God poems
/ page 191 of 194 /Psalm 45
© Isaac Watts
My Savior and my King,
Thy beauties are divine;
Thy lips with blessings overflow,
And every grace is thine.
Psalm 135
© Isaac Watts
Awake, ye saints; to praise your King,
Your sweetest passions raise,
Your pious pleasure, while you sing,
Increasing with the praise.
Hymn 85
© Isaac Watts
The Lord on high proclaims
His Godhead from his throne:
"Mercy and justice are the names
By which I will be known.
Hymn 2
© Isaac Watts
Ere the blue heav'ns were stretched abroad,
From everlasting was the Word:
With God he was; the Word was God,
And must divinely be adored.
The Sun Weilds Mercy
© Charles Bukowski
and the sun weilds mercy
but like a jet torch carried to high,
and the jets whip across its sight
and rockets leap like toads,
Now
© Charles Bukowski
I sit here on the 2nd floor
hunched over in yellow
pajamas
still pretending to be
Melancholia
© Charles Bukowski
the history of melancholia
includes all of us.
me, I writhe in dirty sheets
while staring at blue walls
Hot
© Charles Bukowski
she was hot, she was so hot
I didn't want anybody else to have her,
and if I didn't get home on time
she'd be gone, and I couldn't bear that-
For Jane: With All The Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough
© Charles Bukowski
I pick up the skirt,
I pick up the sparkling beads
in black,
this thing that moved once
Prelude
© Richard Aldington
How could I love you more?
I would give up
Even that beauty I have loved too well
That I might love you better.
Childhood
© Richard Aldington
How dull and greasy and grey and sordid it was!
On wet days -- it was always wet --
I used to kneel on a chair
And look at it from the window.
Head of a White Woman Winking
© Edward Taylor
She has one good bumblebee
which she leads about town
on a leash of clover.
It's as big as a Saint Bernard
Upon A Wasp Chilled With Cold
© Edward Taylor
The bear that breathes the northern blast
Did numb, torpedo-like, a wasp
Whose stiffened limbs encramped, lay bathing
In Sol's warm breath and shine as saving,
Tegner's Drapa
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Heard a voice, that cried,
"Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead!"
And through the misty air
Passed like the mournful cry
Of sunward sailing cranes.
King Trisanku
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Viswamitra the Magician,
By his spells and incantations,
Up to Indra's realms elysian
Raised Trisanku, king of nations.
The Son Of The Evening Star
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Can it be the sun descending
O'er the level plain of water?
Or the Red Swan floating, flying,
Wounded by the magic arrow,
Hiawatha's Wooing
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"As unto the bow the cord is,
So unto the man is woman;
Though she bends him, she obeys him,
Though she draws him, yet she follows;
The Building of the Ship
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"Build me straight, O worthy Master!
Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel,
That shall laugh at all disaster,
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!"