In Bethlehem's hush, a baby was born,
A radiant morn, a Savior adorned.
Jesus, the light in a world of night,
Wrapped in humility, clothed in divine might.
From Nazareth's streets to Galilee's shore,
A humble carpenter, yet so much more.
He spoke with wisdom, love in every word,
A shepherd to guide, the gentlest Lord.
Miracles unfolded at His tender touch,
Blind eyes opened, the broken made much.
He walked on water, calmed the storm,
In every heart, He sought to transform.
The Pharisees questioned, the crowds stood amazed,
The Son of God, on Earth, in human ways.
Parables woven with truths profound,
In every heart, redemption was found.
On a hill called Golgotha, a cross He bore,
A sacrifice for sins, a love to restore.
Crimson stains on rugged wood,
A selfless act, for the greater good.
Three days later, the tomb was bare,
Death defeated, a victory rare.
Resurrected, in glory He rose,
In every heart, a story He chose.
Ascended to heavens, His presence near,
A promise of hope, casting out fear.
In grace and mercy, His love unfurled,
The Savior of the world, Jesus, the pearl.
So in the quiet moments, in hymns we sing,
In the depths of despair, to Him, we bring.
For in the tapestry of time, His love proclaimed,
A timeless anthem, Jesus, forever named.
Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
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More stories from Melania J.L. and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli6 days ago in Poets
Standing Still
There are very few moments in life where time truly stands still. When your breath is taken from your chest and your body hangs weightless in that moment. Just long enough for it to stay with you from that day onwards. Deep in the red sands of the Australian Outback, I found that moment and clung to it forever.
By Kevin McLaughlin5 days ago in Wander
Comments (1)
What a beautiful, well-done poem about our Savior!