, Sometimes Wisdom...
Posted: 05-Aug-2005, 03:24 PM
Group: Celtic Nation
Comments appreciated! Celtic cat...I'd love to see some of yours sometime
~To Say Good bye~
I didn't get a chance to say
To you, to tell you that I loved you,
To say, what now must be one long,
Unbroken cry of pain.
Now that you've gone away,
I cannot tell you what a joy it was
To be the one to tend you in your need.
The burden was a gift, for giving does
Not burden one who loves, though loving bleed.
I wish I could have been there, when you,
Perhaps aware, perhaps not, turned towards death.
Alone, with no one there to wonder to,
To share your fear, your hand, your one last breath.
I wish, I wish, I wish . . . but it is done,
And now I must surrender what is gone.
Posted: 02-May-2006, 07:21 AM
Group: Celtic Nation
Hi, I haven't posted anything on here for awhile, so I decied to post one of my many poems. I would really like comments on it please!
One Maiden’s Dream
The day has been long,
And it wasn’t hard to tell something was wrong.
The Maiden’s been in tears,
But nothing from her heart appears.
The tears are now but stains,
Only evidence of old pains.
The Maiden sighs with relief,
Her burden has been lifted, so has her grief.
The Joy is slowly spreading,
Amidst the frozen heart it’s healing.
The icicles are almost gone,
But it is taking long.
She lies her head down,
To let her mind unwound.
Her eyes close slowly, without a doubt,
Only to find herself in a world all turned about.
The Maiden knows it is a dream,
But she can’t seem to wake to scream.
Suddenly there comes a voice,
Telling her to rejoice.
The Voice is soothing,
And soon she is moving,
Through a field of flowers,
And beautiful bowers.
The voice is still there,
But is only heard in her ear,
It whispers this little warning,
“Do not always take things as they are appearing.”
The Dream continues,
But this time down different avenues.
The Maiden is in the field of flowers again,
And she notices new things are starting to begin.
The dream gets faster, and faster,
Until she realizes a life is flying past her.
The Life is hers, and is no other,
The gain that she thought to be a bother,
Was shown to the Maiden anew.
And then on the wind, these words blew…
“The rewards in life are like a fresh spot of Roses,
The breath of Joy sets them in poses.
Songs are sung,
Of new joys begun.
The old sorrow is spent
No more a shoulder need be lent.”
The Maiden is singing,
Of the glories around her now ringing!
“Hallelujah the Light is dawning,
The old sorrow has begun pining!
The Lord’s presence is near,
I now can feel no fear,
There is a fresh song on my heart
For the pain and hurt depart.”
The Love of the Lord,
Is stored in a precious little hoard,
To wait till the day,
When this Maiden will say,
“I give you my heart, and soul,
For now you have made me whole.”
What rejoicing there will be!
When on that day, we will see,
A pure Maiden has been found,
And she is now fully unbound.
You will see the beauty of her soul.
And all the scars that left their toll.
But these scars will never hinder the love,
That has been shed upon her from above.
In the arms of God she has been kept,
Until all her tears have been wept.
These arms of God hold on to her tight,
Never to let go, even throughout a hard fight.
The Maiden looks around,
Noticing she is no long on firm ground.
There, floating through the air,
Is a beautiful being strumming a lyre.
She sees now a place of shining beauty,
Of arms stretching out to her slowly…
The Maiden abruptly awakes to find she is in her bed,
Lying on her back with her pillow under her head.
She thinks about the dream, and begins to wonder how much was true,
It dawns on her that it was the Lord’s way of showing her what is due.
The Maiden got on her knees to pray,
But she could think of nothing to say,
Other then to thank the Lord,
For His wondrous Word.
The Maiden prayed about what she was shown,
Wondering if more to her would be known.
The Lord is in heart,
And will never depart.
Even though, this Maiden wants to fight for time,
She knows that no matter what, she will always be fine.
For the rest of the night, she tossed and turned,
The words she heard, within her heart, burned.
The Maiden felt some relief,
But she was still shaking like a leaf.
Slowly, the struggles left her,
And no more did she stir.
The next morn came with gladness.
For inside she was filled with boldness,
To do the will of the one who spoke.
His words continued to be with her, even as she awoke.
The Maiden kept all to herself,
Keeping the dream on a high shelf,
To be pulled out at the right moment.
Until then, she would keep silent.
Written by ~ Callandra Wilcox
"He gives strength to the weary, and to him who lacks might He increases power. Though youths grow weary and tired, and vigorous young men stumble badly, Yet those who wait for the LORD will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary."
Às aonais Iosa, tha mi nam neoni.
Without Jesus, I am nothing.
Posted: 27-Oct-2006, 03:40 PM
Group: Celtic Nation
| Hi, I'm from Colombia and originaly this poem was writed by me in Spanish, I traduce it today and here it is:
[Please forgive my ortograph]
In the nights of cold like these, I use to think about your eyes… That look, that warm and shining inspires my mind and sings to my soul, Your look, that one that I miss in the mornings, and the smooth color of your pupils that I remember with tenderness in the evening. Penetrating look that show the world in one blink, fulminating look that makes me love, like that is your look, beautiful and inspiated, ingenuous and deep, that floods my senses and constructs a world for my silence, affectionate, lively, look that instills respect and fear, is not terrible, is beautiful, tender and delicate, respect I must offer for similar beauty that takes control of your face when you put your eyes on me, fear I have when think that with a kiss I can shut up the inspirring reason of that look.
Thanks for read it!
Please send me your comments firstname.lastname@example.org
"We all need to love and be loved in return"
"Anytime is good to love and be happy"
Visit my blog (in spanish)
Posted: 25-Nov-2006, 11:05 PM
a ragamuffin of Eireann
Realm: South Louisiana
| Hello, I feel a little strange replying...I haven't been around in a good while---but it's good to be back.
Any how...I wanted to lend a word of encouragement the last two poets who posted---Keep writing and using words to express your inner thoughts. Some feed back though (if I may with all humility), I would try and go back and work on a little more structure, I think it would break it up and help the flow a bit. I'm no expert mine you...just a suggestion.
Just my three pence worth,
"There, in that hand, on that shoulder under that chin---all of its lightness delicately balanced and its strings skillfully bowed---it becomes a voice."---Rich Mullins
"At 18, if you have oversized aspirations, the whole world sees you as a dreamer. At 40, you get the reputation for being a visionary." ---Rich Mullins
"God gives the gifts where He finds the vessel empty enough to receive them."---C.S. Lewis
Éire go Brách!
Posted: 08-Jun-2007, 12:31 PM
Group: Celtic Nation
Going thru some files on my computer, I ran across this poem/story I wrote. Thought I'd post it out here. It was during a time when I was trying to figure myself out.
A living, breathing, work of art,
What would that be?
What does one envision,
Viewing the painting of me?
As with all great paintings, there are many layers, many depths. Edges and lines sharp in contrast…blending into soft flowing curves. Colors in a various array from vibrant and glowing, to subdued and subtle. There is lightness in many hues, some over-powering, while others mere illuminations. And, inevitably, there is darkness.
As all paintings do, when seen through various eyes, display a different image to the beholder. Some see what they want to see, looking at only the good and ignoring the ugly. Others try to see too much, and misjudge it's content. But there is that one person, that one individual, astute enough to see the painting for what it truly is. They will be strong of mind, strong of will, and strong with love. This person will see the smiles, the colors, the joys, and will feast upon them. Enhancing the painting, and themself, making both more alive. They will learn all the intricacies of the story the painting reflects, and will thrive for more knowledge. They will understand the sadness and the hurts in this living image...and will appreciate it all the more.
But, to get to this one person, this one being, who can appreciate something extraordinarily unique. The painting, the living image, must...as most works in progress will...go through many trials and errs, upstrokes and down. Occasionally wiping the slate clean and beginning anew. For the painting, this living image, is always changing. Waiting for the right owner to hold it and make it truly a masterpiece.
Posted: 06-Aug-2015, 07:45 PM
Group: Celtic Nation
Realm: Philadelphia, PA
Thank you Munchkin5450... I was sitting out back the other day after doing so gardening and a robin landed by feet...this is the product of that meeting...
The Robin’s Visit
It was a beautiful day and my gardening was all done,
so I decided to sit out back and enjoy some of the blue skies.
As I pondered my labors and basked in the sun,
a red breasted Robin happened to stop by.
She had landed near some berries on the ground by my feet.
As she hopped and hopped until closer she came.
Then she picked at the fallen berries as quietly she did eat.
I thought I should speak to her, perhaps inquirer her name?
So I asked her in a quiet voice and then waited to hear.
But she jerked her head up and looked at me in my seat.
So I lowered my voice more, so not to cause any fear,
But she put her head back down and again started to eat.
Very frustrated now, I knew not what to do,
until it hit me and suddenly became very clear.
So I whispered hello to her in every language I knew,
When she shout; “Speak louder Sonny in a voice I can hear!”
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