2010 Poetry Theme Challenges

#14 Angels

Do you ever feel someone is watching over you or that there is something influencing you and your decisions? Is this what is known as a guardian angel? When we refer to someone as an angel what are we saying? We all know the biblical angels such as Gabriel but for this challenge I want your personal insight of angels.

Happy Quilling!



Divena Collins

Angels Of Earth
Angels Of Love
Memories Of An Angel
My Guardian Angel

Ryter Roethicle

Angel Tears
Angels With One Wing
I Know A Little Angel
Touched by an Angel
Visions in the Mirror

Nia Wynne

Angel Signs

Maryse and Willow

Fallen Angel

Divena Collins

Angels of Earth

There are Angels here on Earth
Who dwell in this vast domain
Tho` they are somewhat dearth,
There are but few who remain
Kind considerate and humane ;
Angels spirits return to save
Restive souls who haunt the grave
Theirs is a peace to find herein,
A tranquil haven once depraved
Of Earths Angels who dwell within.


Angels of Love

Celestial stars twinkle in the heavens above
Shining down to Earth on the darkest night,
Deep in trance, through soft mystical light
A prophesy on Earth, of true eternal love
Visions of Angels, with white turtle doves
Dreams of fulfillment, and heavenly bliss
Cool breezes blow down a soft gentle kiss,
A prophesy on Earth of true eternal love.
Mythical spirits, awaken two lovers thereof
Hearts beating, like soft feathered wings,
Angels choral voices, so sweetly they sing
A prophesy on Earth of true eternal love
Celestial stars twinkle in the heavens above,
A prophesy on Earth of true eternal love.


Memories Of An Angel

How quickly doth moments in time fade
With only fond memories left behind
Some remembered and others frayed,
To perish forever and never be found
Whilst images placed in an album
Deteriorate as the years pass round,
But dust collects in an empty room
That once was filled with her laughter
And is now shadowed with a gloom,
Only a rose reminds me of her scent
A delicate perfume that lingers on
Memories of the days she had spent,
Wiping saddened tears from my eye
Whenever an Angel heard her baby cry.


My Guardian Angel

If I should ever fall from grace
Should there be any hope for me
Bound in dreams I cannot trace,
Only a guardian angel could free
While heavenly spirits then see;
As I float upon a deep sea spray
Unto this vision I shall now pray
For I fear I shall ne-er be brave,
To find I was blessed this day
And rescued from a silent grave.

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Ryter Roethical

Angel Tears

Angels tears fall to the earth
As single drops of rain.
Rarely seen in recent years
Angels tears too few,
Too rare.
A few would hit and then it stopped
Then the sky ships would drift away.
Angels tears now fall to Earth
Drowning the world below
In their prolific sorrow.
So long have they o’erlooked man
Seeing his sins of Avarice,
Lust and Gluttony fed too well.
One wonders if the tears are of despair,
Or of frustration and farewell.


Angels With One Wing

We are, each of us angels with only one wing;
and we can only fly by embracing one another.
--Luciano de Crescenzo

Realise, only angels weep true tears
Their sorrow as they watch us frail creatures
As we lead our frail lives thinking
Everything is so important
And means so much,
But they know only love is important
And only love is carried on through death.
The soul that has been ignored in life
May carry without ever knowing true love.
We are, each of us angels with only one wing;
But an angel with one wing cannot fly
And so is born an awareness,
We need the angel with the other wing;
And then we can fly by embracing one another.


I Know A Little Angel

I know a little angel that sings!
Not well, but what she lacks in experience
She makes up for in enthusiasm.
I know a little angel that plays music!
Not well at all, but she plays it loud
Showing her love for music.
I know a little angel that lives in America
I love her
She is my granddaughter.
It is when I hear her sing and play
I wish I could applaud
And hug and kiss her.
But secretly after a while listening
I’m glad I’m in Australia.


Touched by an Angel

If an angel touches you on the arm
Do you shrug it off and ignore it
Or thank him and feel the warmth.
He is a stranger, and yet you permit
This intimacy and willingly commit
To this unknown person that's with you
Who will help, so you pass through
Your problems and tribulations
Perhaps giving another point of view
To help you with all of your relations.


Visions in the Mirror

In the mirror I see shadows moving
There is no threat or intimidation
Or any sign of them disapproving.
They're there, on duty, at their station.
Sometimes there's a form, a sensation,
A face that for a while recognised me
Smiled, and I wondered who it could be.
Then things would be normal, he went away
It could be ages before I could again see
The next time I saw him, I wished he'd stay.

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Nia Wynne

Angel Signs

Do you see inside my window
All the life it holds within it?
From here I peer with thoughts to sow
In hopes to find a symbol fit
To call a sign from that one bit
Of angels dust, to show me signs.
That perhaps pity is your wine
While sorrow has become just sour
Grapes that say too long on the vines,
Pities white horse runs with power.

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Maryse and Willow


Do you believe in angels
That they are all around,
As protectors and guardians
For us here on the ground?
Perhaps you’ve sensed their presence
When you are on your own
Something that reassures you
That you are not alone;
Maybe you’ve heard a whisper
That tells you not to fear,
Or perchance words of warning
That caution ‘Don’t go there’.

But there are also people
That we meet every day,
Who may seem ordinary
And so we do not pay
Any attention to them;
We do not recognize
That they are really angels
Sent to us in disguise.
They may be at the bakers,
At your home or in mine,
Who knows they might be even
Chatting with us on line.

Of course, Angels come in all shapes and sizes
- some of them are thin and austere lookingg
with care-drawn brows and snowy locks;
others are quite fat and jolly
and wear brightly-coloured flowerprint smocks...
Some are wizened, frail and grey;
others seem like little cherubs
bidding you a cheery day!

And contrary to artistic style
very few have feathered wings,
though one or two might play the harp
and most are known at times to sing!

But Angels can be sad as well
- especially when they have grim news to teell,
tidings smoothed by comforting words
(whether in the factory-place or Church).
Angels bleed as well as men
and shed salt tears for passed kin...

Hovering behind the faces of nurse and midwife,
clergyman or family friend
they enact time-honoured rituals of compassion and care,
tending the frail flowers of Earth
when they fall to sickness, war, famine, despair.
Nor are Angels partial in their favour and compassion
- the bruised knee of the child
is just as important to them
as the ulcer of the businessman.

Even the murderer and war-criminal
is surrounded by Angels
if they did but know it:
messengers of conscience
never failing in their duty
to remind Man of his own inherent Divinity
and simple, loving humanity.

Even Death is but an Angel
could men see beyond the
ash-white face of bone
- his Hourglass of trickling sand
counting out each remaining second
to that moment of transformation
when physical time blossoms into Eternity,
his adamantine Scythe
no terrible instrument of destruction
but a loving tool of harvesting and Mercy
eager to deliver the newly liberated soul
to the Great Beloved's side...

They’re quick to lend a shoulder,
If that is what we need,
Or a healing word to stem
The flow when our hearts bleed.
They send ‘forwards’ by email
To show us that they care
And jokes that make us chuckle
On days that would be drear.
They come to us unbidden,
They warm us when we’re cold
They lead us back so gently
When we stray from the fold.

So when next you meet someone
Be sure you’re extra nice,
For they might be an angel,
So you’d better think twice
Before you brush them away,
Dismiss them carelessly,
I wouldn’t want an angel
To take umbrage with me.
God sends His angels to us,
To guide us on our way
To offer us helping hands
In our lives every day.


Fallen Angel

Over the past few days the lake has been drained
and clearly visible at the bottom,
perhaps for the first time in tens of thousands of years,
are the remains of a twenty foot Fallen Angel,
its spine and rib-cage virtually intact,
together with its almost perfectly preserved wing structure,
held in place by complex miniature forests
of living coral and phosporescent devils-weed.
Within the skeletal cave where the proud,
rebellious creature's heart once beat
and thrummed with thoughts and passion,
schools of tiny luminous fish dart this way and that
like the electrical impulses of some dreaming, submerged brain,
invisible to mortal eyes.
If one had the power of imagination to decipher
their esoteric, hieroglyphic script,
what arcane secrets of Heaven might still be revealed
in this doomed Nephilim's dying wisdom;
what obscure codices of forbidden lore
briefly shewn forth in bio-chemical light?
- a lilliputian ballet portraying the birthh and death
of ancient nebulae, far-removed in space and time,
seen through a shallow aqueous lens...

What stories you might well relate
Of olden days, of love and hate
Of those who lived and those who died
And others still who laughed and cried.
Perhaps you’d even dare to tell
Us the true reason why you fell
From grace, and why they put you here,
Concealed from mankind’s curious stare.
But in time most things come to light
And we may yet learn of your plight
Were you sent in exile because
You disregarded Heaven’s laws
How long have you lain here alone,
Companion to water and stone
With creatures of this watr’y world
And reeds and weeds around you curled;
Speak to us Angel if you please
Unravel all your mysteries.

The dead Angel turned a cold and empty eye upon me.
A small turtle swam out its socket and surveyed me with curiosity.
"Four score millennia my ancient body has lain upon this muddy bed"
the turtle spoke inside my brain,
"whilst all about this quiet place forests grew and perished,
mountains rose and fell, little creatures were born,
lived and loved and sometimes fought amongst themselves
(following the time-honoured tradition of Cosmic Conflict)
bringing forth yet more of their kind...
Preserved by some heavenly power still clinging to my corpse
this little lake remained untouched,
my once quite vast and limitless mind
passing into fathomless generations of long-lived turtles
- but this present body I now inhabit
is perhaps the end of the line,
the ancient sorceries are all used up
and when this little creature perishes of old age
my final, dreaming spark of consciousness
shall also be claimed by the silt and the muck...
Listen - and I will tell you the answers to some of your questions:
riddles that have perplexed great poets and sages
down through the hoary ages. Put aside your modern novel
and listen to what I have to say...

I was an angel shining bright
Part of a world where love and light
Abounded wherever we turned
Where none were forgotten or spurned
Where people lived in blissful peace
No need for soldiers or police,
Until one day a wicked man
Gained entry and devised a plan
That would destroy our existence,
Bring famine, drought and pestilence
Teach people about hate and greed
To pierce the heart and make it bleed
And although I tried to resist
The temptation, I had been kissed
By evil, and soon I was lost
My soul tarnished, so I was tossed
From Paradise to roam the earth
Evicted from my place of birth.

This being called Himself the Saviour of Angels
and denounced God as a despot...
I listened to his arguments and was
convinced he spoke the truth,
I yearned to spread the light of reason to Man
and follow Lucifer's great plan.
But a self-styled Saint, ascending to Heaven
in a chariot of fire, convinced me and my brethren
that Lucifer was wrong,
that Man must obey Rules and Codes...
Confusion and Debate reigned in Heaven for Aeons and Long Centuries
whilst God retained mysterious Silence,
Who was right, the Prince of the Morning or the stern-faced
Hermit from the Desert?

Alas, I succumbed to the Hermit's lies and chose
a squalid religion based on fear and deception,
turning my back upon the Great Teacher,
denouncing him as Anti-Christ
... yet still God remained quite silent!
Why did He not speak?

When Lucifer came down to Earth the debate merely continued...
had He been expelled from Heaven or did he leave quite willingly?
Some Seraphim argued that it was in fact the Will of God
that Lucifer should instruct Man
but still grave doubts assailed my mind
and in the age-long struggles that followed
my mind wavered this way and that

- but just as Christ had been kissed by Juddas
I had been kissed by the narrow philosophy of the Stylite
and gave myself to his restricted vision of Creation,
in which light was perceived as darkness
and the darkness of the little mind became the new Light!

And still God maintained His enigmatic Silence.

Losing sight of my true resplendent nature
I became a smaller and much denser Being,
no longer an entirely spiritual entity
but something subject to travail and woe,
the gross influences of space, time and sensory phenomenon,
half-angel, half a partially incarnated creature of the Upper Air,
a Nephilim, if you will...

until, becoming smaller and denser still,
I took to wife a mortal women in the land that later
became known as Greece
although our kind lived apart from the cities and civilizations of Men,
who, when they did not revere us, hated and feared our power and beauty
and the fragrance of Heaven that still clung to us...

I know not what history will tell
About the reasons why I fell
Or what the religions will say
About that awful, awful, day;
But now at last you’ve given me
The chance to relate my story.
Some will believe and some will scoff
Convinced heaven is better off
Without me there; it matters not
I’ve been left here for years to rot.
The Fallen Angel I became
And each man will attach the blame
As he sees fit. Some will reject
Lucifer, they have no respect
For him; whilst others still revere
Him, sing his praise for all to hear.
But now you’ve had a chance to know
My version of the overthrow;
Perhaps I’ll be able to sleep;
Return my remains to the deep.

By now night had fallen
and I could no longer make out the shape
of the small turtle
swimming in the partly-drained lake.
With tasks awaiting me at home
and, furthermore, my arms and face
being repeatedly bitten by a myriad of mosquitoes,
I walked thoughtfully home,
pondering the strange things I had heard.
I resolved to return tomorrow
to listen to more of what the Fallen Angel had to say.
But that night the monsoons finally came
and a mighty deluge poured down from heaven,
causing the streets to run with liquid song,
bringing men and children and toads out in the hundreds
to celebrate the return of welcome moisture...
Various duties prevented me from returning
to the lake for several days
and when I did so it was full up to its former level again
and there was no sign of the Fallen Angel.
I saw numerous turtles swimming in the mud-coloured waters
aswell as many gold and silver carp
- but none of them 'spoke' to me
and I am left wondering whether I did not in fact
hallucinate the whole matter...

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