Best İdolatry Poems

A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell ! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
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Let not my love be called idolatry,
Nor my belovèd as an idol show,
Since all alike my songs and praises be
To one, of one, still such, and ever so.
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Alas, dear Mother, fairest Queen and best,
With honour, wealth, and peace happy and blest,
What ails thee hang thy head, and cross thine arms,
And sit i' the dust to sigh these sad alarms?
What deluge of new woes thus over-whelm
The glories of thy ever famous Realm?
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Kind pity chokes my spleen; brave scorn forbids
Those tears to issue which swell my eyelids;
I must not laugh, nor weep sins and be wise;
Can railing, then, cure these worn maladies?
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What if this present were the world's last night?
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,
The picture of Christ crucified, and tell
Whether that countenance can thee affright,
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You are a friend then, as I make it out,
Of our man Shakespeare, who alone of us
Will put an ass’s head in Fairyland
As he would add a shilling to more shillings,
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O might those sighes and teares returne againe
Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent,
That I might in this holy discontent
Mourne with some fruit, as I have mourn'd in vaine;
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O FRIEND! I know not which way I must look
   For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
   To think that now our life is only drest
For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,
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You ask, my love, about my tears
But don't you recognize the fears
That agonize my heart?
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IT is full summer now, the heart of June,
Not yet the sun-burnt reapers are a-stir
Upon the upland meadow where too soon
Rich autumn time, the season's usurer,
Will lend his hoarded gold to all the trees,
And see his treasure scattered by the wild and spendthrift breeze.
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Let not my love be call'd idolatry,
Nor my beloved as an idol show,
Since all alike my songs and praises be
To one, of one, still such, and ever so.
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A face seen passing in a crowded street,
A voice heard singing music, large and free;
And from that moment life is changed, and we
Become of more heroic temper, meet
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Blind adorer of false gods
Reckless idol-maker
Money maker
Power or fame
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As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood,
That crests its Head with clouds, beneath the flood
Feeds its deep roots, and with the bulging flank
Of its wide base controls the fronting bank,
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LOVE, any devil else but you
Would for a given soul give something too.
At court your fellows every day
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This is a day of happiness, sweet peace,
And heavenly sunshine; upon which conven'd
In full assembly fair, once more we view,
And hail with voice expressive of the heart,
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Amid the smoke of cities did you pass
The time of early youth; and there you learned,
From years of quiet industry, to love
The living Beings by your own fireside,
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765

You constituted Time—
I deemed Eternity
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Hail, Muse! et cetera.--We left Juan sleeping,
Pillow'd upon a fair and happy breast,
And watch'd by eyes that never yet knew weeping,
And loved by a young heart, too deeply blest
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DEAR Heart I think the young impassioned priest
When first he takes from out the hidden shrine
His God imprisoned in the Eucharist,
And eats the bread, and drinks the dreadful wine,
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Beloved, this the heart I offer thee
Is purified from old idolatry,
From outworn hopes, and from the lingering stain
Of passion's dregs, by penitential pain.
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Lo, in the sanctuaried East,
Day, a dedicated priest
In all his robes pontifical exprest,
...

For God has given us a language of monosyllables to prevent our clipping.

For a toad enjoys a finer prospect than another creature to compensate his lack.
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Janus was a Gemini
As am I
Looking both ways
Gates and beginnings
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In one of those excursions (may they ne'er
Fade from remembrance!) through the Northern tracts
Of Cambria ranging with a youthful friend,
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Survivor sole, and hardly such, of all
That once lived here, thy brethren, at my birth,
(Since which I number threescore winters past,)
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STRANGER! the MAN OF NATURE lies not here:
Enshrin'd far distant by his rival's side
His relics rest, there by the giddy throng
With blind idolatry alike revered!
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THE FAIRY TEMPLE; OR, OBERON'S CHAPEL

DEDICATED TO MR JOHN MERRIFIELD,
COUNSELLOR AT LAW
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It is in this moment of clarity:
the reality, separating from idolatry:
raw, real: —experiencing reality.
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Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes,
Not with flatteries, but truths,
Which tarnish not, but purify
To light which dims the morning's eye.
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“Dame,” said the Panther, “times are mended well,
Since late among the Philistines you fell.
The toils were pitched, a spacious tract of ground
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LONG time have human ignorance and guilt
Detained us, on what spectacles of woe
Compelled to look, and inwardly oppressed
...

'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
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What tho' first,
In years unseason'd, I attuned the lay
To idle passion and unreal woe?
Yet serious truth her empire o'er my song
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In the deep hour of dreams,
Through the dark woods, and past the moaning sea,
And by the star-light gleams,
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The true God our refuge; or, Idolatry reproved.

Not to ourselves, who are but dust,
Not to ourselves is glory due,
...

Goddess of Liberty! O thou
Whose tearless eyes behold the chain,
And look unmoved upon the slain,
Eternal peace upon thy brow,-
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As I out of a casement sent
Mine eyes as wand'ring as my thought,
Upon no certayne object bent,
But only what occasion brought,
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THE first, the very first; oh! none
Can feel again as they have done;
In love, in war, in pride, in all
The planets of life's coronal,
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Truth
'God speed you, ancient father,
And give you a good daye;
What is the cause, I praye you,
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STAY YOUR RUDE STEPS! whose throbbing breasts infold
The legion-fiends of Glory, or of Gold!
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When time was young, & World in Infancy,
Man did not proudly strive for Soveraignty:
But each one thought his petty Rule was high,
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Why do I need so much of you?
What is it that I am hoping you will satisfy?
Can you fill my void?
Will you become my vice,
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In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,
The bosom of his Father, and assumed
A servant's form, though he had reigned a king,
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Foe of mankind! too bold thy race:
Thou runn'st at such a reckless pace,
Thine own dire work thou surely wilt confound:
'Twas but one little drop of sin
...

Alas! how am I chang'd! Where be the tears,
The sobs, and forc'd suspensions of the breath,
And all the dull desertions of the heart,
...

Try then, O man, the moments to deceive
That from the womb attend thee to the grave:
For wearied Nature find some apter scheme;
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Compassion checks my spleen, yet Scorn denies
The tears a passage thro' my swelling eyes;
To laugh or weep at sins, might idly show,
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O dear my Country, beautiful and dear,
Love cloth not darken sight.
God looketh through Love's eyes, whose vision clear
Beholds more flaws than keenest Hate hath known.
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Dame Sapyence taryed a lytell whyle
Behynd the other saynge to Dyscrecyon
And began on her to laugh and smyle
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...see your words
verbal manifestation of thoughts
portraits painted with syllables
of sensuous simile and meaningful metaphor
...

Had I ador'd the multitude, and thence
Got an antipathy to wit and sence,
And hug'd that fate, in hope the world would grant
'Twas good -- affection to be ignorant;
...

Were Princes grac'd with Souls like thine,
Princes had still been deem'd divine.
Such Merit as we find in thee,
First introduc'd Idolatry;
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Under Levantine'slights
and fatherland's colours
our laughter was agitating the hush
οf our inactive flaccidness
...

The morn returns, and, reddening, seems to shed
One ray of glory on the patriot-dead.
Round the dark stone, the victor-chiefs behold!
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Christian virtues; or, The difficulty of conversion.

Strait is the way, the door is strait,
That leads to joys on high;
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In that fair city, Ispahan,
There dwelt a problematic man,
Whose angel never was released,
Who never once let out his beast,
But kept, through all the seasons' round,
Silence unbroken and profound.
...

Oh, serious eyes! how is it that the light,
The burning rays, that mine pour into ye,
Still find ye cold, and dead, and dark as night—
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Servants of God most high,
Who on his word rely,
By ancient seers and holy prophets spoken-
That all the chains that gall
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The things
Poets,
Can in Poetry,
Make, come about!
...

I.
How, my dear Mary, -- are you critic-bitten
(For vipers kill, though dead) by some review,
...

Miss Poetry,
So old and yet so young!
Not temporary idolatry,
For those who have
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Great Poetry,
Pure Poetry,
The One written by the soul
Where every word,
...

Have mercy on us.
We live piecemeal lives,
assembled out of fragments
we find scattered haphazardly
...

...

Revolution is dead,
buried next door to God
I Got his son's autograph,
at the souvenir shop
...

A little bird flew and perched
The frond of a palm tree
Beside the native doctor's house
Watched quietly the men and women go in
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What should I cry, in lines,
That I will not cry, in eyes?

Rather be daft, and laugh
...

As we arrived at our Lady's Steps,
Incontinent all men reversed their caps,
Bidding us welcome home, and joining hand,
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My country is the Philippines,
Found at the center of Asia.
Corruption and idolatry are her sins-
And extreme Poverty is her dilemma.
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Ah, the depth and charm,
Of Poetry,
That only Love can satisfy,
Loving you is like idolatry
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I will weep and wail for the broken ones;
For the children of the wilderness:
Whom the world always hides its eyes from:
A world that glitters with idolatry;
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It's hard to be ambitious about writing poetry.
So like a science of emotional idolatry. Philosophy
paints poetry with many levels: makes it fancier,
more fecund, like a glazer with psychedelic bevels.
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A comet dangling in the aire,
Presag'd the ruine both of Death and Sin;
And told the wise-men of a King,
The King of Glory, and the Sun
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There is in souls a sympathy with sounds;
And as the mind is pitch’d the ear is pleased
With melting airs, or martial, brisk, or grave:
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The Beloved Prophet

'And the Book is delivered to him that is not learned, saying: 'Read this I pray thee'. And he saith: 'I am not learned.' ' (Isaiah 29: 12) .
...

I told Jesus when I was standing with candle in hand-
I don't feel comfortable to light this-
I know it is witchcraft.
I was in a church on Christmas and knew the score
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Decline to lie supine in mines where values die
In a plethora of insipidities that won't cry
When the present haunts vestiges gone extinct
Because you by default embarked on a path where your instinct
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The vintage portrait of your face and figure,
Nailed for so long on the interior wall of my skull,
It deteriorates like that of Dorian Gray's;
It dissolves its cranium, contours and colours,
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serenity has become the death of hope
a plaster saint shattered by a drunken tyrant
no possibility of redemption
no path ahead for evolution but despair
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Born from dogma, and often circumscribed,
The stern, yet dedicated nurse
Soothes our usual wounds and patiently deals
With humankind's litany of time honoured
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The conjugate of idolatry,
The alchemy of flame,
The Astarte of pure harlotry-
And nomenclature'd name.
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She lied and she cheated
Loves of others became unseated,
Others then sadly and often claimed
Of them she was always ashamed.
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God chooses some mysteriously
To act as harbingers for Him;

As instruments of divine plans,
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These qualities so exquisite, these other things so rare.
One in such abundance, while with evil all wonder only…..where?
As if it were so hidden, and so hard to find-
despite it being Everywhere all at one time!
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Religion without Love's oneness is idolatry.
Religion without substance is but ceremony.
Religion without real communion is just palaver.
Religion without Christ's radicalism is rigid orthodoxy.
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Image of God

You created Man
After your image
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DARK:
'JUST LEAVE ME ALONE'
You think I'm hopeless?
Then you should burn me at the stake.
...

[c] Jonathan Robin

Care Is Our Dream
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• I come against every evil power, in the name of Jesus.
• I come against every evil strategy, in the name of Jesus.
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When
Another babe is born!
And comes into this world;
Of poverty, pain, misery, woes, drudgery;
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As believers live for Jesus Christ, He makes changes in our life,
Convicting us with the Holy Spirit, using The Word as we hear it,
As His Word touches everything, God teaches us longsuffering,
As we daily, deal with others, unbelievers and Christian brothers.
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Pride we carry, one and all
Remember this frailty before our fall
Idolatry of self, a deadly sin
Destroys humility of that within
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LOVE POEMS by Michael R. Burch

These are love poems by Michael R. Burch: original poems and translations about passion, desire, lust, sex, dating and marriage. On an amusing note, my steamy Baudelaire translations have become popular with the pros ― porn stars and escort services!
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“Give me luxury, for the price of liberty”
Declares a generation raised in vain idolatry
And sculptured on silicon with limitless recourse
Whilst reclining on the Triclinium of idle awards
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Language of golden liquid
She drenches my mind
Validated like a lotus rain
Music sweet as an earth religion
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We had Taliban for breakfast
and then bin laden broth
some muslims ripe for dinner
i couldn't get enough
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[c] Jonathan Robin

Sang to M.C. Sonnet Cycle after William Shakespeare: Sonnets Sonnets LXXXI - C
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Idolatry,
Adultery,
Elohim! !
And like Sodom and Gomorrah;
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Am I really this wicked?


''For from within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders,
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