
The comfort.
Let it spread across the nation,
like the burning down and
building up of a new tomorrow.
I pray,
the fear in our hearts transends
into a journey,
an adventure
for truth.
That we may live as one.
One world.
One harmony.
One Humanity.
If I may,
a prayer for others.
Those who are lost.
Confused.
Broken.
Let us forgive those who need forgiven.
Help those who need help.
And love everything
as we love ourselves.
May all the asended
Masters,
Guides,
Teachers,
Travelers,
Marters,
Angels and Archangels
and every being that possess
your divine love and light,
join us on this journey.
Let us all sing one song,
hum one melody,
and whisper one name.
As we travel forth to worlds unseen and dimensions unknown,
as we journey along this earth,
exploring every beauty you have created
for us to discover.
A treasure hunt for the ages.
We love you
Mother
Father
God.
Namaste.
Blessed be.
Ashe.
Salaam.
Shalom.
Amen.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
I have lived in this area for the better part of my 66 years on this earth. Most years we have a garden. This year is no exception. Strange weather has taken it's toll on the plant life. I have never seen such a sorry growing season as this one. Squash and cucumber plants have all died!! Tomato plants are spindly, and most tomatoes rot before they can be harvested. We have to pick them green and let them ripen on the windowsill. The same for the pepper plants. Normally, at this time we have an abundance, and are able to share with neighbors. Not this year! The other day we went to a local Amish farm stand that we frequent. Their stand should be brimming full of produce. They had maybe 25% of normal. It was sobering, to say the least! They had no squash, as theirs also died. They didn't have much of anything. Their fields look as bad as our garden! The only crop that seems unaffected is the (most likely GMO) corn - which is doing great!
Flowers are faring no better. In years past there has been an abundance of butterflies, as we plant flowers that attract them. So far we have only seen one or two butterflies!!! The flowers that attract them are a sorry looking lot. We have an almond tree, which the local squirrel's enjoy in the fall. We noticed a frantic squirrel the other day, devouring the not yet ripe almonds. The way the plants are looking, this area will be blessed to have any vegetables or flowers left in August. No way will any make it until fall!
We have also noticed a return of buzzards. At our local park they are now everywhere again. They are not afraid of people or other animals. They will let a human get as close to three feet from them before they move away. So arrogant! They seem to know that they are soon to partake of a feast, as "where the carcass is, the vultures gather". So says Jesus. Walking our five dogs past them was rather creepy.
The local health department says bird flu is heading to this area by September. The Delmarva peninsula is home to many, many poultry farms - including Perdue, and supplies much of the mid- Atlantic and beyond, with poultry and eggs. It looks like we are heading into a fall/winter of shortages. I hope everyone has heeded the watchman's warnings - as if not - time is just about up!
I pray that each of the Lord's people will be able to endure to the end. May Lord Jesus bless all who are his!
Shalom, Dolores
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
Fay can see Baruch
from the window
of the living room
down on the area
of grass below
he is alone
sitting on one
of the bomb shelters
left over
from the war
she peers down at him
taking in
the cowboy hat
the silver looking
6 shooter toy gun
he seems
to be cleaning
she wishes
she was there
with him
but her father
says she is to stay in
and learn about the saints
and said he will
quiz her later
when he gets home
from work
about them to see
what she has learnt
the book
is on the chair
unopened
a bookmark
of St Benedict
lies on top
her mother
is in the kitchen
preparing soup
she knows her mother
would turn a blind eye
if she wanted
to go out
but they both know
that her father
would punish her
if he caught her out
especially
with Baruch
the Jew Boy
as her father calls him
the killer of Our Lord
he often says
although Baruch
denies being involved
in any way
she hopes Baruch
will look up
at her window
and see her
he has put his gun
in the holster hanging
from the belt
of his jeans
and holds a rifle
bought for him
for his birthday
he aims at the sky
and twirls around
pretending to shoot
pigeons flying
over head
she watches him
as he aims
at the coal wharf
where the coal carts
are being loaded
with coal
from chutes above
her father doesn't like
Baruch even though
Baruch always smiles
and says shalom
to him if he passing
her father on the stairs
of the flats
Baruch says
her father is a schmuck
but she doesn't know
what that means
but if Baruch said it
it must be a nice term
she thinks wiping away
the steamed up glass
where she has
breathed on it
she blows him a kiss
from the palm
of her thin hand
he doesn't know
but he'll get it
any how she knows
he aims at
the steam train
passing over
the bridge
by the Duke of Wellington pub
she smiles as he does
the kickback
from his rifle
the train passes
unharmed
the driver unaware
he has been fired upon
by a cowboy
from the grass
she eyes him
determinedly
wants him to look up
at her window
he lifts the rifle
to the sky again
and fires
then he pauses
lowers his rifle
and stares at her window
she waves
he looks
she waves frantically
he looks away
she bites a lip
he stares up
at her window
and beckons her down
with a wave
of his hand
she waves
crossing her hands
as if to say
can't come
he gazes
and then waves
and blows a kiss
from his hand
upwards
then he climbs down
from the bomb shelter
and disappears
the grass is empty
he has gone
the book of saints
lies on the chair
unopened
she goes
from the window
and picks it up
and opens
and begins to read
sensing
a good portion
of her 11 year old
girl's heart
bleeds.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 2:04 AM UTC
To have questions is a blessing
To have no answers is a curse
like a song without music
or a verse
No beat to bob your head
just silence in your headphones
louder than a gospel chorus
Breathing won't cool your porridge
per se
Looming thoughts are howls in the forest
Not day
And your a long way
from home
Hello, Hi, Shalom
barely phase the surface as you roam
inside your mind's cage.
Can't turn the page
cause the book is glued together.
Like feathers
Confidence falls from the sky
as you drip-dry
fresh from a sea of doubts.
You can build a house
with hay
but hey, bricks can be thrown
when the wolves are at bay.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 4:59 AM UTC
They say your house
is your home
but can it still be
when it's the place that tears thee
heart fragile as a *******
cries of laughter
burning your soul
left a big hole
now I feel empty
echoes of a memory
now I am running
the distance is stretching
searching for a home
where there will be shalom
when can I finally say
"I'm home"
or, did I went astray?
now I wish haven't gone
making me lonesome to the bones
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 2:26 AM UTC