Lyricalpontiff's Posts
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My love for you is like a brand new socks Never felt the feet(defeat) My flesh,spirit and soul(sole) Know that you are too fly High above heels(hills) like ankle Forget beef just take off the calf from my leg I'm on my knees,writing love poems in hips Every Tom,DICK and Harry knows what my pen is(penis) I've got rectum in my ink so I write shit A love letter would be a cardboard belt Waste(waist) of paper Knowing I don't have the liver Finds me hard to stomach At least I have a heart left These lyrics are like blood, They flow with the beat But I want to lock you in my rib cage Let me get this shit off my chest Last time you fell my hand,my wrist broke You are so hot giving me cold shoulder Now I'm sticking out my neck Read my lips,my rhymes will never dry Like my tongue Yes! Yes!! I've got two chicks(cheeks) Check my jaw God knows(nose) you are so deaf(def) Forget the ears I want to be in your eyes like tears Together we shall make headlines like wrinkles Other need more than four(fore) heads To flow the way I flow I'm leaving here(hair) like afro
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Home away from home I try to be a roman in Rome Deep within my stomach, it kills Consuming unfamiliar meals To keep body system in function I wish my Naija was the next junction But it's a light year away from me And I'm in a place I always dream to be Here hospitality is friendly yet strange Cuisines at variance with home, change I have a lot for my stomach to carry But none can equal my beloved garri You don't know what you have until it's gone With't garri how can I survive under the sun? It sustained me from infancy to adulthood Now my intestines riot because of oyibo food I'm an Ikwerre boy,I don't have time to form Give me garri whether solid or liquid form Take your fries ,salad,noodles,or chicken I envy d 160million hosting garri in kitchens Then the choir in my embattled stomach sang Give us egusi,okro,oha,obono or afang Garri conveys them down the bumpy road Now the bowels are now set to explode Then I woke up,it was just a dream A very bad one,but I didn't scream I blame it on the hunger before the siesta In my fridge I have shawamma & tasty fiesta Whenever hunger infects me with long throat GARRI is always my antidote...
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Dear future me, I am he you used to be More intro will be useless, you already know me The wheels of days here turn slowly I’m writing this letter tethered to a quest I’m still on treetops, in solitude in my warm nest Over here, true love is like ice water in hell It doesn’t make sense like a wooden bell I wish you could tell me about yourself Do you work in NNPC, shell, Agip or Elf? Even in my dreams, I’ve known your scent I’m glad that you represent me 100% How is the soil that mothers your seed? She is one of my counts on my prayer bead Please teach me how to iron out my creases and flaws Teach me how to escape life’s fangs and claws I’m a gymnast in the dilemmas of everyday Active in the cloud of things, and today I stand on the balcony of time with shades To see you, yesterdays seed now sprouting blades I need a map to navigate through the labyrinth Of my heart, mind and soul… Yours truly Present me.
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The flute of the wind ignites the dance of the brown leaves They descend in mockery and perch on a head that grieves “No food for a lazy man” so says the mangoes They cling on their tree and won’t fall until the man goes But those that think he’s lazy should first check the church He’s a sanctuary keeper, he sweeps, mops, cleans and such Yet poverty has swept him with a very long broom Stomach worms speak in tongues as he kabashes in his room “Take the whole world and give me Jesus, I’m a believer” “Sinners repent or perish” blah blah blah, rapture fever His life is slow so he’s forced to fast “This world is not my own, vanity upon vanity won’t last” In the neighborhood, he can never win a soul How Na? Even the asphalt frown at the step of his shoe sole Mr. Self righteous, everyday one shirt, one trouser & one shoe Even the poor sinners around him are like “shoo” Lazarus was sure of the crumbs from the rich man’s table He will insist, “God’s time is the best, my God is able” That won’t be oily to the throat of the wind, sorry Christ principle is prosperity, so don’t worry I will call you a no good Godly pauper Even in heaven, you won’t be a champagne popper It’s not enough to be righteous and take Holy Communion Salvation is incomplete without financial dominion Remember wealth and riches accompany the righteous When God looked for a friend, he never found Lazarus The wings of the bible are strong but u don’t fly Quit crawling and remove the log in your eye So if you only give a hoot about rapture and the marriage supper I think it’s proper to call you a Godly righteous pauper Stop blaming the innocent village witch The nails of the scripture can scratch that itch My brother in Christ, scripturally let’s strike a balance And put a needle in the balloon of ignorance Heaven is for both the poor and rich But here on earth, if you are not rich you no reach
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moshoodn:I dunno what next but I promise it will be dope |
israelBigFame:I am a poet, I quoted a character in my poem |
I could not sleep last night Even other night to sleep na fight My conscience lifts a weight I’m in need of solutions, my heart deflates I have a big problem Each time I close my eyes I see them Yes I see them all From my bed to the floor to the wall I wish it was a dream But it isn’t, so I melt like heated ice cream They always know where to find me Their presence won’t let me be And they will never leave So every day I grieve I’m being haunted by the passing of time So I sought help by the elements in our clime But the pepper in the night made me cough I choked, the fumes of the atmosphere was tough In panic I crawled behind some trees Tears from the trees wet a hive of bees “Where do I run to?” thoughts ran through my mind I was groping as the fog made me blind Claws of the wind clutched me Tear drops of the clouds touched me The fangs of the night stung me I was speechless as reality hung me I watched the moon stare with a devilish grim The drowsy star in anger went dim I can’t hold down my conscience till infinity If I yield not, the horrors will be eternity For I have made starving beats salivate in anger They need lyrical dishes to quench their hunger My malnourished muse mood swings, so palely Blank pages frown at me daily Similes and metaphors shorn of flesh Figurative formations far from fresh My rhyme pad was a garden, now a thorn bush I head for the labour room, ready to push The more I write, I feel the labour pain My train of thoughts cruises in my brain The cry of the baby breaks the fetters on my conscience As I break free from that horror experience
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"German" lol |
In the days when UST was university of shoot and takeoff Some went to school to read maybe become a prof But not Billy, his role model was General Sani Abacha Somewhere in Diobu, living in a bacha His admission cut the noose around the lean neck Of his wild dreams of becoming an Exec Signs told him all other cults were weak So he embraced Vikings in his first week In his first semester, he rose up in the light The wind spread his fame, Billy the star of the night He was on the passageway between the walls of envy Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion, the life of a V Dreams of becoming number one like the index finger Sowed his dreams in the loamy soil of time that linger In his 3rd year, he had few academic bugs He couldn’t sleep like bull frogs Not because his academics slant at the edge But because he was yet to fulfill his pledge He nursed a grudge against his serving executioner Without Vikings and his crush, he was an empty container He just heard that his crush was cornered and lost her flower By his exec and co, taking turns on her for hours Billy fumed at a pub with some acolytes downing red label He stood with a scream “aro mates…all Norsemen are rebels” Billy knows what General Abacha knew All he need was a bottle of squadron and his crew His crack force were heavily armed to the teeth They ran mad with anger until they could hardly breathe Billy wrapped his vengeance round the waist of his dreams The support he got was bursting at the seams He ran an intel to trace his exec and co They were somewhere around back gate but no The full ship anchored with SS on sentry He knows even angels will be denied entry Billy realized he wasn’t going against some empty men So he anchored the ship, stuck to his operation MTN As time walked by, aro exec was stung out On booze, Billy’s plans began to sprout In highness the ship reduced and the sentry disembarked Billy’s crack force came in and attacked Billy grabbed his pistol and aimed at his exec Give me your thumb or I end your life in a sec ……........watch out for part 2………
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Last Sunday, I was minding my business Reading my bible, God is my witness My church can be called a sea of crowd The she walked pass the aisle like a cloud Slow and gentle, my attention was riven She moved like a train that was driven Well-constructed, highfalutin hips I lustfully drank my stare in sips Indeed Angels came in likeness of girls She was all I prayed for, my heart rang bells I was holding God in my right palm Thoughts of her on the left, I couldn’t keep calm After service, I met her one on one Line fell pleasantly, all said and done The undying hunger of knowing more of her Drove me out that evening like a star In search of his one and only moon Mind ran agog, “I’ll be there very soon” So I said before ending the long call Seat belt on, rolling to her crib like a ball Flying through the locked PH traffic “Is this really love at first sight” though a skeptic Wow, I’m growing roses on concrete gardens Parked by the gate, eyes perching, heart gladdens Her phone’s off but text reads “come to room 204” The girl coming out looks like a complete LovePeddler Wait “room 204” what will she be doing in a hotel But the environment spells a coded brothel Already down at the confluence of confused thoughts Through the corridor sounds of noisy sex drives me nuts ………………………..watch out for part 2…………………………..
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Bimbo, you are my chosen one Me without you is a frozen sun You are my right medicine, in fact overdose And you are over those other girls, everyone knows Your love is sweet vinegar, I’m taking some sips Truly your name always stands on my lying lips I love the way your silence sounds My lust fond mind now found Your kind is scarce like ice in hell It’s an open secret, it isn’t hard to tell Last time, my words were clearly misunderstood My bad, well it’s all good But when you left, deep down I was shallow To be straight forward, I was pierced with a bent arrow I was a living dead because of your conspicuous absence Seriously it’s not funny, e no make sense I can’t give the exact estimate Of the rise and fall of my heart rate Our love was so fly, don’t make it crash land Please don’t hands up and don’t fall my hand Now you no longer feel free, I’ve got you locked in my heart Bimbo, you finish work right from the very start But your love for me is a civil war You are my only choice I live to die for Be the first to tell me the correct number of oxymora (plural of oxymoron) in this poem will be given #1500 worth of airtime.
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immortalcrown:I do hip hop, if I can't do well in poetry... u must be a joker. |
Linqsz:Pls tell me what literature is? |
Nkechi is just 19 years old She’s trying to figure out why the world is so cold Why her step mum always treats her like a maid Why her dad hardly comes to her aid Boiling tears often flow like cascade From a girl as fine as a mermaid Natural beauty far from man made Her brains, sharp like a blade But her academics suffered blockade Her lecturers often withhold her grade This they played just to get her laid “I won’t sleep with you” so she said To her HOD who looks like a masquerade When others bribed, she never got her kobo paid She wasn’t afraid Rather went to her knees and prayed In fact to call a spade a spade She displayed character worth an accolade Oppressors parade in motorcade of escalade To persuade her to use her body for trade She never betrayed, faith didn’t fade They were like mosquito and she was “raid” One day she was waylaid Coming back from crusade Badly raped, blood all over her brocade Period missed, got her crying under a shade Pregnancy here to invade HIV here to aid, degrade Made her feel like the fool of the decade So she’s stocked up in a world of her own She’s forced to think hell is a place called home So she gathered all her loads and packed She’s about to run away and never come back
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Is ur name really day 11? |
Short, shot, shut… Shorty, for you I’m writing this short piece Long trouble, short peace In short, I need a final full stop No more poems, I’ll just shut up My heart is as heavy as short put I know you are guilty, but I will give you a short sentence “I’m sorry” (short) You are the right thing (writing) I don’t understand, short hand If love is blind, you are short sighted Giving me love in short supply There is a global love short fall But even with Longman, I fall short of words Short memory… My last love was short lived Like flame in the wind, just a short time Friends cum and go like Azikwe short time I’ve been short changed by love Change didn’t last, short change I thought the cupid shot Kola 5 seconds on phone, she’s a short caller It’s better to love a short girl than not a tall Forget the bum short, her short temper Got her fired without a gunshot Life is too short So I need more than 2 shots To get high, ‘cause I’m too short To touch the sky, in short Please, abeg, don’t cut short this love I need a short cut to your heart I have my short comings I don’t want to come short of your love You are sweet but hard like short bread Long trouble, short peace This poem is SHORT, peace
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Someone should teach me how to write a love poem I’d love to learn but there is a problem I’m peeping through a broken window I watch as a young wife turns widow Gunshots sound familiar like a ring tone Armed youths carry guns about like phones Close to the checkpoint are swollen corpses And killers conduct the autopsies And you tell me to write a love poem Maybe you are too blind to see the problem Bad news now rent my nightmares I woke up as a cry of a bereaved twitch my ear Nothing is a taboo anymore The signs in the fetid air read war Bloody tales come as daily menu There is a congress of vultures and I know the venue A love poem will burn my lips If you don’t know, let me give you some tips The unemployed graduates roam about without a smile Kidnappers dance in return from exile Militants get chieftaincy titles, they deserve… National honours for criminals’ exclusive reserve I see evil men adorned with accolades As my once blossoming dream fades Someday I will write a love song Right now the timing will be wrong Right now suicide bombers never rest Right now the garbage heap is Everest Right now we are beggars in our own field Right now we see the flying arrows but we have no shield Right now I see faces with creases of sadness Right now I call it unphatomed madness A love poem should be removed as a bad tooth In the jaws of my imagination I mourn with heavy letters in my mind Tears flow down the bony cheek of the night Our mace is safe in the talons of vultures Owls are now sentinel at our brick house I see chunks off bullets on my broken window How many cups of tears can wash our faces?
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We met at the supermarket, Everyday After which we’ve have been hanging out like everyday Out we hang everyday But I’ve a crib, AC, flat screen, fridge, every dey Every day I beg her to give me one day But every day for her eye I dey like Dede Oneday In the every days, one day I refused taking her shopping at Everyday I was like “I buy you gifts, flex you everyday” I’m the owner of a house, why not come at least one day Even if no vex, that one dey But like a thief you’ve got everyday She was like, “chia you haff suffered Yewande” “So because of all these rubbish you buy when we hit everyday” You think I’m an ordinary girl you hit everyday See everyday Men offer to take me to Shoprite, Dubai not that yeye Everyday That very day, that very day (smh) Chia, I work from Monday to Sunday Under rain and when sun dey I try in every way Just to impress Yewande Looking like a model on a run way She wants to chop my money and run away Our relationship is the way Tom and Jerry dey Already I have Amaka even Beverly dey Also Nkechi sef come dey On them I haven’t spent 1 naira one day But the more I avoid Yewande I still think of her every day and everyday
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Nkechi dropped out, dad is broke Life drying up, mum down with stroke Then she met Tony, he wiped her slate clean Now she’s flourishing with the gait of a queen Done with school, gone for service Relationship breaking like phones with poor network service When things were down, Tony was her healing balm Presently, he’s shocked and can’t keep calm Busted! He caught a louse taking off her blouse Nkechi, Tony furnished like his spouse She shrugged her shoulders and said I belong to everybody, I belong to nobody Chuky’s life was filled with tears and gore If not for Lisa, it’d have been more “Naija hard die, I need Canadian visa” Bundled his prayers and took them to Lisa It is my dream to marry you and end all these distress Canada beckons do my Masters plus business Just sell your dad’s property, I won’t be long I will payback double, in you I belong She did so for Chuky, got disowned Few years down the line, Chuky hardly phoned One day via skype Lisa asked “what’s happening?” He replied, I belong to everybody, I belong to nobody Perennial failure is what they called him His chance of winning was so dim “Poor man” they called him, battered his image That old man no de tire? Make him go rest for him village ……………………………………… ……….to be continued
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Pls tune in to AIT now and see what they are showing about the great CRA, the David that slayed Jonathan the goliath. |
A pin was dropped Mortals heard the sound, rushed in droves At the meeting with the immortal, they popped With tempers as hot as stoves Yes she was caught in the very act Red handed, in fact pants down With a man she made no marital pact Against the laws guiding the land She stood before the group As stones and stoners abound Ears tuned, the immortal with a stoop And he began to write on the ground The Law of Moses mortals quoted That she ought to be stoned to death It was a trap and the immortal noted And his fingers danced on the earth His silence placed their trap in a bin He stooped to conquer the questions thrown Finally he said, HE WHO IS WITHOUT SIN CAST THE FIRST STONE To the tongue in their minds, his words were lime So sour to those fuming to pelt They departed one at a time And to stony hearts, those words were felt And the immortal was still writing on the sand He straightened up and the whole place was cleared Not condemned, she alone on the stand GO AND SIN NO MORE he declared.
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7 days make one week But 7 days without you makes one weak I’m strong (Armstrong) like Neil Still yet I feel Very very down like a low grade miner Please come back to me, I will be finer Now I lack concentration like a bad juice company I’m limited, ‘cause you are my company Like a weak penis, I just lie dead Naked and shivering like a featherless bird Remember when our love was blossoming like flowers Your exit made it a rubble of fallen towers 7 days are like 7 years, I’ve been lost In the fortress of debris and dust The door is open, my heart is always home For me your love is a dead corn in a loam I can’t even write or sing a love song The taste of you hangs on my minds tongue I’ll fight to take our love from the talons of the vulture Agwaracha must return, it’s just culture I hope this doesn’t fan your ears Come back lest I drown in my tears
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RANDOM THOUGHTS These broken lips said good morning at noon That waiter swam in pepper soup for serving fork instead of spoon For correcting the drunken officers, he got broken in the gutter The other blind girl saw a man rapping his daughter Those protesting victims got manmade earthquake And these amputated arms pilfered bean cake This acid bathed face fell upon a bad tempered lover This cold hell offers free blankets, we run for cover In this dance, we change steps as the beat becomes faster These are the days monsters turn against their masters That mother threw the bath water into a pit With the poor baby kicking in it And the birds pretend not to hear Abomination is the cotton bud in my ear We break 10 skulls just for a wounded finger I see the end cuming though orgasm still linger Those militants that infected us with this plague Were never invited to the Hague Rather they went lounging in the rock villa, high on booze Meanwhile the neighborhood terror felt the terror of the noose Next year, I will slay a million lives Because I’m sure the sky god will offer me one of his wives
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I PAY MY TITHE (remix) If you are looking for a man tired of scaling life’s hurdles Ask me, for I have folded my dreams in bundles Alcohol now warms my days In the winter of my ugly ways Hope is like light from nepa Check my pocket; you will see pieces of paper Not control numbers, just my suicide note Life is poisonous, and the pub is my antidote I pay my tithe Half in the church Half in the beer parlour I solemnly recite the church hymn But one hardly finds God when you need him Yet it is hard to count him out So I thicken my spirit with more big stout Against the tears that flow from my eyes like fountain Some decisions are carrying a mountain The only thing missing in my suicide note is period How can I dot the lines when she just missed her period? I couldn’t put a line between love and lust I’m just another mortal groping in the fog of dust That’s why I pay my tithe Half in the church Half in the beer parlour If the devil permits, I will be a monk In my other pocket is rizla and skunk I don’t take it just for my eyes to be red Sometimes God’s chest is too hard for my head My life is tight and I’m suffering I have robbed God of my tithe and offerings My ways are crooked, heart torn apart How can stout straighten the folds in my heart? My nerves break under the burden of filth My head is on the chopping board of guilt I am the one in need of grace Tick tock, tick tock, time is in a race Today I paid my tithe Half in the church I am paying the other half somewhere I down more bottles of big stout And hope that will straighten things out Tick tock, tick tock, I take all the blames As my eyes gush out liquid flames Around me are all shades of drunks Whores, pimps, felons, as I tap my skunk But the leaves turn mirror to see the ugliness I have become No wonder God left me in the face of the storm In shock, I drop my skunk as I weep For I feel God has dumped me on a rubbish heap He must be tired from the endless chiseling of my ways Now I must always hold him with both hands. Always Next Sunday, I will pay my tithe All in the church, and no more beer parlour.
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What can I offer her? One cold evening on a Saturday in life I met a girl I have dreamt of to make my wife The blanket of the sky warmed the moon I knew I’ll meet her someday but not so soon I have always pictured a diva with immense beauty Then charming her to be mine will be my duty She shines so bright, the sun should hide its face Her swagger and aura took hostage of the place But she neither charmed nor intrigued when we came eye to eye I said “hi” and she reluctantly replied “hi” All of a sudden, muscle pull embraced my lips As I drank disappointment in sips I became empty like a two paged book And gave her the same uninteresting look Tears warmed my eyes but I was still acting bold Thoughts got me sweating under the night cold She is indeed all I have wished for and more She is a goddess, the most sophisticated I ever saw But the question is, WHAT CAN I OFFER HER? The smarter me, the tougher her Now I lie down like a soured soup on the table It’s a wonder how thoughts of a woman can be able To unnerve a man, turn pillow to stones Skinpores to rivers, disjoint my bones But finally, WHAT CAN I OFFER HER?
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Please keep following, tomorrow's poem will be nice. |
If you hear say I dey prison No reason say I thief No think say I kill Na small question wey I ask Oya make I ask Why e be say after elections politicians dey comot mask Abeg wetin graduates commit Wey companies dey treat us like vomit Why new roads node last like nepa Why bail na free for only paper If you hear say I dey sanko No think say I steal No think say I kill Na only question wey I ask Why we go go school, read book, graduate with nothing to carry hold hand I still no understand why people wey shoot gun, burst pipe, kidnap oyibo, go enjoy government settlement Why our soldiers dey score A for foreign peace mission but for book haram na carry over If you hear say I dey prison No reason say I thief No think say I kill Na small question wey I ask Why our leaders’ node take oath of office for amadioha shrine make dem serious Why fire service motor dey suffer from dehydration Why the price of petrol dey sky rocket Why black market people dey empty our pocket Why everyday police dey catch armed robbers for newspaper While armed robbers still dey thief with pen and paper If you hear say I dey prison No reason say I thief No think say I kill Na small question wey I ask Why lecturers still dey measure dia grades by shots of sperm or marks based on sorting Abeg how much be security vote Wetin happen to excess crude account Why police men dey always high for checkpoint Why pastors like to preach about tithe from Malachi 3 and not Deuteronomy 14 Dem say person wey ask question node miss road. Hook from Humphrey Ogu
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If you ever wonder why bottles, cartons, komkom were scattered everywhere A madman reigned here If you ever wonder why cloths, banners and soup pots were left on the chair A madman ruled here Don’t bother about the writings on the wall And how condoms littered the corners and all A madman was king here The madman’s palace was brick house If you notice say furniture wear skirt and blouse No fear, na madman been dey stay here Yes a madman was the king we had Indeed the madman was very mad He wasn’t just mad for a season The madman was mad for a reason Can a sane man dare the skies? Only a mad man can remove the log from the lion’s eyes A madman isn’t celebrated in his hometown He isn’t just a prophet, he gives crowns This bald madman won away and lost here (hair) But his nudity is well known in the market square He swam through the seas of endless problems On the shore, he left us with his emblems and totems When it was time to clean up the pieces of madness We threw away the broom because of our sadness A retired madman has offered to help us Yes “retired” what’s the fuss? I see him with keys to the padlocks But I brace myself for a rude shock The retired madman now rules here Whose nudity is too is known in the market square I brace myself before he introduces his rock band Soon the emblems will return totems in thousands The retired madman will be nude again in the market square And we will wish the previous madman was still ruling here
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That is RSUST not uniport. |
Front page pls |
Because the ancient Egyptians and Hebrews used different calendars. The Egyptians had one based on the movement of the sun, which was passed on through the Romans and Christian culture to become the modern world's standard. The Jews had one based on the phases of the moon – as Islam does, which is why the month of Ramadan moves round the calendar and takes places at different times of the year each year, with Muslims waiting for sightings of the moon before they know what day it will begin. Easter is one of the festivals which tries to harmonise the solar and lunar calendars. As a general rule, Easter falls on the first Sunday, following the first full moon after 21 March. But not always. Why do we still have to use both solar and lunar calendars? Easter is the time when Christians celebrate the Resurrection of Christ. According to the gospels he was killed three days before the Resurrection, around the time of the Jewish Passover. So Christians wanted to have their feast day around the same time as the Jewish festival which was fixed by the first full moon following the vernal equinox – the spring day when night and day are exactly the same length. The problem comes because a solar year (the length of time it takes the earth to move round the sun) is 365 days, 5 hours, 49 minutes, and 12 seconds whereas a lunar year is 354.37 days. Calculating one against another is seriously complicated. There have been various attempts to reconcile this, including the famous saltus lunae (the moon's jump) whereby one of the 30-day months in the lunar cycle gets arbitrarily shortened to 29 days. But the solar and lunar years diverge by 11 days every year. Scores of formulae have been devised to try to reconcile the two as a method of marking time. How many ways are there of calculating Easter? Dozens. In the 2nd century a Roman called Hippolytus devised an eight-year cycle. A century on, 84-year tables were introduced, which were still in use in parts of the British Isles as late as 931. There was a ruling by the First Council of Nicaea in 325 that Easter should be celebrated on the Sunday after the first full moon following the spring equinox but this was ignored for centuries, with even the church in Rome using its own methods until the 6th century. More recently there have been Mallen's Method, Marcos Montes Method, Carter's Method, Oudin's Method... and on it goes. There is another complicating factor. It had been decided that the vernal equinox would occur on 20 March (as it did at Nicaea) but that too varies. It was on 21 March in 2007. So the old church fathers got round this by redefining what a full moon is. Why are there so many different definitions of a full moon? An astronomical full moon, like an astronomical equinox, is not a day but a moment in time – which can be observed happening on different days depending on which side of the international date line you stand. And waiting for an event to happen made it impossible to plan ahead. So they decided that the Paschal Full Moon (PFM) would not be an astronomical moon but an ecclesiastical full moon. These could be set down ahead of time, which is what happened from 325 AD. Astronomers approximated astronomical full moon dates for the church, calling them Ecclesiastical Full Moon (EFM) dates. Thus Easter was defined as the Sunday after the first EFM after 20 March. And that date was the appointed vernal equinox, regardless of whether it was or not. So we have a notional full moon following a notional equinox. Is this why Easter is on a different day in Eastern Europe? No. That's because the Orthodox church sticks to the calendar promulgated by Julius Caesar but which the West abandoned in the 16th century. But it is all linked to trying to harmonise solar and lunar calendars. By 1582 the Julian calendar (which made the year too long by several minutes) was out of sequence with the equinoxes by 10 days and with Caesar's original dates by 14 days. So Pope Gregory XIII decreed a new calendar which dropped leap years when they happened at the end of a century where the number was not divisible by 400 – thus 2000 was a leap year but 2100 won't be. He also decreed that the world would jump from 5 October to 14 October. The English, afraid that this was some kind of popish plot, refused to come on board until 1753, by which time English calendars were 11 days out. When the change was finally imposed here innumerate protesters, assuming that real days were being stolen from them, rioted demanding "Give us back our 11 days!" The Orthodox Easter is still a Julian one and usually follows ours by a week or so and can even stretch into May. So is this the earliest Easter can get? No. It can be on 22 March, as it was in 1761 and 1818, but that won't happen until 2285. Its latest possible date is 25 April but we haven't had that since 1943 and won't again until 2038. The commonest date is 19 April though the full cycle of Easter dates only repeats after 5,700,000 years. Can't the date be fixed by modern astronomy? Astronomers have tried to reconcile the lunar and solar cycles since the time of the ancient Greek stargazer Meton of Athens who came up with the 19-year Metonic cycle. And the ancient Egyptians knew that the heliacal rising of Sirius was a more accurate predictor of the flooding of the Nile than solar dates were. But more accurate astronomy only makes things more complicated. We now know that a solar year is 365.2422 days and a vernal equinox year is 365.2424 days and a sidereal year is 365.25636042 days – none of which fit exactly with the 365.2425 days of the Gregorian calendar. Then there is the precession of the equinoxes by which the earth wobbles like a spinning top. Its poles shift in relation to certain stars in a 25,800-year complete one-wobble cycle. And the tidal drag between the Earth and the Moon and Sun, which is affected by melting glaciers and sea-level rise, increases the length of the day and of the month. Can't we just pluck a fixed date out of the air and agree on it? Both governments and churches have tried to do that. Secularists have suggested that Easter should fall on the second Sunday of April each year. The World Council of Churches in 1997 suggested replacing the current equation-based system with direct astronomical observation. Even where there is notional agreement, implementation is another matter. In Britain, an Easter Act was passed in 1928 fixing the holiday as "the first Sunday after the second Saturday in April". The law remains on the statute book but it has never been enforced. There are too many contradictory influences brought to bear. It seems that Easter is set to remain the original moveable feast.
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It's far lower than passport, I doubt if it's even better than z30. |