This is so not true. The thread is not dead - it's just resting. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
The Messiah I heard the Messiah was coming, it's supposed to happen soon. I wonder, will it be at one o'clock, two o'clock, or noon? Guess it doesn't matter cause I am going to Hell anyway. At least that is what they tell me, that is what they say. I am an abomination, not worth breathing the air I breathe. Unless of course I repent and believe what they believe. I heard the Messiah was coming, it's supposed to happen soon. I wonder will it be at one o'clock, two o'clock, or noon? ©2001
~offers Evilpoet some applausePlease Register or Log in to view the hidden image! <b>knows she's going to hell with or without repenting</b>
silver, No offence or anything but enough of this idle chit-chat. What other poetic type musings ya got? Care to share? Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! Curious question - are there any more poets out there who care to share?
########################################## ######### For a Friend ##################### ~~~~~~~Tormented's Gifts~~~~~~~~ I'll Never tell Tormented, she's surely going to hell.... I won't try judging her heart, of her secrets I'll never tell.. She walks her own path to glory, she fears her own kinds of ghosts . Her grace given by the power to her , of it, I Cannot boast... She may very well be blessed , in many ways that are not mine.. Her light may Wax Brighter than the sun, With her own very speacial Shine.... I'll keep my tongue firmly clamped, I'll not Have anything to Say... Tomented may have many gifts, that never come drifting my way.. Ones Spirit is so personal, who can possibly understand.. From the little Mouth of the Baby Child, or through the eyes of the weary man.. The Windows to the soul are Shuttered, cloaked in a wispy Veil Which is the Road to Heaven? I know well the road to Hell... For it can be a circle, with no corners to stop and rest.. spinning dizzy, in slow motion, then faster, to a painful crest.. Weary souls will weaken soon, as ones guts begin to roll.. the Demons sit hard and heavy, the endless pain does ..take its toll.. The cries of the spirits caught, in the whirlpool of darkend dread.... mouths screaming, forming words, cold silence only instead... Some came on the Holy sabbath, full of praises for only self.. paid their path to Church with money, sang a song, then they left.. While passing many needy, shaking heads, oh sorrow, oh how sad.. but its back to work on a monday, back to shrewd and mostly bad.. In the days of the coming ending, so many will they smirk.. and say my heaven, is promised unto me.. even though fellow man I shirked.. Squeeze through the eye of the needle, push the camel, Now time to Go... multitudes will mill together, that the Creator, Did NOT know.... ~CountrySlim~
Hayat yasamaktan ibaretse ....... Buyrun Yasayin .......:bugeye: Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
Here's a political poem. It's good to be topical. Innocents Turn the tv on, channel 7 news, watching the insanity, watching the innocents die. Terror is what I feel, when I see where, their choices are taking us, and I try to hide, to close my eyes, but all I can see, is the innocents die. Why can't they see, war is not the way, there's so much we could be, but instead the innocents die. Where do nations get off, choosing our paths for us, why do they think, they can sentence us to die. Understanding, just too hard for them, and I try to yell, still the innocents die. I rise up, pound my fists against the screen, I'm sure the world can hear my scream, and still the innocents die. I fall down, all resistance gone, all I can do is sigh, and still the innocents die.
I will sing to thee the song of my Beloved. Where the soft green slopes of the still mountains Meet the blue shimmering waters of the noisy sea, Where the bubbling brook shouts in ecstasy, Where the still pools reflect the calm heavens, There thou wilt meet with my Beloved. In the vale where the cloud hangs in loneliness Searching the mountain for rest, In the still smoke climbing heavenwards, In the hamlet toward the setting sun, In the thin wreaths of the fast disappearing clouds, There thou wilt meet with my Beloved. Among the dancing tops of the tall cypress, Among the gnarled trees of great age, Among the frightened bushes that cling to the earth, Among the long creepers that hang lazily, There thou wilt meet with my Beloved. In the ploughed fields where noisy birds are feeding, On the shaded path that winds along the full, motionless river, Beside the banks where the waters lap, Amidst the tall poplars that play ceaselessly with the winds, In the dead tree of last summer's lightning, There thou wilt meet with my Beloved. In the still blue skies, Where heaven and earth meet In the breathless air, In the morn burdened with incense, Among the rich shadows of a noon-day, Among the long shadows of an evening, Amidst the gay and radiant clouds of the setting sun, On the path on the waters at the close of the day, There thou wilt meet with my Beloved. In the shadows of the stars, In the deep tranquility of dark nights, In the reflection of the moon on still waters, In the great silence before the dawn, Among the whispering of waking trees, In the cry of the bird at morn, Amidst the wakening of shadows, Amidst the sunlit tops of the far mountains, In the sleepy face of the world, There thou wilt meet with my Beloved. Keep still, O dancing waters, And listen to the voice of my Beloved. In the happy laughter of children Thou canst hear Him. The music of the flute Is His voice. The startled cry of a lonely bird Moves thy heart to tears, For thou hearest His voice. The roar of the age-old sea Awakens the memories That have been lulled to sleep By His voice. The soft breeze that stirs The tree-tops lazily Brings to thee the sound Of His voice. The thunder among the mountains fills thy soul With the strength Of His voice. In the roar of a vast city, through the voices of the night, The cry of sorrow, The shout of joy, Through the ugliness of anger, Comes the voice of my Beloved. In the distant blue isles, On the soft dewdrop, On the breaking wave, On the sheen of waters, On the wing of the flying bird, On the tender leaf of the spring, Thou wilt see the face of my Beloved. In the sacred temple, In the halls of dancing, On the holy face of the sannyasi, In the lurches of the drunkard, With the harlot and with the chaste, Thou wilt meet with my Beloved. On the fields of flowers, In the towns of squalor and dirt, With the pure and the unholy, In the flower that hides divinity, There is my well-Beloved. Oh! the sea Has entered my heart, In a day, I am living an hundred summers. O, friend, I behold my face in thee, The face of my well-Beloved. This is the song of my love. jk
Re: The Messiah wow, I'm not usually one for poetry but I really like that one. *bows before the goodness* *isn't worthy* hehe.. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! seriously, very nice.
Thank you. Now, be quiet and post some more of your poetry. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
whispers... The Whispers of the memories, are blowing in the pines.. like the whispers of the memories, that flow in my mind.. Lttle voices hard at play, very happy, no care... the small footprints, in the dust,, that used to be there... Those little children have gone now, wind blew the prints away.. with small whispers in my mind, the small children will stay.. The whispers of the memories, always blowing, in my mind.. of the fighting, and fussing, those were some fine times.. Peacemaking the little children, teaching peace, not fuss.... little ones who grow up, become mirror images..of us.. The whispers in my ears, of being a DAD* not perfect, I'm sure, but I gave it all I had.... I value the whispers,, not faint, alway near... for in a blink, of an instant,, little children are always here........ ~CountrySlim~
THIS ROSE... A FRESH NEW ROSE,, JUST PICKED FROM THE BEST.. I GIVE THIS TO YOU,, I'VE ACCEPTED THE QUEST.. TO LOVE YOU, AND KEEP YOU,, TILL DEATH DO US PART.. I GIVE YOU MY LOVE,, I GIVE YOU MY HEART.. WITH A WARM HAND ..TO HOLD,, AND A SHOULDER TO STAY.. I GIVE YOU MY LOVE,, I'LL LOVE YOU ALWAYS... ITS A DELICATE THING NOW,, THE SOFT PETALS THAT GLOW.. TAKE HOLD OF IT GENTLY,, WATCH AFTER ,, THIS ROSE.. ~ COUNTRYSLIM ~
my room;;; welcome!! tomy room,, full, of all kinds of stuff!! some are very shiney,, some, are very rough!! theres always room, for many yhings,, many, are dis-allowed!! cause ,, in my room, of many things!! only , shiney things are allowed!! theres, many corners,, in my room,, narrow alleys, and blind walls!! but,, in my room,, theres safety!! my hands,, to catch your fall!! if,, you come, into my room!! uninvited,,, if you dare!! your stay will not,, belong indeed!! with bad spirits,, I WILL NOT SHARE!! SO if yor evil,, and pass my room,, don't bother to stop and knock!! CAUSE, in my room , of shiney thing,, for YOU this door is LOCKED!! IN MY ROOM,, theres many,many candles,, with LITE,, that ,FLICKERS AND GLOWS!! THE COMFORT,, THAT, that lite brings,, ONLY THE SHINEY,,,, WILL EVER KNOW!!! *****COUNTRYSLIM*****
GranMaw's ... Job! At the times when your heart, is dazed and confused, And your brain is weary, and you feel soo.. used,, Think of the joys, of the brand new spring,, The beautiful butterflys, and the birdies when they sing,, The lush green of the grass, daily it grows,, The feel of warm sand, as it sifts through the toes,, The shrieks of the children, gaily they play,, Feel the warmth of the sun, make the best of the day,, How short they can be, the ones wasted are gone,, Stop and smell those roses, humm a *happy song*,, Life is too short, to worry and fret,, Theres still lots to do, and ya ain't quite done yet,, You are someones savior, they depend on you still,, With sweet huggs and kisses, you ward off the chill,, A beautiful heart,, is a glory of the best,, Angels wrap you in comfort,, when you finally..pass the test! Your place on earth,, the most speacial job of all,, just doing what you do best,, a wonderful Grann..Maw. ~ CountrySlim
been kinda of waiting to write this one. I wrote it today. Im going to take it and make another form of it. Its really special to me. you may not get it but hopefully. like it? I suppose its in the eye of the beholder... no? Brightened .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. I walk, Sad, Tired and alone. No energy, No will, No cheer. I see her. She see's me. Smile. Alone? no Tired? not anymore Sad? not now For only a moment? An hour? A day? Her smile of gold. No, priceless. Beautiful. I walk, Warm. Lightened. Brightened. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Later T
