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"tamar" poems
Widowhood is not a curse, ladies Widowhood is ordained by God Bible and Qur’an teaches about widows Tamar in the Bible married twice. Tamar was widowed twice. God had a plan for Tamar. Khadija was a widow married twice. Her second husband was young Mohammed Allah had a plan for Khadija. Zainab and Zubaida two sisters Two sisters bound by widowhood. God had a plan for Zainab and Zubaida. Leah Rabin and Jehane el-Sadat widows Their husband sought peace, they were killed. Jehane and Leah had no fear, God had a plan. Widowhood is not a curse. Widowhood is ordained by God God has a plan for all widows, have faith.
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Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 10:58 AM UTC
Widows
THE KNIGHT IN THE PANTHER’S SKIN ***** Rustaveli (c. 1160-1250), often called simply Rustaveli, was a Georgian poet who is generally considered to be the preeminent poet of the Georgian Golden Age. “The Knight in the Panther's Skin” or “The Man in the Panther’s Skin” is considered to be Georgia’s national epic poem and until the 20th century it was part of every Georgian bride’s dowry. It is believed that Rustaveli served Queen Tamar as a treasurer or finance minister and that he may have traveled widely and been involved in military campaigns. Little else is known about his life except through folk tradition and legend. The Knight in the Panther's Skin by ***** Rustaveli loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch excerpts from the PROLOGUE I sing of the lion whose image adorns the lances, shields and swords of our Queen of Queens: Tamar, the ruby-throated and ebon-haired. How dare I not sing Her Excellency’s manifold praises when those who attend her must bring her the sweets she craves? My tears flow profusely like blood as I extol our Queen Tamar, whose praises I sing in these not ill-chosen words. For ink I have employed jet-black lakes and for a pen, a flexible reed. Whoever hears will have his heart pierced by the sharpest spears! She bade me laud her in stately, sweet-sounding verses, to praise her eyebrows, her hair, her lips and her teeth: those rubies and crystals arrayed in bright, even ranks! A leaden anvil can shatter even the strongest stone. Kindle my mind and tongue! Fill me with skill and eloquence! Aid my understanding for this composition! Thus Tariel will be tenderly remembered, one of three star-like heroes who always remained faithful. Come, let us mourn Tariel with undrying tears because we are men born under similar stars. I, Rustaveli, whose heart has been pierced through by many sorrows, have threaded this tale like a necklace of pearls. Keywords/Tags: ***** Rustaveli, Georgia, Georgian, epic, knight, panther, skin, queen, Tamar, praise, praises, Tariel, Avtandil, Nestan-Darejan
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Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 1:38 AM UTC
THE KNIGHT IN THE PANTHER’S SKIN
THE KNIGHT IN THE PANTHER’S SKIN ***** Rustaveli (c. 1160-1250), often called simply Rustaveli, was a Georgian poet who is generally considered to be the preeminent poet of the Georgian Golden Age. “The Knight in the Panther's Skin” or “The Man in the Panther’s Skin” is considered to be Georgia’s national epic poem and until the 20th century it was part of every Georgian bride’s dowry. It is believed that Rustaveli served Queen Tamar as a treasurer or finance minister and that he may have traveled widely and been involved in military campaigns. Little else is known about his life except through folk tradition and legend. The Knight in the Panther's Skin by ***** Rustaveli loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch excerpts from the PROLOGUE I sing of the lion whose image adorns the lances, shields and swords of our Queen of Queens: Tamar, the ruby-throated and ebon-haired. How dare I not sing Her Excellency’s manifold praises when those who attend her must bring her the sweets she craves? My tears flow profusely like blood as I extol our Queen Tamar, whose praises I sing in these not ill-chosen words. For ink I have employed jet-black lakes and for a pen, a flexible reed. Whoever hears will have his heart pierced by the sharpest spears! She bade me laud her in stately, sweet-sounding verses, to praise her eyebrows, her hair, her lips and her teeth: those rubies and crystals arrayed in bright, even ranks! A leaden anvil can shatter even the strongest stone. Kindle my mind and tongue! Fill me with skill and eloquence! Aid my understanding for this composition! Thus Tariel will be tenderly remembered, one of three star-like heroes who always remained faithful. Come, let us mourn Tariel with undrying tears because we are men born under similar stars. I, Rustaveli, whose heart has been pierced through by many sorrows, have threaded this tale like a necklace of pearls. Keywords/Tags: ***** Rustaveli, Georgia, Georgian, epic, knight, panther, skin, queen, Tamar, praise, praises, Tariel, Avtandil, Nestan-Darejan
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27
how many rapes jokes does it take to be funny? he knows the answer is none. no one had to tell Amnon the sin in taking Tamar, nor was Duryodhana confused when he patted his thigh mocking Draupadi, nor Dusshasana dumb when attempting to disrobe her. yet you chant men need to understand, to read and watch our unending torment to understand evil.
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Jun 30, 2020
Jun 30, 2020 at 11:02 AM UTC
he knows
Look in the mirror. What do you see? I see a girl smiling back at me. With sad, tired eyes that screams of insecurity. I see who I am And in the reflection, I realized I do not like what I see. I see a wretched being with a scarred past, full of lies and lust, and grief and anger, and sorrow and distrust, and wounds that never healed fast. I see a liar, a cheat, a master manipulator, people-pleaser, pretender, a great actor, putting up a sweet, gentle, soft-spoken, prim and proper front, but living the life of a desperate ********** by the well. A scarlet letter in disguise. Present day Magdalene. Tamar, ravaged, broken, defiled, bruised, bleeding, dead. Worthless. Wearing a mask of a strong warrior, everything alright. Silver tongue, knows all the right words and how to say them. But behind the mask is a broken, scared little girl too conscious of her glaring, blazing, flashing neon light, flaws: ugly, fat, unworthy, undeserving, disgraced. I see an ungrateful woman given grace, only to rebel again for the hundredth time. I hung my head and closed my eyes, shame creeping in my heart. I heard my reflection call my name. "Look up. Look at me once again." And I did. Because there is something about the voice, something so gentle, so compelling, so attractive, and warm that I couldn't resist but follow it. A tender voice full of love. A voice that made me feel known, fully known, and still accepted. A voice so full of love it quieted the shame. I looked up and saw myself. Basked in a glorious light that isn't mine. Shining so bright. Radiating beauty that didn't come from me. I saw myself clothed in white, pure and holy, and pleasing to the eyes. No longer a wraith. I looked and saw myself through my Savior's eyes: a princess, a royal priesthood, a bride, a daughter, a warrior. Chosen and cleansed. I looked and saw myself but the face on the mirror was my Savior's face. It was His beauty I radiated, His light I shone. He exposed my flaws and revealed that in Him I am a new creation. I am a new creation. Even if I don't see it sometimes, I am a new creation.
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Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
His Word is a mirror
Look in the mirror. What do you see? I see a girl smiling back at me. With sad, tired eyes that screams of insecurity. I see who I am And in the reflection, I realized I do not like what I see. I see a wretched being with a scarred past, full of lies and lust, and grief and anger, and sorrow and distrust, and wounds that never healed fast. I see a liar, a cheat, a master manipulator, people-pleaser, pretender, a great actor, putting up a sweet, gentle, soft-spoken, prim and proper front, but living the life of a desperate ********** by the well. A scarlet letter in disguise. Present day Magdalene. Tamar, ravaged, broken, defiled, bruised, bleeding, dead. Worthless. Wearing a mask of a strong warrior, everything alright. Silver tongue, knows all the right words and how to say them. But behind the mask is a broken, scared little girl too conscious of her glaring, blazing, flashing neon light, flaws: ugly, fat, unworthy, undeserving, disgraced. I see an ungrateful woman given grace, only to rebel again for the hundredth time. I hung my head and closed my eyes, shame creeping in my heart. I heard my reflection call my name. "Look up. Look at me once again." And I did. Because there is something about the voice, something so gentle, so compelling, so attractive, and warm that I couldn't resist but follow it. A tender voice full of love. A voice that made me feel known, fully known, and still accepted. A voice so full of love it quieted the shame. I looked up and saw myself. Basked in a glorious light that isn't mine. Shining so bright. Radiating beauty that didn't come from me. I saw myself clothed in white, pure and holy, and pleasing to the eyes. No longer a wraith. I looked and saw myself through my Savior's eyes: a princess, a royal priesthood, a bride, a daughter, a warrior. Chosen and cleansed. I looked and saw myself but the face on the mirror was my Savior's face. It was His beauty I radiated, His light I shone. He exposed my flaws and revealed that in Him I am a new creation. I am a new creation. Even if I don't see it sometimes, I am a new creation.
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114
The Catholic Church was founded by violent pedophiles;  Jesus was known to lay w/ twelve- year-old girls & Elijah liked young boys; Lot offered his ****** daughters to a violent mob, David's son Amnon ***** his half-sister Tamar; centuries of pedophiles, robbers, murderers & thieves, who worshiping the king of thieves, practice what the Good ****** preached
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Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 6:44 PM UTC
all the men who ****** the Pope
it was 99 degrees so tamar and i took 5 shots of tequila each and lied down on asphalt that was 99 degrees hotter 199 degrees watching clouds melt into each other like they were scenes from an old black and white movie and singing songs about jesus until god's tears began to fall down on us. -z. vega
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Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 5:27 AM UTC
on summertime in talladega
We frolic and laugh, for the dragon sleeps. We glory in the pleasure of this short summer, the cool of the brook and the still warming sun, for the dragon does still sleep. We will not give good attention to the dark, though it sits not so far away. We play at peace, for the dragon does still sleep. We shall not quieten, for he more than slumbers, his sleep is the sleep of the near dead, though he may yet rise and torment us once more. We will not wait on that future fear. We will rather frolic in the warmth of sun and laughter, for the Tamar dragon does still sleep. And we know a Champion who is a slayer of all our dragons.
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Mar 15, 2025
Mar 15, 2025 at 2:28 PM UTC
Crossing The Brook of Tamar
Sometimes in life, a preference Is but the lesser of two evils, Like choosing ***** or Gemorah; And sometimes it is a sacrifice, As palpable as Abraham and Isaac's. Sometimes choosing means Standing by the roadside With your thumb straight out, Your heart a wide open chasm To swallow the sinner in you whole, And blank eyes screaming "I don't know". Sometimes you're a Tamar, And people, bless their hearts, Think you're a Sara or Rebecca And you just feel like a big ol' Delilah. Sometimes your face feels like the Red Sea, Only the dry land is wet with snot, And sometimes despite it all, You raise your hands up in the air And the sun stands still In the valley of Refaim or Aijalon. Sometimes your Temple burns, You realize your body is the loot And you barely recognize the ornaments. But even when you're exiled In the solitude of your own mind, There remains the promise of redemption, And whether Messianic or romantic, You must have faith in the intervention That will guide you towards the future from Isaiah.
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Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
More Truth to the Book
They wonder about whether and how it can happen to the sweetest and gentlest. but King David had a daughter. and ****** in his family. Just keep loving through the healing. and know even a princess hurts.
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Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 1:06 PM UTC
Tamar
His list is long— as he pauses on life and Mount Wellington's shadows shift. Those stealing life's song out of young shoots breathe the longest while his beloved dies young. Scars bleed droplets, not gushing like Cataract Gorge when scratched, or touched afresh; not given space— how he was stung is remembered. He tries to be the sunrise over Bruny Island, but redback spiders imbibe shadows lying dormant assessing risk, ready to strike. Wounds murmur in the Tamar River objecting, having heard it all, wearing down joy's clouded lightness. Rasping scrubwrens warn while falsity sharpens its spike. Flattery's forked tongue is honeyed as leatherwood, but synthetic— He resists its bait, casting it past the Derwent; his skin crawling at false charm. He retains his grounded sense of self. Time doesn't wipe it all clean to heal— it calcifies into chilled stone like Cradle Mountain's fissured misted face with sticks of pine trees burnt while eucalypt gums regenerate, partially blind. His garden grows wild now through rambling cracks as grasses from a cemetery head-piece sport defiant blooms of an unaccepted genus. Memory is a compass pointing due north past Port Arthur's harried walls and Antarctic gales as tales of unfinished lives see, and wait—
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Jan 15, 2025
Jan 15, 2025 at 6:01 AM UTC
On hold...
100 mm. | | | | They are gone Opportunities. I'm a baby This is a problem. Here is a Tamil number Hands. Five lines are fair. He's with you 100 mm picture, "OK". We have to do it Naturally. | Good books Friends of Friends Of 100 games, Many species: are    |      Edison Edison Davita. 100 mm. | | | | It is not in this place. I am a child. In this respect, like the number of Tamil today is easy to use. The five climbers. in Photos about 100 mm, "OK". The Of course. | and good Books, friends, dogs. 100 games However, due to the large number of Edison's Edison Republic of Edison. 100 mm. | | | | | | | | | Mi Children. People RE. The eyes of Tamar are the glory & Must be completed. *********** New Year. 100mm Alman Application "Band". Luck No. | | | | Heaven, Lord! Sara's wedding to a girl named Sara! More than 100 ||| THOSE Mail IS FREE Edison Edison Davis. 100 mm. | | | | | | | | | small The sons. those who are not. CSA target target value. New Year's Eve. Ali quipped 100mm "Death" application. no capital | | The sky, oh! wedding and the bride Sarah, Sarah? More than 100 ||| this Edison's book by Edison Davis.
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Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
Sara's wedding to a girl named Sara!