This is nourishing, redemptive; we become less alone inside.
quote by David Foster Wallace
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And...
And...
This is tragic.
Although he claims to choose this existence.
Quick smiles he'll deliver with a slow burning charm.
Carries he does a deep sadness he feels,
With a nourishing need to harvest and farm!
Tragic in relationships.
Distrusting feeling
To entrust who he is with!
Pained with scars embedded not to show.
Hidden from his laughing lips,
The urgency he knows.
And even though his heart still seeks...
He feels no one there,
Who will appreciate him enough...
Enough to meet!
He has stopped looking
For suitable 'promises',
Made to his heart he once prayed to keep!
And...
This is tragic.
Although he claims to choose this existence.
Quick smiles he'll deliver with a slow burning charm.
Carries he does a deep sadness he feels,
With a nourishing need to harvest and farm!
Weeping alone and sowing misery.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Needing Only the Benefits of Time
That which is accustomed to nourishing,
And doing this on its own...
Will continue to do so.
Regardless who believes it to be fragile,
Upon their chance discovery of its growth.
That which is accustomed to nourishing,
And doing this on its own...
Will continue to do so.
Regardless who believes it to be fragile,
Upon their chance discovery of its growth.
A growth done unnoticed,
Does not prevent the experience of it,
Because this process is not seen.
The importance of its development,
Is not reliant upon the approval of observation.
And a healing of a wound isn't done,
Under constant surveillance.
An effectiveness to do this has already begun.
Needing only the benefits of time...
With faith and patience to succeed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Ode To The Detached Leaves
Ah! The blows of autumnal wind,
Cold and callous, have encroached at last,
They have made the leaves their victims.
Look! they fall like drops of rain,
Bearing no strength of their own.
They move with the gushes of wind,
Without their own consent,
They oscillate on the wings of some invisible agents,
Who possess the secret powers,
To dispose what one proposes.
I recall once they were attached hard,
To the branches and boughs of the shadowy trees;
And sap ran into their veins,
As blood runs into the human network;
And they fluttered resisting each coldhearted gust.
They were resolute to go through each ebb and flow,
Establishing firm relations to the nourishing limbs.
And Mother Nature came stealthily to give them wash,
At the moonlit nights with the drops of dew.
While they fluttered, they produced symphony,
Unknown even to the ancient master musicians;
And they whispered in mysterious sounds,
Only understood by the cuckoos or nightingales:
The singers and agents of the feral world.
Now they rustle with each move of the autumnal gusts,
Or crackle under the feet like too crispy dried petals;
And some float on the stagnant water with green surface.
Ah! 21st century is the dawn of autumnal winds,
The blows and fatal gusts have diverted the civilizations,
And they now move on the tracks of conflicts,
Human beings fall like leaves, waft along the blows,
Detaching themselves from the nourishing boughs
And shadowy branches of faith, love and tolerance.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Cultivating Romance
In marriage so often romance is just misunderstood
It’s not about a man or a woman trying to be good
Perhaps it’s where the nourishing should begin
A rhythm of romance, of each nourishing, from selfish sin
Silly, though, how we all push things just to be right
Instead of developing communitive bonds against the night
Even God is into romance, of relationships and Love
As with Biblical patterns from His Good-Book, up above
Selfishness hinders us from love’s great liberty
But when we nurture our loved-one we begin to see
That, it’s more about timing and loving consistency
Like a rainbow rang of antics against loving resistancey
poem by ArmourQuill Hunter
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Daisy
daisy, give yourself away
look up at the rain
the beautiful display
of power and surrender
giving us today
when you yourself away
rain, another rainy day
it comes up from the ocean
to give herself away
she comes down even
and all of us the same name
when you give yourself away
let it go
daisy let it go
open up your fists
this fallen world
doesn't hold your interest
doesn't hold your soul
daisy let it go
pain, give yourself a name
call yourself contrition
aberits of fame
giving isn't easy
if anybody'd like to say
if you give yourself away
daisy, why another day
why another sunrise
who's gonna take the blame
for our redemptive motion
and every rainy day
when he gives himself away
let it go
daisy let it go
open your fists
this fallen world
it doesn't hold your interest
it doesn't hold your soul
daisy let it go
song performed by Switchfoot
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There's only one effectively redemptive sacrifice, the sacrifice of self-will to make room for the knowledge of God.
quote by Aldous Huxley
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I have made a film about jazz that tries to look through jazz to see what it tells us about who we are as a people. I think that jazz is a spectacularly accurate model of democracy and a kind of look into our redemptive future possibilities.
quote by Ken Burns
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If physical death is the price that I must pay to free my white brothers and sisters from a permanent death of the spirit, then nothing can be more redemptive.
quote by Martin Luther King, Jr.
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However it is debased or misinterpreted, love is a redemptive feature. To focus on one individual so that their desires become superior to yours is a very cleansing experience.
quote by Jeanette Winterson
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The Triumph of Love
I
Sun-blazed, over Romsley, a livid rain-scarp.
XIII
Whose lives are hidden in God? Whose?
Who can now tell what was taken, or where,
or how, or whether it was received:
how ditched, divested, clamped, sifted, over-
laid, raked over, grassed over, spread around,
rotted down with leafmould, accepted
as civic concrete, reinforceable
base cinderblocks:
tipped into Danube, Rhine, Vistula, dredged up
with the Baltic and the Pontic sludge:
committed in absentia to solemn elevation,
Trauermusik, musique funèbre, funeral
music, for male and female
voices ringingly a cappella,
made for double string choirs, congregated brass,
choice performers on baroque trumpets hefting,
like glassblowers, inventions
of supreme order?
XIV
As to bad faith, Malebranche might argue
it rests with inattention. Stupidity
is not admissible. However, the status
of apprehension remains at issue.
Some qualities are best
left unrecognized. Needless to say,
unrecognized is not
unacknowledged. Unnamed is not nameless.
XVII
If the gospel is heard, all else follows:
the scattering, the diaspora,
the shtetlach, ash pits, pits of indigo dye.
Penitence can be spoken of, it is said,
but is itself beyond words;
even broken speech presumes. Those Christian Jews
of the first Church, huddled sabbath-survivors,
keepers of the word; silent, inside twenty years,
doubly outcast: even so I would remember—
the scattering, the diaspora.
We do not know the saints.
His mercy is greater even than his wisdom.
[...] Read more
poem by Geoffrey Hill
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Accented merit
Accented merit twines his diligence,
Spring morning on pelted blossom petals
forsooth perceptual force experience
redemptive muse bestows the war's medals.
Opalescent far stars, cold nacreous view,
companion souls had left, in bold retention,
from onset comely death not to eschew,
absconding to the night's stardom ascension.
Siren of Had's invoked by modes of aves,
of Sacred Legion robust fighting knight,
proud in ablution Styx, departs to aboves,
Day nuptial of his nymph renders in light.
pean of Dorians and crimson dew cloves,
embellished lithe Naiad to embrace on sight.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Freed To Serve
Today I serve the King of kings, proclaiming the freedom He brings,
Freedom from the sin in your life, in a world where temptation is rife;
God sends The Spirit to dwell within, to guide us in this world of sin,
And through His Spirit, living inside, in Christ our Lord we can abide.
Through God’s work of Grace, I was bought from sin’s marketplace,
Paying for me redemption’s price, in full, through His Own Sacrifice;
Providing me New Life in Christ, and granted from God, Eternal Life,
God giving me what I don’t deserve, The Lord now, I gratefully serve.
Reasonable service, for you and me, for all that God did on Calvary,
When He allowed His Only Son to die, in the place of both you and I;
Now giving us Good News to herald, to this lost and darkened world,
Taking to each and every nation, The Good News of God’s Salvation.
Christ finished the redemptive part; God wants from us a willing heart,
To become The Lord’s living sacrifice; for our part, that is a tiny price;
Today wanting us to leave old ways, to live our lives for God’s Praise,
To leave old, sinful ways behind, as Christ renews our heart and mind.
No longer are we to be conformed, to this world, but, be transformed,
Into the very likeness of God’s Son, to be God’s witness to everyone,
Called to service, to be His Light, in a world where wrong seems right,
Faithfully serving the King of kings, while in our hearts, freedom rings.
(Copyright ©03/2010)
poem by Bob Gotti
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Freedom To Serve
Become God’s servant to be free, when you go through Calvary,
The only place on earth indeed, when as a servant you are freed;
Freed through the Blood of Christ, from the bondage of this life,
A Freedom only known to man, through God’s Redemptive Plan.
God bought us out of slavery, with precious Blood from Calvary,
Purchased from the market of sin; granting freedom deep within,
Freedom by us that wasn’t sought, which the Lord for us bought,
Offering His Son, our Lord Jesus, as payment made for all of us.
When we’re freed, we’re then sent, by our Lord, as God’s servant,
Here in service to the Son of God, on this earth that we now trod,
No longer slaves in bondage to sin, we delight in service for Him,
Now as we serve the King of kings, our new freedom in Him rings.
We’re now free to serve our Lord, as Christ’s Body, in one accord,
Now serving with the mind of Christ, for God gave us all New Life,
Eternal Life, which we don’t deserve, which is why we gladly serve,
By God’s Grace, with freedom, as God’s servants in His Kingdom.
All because God paid that price, when His Son became a sacrifice,
Christ, Who had no reason to die, served as a Lamb, for you and I,
To grant us real freedom my friend, that from The Lord has no end,
As we come to The Lord Jesus, to serve eternally in God’s Service.
(Copyright ©08/2010)
poem by Bob Gotti
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God’s Crowning Jewel
Man is the jewel in the crown, of The Eternal God’s total creation.
He is the only creature found, worthy to receive Eternal Salvation.
Man was special at the start, for in His own image God created him,
God placed emotion in his heart, and breathed breath of life into him.
Friend this life was not just mortal, like the beasts that die and perish.
But man was made to be immortal; God’s creation for Him to cherish.
And man was put above all creation, as he was special in God’s eyes.
Since he was in charge of creation, God gave him a mind, to be wise.
God also had fellowship with man, as He walked with him in Paradise.
But Satan, no longer in God’s plan, wanted to lead man to his demise.
Satan with his own evil plan, wanted to fill man’s heart with utter lies.
With his lies he deceived man, and he was banished from Paradise.
Now separated from God forever, man no longer would see God’s face.
But God’s love he could not sever, as God instituted for man His Grace.
Sin had separated God from man, with no hope to return to Paradise.
But God would continue His plan, this time God turned to Jesus Christ.
Death was the price man had to pay, this for the wages of his own sin.
And Christ died for us on that day, for God to bring man back to Him.
Christ’s death was God’s only way, for Him to redeem man from his sin.
Just accept Christ’s sacrifice today, and you will live forever with Him.
For it was God who said to Christ, let’s make man in our own image.
You can have a place in Paradise, by coming into God’s eternal lineage.
This is God’s redemptive story, and Christ is God’s Eternal Revelation.
So receive a crown for Glory, through Jesus Christ’s Eternal Salvation.
(Copyright ©04/2005)
poem by Bob Gotti
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Young Sister
Young sister from the angel world,
splendiferous to domes she stares,
entreaties touch her gracious soul,
ethereal sister angels called,
of thirty petals blooms to unfold,
her distant stars above lone fares,
young sister from the angel world,
splendiferous to domes she stares.
A neckchain forms a circle to bound,
the passage of the winds and rains,
her song recites that distant glare,
night spells to play benign her sound,
that spreads to far on lonely dare,
redemptive love in soul that reigns,
a neckchain forms a circle to bound,
the passage of the winds and rains.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Elegiac Feelings American
1
How inseparable you and the America you saw yet was never
there to see; you and America, like the tree and the
ground, are one the same; yet how like a palm tree
in the state of Oregon. . . dead ere it blossomed,
like a snow polar loping the
Miami—
How so that which you were or hoped to be, and the
America not, the America you saw yet could
not see
So like yet unlike the ground from which you stemmed;
you stood upon America like a rootless
Hat-bottomed tree; to the squirrel there was no
divorcement in its hop of ground to its climb of
tree. . . until it saw no acorn fall, then it knew
there was no marriage between the two; how
fruitless, how useless, the sad unnaturalness
of nature; no wonder the dawn ceased being
a joy. . . for what good the earth and sun when
the tree in between is good for nothing. . . the
inseparable trinity, once dissevered, becomes a
cold fruitless meaningless thrice-marked
deathlie in its awful amputation. . . O butcher
the pork-chop is not the pig—The American
alien in America is a bitter truncation; and even
this elegy, dear Jack, shall have a butchered
tree, a tree beaten to a pulp, upon which it'll be
contained—no wonder no good news can be
written on such bad news—
How alien the natural home, aye, aye, how dies the tree when
the ground is foreign, cold, unfree—The winds
know not to blow the seed of the Redwood where
none before stood; no palm is blown to Oregon,
how wise the wind—Wise
too the senders of the prophet. . . knowing the
fertility of the designated spot where suchmeant
prophecy be announced and answerable—the
sower of wheat does not sow in the fields of cane;
for the sender of the voice did also send the ear.
And were little Liechtenstein, and not America, the
designation. . . surely then we'd the tongues of
Liechtenstein—
Was not so much our finding America as it was America finding
its voice in us; many spoke to America as though
America by land-right was theirs by law-right
legislatively acquired by materialistic coups of
wealth and inheritance; like the citizen of society
believes himself the owner of society, and what he
makes of himself he makes of America and thus when
he speaks of America he speaks of himself, and quite
[...] Read more
poem by Gregory Corso
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Awakingness
I cannot stay away
From sunny afternoons,
Passing weather-less days
In suffocating rooms...
There is more company
In the solace of God
Myself beside myself
Caressed by grass unshod...
Unhappy banishment!
Lurid society
An imposition bent
Of stiff variety...
The soul needs affection
From a credible source
Not a mere distraction,
But a redemptive course...
(Dedicated to my dear friend PenPen)
©All Rights Reserved-2010
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Darwinian Theory
I shudder
In maddening darkness
Thinking about the cruelty
Of the compassionless world
Where everything is twisted
And upside down.
We construct prisons for the gentle
And provide elaborate mansions
For those most adept at plunder.
Can there be any wonder
That children carry guns
And have sexual fantasies
Of bringing their playmates under
Degradation and submission?
And no one has any redemptive plan
Of salvation and resistance,
Just go with the flow
Of society’s cultural insistence
To practice Darwinian Theory
On the devastated and downtrodden
Until the soul’s true divinity
Is lost and forgotten.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Holiday Song
Men sing have a holly jolly Christmas, but, what is meant by this?
Plus singing oh ho the mistletoe; part of an empty holiday show?
Where at in the holiday song, does the Lord Jesus Christ belong?
Or by purpose was Christ left out, though He is what it’s all about.
We hear song with little praise, about Christ, The Ancient of Days;
Before Him, there wasn’t reason, for today’s said holiday season,
When God came to earth as a man, to reveal His redemptive plan;
Some dismiss why Christ came, and so the season isn’t the same.
Many of the songs that men sing, lift not Christ as Lord and King,
Or speak of the baby in the hay, and why He came to all that day,
They speak not of a need to trust, but, only speak of worldly lust,
Noting not man’s spiritual need, while lifting up a shopping creed.
And this doesn’t start in the song, where this holiday goes wrong,
It all starts with man’s rejection of, the Lord on High and His love,
Turning from His Incalculable Gift, to a season of shop and thrift,
Handling shopping as a whole; while ignoring needs of their soul.
Turning aside from The Lord, Christmas Truth many have ignored,
Turning Christ into Santa Claus, should have us reflect and pause,
As secularizing Divine Truth, could bring on God’s strong reproof;
All has made a Christmas Holiday, for many into one Hollow Way.
(Copyright ©11/2009)
poem by Bob Gotti
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It Was God
It was the Lord God, who would give, His only Son for us to live,
So that men could live eternally, all through the cross of Calvary.
It was upon the cross, where Christ, as a man would give His life,
Freely given, for sinful man; the heart of God’s Redemptive Plan.
Christ was a man, yet was God, sent from Heaven to earth’s sod,
For a time, Christ left His Throne, to redeem a people of His own.
Just sinful people, desperately lost, would find Truth at the cross,
Eternal Truth, from God above, sent down to sinners by His Love.
It was God’s love that sent His Son, to be the Savior of everyone,
God, sent as a sinless man to die, for sinful people like you and I,
Christ, Eternal God and our Creator, sent to earth to be our Savior,
From Eternal Heaven for all of us, sinful men simply made of dust.
Sent from Heaven, down to earth, to offer all men a Spiritual Birth,
Prompted by a love He has for all, deceived in sin by Adam’s fall.
Only through Jesus Christ our Lord, can men, to God, be restored,
Restored, to a relationship with Him, as Christ saves men from sin.
It is Christ, who’s coming back again, to take Home believing men,
He’s coming back for all of us, who in The Son have put their trust,
Leaving again His Glorious Throne, to take us to our Eternal Home,
Where we shall live forevermore, with Jesus Christ, The Risen Lord.
(Copyright ©09/2008)
poem by Bob Gotti
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