Alone

 Jesus you were alone
up over your Cross.
I came to give you
some company

But I don´t deceirve
your Company.
I am a sinner
and you are God

Please accept my arm
to rest in it.
Accept my soul
and when you went
to Heaven.
Remember me
poor sinner.
Amen.


ADRIÁN PRUNOTTO

In front of the Cross

Oh, My Lord Jesus.
I am here in front of your Cross
full of pity and sorrow

I need You in one piece
but your Saints Wounds
bleedin, it sounds like, you can´t
Help me, I need you
today not tomorrow


Adrián Prunotto..

Thanks to the Lord

Thanks to the Lord
because He forgive me
and he become the sadness
into happiness.


Thanks to the Lord
because, He cleaned
the house of my soul
and became the bad odor
into precious odor.


ADRIÁN PRUNOTTO

Strengh in the Espirit

In the spirit is the streng to subdue the body
Those of the flesh do things of the flesh
Those of the spirit do things of the spirit (Rom,8,5)

Whatch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation
the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak (Mt 26,41)

For to be carnally minded is death.
but spiritually minded is life and peace (Rom, 8,6)

Seek to unravel the mistery of your spirit,
the spirit holds the secret to your eternal life

Troutght  your spirit, you can subdue the body
For no other strengh is grater than the spirit´s
Its strenght deriving from the spiritual world

The spirit si the bluesprint of the phisical: 
Its heals the body and creates the future. 

Faith trough the spirit is endless power!

The Ascencion

As Jesus declared. His final message of Love,
The sky slowly unfolded befor his disciples.

Surronded by the splendor of rosy white clouds,
Hevenly gates become visible for all to see.

The midpoint illustrated a superb radiance,
From which descended six-winged archangels.

Cherubins echoed " Holy, Holy, Holy is His Name:
While celestial being played their instruments.

Jesus majestically levitated heavenward,
Ascending towards His glorious awaiting Throne.

The disciples despaired as Jesus faded away,
Displaying their weak lasting corporal nature.

The cloud formation gradually blended together,
Sealing this supernatural marvel for eternity.

The foundation of the christian faith originated,
Establishing the church or eternal redemption.


ANONIMOUS

My suffering, Oh Lord, my suffering

My suffering, Oh Lord, my suffering
Its sense like the whole world
The suffering of the whole world
But you Friend Jesus,
you pouring me, loving
me for ever

Now it´s no my suffer
It´s Your truly suffering
Your sorrow for the whole world
Did that you suffer a lot more than nobody
Thanks, for your True Loving
heart.



ADRIÁN PRUNOTTO

The Doubster´s Prayer

Eternal power of earth and air!
Unseen, yet seen in all around
Remote, but dwelling everywhere
Tough silent, heard in every sound.

If e´er thine ear in mercy bent
When wretched mortals cries to Thee.
And if ,indeed.Thy Son was sent.
To save lost sinners, suchs as me.

Then hear me now, while kneeling here.
I lift to thee, my heart and eye.
And all my soul ascends in prayer,
OH GIVE ME- GIVE ME FAITH. I cry.

Without some glimmering in my heart,
I could not raise this fervent prayer,
But, oh! a stronger light impart.
And in Thy mercy fix it there.

While Faith is with me, I am blest
It turns my darkness night to day:
But while I clasp it to my breast,
I often feel it slide away.

Then, cold and dark, my spirit sinks,
To see my light of life depart
And every fiend of Hell, methinks,
Enjoys the anguish of my heart.

What Shall I do, if all my love.
My hope, my toil, are cast away,
And if there be no God above.
To hear and bless me when I pray?

If this be vain delusion all,
If death be an eternal sleep,
And none can hear my secret call.
Or see the silent tears I weep!

Oh, help me , God! For thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve,
Forsake it not: it is thine own,
Thought weak, yet longing to believe

Oh, drive these cruel doubts away:
And make me know,that Thou art God!
A faith, that shines by night and day,
Will lighten every earthly load.

If I believe that Jesus died,
And waking, rose to reign above
Then surely Sorrow, Sin and Pride
Must yield to Peace, and Hope and Love.

And all the blessed words He said
Will strenght and holy joy impart:
A shield of safety  o´er my head,
A spring of comfort in my heart.


ANNE BRONTE

By Night when others soundly slept

By night when others soundly slept
And hath at once both ease and Rest.
My waken eyes were open kept
And so to lie I found it best.

I sought him whom my Soul did Love
With tears I sought him earnestly
He bow´d his ear down from Above
In vain I did not seek or cry

My hungry Soul he fill´d with Good.
He in his Bottle put my tears.
My smarting wounds washt in his blood
And banish thence my Doubts and fears.

What to my Saviour shall I give
Who freely hath done this for me?
I´ll serve him here whilst I shall live
And Loue him to Eternity


ANNE BRADSTREET

All things are full of God

All things are full of God. Thus spoke
Wise Thales in the days
When subtle Greece to thought awoke
And soared in lofty ways
And now what wisdom have we more?
No sage divining-rod
Hath taught than this a deeper lore
ALL THINGS ARE FULL OF GOD

The Light that gloweth in the sky
And shimmers in the sea.
That quivers in the painted fly
And gems the pictured lea.
The million hues of Heaven above
and Earth below are one.
And every lightful eye doth love
The primal light, the Sun.

Even so, all vital virtue flows
From life´s first fountain, God
And he who feels, and he who knows,
Doth feel ans know from God.
As fishes swim in briny sea.
As fowl do float in air.
From Thy embrace we cannot flee:
We breathe, and Thou art there.

Go, take thy glass, astronomer,
And all the girth survey
Of sphere harmonious linked to sphere,
In endless bright array
All that far- reaching Science there
Can measure with her rod,
All powers, all laws, are bur the fair
Embodied thoughts of God.


JOHN STUART BLACKIE

The Tiger

Tiger, tiger burning bright
in the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand, and what dread feet?

What the hammer, what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terror clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water´d heaven with their tears,
Did He smile, His work to see?
Did He to made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forest of the night.
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?


WILLIAM BLAKE

The Cross

Tree which heaven has willed to dower
With that true fruit whence we live,
As that other death did give
Of new Eden loveliest flower,
Bow of light, that in worst hour
Of the worst flood signal true
O´er the world, of mercy threw;
Fair plant, yielding sweetest wine
Of our David harp divine;
Of our Moses tables new;
Sinner am I, therefore I
Claim upon thy mercies make;
Since alone for sinners´ sake
God on thee endured to die.

PEDRO CALDERÓN DE LA BARCA

Jones the Grocer

Jones, the Grocer, we called him-
A pale man skilled in servility,
His hands white and soft as the lard he stacked
In small meticulous rows, his head
Polish and somehow apologetic, as if
He was crowned forever with dishonour

I hated him, he was to obsequious by far,
Embellising, transaction   whit fulsome flattery
Of your hab, your appearance, your miserable opinions.
He seemed to exis in a fog
Of self-effacement, trouhg which  one caught
The rarest glimpse of a human dignity

Yet, one could suffer the arid washing of his hands
For the joy of that shops its curiosities,
like the corner where it was always dusk
And equatorial aromatics whith coffee beans
And calendars derisive of popularity,
And the adverts twenty years out of date

One could suffer it, and gladly suffer it again
To be delivered of this, its successor-
A supermarket, slick and soulless
Arrogantly accepting the shopper´s homage.


HERBERT WILLIAMS  

Incendiary

That one small boy, with a face like palid cheese
And burn out little eyes could make a blaze
As brazen, fierce and huge, as red and gold
And zany yellow as the one thar spoiled
Three thousands guineas worth of property
And crops, at  Godwin farm on Saturday
is fraitened, as fact and methafor
And ordinary match intented for
The lighting of a pipe, or kitchen fire
Misused may set a whole menagerie
Of flame fanged tigers roaring hungrily
And frightened , too,  thar one small boy shoud set
The sky on fire and choke the stars to heat
Such skinny limbs and such a little star
Which would have been content which one warm kiss
Had there been anyone to offer this


VERNON SCALLENN

Early Morning Feed

The father darts out on the stairs
to listen to that keening
In the upper room, for a change of note
That signifies distress, to scotch disaster,
The kettle huming in the room behind

He thinks, on tiptoe, ears a-strain,
The cool dawn, raising like the moon:
"Must not appear, and pick him up:
He musn´t think he has me springing
to his beck and call"
The kettle rattling, behind the kitchen door.

He has him springing
A-quiver on the landing-
For a distressed note, a change of key
To gallop up the stairs to him
To take him up, light as a violin,
And stroke his back until he smiles
He slides in the kitchen,
and pours his tea...


And again stands hearkening
For milk cracking the lungs
.There´s a little panting,
A cough: the thumbs in, he´ll sleep
The cup of tea cooling on the kitchen table

Can he go in now to his chair and think
Of the miracle of breath, pick up a book,
Ready at all times to take it at a run
And intervene between him and disaster,
Sipping his cold tea as the sun comes up?

He returns to bed
and feels like something, with the door ajar,
Crouched in the bracken, alert, whith big eyes
For the hunter, death, disaster.

Woman to Child

You who were darkness warmd my flesh
Where out of darkness rose the seed
Then all the world I made in me:
all the road you hear and see
hung upon my dreaming blood

There moved the multitudinous stars,
And coloured birds and fishes moved
There swam the sliding continents.
All time lay rolled in me, and sense
and love that knew not its beloved

O node and focus of the world
I hold you deep whitin that well
you shall scape and not scape-
that mirrors still your sleeping shape,
thar nortures still your crescent shell.

I wither and you brake from me;
yet thought you dance in living light,
I am the erth , I am  the root.
I´m the  the steam, that fed the fruit,
the links that join you to the night.


JUDITH WRIGHT

Unto us...

Somewhere and sometime
They commiteed themselves to me
And so, I was!
small but I was.


Tiny in shame,
lusting to live.
I hung in my pulsing cave
Soon they knew of me
My mother, my father.

I had no  say in my being
I lived on trust
And love
Tho¨ I couldn´t think
Each part or me was saying.

A silent  "for me
I will bring you love!"
I was taken
blind, naked and defencelees
By the hand of one


Whose good name
was graven on a brass plate
in Winpole Street
and dropped on the sterile floor
of a foot operated plastic waste bucket




There was no Quuen´s Councel
To take my brief.
The cot I might have warmed
Stood in Harrow´s shop window
When my passing was told


My father smiled
No grif fill my empty space.
My death was celebrated
With two tickets to see Danny y la Rue
Who was pretending to be a woman


Like, my mother was






Spike Milligan

On the late massacre in Piemont

A venge, O Lord, thy  slauhtered saints,   w
whose bones
Lay scattered on the Alpine mountains cold
Even them who kept thy trout so pure of
old.
When all our fathers worshipped  stocks and
stones.
Forggert not, in thy book record their groans.
Who were thy sheep, and in their anciennt fold.
Stain by the bloody Piemontesem that rolled
Mother with infant down the roks.Their
moans
The vales redoubled to he hills, and Then
The heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes
sow
oér the italiand fields, where still doth
sway
The triple Tyran; that from these may grow
A hundred- fold, who, having learnt ,
thy way,
Early may fly the Babylonian woe


Louisa Macartney Crawford