Poem
By Mercedes Lucero
dear mary metonym of mine to
mind *mary *mari *mare *mere
Magdalene or mother not as
Abuelita dreams…
Category
Christianity
Showing 1-20 of 603
- PoemBy Natalia Treviñomi ’buelita Socorro
woulda loved this
basilica, un homenaje
for la Virgencita, the story
of her life, her… - PoemBy Chris WatkinsI was riding toward Damascus
to yell at some Christians and maybe
stone a few uninhibited women
when… - PoemBy Li-Young LeeSay the words:
On earth
as it is in heaven.
Say the words:
Love thy neighbor
as thyself.
Say the words… - ArticleBy Tyler MaloneFor a poem about the brevity of every state of being, the single octave perfectly enacts its themes through its form.
- PoemBy Madeleine CravensMaryam drove too fast
through the mountains. Look, she said,
it’s Jesus, as we passed the figure on the hill,
but it was actually the Virgin Mary,
arms raised in benediction. The week
after Easter was called Bright Week,
and Behbod was obsessed with a line
from... - PoemBy K. IverAt my beloved’s burial,
I can’t see his body.
Only carnations. I hear
your name and my beloved’s
in the … - PoemBy Robert DuncanThis is the way it is. We see
three ages in one: the child Jesus
innocent of Jerusalem and Rome
- magically at home in joy -
that’s the year from which
our inner persistence has its force.
The second, Bergman shows us,
carries forward image after... - PoemBy Jupiter HammonI
O come you pious youth! adore
The wisdom of thy God,
In bringing thee from distant shore,
To learn His holy word.
Eccles. xii.
II
Thou mightst been left behind
Amidst a dark abode;
God’s tender mercy still combin’d,
Thou hast the... - PoemBy Richard Rolle[Alle perisches and passes pat we with eghe see]
It wanes into wrechednes, þe welth of þis worlde.
Robes and ritches rotes in dike,
Prowde payntyng slakes into sorow,
Delites and drewryse stynk sal ful sone,
Þair golde and þaire tresoure drawes þam til dede.
Al... - PoemBy UnknownTranslated By Roy M. LiuzzaListen! I will speak of the sweetest dream,
what came to me in the middle of the night,
when speech-bearers slept in their rest.
It seemed that I saw a most wondrous tree
raised on high, wound round with light,
the brightest of beams. All... - PoemBy UnknownHwæt! Ic swefna cyst secgan wylle,
hwæt me gemætte to midre nihte,
syðþan reordberend reste wunedon!
þuhte me þæt ic gesawe syllicre treow
on lyft lædan, leohte bewunden,
beama beorhtost. Eall þæt beacen wæs
begoten mid golde. Gimmas stodon
fægere æt foldan sceatum, swylce þær fife wæron
uppe... - PoemBy William Langland‘þis were a wikkede wey but whoso hadde a gyde
þat [myȝte] folwen us ech foot’: þus þis folk hem mened.
Quod Perkyn þe Plowman, ‘By Seint Peter of Rome!
I haue an half acre to erie by þe heiȝe weye;
Hadde I eryed... - PoemBy William LanglandWolleward and weetshoed wente I forþ after
As a recchelees renk þat [reccheþ of no wo],
And yede forþ lik a lorel al my lif tyme,
Til I weex wery of þe world and wilned eft to slepe,
And lened me to a lenten,... - PoemBy William LanglandIn a somer seson, whan softe was þe sonne,
I shoop me into [a] shrou[d] as I a sheep weere,
In habite as an heremite, vnholy of werkes,
Wente wide in þis world wondres to here.
Ac on a May morwenynge on Maluerne hilles
Me...