Author Information
! Poems I Love
YEVTUSHENKO
If you are used to a cage, you will weep for a cage
(paraphrased)
RICHARD WILBUR
What power had I
before I learned to yield?
Shatter me Great Wind
I shall possess the field!
A DEEP-SWORN VOW BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
Others because you did not keep
That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine;
Yet always when I look death in the face,
When I clamber to the heights of sleep,
Or when I grow excited with wine,
Suddenly I meet your face.
LADY CONDUCTOR BY JOHN CLIFFORD LEHMAN
She raised her baton....
and Beethoven answered!
TO THE WOMAN WHO WAS MY RIVAL BY J FREUNDSCHUH
Now you look to me like a pure
rushing fountain
Adorned only by your own
sweet splashes
In your gentle mood
You claim you do not hate me
You, whom I have suspected of
collusion in the crimes
against my childhood;
thefts by the owners of the
sunshine (guarded always
against the storm by
the warmest sweaters)
I, so bewildered by the storm,
standing on the ground becoming
mud, making a friend of the
cold wind and kisses of the wet
Unable, as they say, to come in
out of the rain.
When you smiled your smile of
festivals and good news
I felt bereft
And when you frowned
I felt that we were equalized
But when I saw your hurt
I wanted to turn down the
Volume of your pain
And after all this
who are you?
and are you still my enemy?
I am told by reliable sources
that you are kind
Neither of us have the woman we both clung to
But she will never know the
strength that saw you through
Now I am finally sorry
that my winter spread to you
that my heart's needs made you bleed
And I am glad you are putting out new buds
Now you look to me like a pure
rushing fountain
Adorned only by your own
sweet splashes.
J Freundschuh http://www.postpoems.com/members/wemni
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IN KING JOHN
To throw a perfume on the violet
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.
MUFFLED CADENCE BY MARSHALL BERTSCH
The sound of shot.
The roar of gun.
Thy will be done
blares the drum.
The sudden shock.
The news farflung.
Thy will be done
beats the drum.
The hour of grief.
The darkened sun.
Thy will be done
rolls the drum.
The sound of shot.
The grave begun.
Thy will be done
mourns the drum.
**
(Marshall Bertsch is a Republican
who was griefstricken by the assassination
of John F Kennedy)
WIRING HOME BY RITA DOVE
Lest the wolves loose their whistles
and shopkeepers inquire,
keep moving, though your knees flush
red as two chapped apples,
keep moving, head up,
past the beggar's cold cup,
past the kiosk's
trumpet tales of
odyssey and heartbreak-
until, turning a corner, you stand,
staring: ambushed
by a window of canaries
bright as a thousand
golden narcissi.
MARY SHELLEY
the moon gazed on my midnight labours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless eagerness, I pursued nature to her hiding-places.
(Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein at age 19 to highlight
the cruelty of lab research on animals)
OTAGAKI RENGETSU
Refused at the inn --
but I took this unkindness
as a gracious act,
under the hazy evening moon
I slept beneath blossoms.
Japanese woman poet Otagaki Rengetsu who lived from 1791-1875
HERONS IN THE SNOWS
But for their cries
the herons would disappear
in this morning's snow
Zen woman poet Chiyo-ni (1703-1775)
EDMUND ROSTAND : FRAGMENTS OF ACT FIVE OF CYRANO DE BERGERAC
Paris wrapped in night! half nebulous
The moonlight streams o'er the blue-shadowed roofs..
A lovely frame for this wild battlescene
Beneath the vapor's floating scarves, the Seine
Trembles, mysterious, like a magic mirror
**
Where lurk sweet echoes of the dear homevoices,
Each note of which calls like a little sister,
Those airs slow, slow ascending, as the smokewreaths
Rise from the hearthstones of our native hamlets
**
Thy name is in my heart as in a sheep-bell
**
EMILY DICKINSON
If I shouldn't be alive
When the robin come
Give the one in red cravat
A memorial crumb
JOB 38
Job 38
1 Then God answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said,
2 Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?
3 Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me.
4 Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding.
5 Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it?
6 Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof;
7 When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?
8 Or who shut up the sea with doors, when it brake forth, as if it had issued out of the womb?
9 When I made the cloud the garment thereof, and thick darkness a swaddlingband for it,
10 And brake up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors,
11 And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?
12 Hast thou commanded the morning since thy days; and caused the dayspring to know his place;
13 That it might take hold of the ends of the earth, that the wicked might be shaken out of it?
14 It is turned as clay to the seal; and they stand as a garment.
15 And from the wicked their light is withholden, and the high arm shall be broken.
16 Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea? or hast thou walked in the search of the depth?
17 Have the gates of death been opened unto thee? or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow of death?
18 Hast thou perceived the breadth of the earth? declare if thou knowest it all.
19 Where is the way where light dwelleth? and as for darkness, where is the place thereof,
20 That thou shouldest take it to the bound thereof, and that thou shouldest know the paths to the house thereof?
21 Knowest thou it, because thou wast then born? or because the number of thy days is great?
22 Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? or hast thou seen the treasures of the hail,
23 Which I have reserved against the time of trouble, against the day of battle and war?
24 By what way is the light parted, which scattereth the east wind upon the earth?
25 Who hath divided a watercourse for the overflowing of waters, or a way for the lightning of thunder;
26 To cause it to rain on the earth, where no man is; on the wilderness, wherein there is no man;
27 To satisfy the desolate and waste ground; and to cause the bud of the tender herb to spring forth?
28 Hath the rain a father? or who hath begotten the drops of dew?
29 Out of whose womb came the ice? and the hoary frost of heaven, who hath gendered it?
30 The waters are hid as with a stone, and the face of the deep is frozen.
31 Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion?
32 Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? or canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons?
33 Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven? canst thou set the dominion thereof in the earth?
34 Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, that abundance of waters may cover thee?
35 Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go and say unto thee, Here we are?
36 Who hath put wisdom in the inward parts? or who hath given understanding to the heart?
37 Who can number the clouds in wisdom? or who can stay the bottles of heaven,
38 When the dust groweth into hardness, and the clods cleave fast together?
39 Wilt thou hunt the prey for the lion? or fill the appetite of the young lions,
40 When they couch in their dens, and abide in the covert to lie in wait?
41 Who provideth for the raven his food? when his young ones cry unto God, they wander for lack of nourishment.
ISAIAH 65: 25
The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the bullock: and dust shall be the serpent's food. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the LORD.
BROTHER JAMES
The silent sun has fallen, heralding the symphony of the night.
WHEN THE MIND IS OPEN AND AWAKE
When the mind is open and awake
then do the gods partake
to fill the spaces in between
the dreamer and her dream
-Sarah Pere- who has left her body
RED
Posted by Sadaqat
Red
Rose as a blood drip
The sun sets
Anger
I see you, My lady.
- Shariq Shafi
Posted by Sadaqat on 02-12-2004 06:12 PM:
We rode on the winds of the rising storm,
We ran to the sounds of thunder.
We danced among the lightning bolts,
and tore the world asunder.
- Robert Jordan
THE BEAR HUNT
President Abraham Lincoln's poem The Bear Hunt
With the Maryland GOP wanting to institute a bear hunt,
there are 2 Republican presidents who have been involved
with bears. One was Teddy Roosevelt. When a bear cub he had
orphaned by killing his mother wandered into the camp fireside at night, some of his party raised their rifles to
shoot the baby. He would not allow it. The teddy bear
was born.
http://www.marylandbears.com
This is a poem by President Abraham Lincoln
The Bear Hunt, A Poem By Abraham Lincoln
A wild-bear chace, didst never see?
Then hast thou lived in vain.
Thy richest bump of glorious glee,
Lies desert in thy brain.
When first my father settled here,
'Twas then the frontier line:
The panther's scream, filled night with fear
And bears preyed on the swine.
But wo for Bruin's short lived fun,
When rose the squealing cry;
Now man and horse, with dog and gun,
For vengeance, at him fly.
A sound of danger strikes his ear;
He gives the breeze a snuff;
Away he bounds, with little fear,
And seeks the tangled rough.
On press his foes, and reach the ground,
Where's left his half munched meal;
The dogs, in circles, scent around,
And find his fresh made trail.
With instant cry, away they dash,
And men as fast pursue;
O'er logs they leap, through water splash,
And shout the brisk halloo.
Now to elude the eager pack,
Bear shuns the open ground;
Th[r]ough matted vines, he shapes his track
And runs it, round and round.
The tall fleet cur, with deep-mouthed voice,
Now speeds him, as the wind;
While half-grown pup, and short-legged fice,
Are yelping far behind.
And fresh recruits are dropping in
To join the merry corps:
With yelp and yell,--a mingled din--
The woods are in a roar.
And round, and round the chace now goes,
The world's alive with fun;
Nick Carter's horse, his rider throws,
And more, Hill drops his gun.
Now sorely pressed, bear glances back,
And lolls his tired tongue;
When as, to force him from his track,
An ambush on him sprung.
Across the glade he sweeps for flight,
And fully is in view.
The dogs, new-fired, by the sight,
Their cry, and speed, renew.
The foremost ones, now reach his rear,
He turns, they dash away;
And circling now, the wrathful bear,
They have him full at bay.
At top of speed, the horse-men come,
All screaming in a row,
"Whoop! Take him Tiger. Seize him Drum."
Bang,--bang--the rifles go.
And furious now, the dogs he tears,
And crushes in his ire,
Wheels right and left, and upward rears,
With eyes of burning fire.
But leaden death is at his heart,
Vain all the strength he plies.
And, spouting blood from every part,
He reels, and sinks, and dies.
And now a dinsome clamor rose,
'Bout who should have his skin;
Who first draws blood, each hunter knows,
This prize must always win.
But who did this, and how to trace
What's true from what's a lie,
Like lawyers, in a murder case
They stoutly argufy.
Aforesaid fice, of blustering mood,
Behind, and quite forgot,
Just now emerging from the wood,
Arrives upon the spot.
With grinning teeth, and up-turned hair--
Brim full of spunk and wrath,
He growls, and seizes on dead bear,
And shakes for life and death.
And swells as if his skin would tear,
And growls and shakes again;
And swears, as plain as dog can swear,
That he has won the skin.
Conceited whelp! we laugh at thee--
Nor mind, that now a few
Of pompous, two-legged dogs there be,
Conceited quite as you.
- Abraham Lincoln -
2/12/1809-4/15/1865
GETTYSBURG ADDRESS
?Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
?Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
?But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate?we cannot consecrate?we cannot hallow?this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us?that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion?that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain?that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom?and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.¦
-Abraham Lincoln-
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Posted by Sketchy
And death shall have no dominion - Dylan Thomas.
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead mean naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Through they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
BATTLEFIELD LOVELETTER OF SULLIVAN BALLOU
July 14th, 1861
Washington D.C.
My dear Sarah.
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days -- perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.
Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure -- and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine 0 God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing -- perfectly willing -- to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.
But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows -- when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children -- is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?
I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death -- and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.
I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles have often advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.
Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.
The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me -- perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar -- that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night -- amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours -- always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.
As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.
http://www.sulllivanballou.com
QUOTES FROM JOHN C LEHMAN WHO HAS LEFT FOR GOD
Lady Conductor :
She raised her baton....
and
Beethoven
answered
Once you have been the great hitter
of love
it's time to become the great
coach of love.
*
"My father's will was so powerful it
was a police escort into reality.
*
Don't hold onto yesterday's manna.
Today's is better.
*
"I'd get out of bed and get my wife coffee
but I don't want Colombo to see me naked.
*
"My wife organized the Jewish Women's Caucus boycott of Moses..
wait.. ! I am receiving a correction !
My wife was the VERY LAST woman to join the Jewish Women's
Caucus boycott of Moses!
*
read that the antiChrist is distance.
*
"You do not need to believe you are Jesus
to act like Him.
*
Hell.. is the no smoking section of
heaven.
*
"Dodging winks is the game of
a faithful man.
*
"Many have screwed the truth, but few
have called her the next day.
*
"Do not donut.
*
They have now discovered that the Messiah has come again..
they can't release the news til she gives up smoking.
*
I know one man who was so divided about whether to go
to Vietnam.. or to be a conscientious objector.. he
became a schizophrenic.. He was so split on this issue that
when he died they carved his name on the Vietnam War Memorial
twice..
*
When I was younger I thought that if prayer worked the
CIA would have nuclear prayer jammers around the world
*
The Holy Spirit is here.
He's playing third base.
*
My mother's heart has its own zip code
*
His philosophy is the cans
tied to the
back
of a shotgun wedding car
(re a television war promoter
wed to a war profiteer)
Sometimes it is not necessary
the problem to solve.
Change the angle
of vision
and the problem dissolves.
LAB ANIMALS
Unseen they suffer
Unheard they cry
In agony they linger
In loneliness they die
*
(author not known by poster)
http://www.worldanimalnet.org.
AMERICA WHY I LOVE HER
You ask me why I love her?
Well, give me time and I'll explain.
Have you seen a Kansas sunset or an Arizona rain?
Have you drifted on a bayou down Louisiana way?
Have you watched a cold fog drifting over San Francisco bay?
Have you heard a bobwhite calling in the Carolina pines?
Or heard the bellow of a diesel at the Appalachian mines
Does the call of Niagara thrill you when you hear her waters roar?
Do you look with awe and wonder at her Massachusetts shore?
Where men who braved a hard new world first stepped on Plymouth's rock?
And do you think of them when you stroll along a New York City dock?
Have you seen a snowflake drifting in the Rockies, way up high?
Have you seen the sun come blazing down from a bright Nevada sky?
Do you hail to the Columbia as she rushes to the sea?
Or bow your head at Gettysburg at our struggle to be free?
Have you seen the mighty Tetons? Have you watched an eagle soar?
Have you seen the Mississippi roll along Missouri's shore?
Have you felt a chill at Michigan when on a winters day
Her waters rage along the shore in thunderous display?
Does the word Aloha make you warm? Do you stare in disbelief
When you see the surf come roaring in at Waimea Reef? My heart cries out, my pulse runs fast at the might of her domain.
You ake me Why I Love Her? I've a million reasons why:
My beautiful America, beneath God's wide, wide sky.
-John Wayne- actor and great spirit
*not an endorsement of his politics.. nor of the current
regime's military policy
LOVE THOUGHTS
If we all discovered that we only had five minutes left to say all that we wanted to say, every telephone booth would be occupied by people calling other people to tell them that they loved them.
Morley, Christopher
*
"To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides."
Viscott, David
*
"Speak to me of love,
said St Francis to
the almond tree,
and the tree blossomed."
-Kazantzakis, Nicholas
*
*
"Those who ask for love in return are coolies demanding wages."
-Baba, Sai
*
"The path to the Mideast
is littered
with Nobel peace laureates
who have not yet achieved
what can only be achieved in
each heart."
-Niemus, O Anna
*
"Pets are more sensitive to the needs of humans
than vice versa."
-Friend, Tom
*
"Every person is lined with love!"
-Hayden, Samantha R.
*
"
He is out of my mind but forever in my heart."
-Rome, N
"Thy name is in my heart as in a sheep-bell
from Cyrano."
-Rostand, Edmund
"I want to go where love has not yet arrived.
(he works with gang members in LA and founded Home Boy Industries)."
-Boyle, Gregory J
"I have a Jewish grandson and a Muslim grandson.
They love each other."
\
-Sharif, Omar
"the heart: it is the axis of the human being, as it were, because it turns to the one it loves."
-Pumpkin
"When the sun comes through the window, love comes through the door
O Anna Niemus
"Love and a cough cannot be hid."
-Herbert, George
"The head never rules the heart but just becomes its partner in crime."
-Mclaughlin, Michael
"Little privations are easily endured when the heart is better treated than the body."
-Rousseau, Jean-jacques
"To attract men I wear a perfume called "new car interior."."
-Rudner, Rita
"A lady of forty-seven who had been married twenty-seven years and has six children knows what love really is and once described it for me like this: 'Love is what you've been through with somebody.'."
-Thurber, James
"There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning."
-Wilder, Thornton
"Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved.
-Barbara Johnson."
"Love is a fan club with only two fans."
-Anon.
"Love is a game not called because of darkness."
-Anon.
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death."
-Browning, Elizabeth Barrett
*
Love is the irresistable desire to be desired irresistably."
-Ginzberg, Louis
*
"The porcupine, whom one must handle gloved,
May be respected, but is never loved."
-Guiterman, Arthur
*
"The only thing we never get enough of is love; and the only thing we never give enough of is love."
-Miller, Henry
*
"Lovers eminent in love
Ever diversities combine;
The vocal chords of the cushat-dove,
The snake's articulated spine.
Such elective elements
Educate the eye and lip
With one's refreshing innocence,
The other's claim to scholarship.
The serpent's knowledge of the world
Learn, and the dove's more naÌve charm;
Whether your ringlets should be curled,
And why he likes his claret warm."
-Wylie, Elinor
*
"Many things catches your Eyes, try to get it.But one thing catches your Heart ...Pursue it.."
-Chakravarthy, Viju
"When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell."
-Dryden, John
*
"There is only one terminal dignity - love."
-Hayes, Helen
*
"Before I met my husband, I'd never fallen in love. I'd stepped in it a few times."
-Rudner, Rita
"Footfalls echo in the memory, Down the passage which we did not take,
Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden."
T S Eliot
JOHN STEINBECK QUOTES .. A TINY SLIVER OF HIS WRITTEN SILVER
"Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.
"My mother was a Theosophist.. my father
prayed directly to the god of war..
and I.. am a softshelled Methodist."
Four hoarse blasts of a ship's whistle still raise the hair on my neck and set my feet to tapping.
If you're in trouble, or hurt or need - go to the poor people. They're the only ones that'll help - the only ones.
In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.
Time is the only critic without ambition.
..............
Secrets of your Heart are in Our Hands
by Duma
The Poet
Between the world and the here after
Is a link
A pool of sweetness for the thirsty
A tree planted on the banks of beauty
Bearing ripe fruit for the hungry heart to seek.
A singing bird
Hopping on the branches of speech,
Trilling melodies to fill all bodies with sweetness
and tenderness.
As a white cloud in the evening sky
Rising and expanding to fill the heavens,
And then pour its bounty upon the flowers of
the fields of Life.
An Angel
Sent by the gods to teach men the way of the gods.
A shining light unconquered by the dark
Alone
He is clothed in simplicity
And nourished by tenderness,
He sits in natures lap learning to create,
And is awake in the stillness of the night
In wait of the spirit's descent.
A husbandman who sows the seeds of his heart in
the garden of feelings,
where they bring forth yield
To sustain those that long.
This is the Poet that is unheeded of men in his days,
And is known by them on his quitting the world
to return to his heavenly abode.
This is he who seeks no thing of men save
a little smile;
Whose breath rises and fills the firmament
with living vision of beauty.
Yet do people withhold from him
sustenance and refuge.
FIVE HAIKU OF ERNEST BEVANS
1 Haiku ~ Baseball
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I want to play baseball
but there are no stitches
on the september moon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ernest Bevans http://www.postpoems.com/members/massapoet
2 Haiku ~ Chinese Cricket simple pleasures
*
Crickets season song
I want to do crickets things
sing wing while foot twang.
~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
http://www.postpoems.com/members/masapoet
Ernest Bevans
3 Haiku ~ Butterflies
Autumn leaves
open and closed
brown paper fans
4 Haiku ~ December 31
~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~
The dragon snaps
kicking a shower of embers
exhaling the year
~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~
5
Haiku ~ Mid Afternoon 01/06/03
soft laundered linen
covers the sun like a table cloth
hot bread
under wind swept cotton
(smile at night)
the joyful teeth smiled like bones in a quilted grave.
Ernest Bevans
ELECTRIC FISH
Noetic muse from the electric fish
From the noosphere of colective thought
Compassion served up on a large dish
Irradiated by 4th dimensional light
Astralized by the Neptune vector
Etheralized by the 3rd eye light
Down to the 4rd dimensional sector.
-S A Grafio-
THE DANDYLIONS
The Dandylions
by Helen Gray Cone
Upon a showery night and still
Without a sound of morning
A trooper band surprised the hill
And held it in the morning.
We were not waked by bugle-notes
No cheer our dreams invaded
And yet, at dawn, their yellow coats
On the green slopes invaded.
We careless folk the deed forgot
Till one day, idly walking,
We marked upon the self-same spot
A crowd of vet'rans talking.
They shook their trembling heads and gray
With pride and noiseless laughter;
When, well-a-day! They blew away,
And ne'er were heard of after!
TAGORE
Faith is the bird that feels the light
when the dawn is still dark
-Rabindranath Tagore-
OAK SLEEPS IN ACORN
The oak sleeps in the acorn.
The bird waits in the egg.
In the highest vision of a soul
a waking angel stirs.
Dreams are the seedlings of reality.
-James Allen-
Karen Armstrong, author of interfaith books whose unusually frank truth about
her leaving the convent, despair, loss of Oxford doctorate,
firing from television.. is inspiring.. said that the following
poem gave her chills and helped her find GOD (paraphrased)
ASH WEDNESDAY by T S Eliot
I.
Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the agÕd eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?
Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again
Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessÕd face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice
And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And I pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us
Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.
Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.
Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.
--T.S. Eliot, "Ash Wednesday," from Selected Poems, copyright 1930
DEER BONES
We found them in the meadow
near our favorite pond-
late March, Spring thaw-
anatomy lesson in the gray grass,
glaze of gristle at the joints,
miracle of vertebrae,
and a dusting of snow
on the few snags of fur.
Yes, dear, you saw them first,
and by all rights, they belong to you.
But don't worry. I keep them safe.
I lay them out and piece them together.
I draw them often, mostly by candlelight,
which deepens the shadows.
I touch them, again and again,
and bleach the high curves with light,
as my hand moves over the page,
in soft, searching strokes.
-John Sokol-
http://engforum.pravda.ru/showthrea...3702#post733702
posted by matt on another thread
RUBAIYAT
47
And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
End in the Nothing all Things end in ---Yes---
Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what
Thou shalt be---Nothing---Thou shalt not be less.
48
While the Rose blows along the River Brink,
With old Khayyam the Ruby Vintage drink:
And when the Angel with his darker Draught
Draws up to Thee---take that, and do not shrink.
*****
49
'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.
50
The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left, as strikes the Player goes;
And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
*He* knows about it all---He knows---HE knows!
51
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
52
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to *It* for help---for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
*****
53
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead,
And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
54
I tell Thee this---When, starting from the Goal,
Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal
Of Heav'n Parvin and Mushtara they flung,
In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul
55
The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about
If clings my Being---let the Sufi flout;
Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key,
That shall unlock the Door he howls without
56
And this I know: whether the one True Light,
Kindle to Love, or Wrathconsume me quite,
One Glimpse of It within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.
*****
57
Oh, Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
58
Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give---and take!
KUZA-NAMA ("Book of Pots.")
59
Listen again. One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay Population round in Rows.
60
And, strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried---
"Who *is* the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"
*****
61
Then said another---"Surely not in vain
"My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en,
"That He who subtly wrought me into Shape
"Should stamp me back to common Earth again."
62
Another said---"Why, ne'er a peevish Boy,
"Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy;
"Shall He that *made* the Vessel in pure Love
"And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy!"
63
None answer'd this; but after Silence spake
A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They sneer at me for learning all awry;
"What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"
64
Said one---"Folk of a surly Tapster tell
"And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;
"They talk of some strict Testing of us---Pish!
"He's a Good Fellow, and 't will all be well."
*****
65
Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,
"My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:
"But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,
"Methinks I might recover by-and-bye!"
66
So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:
And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!
"Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking!"
67
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And in the Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.
68
That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare
Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air,
As not a True Believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware.
*****
69
Indeed the Idols I have loved so long
Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong:
Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup,
And sold my Reputation for a Song.
70
Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before
I swore---but was I sober when I swore?
And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.
71
And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel
And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour---well,
I often wonder what the Vintners buy
One half so precious as the Goods they sell.
72
Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
The Nightingale that in the Branches sang,
Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
*****
73
Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits---and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
74
Ah, Moon of my Delight who Know'st no wane
The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:
How oft hereafter rising shall she look
Through this same Garden after me---in vain!
75
And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where I made one---turn down an empty Glass!
TAMAM SHUD (It is completed.)
And now the modified and added version which is the Text of
the Fifth Edition (1889).
1
Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes
The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.
*****
Edward FitzGerald's Translation.
Modified and added version which is the Text of
the Fifth Edition (1889):
2
Before the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within,
"Why nods the drowsy Worshiper outside?"
3
And, as the **** crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted---"Open then the Door!
"You know how little while we have to stay,
"And, once departed, may return no more."
4
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Boug
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
5
Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine,
And many a Garden by the Water blows.
*****
6
And David's Lips are lockt; but in divine
High-piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
"Red Wine!"---the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine.
7
Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring
Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To flutter---and the Bird is on the Wing.
8
Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life keeps falling one by one.
9
Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say:
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
And this first Summer month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.
*****
It is us, the wine, the music, and this run-down corner;
Our flesh and heart, the wine glass, and our cloths,
all filled with the desire for wine;
Free from the hope of forgiveness and free from the
fear of punishment and pain
free from dirty wind, fire, and water.
*****
COMIN THRO' THERYE
Robert Burns
Original Version
Standard English Translation
Comin Thro' The Rye.
Chorus.
O Jenny's a' weet, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry:
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
Comin thro' the rye!
1.
Comin thro' the rye, poor body,
Comin thro' the rye,
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
Comin thro' the rye!
2.
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry?
3.
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need the warld ken?
4.
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the grain,
Gin a body kiss a body,
The thing's a body's ain.
Coming Through The Rye.
Chorus.
O Jenny is all wet, poor body,
Jenny is seldom dry:
She draggled all her petticoats,
Coming through the rye!
Coming through the rye, poor body,
Coming through the rye,
She draggled all her petticoats,
Coming through the rye!
Should a body meet a body
Coming through the rye,
Should a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry?
Should a body meet a body
Coming through the glen,
Should a body kiss a body,
Need the world know?
Should a body meet a body
Coming through the grain,
Should a body kiss a body,
The thing is a body's own.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
posted by Pacific
God Speaks to Each of Us
God speaks to each of us before we are,
Before he's formed us ? then, in cloudy speech,
But only then, he speaks these words to each
And silently walks with us from the dark:
Driven by your senses, dare
To the edge of longing. Grow
Like a fire's shadowcasting glare
Behind assembled things, so you can spread
Their shapes on me as clothes.
Don't leave me bare.
Let it all happen to you: beauty and dread.
Simply go ? no feeling is too much ?
And only this way can we stay in touch.
Near here is the land
That they call Life.
You'll know when you arrive
By how real it is.
Give me your hand.
posted by pacific
Gott spricht...
Gott spricht...
Gott spricht zu jedem nur eh er ihn macht,
dann geht er schweigend mit ihm aus der Nacht.
Aber die Worte, eh jeder beginnt,
diese wolkigen Worte, sind:
Von deinen Sinnen hinausgesandt
geh bis an deiner Sehnsucht Rand;
gieb mir Gewand.
Hinter den Dingen wachse als Brand,
dass ihre Schatten, ausgespannt,
immer mich ganz bedecken.
Lass dir Alles geschehn: Schonheit und Schrecken.
Man muss nur gehn: Kein Gefuhl ist das fernste.
Lass dich von mir nicht trennen.
Nah ist das Land,
das sie das Leben nennen.
Du wirst es erkennen
an seinem Ernste.
Gieb mir die Hand.
Rainer Maria Rilke
FUNERAL BLUES
by W H Auden read in "Four Weddings
and a Funeral" by a gay man about the death of his
lover:
stop all the clocks, cut ff the telephone
prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone
silence the pianos and with muffled drum
bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves
let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West
my working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put away our every one:
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun
pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods
for nothing now can ever come to any good
SYMPATHY
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes,
When the wind blows soft through the springing grass
And the river floats like a sheet of glass,
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals -
I know what the caged bird feels
I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
-I know why he beats his wing!
When his wings are bruised and his bosom sore, -
When he beats his bars and would be free;
It's not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings -
I know why the caged bird sings!
by
Paul Lawrence Dunbar (1872 - 1906)
FEAR OF OFFENDING
She was brilliant and
never boring in person
but her fear of offending
and of not befriending
made her newspaper articles
tedious.. It was easy
to write without
harming.. if she gave it
some thought
(Sathya Naryana:
The tongue can wound for life
The most heinous sin is to hurt
the feelings of another)
(The Internet harms fewer trees
than daily newspapers do)
