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Looking for girlfriend > Looking for a wife > Poem about the woman at the well

Poem about the woman at the well

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With our white frocks starched and ruffled, And our soft hair brushed and curled— Hats off! Fair sisters! But to elevate public opinion, And to lift up erring man, Is the work of the Human Being; Let us do it—if we can. But wait, warm-hearted sisters— Not quite so fast, so far.


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Praying a Poem by the Pope

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John This week, we see the gift of the Holy Spirit pouring out into the lives of those who believe and transforming them. We see how the Spirit shifts the struggling of our heads to understand, to the transformation of our hearts to know that gift within our souls.

From this depth—I came only to draw water. Leaves and flowers remain, and each astonished gaze. The poem is written as if the Samaritan woman is casting her mind back over some time to that day when she met Jesus. We have a woman coming to the well at a time of day when there would be few people around in the midday heat. She is a Samaritan, and surprised that Jesus is engaging with her as a member of a group on the outside of society.

A Jew would not be likely to talk to a Samaritan or be willing to share their utensils — so, in breaking these conventions, Jesus communicates powerfully that he has been sent for everyone. Our poem describes her as having come from the depth suggesting that, at the time, she might not have been in a good place.

For whatever reason, her sense of shame or awkwardness means that her lifestyle may have left her feeling judged by society and best avoiding others. As one gazes into the depths of a well to draw water, the darkness of the walls of the well can seem overpowering.

Dominating the view. She finds the radiance of his presence meets her in the reflection that she perceives in the water. Yet Jesus opens her eyes — opens them to the a new way of seeing her life, a new way in which to live it out. It is named, without argument, evasion or excuses and salvation draws near to her. In our poem, the well has become the symbol of the depths with which the woman has now been led into self-awareness by Jesus. The midday sun shining from straight from above would illuminate most of the water.

Refracting light back up against the walls of the well showing up every detail and imperfection in them. This perhaps acknowledges something new in her being transformed.

The source of living water. His memory is emblazoned in the water she perceives in the well. The woman and Jesus have a conversation about where their different traditions believe that they should go to worship God.

By engaging in this way with our faith, the geography of where we worship and pray to God is not the focal point. We can meet with Jesus and discern his will, through the Spirit, in our lives at any time and in any place. That living water is available to us at all times — both at the well and when we are in any other place. At the beginning of the poem the woman appears more transfixed by the darkness of the walls of the well than the brightness of the water.

They may, too, be the new shoots of life within her of her growth in Christ every time she drinks from that living water. Her open response to what Jesus was speaking into her life allowed who she was to evolve into a person who was animated by knowing Jesus and transformed in how she viewed the reality of her life. As that animation grew it spilled out to those that God was leading her to that were open to change as well as she ran off to spread the word. And so the kingdom continued its growth just as it does today.

Lord, we thank you that you are God with us and within us. You are commenting using your WordPress. You are commenting using your Google account. You are commenting using your Twitter account. You are commenting using your Facebook account. Notify me of new comments via email.

Notify me of new posts via email. Yet it is good. I can never take all of you into me. Stay then as mirror in the well. Leaves and flowers remain, and each astonished gaze brings them down to my eyes transfixed more by light than by sorrow. Share this: Twitter Facebook. Like this: Like Loading Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:.

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Poem: Woman by the well ( Are you searching for your purpose in life?)

A puddle of water looks like a muddy mess until the breeze feathers the surface and, like a light touch on a water glass, leaves a. Speaking in metaphors, bringing to light her secret story of man after man after—. There is water. Look up from the dishes and see the fields, the thirsty hearts.

John This week, we see the gift of the Holy Spirit pouring out into the lives of those who believe and transforming them.

J esus came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. It was about noon. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it? The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.

Our Second Self, the Woman at the Well

And it soon does. In this late season, who is the woman at the well drawing water, reflecting on the woman at the well? Millennial fissures in the well-rim, weed-choked cracks where brackish water rises for the woman at the well. Where are the rains of bygone eras? Preterite weather yields more rusted bucketsful for the woman at the well. Ancestral well of Jacob, where a weary traveler rests, where Jesus asks for water from the woman at the well. Oh plane trees of Samaria, in whose shade a stranger speaks of artesian fault lines to the woman at the well! Chaldean fountains, oases of date palms and minarets— how they flourish in the dreams of the woman at the well! Mirages of marble, pomegranate flowers, cedars of Baalbek shimmer in the sight of the woman at the well. On the night of destiny, the angel Gabriel descends and hovers by the footprints of the woman at the well.

Woman At The Well John Chapter 4

Post by Diane Houdek. Poetry is a perfect resource for this Lenten practice of prayerful attentiveness. For me, reading a poem meditatively is like taking a Sunday stroll along a woodland path. The poet is my walking companion and guide, inviting me to join in the refreshment of following images wherever my experience or imagination might take them.

Woman Walking in the searing sunlight Glare stinging my eyes with sudden tears Behind the fortress walls of surrounding houses They surely watch I can barely raise one foot after another Dust chokes my dry mouth This pot, my burden Unfilled, like a dead weight on my body. I walk this daily walk of torment I walk Alone It has been for such a long time now Must it always be so?

The man sitting on the well asked her for a drink. When he spoke kind words, She was confused and started to think. Jesus gently replied: I came to make your wrongs right,The water I want to give you flows from the inside. She was thinking in the world — the well is very deep.

Our Saviour And The Samaritan Woman At The Well

A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing is lacking, Yet all were lacking if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the right man were lacking. Sex contains all, bodies, souls, Meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations, Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal milk, All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, all the passions, loves, beauties, delights of the earth, All the governments, judges, gods, follow'd persons of the earth, These are contain'd in sex as parts of itself and justifications of itself. Without shame the man I like knows and avows the deliciousness of his sex, Without shame the woman I like knows and avows hers. Now I will dismiss myself from impassive women, I will go stay with her who waits for me, and with those women that are warm-blooded and sufficient for me, I see that they understand me and do not deny me, I see that they are worthy of me, I will be the robust husband of those women.

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No thought of scornful anger within His bosom burned, Nor, with abhorrent gesture, His face from her He turned; But as His gaze of purity dwelt on her, searching, meek, Her bright eyes fell, and blushes hot burned on her brow and cheek. He spoke, too, of the frailties which her womanhood had marred, That priceless crown which, she, alas! And when the twelve disciples returned, their errand done, They wondered at His converse with that lost and erring one, But still they asked no question, while she, with thoughtful mien, Returned to tell her friends at home of all that she had seen. Share this poem:. Autoplay next video.

Good Letters

Charm and grace are deceptive, and beauty is vain [because it is not lasting], but a woman who reverently and worshipfully fears the Lord, she shall be praised! Christian Women's Poetry is for encouraging and inspiring Women to rise to their full potential, and fulfil their God-given destiny. Please see my ' Terms Of Use ' page, for use of these poems. If you are wanting to use any of the poetry here, please do not alter the poems in any way. All poetry must remain as I have written it - with no changes made. Thank you. Just click on the title of the poem under 'Page Contents' to go to the poem.

Jun 9, - [EDITED: revised on 6/10] A Samaritan Woman Sitting at Jacob's Well by Joel E. Jacobson A puddle of water looks like a muddy mess until the.


“We As Women”


Women at the Well: A Poem






Comments: 3
  1. Tagul

    It is happiness!

  2. Akinogor

    Excuse for that I interfere … To me this situation is familiar. It is possible to discuss.

  3. Vikinos

    In my opinion you are not right. Let's discuss it. Write to me in PM.

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