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 Posted: Mon Nov 20, 2006 9:28 am
Yeah this is a poem I wrote a few years ago around easter. It's not my favorite,but I figured that I would share
You curse me
You beat me
You whip me
I love you
You damn me
You heard me
You strip me
I love you
You stab me
You cut me
You hang me
I love you
You mock me
You drain me
You kill me
I love you
You hide me
You mourn me
You miss me
I love you
You find me
You see me
You feel me
I love you
I free you
I save you
I lead you
You love me
"He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit
and born of the virgin Mary.
He suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died and was buried.
He descended into hell.
On the third day he rose again.
He ascended into heaven,
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again to judge the living and the dead."
PS: if you want to read some of my other poems you can check it out at http://www.fictionpress.com/~orionmctempest
thanks
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Posted: Mon Nov 20, 2006 4:51 pm
Not sure why you wouldn't like this one. It's so simple, but very powerful. I'll admit it gave me chills to read this. I absolutely love it. heart
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High-functioning Businesswoman
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Posted: Thu Nov 23, 2006 4:18 pm
What an intersting idea! I really love the symbolism of this poem!
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Posted: Thu Dec 14, 2006 9:30 pm
I really like this poem and i read a few of your other ones which i absolutly loved.
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Posted: Tue Jan 09, 2007 8:42 pm
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Posted: Thu Feb 15, 2007 8:41 pm
I know God is working through this poem.
Thank you for posting it.
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Posted: Sun May 27, 2007 3:07 pm
If you don't mind, I'd like to share a poem in response.
The Messenger
“Here none but echoes wander, seeking voice
With which to rise in singing and rejoice.”
And footsteps like the puddles filled with awe
Which sprout to earth when winter starts to thaw,
He walked, and picking apples from the trees,
Beside the shadows and the stormy seas;
An apple for the butterflies, the ferns,
An apple for the clouds the sun discerns;
If every beauty of the earth bore fruit,
Then hunger would quit talking and go mute.
“Here treetops reign like kings above the land,
And branches grow to wander hand in hand.”
The baskets climbed into his waiting arms,
And, loaded up with fruit, gave forth their charms
Unto the thirsty world: Where children stood
Like haunted, hunted statues made of wood,
The baskets came, deliverance to bring
To every cornered soul which longed to sing:
If every lonely child gave warmth and light,
Then Sun would need not rise to end the night.
“Here we must learn to wander on the earth,
And wander with all strength, for all it’s worth.”
He spent a life, and more than that, astride
A pair of feet which found all ground untried;
The sweet complexion of the earth made pure
To him the things that seemed to all obscure,
But still, with perseverance till the end,
He lived to love, and all the earth befriend:
If every star and every flower smiles,
Then who am I to speak of weary trials?
- The Autocrat
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