Angel Poems

Angels just love weddings, don't you think?
No one sees them, but we know they're there,
Golden halos lassoing their hair,
Embodying a love beyond the brink.
Love draws them in like revelers to drink,
Alive in love, breathing love like air,
Amorous in ways we could not bear,
Needing us to be love's earthly link.
Do, then, with an angel's ecstasy,
Make your lives an amorous delight,
Intimate in ways both sure and sly,
Chaste but in the chamber of your love.
Heaven is not quite a fantasy;
Angels hover near, awaiting night.
Eden was a place where none was shy,
Loving as the naked lust might move.

Could there be angels waiting in the wings,
How might we call upon their ecstasy?
Rainbows are mere garnish on the days
In which we are the glory and the light.
So may we hear the songs our sunshine sings,
The words which will the wonder of our ways;
May we know how good it is to be
As we celebrate the holidays,
So much in love we weep as angels might.

Each angel has a voice its own,
Vocally distinct,
Even as it longs for home,
Lured to Being's brink.
Yet billions, billions sing as one,
Nearer than they think.

Even angels feel the pangs of love.
(Vicariously, of course - their love is pure.)
Each finds a human love to serenade,
Leaving its perfection in the shade,
Yearning for the pain it must endure,
Near ecstasy with what it knows not of.

Even angels tire of ecstasy.
Very few can stare at God with pleasure
Eons upon eons, as the sea
Lies featureless across its teeming treasure.
Yet we have grace to look and then recover.
No joy but fades, to give way to another.

Grateful angels sing at Heaven's gates
In choirs, well, perhaps five trillion strong,
Unleashing love insatiable in song,
Love unknown to those of other fates.
In us, so far removed from such high states,
Alien even to where we belong,
Neither here nor there for very long,
A love like that retreats, and doubts, and waits.

Habitues of Heaven hate to hurry,

After eons soaked in ecstasy,

Perched upon a pinhead, pink and blurry,

Passionately pleased simply to be.

Yet those of us below, who work and worry,

Send from time to time an urgent plea,

Ever hoping for a glimpse of glory

Vouchsafed from beyond what we can see.

Enter, then, O angels, in your fury,

Nether worlds no bigger than a pea,

To brush the moment with your burning beauty,
Hallowing this anniversary!

Angels have no ID bracelets on them.
No features glow with heavenly delight.
Given that their wings are made of feeling,
Each flying angel's given to concealing
Love's plumage like a rainbow in the night.
Shyness cloaks the halos that surround them.

Angels are quite confident,
Now they are on high.
Given whom they represent,
Each appearing Heaven sent,
Let them serve God innocent
As we live and die.

Angels are quite ample cause to cry,
Now, like silent movies, obsolete.
God Itself now knoweth Its demise,
Even as a plaything of the wise,
Lost to all but those that work the street,
A retiree not ready yet to die.

Harpies are but angels who are harried,
Angry, disappointed in their lot,
Prone to practice bickering when married,
Perhaps because they don't get what they've got.
Yet angels nonetheless, as pure inside
As deep and drifted, soot-encrusted snow,
Near the heart of God but for their pride,
No less loved, for all their squawk below.
If you find yourself pursued by harpies,
Vengeful just because . . . well, just because,
Elevate the angle of your worries,
Remembering that there are higher laws.
So may you love all beings, bright or small,
And be what you would have them be to all,
Regardless of what they might be to you.
You are the harpist, no matter what you do.

On your engagement let the angels sing!
Now let clouds of angels fill the air!
You may think your pledge a mundane thing;
One word of love and angels hover there!
Unborn children wait upon your breath,
Reaching past the hundredth generation,
Even as you touch souls wrapped in death,
Now equal sharers in your celebration.
Give yourselves to mutual delight;
All things come to being out of love.
God said love: Behold, and there was light!
Even so shall you vast spirits move.
May all spirits join you in your joy,
Each rapt in occult pleasure as you toy,
Needing your sweet love to fully be,
Though happy far beyond your ecstasy.