as fall trees
of their branches their dead leaves.
10 lines Hearthrob
Create A Meaning Quote of Your Own
a contest by Hearthrob
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Let's see what you can do in regards to the topic: Quote Yourself In Your Own Poetic Words
RULES: You will be DQ'ed if not followed
Any style of writing is allowed: Free form, rhyming, etc...
Please no pre-writes
Please keep it short (10) lines or less
Please place line count in AN
Please pay attention to grammar and spelling
Please proof read your work
Please no adult content, no profanity
Pollute our oceans...
no fish or corals will breed
to colorize international seas.
Will consumer greed
with its voracious
appetite promoting envy
leaving tiny fingers
cut to bleed?
Reversal is held in capable hands
In accordance with a Grand Master's plan:
"To bring to ruin those ruining the earth.""
Isn't that the desire
of a Righteous man?
Contest: Peace, Chaos, Order
They say a picture’s worth a 1000 words but what comes to mind with this one?. The "photo" at this link is your prompt. Write what comes to mind in your preferred writing style.
I don’t have the required silver membership to post the photo here so please go to the link below.
instills skills leading families across wilderness, land.
His Name Jehovah immensely
A Fortress into which meek run.
59 words Tower of Strength brevity 60 words or less http://allpoetry.com/poem/12483150-Tower_of_Strength_-by-Gab_Ambros_Wiest Rules open to all you must put words counts and prompt to you A.N. brevity write outside the box. enjoy "The salvation of the righteous is from Jehovah; He is their fortress in the time of distress. Jehovah will help them and rescue them. He will rescue them from the wicked and save them, Because they take refuge in him." Ps . 37:39, 40.
As sheep slaughtered for famished, fare
His rage ravaged,
our beloved heirs.
We wailed; we wailed
our shoulders hung.
No songs of mirth as mourning came.
And it still comes; yes, still it comes.
Though left, it never.
Our shoulders hung.
At night their cries we hear; we heard.
Yet, in the morning... no. Not a word
Not a cry, beloved, did we hear.
never more heard.
Not a tender single giggle
or a cooing word.
We saw them suffer.
We felt their fear.
Our babies slain by swords;
silently bled, while we screamed
and wailed. Our hearts collectively rupturing. Our voices violenting thundering.
Our eyes raining our pains like oceans deranged.
Then we laid down like pierced wineskins.
Tossed aside waste. Wailing like wolves. Crazed. Inhumane.
We wailed; we wailed to no avail. No nectar sweet would us prevail.
Yes, 'King Death' won. Took our baby sons; jailed in the 'Land of the enemy.' Our loneliness had just begun. Though,
we were not the only ones.
In time we birthed sons; born anew
the hopes we held;
though temporarily forgotten
in King Herod's vengeful ... slew.
Refreshing words lifted our contorted spines. Unveiled our mournful faces
and massaged into beating our mangled hearts. Shined illuminating lights into our
“‘Hold back your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears
For there is a reward for your activity,’"
"‘They will return from the land of the enemy.’" says He--Our Creator, His Sovereignty.
Thankful we were reminded to be:
as we yearn for the return
of our beloved progeny.
Based on contest: "The Eyes That Weep"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGOEuTj-n14 When mine eyes had wept for some while, until they were so weary with weeping that I could no longer through them give ease to my sorrow, I bethought me that a few mournful words might stand me instead of tears. And therefore I proposed to make a poem, that weeping I might speak therein of her for whom so much sorrow had destroyed my spirit; and I then began “The eyes that weep.”
The eyes that weep for pity of the heart
Have wept so long that their grief languisheth,
And they have no more tears to weep withal:
And now, if I would ease me of a part
Of what, little by little, leads to death,
It must be done by speech, or not at all.
And because often, thinking, I recall
How it was pleasant, ere she went afar,
To talk of her with you, kind damozels,
I talk with no one else,
But only with such hearts as women’s are.
And I will say,—still sobbing as speech fails,—
That she hath gone to Heaven suddenly,
And hath left Love below, to mourn with me.
Beatrice is gone up into high Heaven,
The kingdom where the angels are at peace;
And lives with them; and to her friends is dead.
Not by the frost of winter was she driven
Away, like others; nor by summer-heats;
But through a perfect gentleness, instead.
For from the lamp of her meek lowlihead
Such an exceeding glory went up hence
That it woke wonder in the Eternal Sire,
Until a sweet desire
Entered Him for that lovely excellence,
So that He bade her to Himself aspire;
Counting this weary and most evil place
Unworthy of a thing so full of grace.
Wonderfully out of the beautiful form
Soared her clear spirit, waxing glad the while;
And is in its first home, there where it is.
Who speaks thereof, and feels not the tears warm
Upon his face, must have become so vile
As to be dead to all sweet sympathies.
Out upon him! an abject wretch like this
May not imagine anything of her,—
He needs no bitter tears for his relief.
But sighing comes, and grief,
And the desire to find no comforter,
(Save only Death, who makes all sorrow brief),
To him who for a while turns in his thought
How she hath been among us, and is not.
With sighs my bosom always laboureth
In thinking, as I do continually,
Of her for whom my heart now breaks apace;
And very often when I think of death,
Such a great inward longing comes to me
That it will change the colour of my face;
And, if the idea settles in its place,
All my limbs shake as with an ague-fit:
Till, starting up in wild bewilderment,
I do become so shent
That I go forth, lest folk misdoubt of it.
Afterward, calling with a sore lament
On Beatrice, I ask, “Canst thou be dead?”
And calling on her, I am comforted.
Grief with its tears, and anguish with its sighs,
Come to me now whene’er I am alone;
So that I think the sight of me gives pain.
And what my life hath been, that living dies,
Since for my lady the New Birth’s begun,
I have not any language to explain.
And so, dear ladies, though my heart were fain,
I scarce could tell indeed how I am thus.
All joy is with my bitter life at war;
Yea, I am fallen so far
That all men seem to say, “Go out from us,”
Eyeing my cold white lips, how dead they are.
But she, though I be bowed unto the dust,
Watches me; and will guerdon me, I trust.
Weep, pitiful Song of mine, upon thy way,
To the dames going and the damozels
For whom and for none else
Thy sisters have made music many a day.
Thou, that art very sad and not as they,
Go dwell thou with them as a mourner dwells.
"“This is what Jehovah says: ‘A voice is heard in Raʹmah, lamentation and bitter weeping: Rachel is weeping over her sons. She has refused to be comforted over her sons, Because they are no more.’”" Jer. 31:15 ... prophecy
"“A voice was heard in Raʹmah, weeping and much wailing. It was Rachel weeping for her children, and she was unwilling to take comfort, because they are no more.”" Matt. 2:18 ... fulfillment.
At Jeremiah 31:15 Rachel is depicted as weeping over her sons who have been carried into the land of the enemy, her lamentation being heard in Ramah (N of Jerusalem in the territory of Benjamin). (See RAMAH No. 1.) Since Ephraim, whose tribal descendants are often used collectively to stand for the northern kingdom of Israel, is mentioned several times in the context (Jer 31:6, 9, 18, 20), some scholars believe this prophecy relates to the exiling of the people of the northern kingdom by the Assyrians. (2Ki 17:1-6; 18:9-11) On the other hand, it might relate to the eventual exiling of both those of Israel and of Judah (the latter by Babylon). In the first case, the figure of Rachel would be very appropriate since she was the maternal ancestor of Ephraim (through Joseph), the most prominent tribe of the northern kingdom. In the second case, Rachel’s being the mother not only of Joseph but also of Benjamin, whose tribe formed part of the southern kingdom of Judah, would make her a fitting symbol of the mothers of all Israel, their bringing forth sons now seeming to have been in vain. Jehovah’s comforting promise, however, was that the exiles would “certainly return from the land of the enemy.”—Jer 31:16.
as many a flag flutters under our Creator's soothing breeze?
under trumpeting horns
led by warring ideologies
The battle will continue for
or about to be born.
What will it take?
in the past century,
died in war's casualties
Not talking about the internal anger
on mankind's streets
this does make.
How many more lives are at stake?
Have not every nation made it's share of mistakes?
What about Jeremiah's words under Holy Spirit spoken?
"I well know, O Jehovah, that man’s way does not belong to him. It does not belong to man who is walking even to direct his step."
Were these a foregleam of more kingdoms broken?
The tide rises.
in turbulent seas.
What King or Queen Sovereign will put us at ease?
Rule by the wealthy--Plutocracy? Can they fill everyone's needs?
The ideas keep coming
like ants on a hill.
But muddy boots keep on trampling,
though they stalwartly build.
Such valiant efforts,
but really in vain.
Since the power they nourish,
it falters, not flourishes,
during thundering reigns.
The plains left scattered
with our youthful remains.
it keeps ticking
Still in spin.
When will we realize, this struggle will end?
Not under man's Sovereignty.
The following mentioned because God's Kingdom cannot be purchased by monetary means. Actions are necessary too. "Jesus looked at him and said: “How difficult it will be for those having money to make their way into the Kingdom of God! It is easier, in fact, for a camel to get through the eye of a sewing needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.”" Luke 18:24, 25.
Plutocracy and the image are the theme and the prompt. You don't have to use the word or the image just stay on the topic.
Noun: plutocracy (plural plutocracies) Government by the wealthy. A controlling class of the wealthy. Quotation 1933 — G. K. Chesterton, All I Survey, Essay XXIII: On Industrialism Modernity is not democracy; machinery is not democracy; the surrender of everything to trade and commerce is not democracy. Capitalism is not democracy; and is admittedly, by trend and savour, rather against democracy. Plutocracy by definition is not democracy. But all these modern things forced themselves into the world at about the time, or shortly after the time, when great idealists like Rousseau and Jefferson happened to have been thinking about the democratic ideal of democracy.
Honey dripped phrases
trickling, tingling finely
my inner ears
and warm sponging
my delicate curved spine.
I watch closely your lips
moving my motives
sweet gently to tears.
How winsome your words!
How wise beyond years.
So thoughtful and heartfelt.
Much more than your peers.
Your counsel... profound.
Your advice... practical
to which one wants to strictly adhere.
Yet, your worldly-wise works
drive my reason
I breathe to feel
that you meant
what you prayed.
Yet, your concealed revealed
mere words should not play.
They inspire to soar
like birds to the sky
then twisted conduct does slay
weakened faith to soon die.
adamantly you demand:
"Just do what I say!
Just do what I say!"
can't words nullify.
Do you not know?
Have you never heard?
Actions speak Louder
than many a word.
If they should us hear
real 'Truth' ever clearer,
this proof solid
found in the Bible,
One must Practice
what we Preach.
For this is what the masses
Contest is - write something based on the following quote :
“What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
4 lines minimum please - 400,000 lines maximum - brevity counts the same as an epic
No word count - no prohibitions - no salesmen will call
AP rules (label accordingly/ put contest in authors note...)
Be nice to others in the contest - because "don't be an ass" seems somehow disparaging
Co-host is one of my favorite poets - a woman of action - Candy Brown - if you have not visited her gallery of wonderhttp://allpoetry.com/Candy_Brown please feel free to drop by....
a final thought as I ramble ...
If we cannot connect it back to the quote we will not count it - just sayin
that's it - write if you feel so inclined - thanks for stopping by
stay warm in the storm ...
Awards: 600 for gold
"Do you, however, the one teaching someone else, not teach yourself? You, the one preaching, “Do not steal,” do you steal? You, the one saying, “Do not commit adultery,” do you commit adultery? You, the one abhorring idols, do you rob temples? You who take pride in law, do you dishonor God by your transgressing of the Law? For “the name of God is being blasphemed among the nations because of you,” Romans 2:21-24.
though he had in wisdom fled, replete with support to Europe
to complete his translation printed then smuggled back into England.
To many a clergy a tragic defeat.
SO what words to God would he in sincerity utter?
With a constricted throat would he sadly retract
or fearfully stutter?
No. His desire?
Not for his life to be rightfully spared.
Righteously inspired these words he unselfishly said:
"Lord, open the King of England's eyes."
For 'He' to be enlightened; his mind made wisely aware.
Three years later
in 1539, Henry VIII dutifully required every parish church in England and their parishioners to possess
a copy of an English Bible.
William Tyndale's wonderful success!
Such valiant efforts. Such bravery of heart.
Over 700 languages translated from English. In whole or in part.
A Entire World biblically Blessed.
Tyndale's courageous efforts left their mark.
His Generosity of Spirit smothered Bible illiteracy's
William Tyndale (/ˈtɪndəl/; sometimes spelled Tynsdale, Tindall, Tindill, Tyndall; c. 1494–1536) was an English scholar who became a leading figure in Protestant reform in the years leading up to his execution. He is well known for his translation of the Bible into English. He was influenced by the work of Desiderius Erasmus, who made the Greek New Testament available in Europe, and by Martin Luther. While a number of partial translations had been made from the seventh century onward, the spread of Wycliffe's Bible resulted in a death sentence for any unlicensed possession of Scripture in English—even though translations in all other major European languages had been accomplished and made available. Tyndale's translation was the first English Bible to draw directly from Hebrew and Greek texts, the first English one to take advantage of the printing press, and first of the new English Bibles of the Reformation. It was taken to be a direct challenge to the hegemony of both the Church of England and the laws of England to maintain the church's position. In 1530, Tyndale also wrote The Practyse of Prelates, opposing Henry VIII's divorce from Catherine of Aragon on the grounds that it contravened Scripture.