Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Poems We Love

Poems We Love
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 JAN 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 profoundly 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 DICKINSONIf I shouldn't be aliveWhen the robin comeGive the one in red cravatA memorial crumb
Posted by on 02-11-2004 07:38 PM:
JOB 38
Job 381 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: 25The 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 JAMESThe silent sun has fallen, heralding the symphony of the night.
Posted by sb11 on 02-12-2004 03:45 PM:
When the mind is open and awake
When the mind is open and awakethen do the gods partaketo fill the spaces in betweenthe dreamer and her dream-Sarah Pere- who has left her bodyANGELS AND DEVAS OR THEIR GOD ARE THE AUTHOR:Master Hindu Poets:Kabir, Tagore, Yogananda, Swami Rama,Krishna, Sai BabaMaster Sufi Poet:RumiMaster Christian Poets:God Calling, Course In Miracles
Posted by Sadaqat on 02-12-2004 06:09 PM:
RedRose as a blood dripThe sun setsAngerI 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
Posted by sb11 on 02-16-2004 04:58 AM:
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 involvedwith bears. One was Teddy Roosevelt. When a bear cub he hadorphaned by killing his mother wandered into the camp fireside at night, some of his party raised their rifles toshoot the baby. He would not allow it. The teddy bearwas born.http://www.marylandbears.com/This is a poem by President Abraham LincolnThe Bear Hunt, A Poem By Abraham LincolnA 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 fearAnd 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 trackAnd 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 inTo 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 traceWhat's true from what's a lie,Like lawyers, in a murder caseThey 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 fewOf pompous, two-legged dogs there be,Conceited quite as you.- Abraham Lincoln -2/12/1809-4/15/1865GETTYSBURG 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-
Posted by Sketchy on 02-16-2004 11:56 AM:
And death shall have no dominion - Dylan Thomas.And death shall have no dominion.Dead mean naked they shall be oneWith 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 seaThey 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 earsOr waves break loud on the seashores;Where blew a flower may a flower no moreLift 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.
__________________and your prejudice won't keep you warm tonight
Posted by sb11 on 02-21-2004 03:40 AM:
Battlefield loveletter of Sullivan Ballou
thank you Sketchy for posting thatand thank you JB for connecting me to the following letter:.........Battlefield loveletter of Sullivan BallouJuly 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/
Posted by sb11 on 02-21-2004 03:23 PM:
QUOTES FROM JOHN C LEHMAN WHO HAS LEFT FOR GODLady 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 Jesusto act like Him.*Hell.. is the no smoking section ofheaven.*"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 goto Vietnam.. or to be a conscientious objector.. hebecame a schizophrenic.. He was so split on this issue thatwhen he died they carved his name on the Vietnam War Memorialtwice..*When I was younger I thought that if prayer worked theCIA 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 canstied to theback of a shotgun wedding car(re a television war promoterwed to a war profiteer)Sometimes it is not necessarythe problem to solve.Change the angleof visionand the problem dissolves.
Posted by sb11 on 03-01-2004 03:21 PM:
Unseen They Suffer. Unheard They Cry. In Agony They Linger. In Loneliness They Die
Unseen they suffer Unheard they cry In agony they linger In loneliness they die * (author not known by poster)http://www.worldanimalnet.org./
Posted by sb11 on 03-01-2004 06:57 PM:
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.. but of his soul.
Posted by sb11 on 03-03-2004 06:26 PM:
thoughts on love
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 * "A DEEP-SWORN VOW 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." -Yeats, W B *"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 naнve 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
Posted by sb11 on 03-03-2004 06:27 PM:
thank you sadaquat!THE LAW"The law is sometimes the mark of a dragging foot uponthe sands of time""The law is what the judge ate for breakfast""The law is the caboose on the train of progress"
Posted by sb11 on 03-06-2004 08:50 PM:
Steinbeck
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.
Posted by sb11 on 03-07-2004 10:16 PM:
Secrets of your Heart are in Our Hands by DumaThe PoetBetween the world and the here afterIs a linkA pool of sweetness for the thirstyA tree planted on the banks of beautyBearing ripe fruit for the hungry heart to seek.A singing birdHopping on the branches of speech,Trilling melodies to fill all bodies with sweetness and tenderness.As a white cloud in the evening skyRising and expanding to fill the heavens,And then pour its bounty upon the flowers ofthe fields of Life.An AngelSent by the gods to teach men the way of the gods.A shining light unconquered by the darkAloneHe is clothed in simplicityAnd nourished by tenderness,He sits in natures lap learning to create,And is awake in the stillness of the nightIn wait of the spirit's descent.A husbandman who sows the seeds of his heart inthe garden of feelings,where they bring forth yieldTo 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 worldto return to his heavenly abode.This is he who seeks no thing of men savea little smile;Whose breath rises and fills the firmament with living vision of beauty.Yet do people withhold from him sustenance and refuge.
Posted by sb11 on 03-13-2004 06:09 PM:
HAIKU
1 Haiku ~ Baseball ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I want to play baseball but there are no stitches on the september moon. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~L Ernest Bevans 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/masapoetL Ernest Bevans3 Haiku ~ Butterflies Autumn leavesopen and closedbrown paper fans4 Haiku ~ December 31 ~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~The dragon snapskicking a shower of embersexhaling the year~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~5 Haiku ~ Mid Afternoon 01/06/03 soft laundered linencovers the sun like a table clothhot bread under wind swept cotton© Ernest Bevans L Ernest Bevans (smile at night)the joyful teeth smiled like bones in a quilted grave.Ernest Bevans
Posted by sb11 on 03-14-2004 04:05 AM:
Noetic muse from the electric fishFrom the noosphere of colective thoughtCompassion served up on a large dishIrradiated by 4th dimensional lightAstralized by the Neptune vectorEtheralized by the 3rd eye lightDown to the 4rd dimensional sector.-S A Grafio-
Posted by sb11 on 03-14-2004 03:49 PM:
(reposted .. thank you RG)The Dandylionsby Helen Gray ConeUpon a showery night and stillWithout a sound of morningA trooper band surprised the hillAnd held it in the morning.We were not waked by bugle-notesNo cheer our dreams invadedAnd yet, at dawn, their yellow coatsOn the green slopes invaded.We careless folk the deed forgotTill one day, idly walking,We marked upon the self-same spotA crowd of vet'rans talking.They shook their trembling heads and grayWith pride and noiseless laughter;When, well-a-day! They blew away,And ne'er were heard of after!
Posted by sb11 on 03-18-2004 03:21 AM:
Faith is the bird that feels the lightwhen the dawn is still dark-Rabindranath Tagore-
Posted by sb11 on 03-18-2004 03:23 AM:
The oak sleeps in the acorn.The bird waits in the egg.In the highest vision of a soula waking angel stirs.Dreams are the seedlings of reality.-James Allen-
Posted by sb11 on 03-22-2004 07:39 PM:
Karen Armstrong, author of interfaith books whose unusually frank truth abouther leaving the convent, despair, loss of Oxford doctorate,firing from television.. is inspiring.. said that the followingpoem gave her chills and helped her find GOD (paraphrased)ASH WEDNESDAY by T S EliotI.Because I do not hope to turn againBecause I do not hopeBecause I do not hope to turnDesiring this man's gift and that man's scopeI no longer strive to strive towards such things(Why should the agиd eagle stretch its wings?)Why should I mournThe vanished power of the usual reign?Because I do not hope to know againThe infirm glory of the positive hourBecause I do not thinkBecause I know I shall not knowThe one veritable transitory powerBecause I cannot drinkThere, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing againBecause I know that time is always timeAnd place is always and only placeAnd what is actual is actual only for one timeAnd only for one placeI rejoice that things are as they are andI renounce the blessиd faceAnd renounce the voiceBecause I cannot hope to turn againConsequently I rejoice, having to construct somethingUpon which to rejoiceAnd pray to God to have mercy upon usAnd I pray that I may forgetThese matters that with myself I too much discussToo much explainBecause I do not hope to turn againLet these words answerFor what is done, not to be done againMay the judgement not be too heavy upon usBecause these wings are no longer wings to flyBut merely vans to beat the airThe air which is now thoroughly small and drySmaller and dryer than the willTeach us to care and not to careTeach 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
Posted by sb11 on 03-29-2004 05:27 AM:
DEER BONESWe found them in the meadownear 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 snowon 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/showthread.php3?postid=733702#post733702
Posted by sb11 on 04-07-2004 10:56 PM:
posted by matt on another thread47And 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 whatThou shalt be---Nothing---Thou shalt not be less.48While the Rose blows along the River Brink,With old Khayyam the Ruby Vintage drink:And when the Angel with his darker DraughtDraws up to Thee---take that, and do not shrink.*****49'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and DaysWhere Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,And one by one back in the Closet lays.50The 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!51The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor WitShall lure it back to cancel half a Line,Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.52And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,Lift not thy hands to *It* for help---for ItRolls impotently on as Thou or I.*****53With 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 wroteWhat the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.54I tell Thee this---When, starting from the Goal,Over the shoulders of the flaming FoalOf Heav'n Parvin and Mushtara they flung,In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul55The Vine had struck a Fibre; which aboutIf clings my Being---let the Sufi flout;Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key,That shall unlock the Door he howls without56And this I know: whether the one True Light,Kindle to Love, or Wrathconsume me quite,One Glimpse of It within the Tavern caughtBetter than in the Temple lost outright.*****57Oh, Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with GinBeset the Road I was to wander in,Thou wilt not with Predestination roundEnmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?58Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;For all the Sin wherewith the Face of ManIs blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give---and take!KUZA-NAMA ("Book of Pots.")59Listen again. One Evening at the CloseOf Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,In that old Potter's Shop I stood aloneWith the clay Population round in Rows.60And, strange to tell, among that Earthen LotSome could articulate, while others not:And suddenly one more impatient cried---"Who *is* the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"*****61Then 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."62Another 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!"63None answer'd this; but after Silence spakeA Vessel of a more ungainly Make:"They sneer at me for learning all awry;"What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"64Said 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."*****65Then 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!"66So 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!"67Ah, 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.68That ev'n my buried Ashes such a SnareOf Perfume shall fling up into the Air,As not a True Believer passing byBut shall be overtaken unaware.*****69Indeed the Idols I have loved so longHave 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.70Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft beforeI swore---but was I sober when I swore?And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-handMy thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.71And much as Wine has play'd the InfidelAnd robb'd me of my Robe of Honour---well,I often wonder what the Vintners buyOne half so precious as the Goods they sell.72Alas, 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!*****73Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspireTo grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,Would not we shatter it to bits---and thenRe-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!74Ah, Moon of my Delight who Know'st no waneThe Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:How oft hereafter rising shall she lookThrough this same Garden after me---in vain!75And when Thyself with shining Foot shall passAmong the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,And in thy joyous Errand reach the SpotWhere I made one---turn down an empty Glass!TAMAM SHUD (It is completed.)And now the modified and added version which is the Text ofthe Fifth Edition (1889).1Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flightThe Stars before him from the Field of Night,Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikesThe Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.*****Edward FitzGerald's Translation.Modified and added version which is the Text ofthe Fifth Edition (1889):2Before 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?"3And, as the **** crew, those who stood beforeThe Tavern shouted---"Open then the Door!"You know how little while we have to stay,"And, once departed, may return no more."4Now the New Year reviving old Desires,The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the BougPuts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.5Iram 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.*****6And David's Lips are lockt; but in divineHigh-piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!"Red Wine!"---the Nightingale cries to the RoseThat sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine.7Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of SpringYour Winter-garment of Repentance fling:The Bird of Time has but a little wayTo flutter---and the Bird is on the Wing.8Whether 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.9Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say:Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?And this first Summer month that brings the RoseShall 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 thefear of punishment and painfree from dirty wind, fire, and water.*****
__________________We bow to your divine powerto change this situation for the better. Only God has enough data to assign value to any action. Only God, indweller of all beings' hearts, controls the karmic lords and can erase all debt, give all mercy. We pray that those this post mentions, as well as the listmembers, poster, and readers, are aligned to Your LoveWill in every thought word and deed, and that universal nonviolence for all beings prevails now and forever everywhere.
Posted by sb11 on 04-08-2004 09:12 AM:
Comin Thro' The Rye. Robert Burns Original VersionStandard English TranslationComin 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 bodyComing through the rye,Should a body kiss a body,Need a body cry?Should a body meet a bodyComing through the glen,Should a body kiss a body,Need the world know?Should a body meet a bodyComing through the grain,Should a body kiss a body,The thing is a body's own.
Posted by sb11 on 04-10-2004 12:30 AM:
posted by PacificGod Speaks to Each of UsGod 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 eachAnd silently walks with us from the dark: Driven by your senses, dareTo the edge of longing. GrowLike a fire's shadowcasting glareBehind assembled things, so you can spreadTheir 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 landThat they call Life.You'll know when you arriveBy how real it is. Give me your hand.__________________Silence shows the depth.,,,,,,,,,.........ResistenceReport this post to a moderator IP: Logged04-09-2004 11:58 PM pacificUnderground peopleRegistered: Jan 2003Location: Underground worldPosts: 3387Gott 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 hinausgesandtgeh 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 erkennenan seinem Ernste. Gieb mir die Hand.Rainer Maria Rilke
Posted by sb11 on 04-11-2004 03:43 AM:
FUNERAL BLUESby W H Auden read in "Four Weddingsand 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
Posted by sb11 on 04-11-2004 03:54 AM:
SYMPATHYI know what the caged bird feels, alas!When the sun is bright on the upland slopes,When the wind blows soft through the springing grassAnd 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 wingTill 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! byPaul Lawrence Dunbar (1872 - 1906)
Posted by sb11 on 04-13-2004 07:43 PM:
GREEN THUMB By Linda Pastan No bigger than a thumband palest green,a tree froghas stowed awayon one of the plantsmy husband brought insidefor winter,and in the darknessit fills the spacesof this housewith disproportionatesong. The dogs bark,fearing a creaturethey cannot see,and partly to quiet themwe search in vainamong the stemsand roots and leavesfor that balloonof swollen sound --either lovelorn,or joyful, or hungry.I'm never sureI want the woods inside,though circumscribed in potsthese plants seem safe enough --contained explosions of greenat every frozen window.Whatever my husband touchesgrows. Tonight when hetouches me, black earthstill rings the moonsof all his nails.I think it is a nakedinfant's callthe tree frog's songreminds me of.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Copyright 1985 by Linda Pastan.
Posted by usa_resident on 04-13-2004 11:13 PM:
From a Thin-Red Line
We.We together.Like one being.Flow together like water.Til I can't tell you from me.
Posted by sb11 on 04-15-2004 05:37 PM:
beautiful poem, USA ResidentWIRING HOMELest 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.Rita Dove
Posted by sb11 on 04-22-2004 02:36 PM:
"Snowmen drop unassembled from the sky" Unknown..
Posted by babu on 04-22-2004 07:02 PM:
Sure, I'm a dreamer;And why not?Face Reality?For what?I've seen reality in the raw,It was cold as ice--and wouldn't thaw.It was a tortured, troubled, tangled mazeOf Blacks and Whites and dirty Greys...My soul was starved in a thousand ways.d.l.fitzpatrick
Posted by on 04-23-2004 04:48 PM:
A stone's throw from Jerusalem, I walked a lonely mile in the moonlight And though a million stars were shining My heart was lost on a distant planet That whirls around the April moon, whirling in an arc of sadness I'm lost without you, I'm lost without you Though all my kingdoms turn to sand and fall into the sea I'm mad about you, I'm mad about you From the dark secluded valleys I heard the ancient songs of sadness But every step I thought of you, every footstep only you Every star a grain of sand, the leavings of a dried up ocean Tell me how much longer, how much longer They say a city in the desert lies the vanity of an ancient king But the city lies in broken pieces Where the wind howls and the vultures sing These are the works of man, this is the sum of our ambition It would make a prison of my life if you became another's wife With every prison blown to dust, my enemies walk free I'm mad about you, I'm mad about you And I have never in my life felt more alone than I do now Although I claim dominions over all I see, it means nothing to me There are no victories in all our histories without love
Posted by sb11 on 04-29-2004 04:22 PM:
thankyou so much, iflew.........After the Performance of Art Evening: Driving Home -by Ena Cisewski -Tears of recognition kiss my cheeksFor, within my silence, I have opened my earsto hear whispered words draped together like veils of gossamerShimmering, teasing, hauntingat times bright jewels of focusEternal gifts of remembrance of love songs from my soul
Posted by Auld Nick on 04-29-2004 04:59 PM:
Summer grasses-Of noble warriors'splendid dreams,The aftermath.Matsuo Basho
__________________SVPERBIA.AVARITIA.LVXVRIA.INVIDIA.GVLA.IRA.ACEDIA
Posted by Sadaqat on 04-29-2004 07:35 PM:
From your Show Me epiphany that grievesTar and feathered our heels you leave us,Tar and feathered our heels you leave...Shariq Shafi
Posted by schwarzbrenner on 04-29-2004 07:41 PM:

There once was a girl,who had a little curl,right in the middle of her forehead.and when she was good,she was very very good,and when she was bad,she was horrid.As I was going up the stair,I met a man, who wasn't there,he wasn't there again today,Oh, how I wishHe'd go away
__________________Mehr Licht
Posted by sb11 on 05-01-2004 04:16 PM:
thankyou iflew babu unbias schwarzbrenner and sadaquat for enriching the thread...............poetry.com.. seems to misplace poems submitted.. unlike any other site i knowof
Posted by sb11 on 05-01-2004 04:39 PM:
Basho, Issa, and Buson.. all unmarked are BashoThe river flowson.. silentlygathering the rains of JuneIn the midst of the plainSings the skylarkFree of all thingsI woke up suddenlyWith the ice of a nightWhen the water-pot burst.Old pondFrog jumps inSplash! First winter rainThe monkey also seems to wish forA straw raincoat The seed of all songIs the farmer's busy humAs he plants his rice.The autumn full moonAll night longI walked around the lake High on the mountainFaintly we heard far belowA skylark singing When the hawk's eye darkensThe little quailBegin to chirp On a withered boughA crow is perchedThis autumn evening Of an early deathShowing no signThe cicada's voice All day in the gray sunHollyhocks following sun'sInvisible road Yield to the willowAll the loathing, all the desireOf your heartThough thin and weakThe chrysanthemumInevitably will budMy horse Clip-clopping over the fields--Oh ho!I too am part of the picture! Under the cherry blossomsNoneAre utter strangers. (Issa) The two plum treesI love their bloomingOne early, one later (Buson) . What silence!The voice of the cicadaPenetrates the rocks (thank you to the Minnesota Zen Center for all but 1 of these)
Posted by sb11 on 05-08-2004 09:25 PM:
Elvis Presley
Elvis Presley Lyrics > In The Ghetto Lyrics As the snow flies,On a cold and grey Chicago mornin'A poor little baby child is born in the ghettoAnd his mama cries'Cause if there's one thing that she don't needIt's another hungry mouth to feed in the ghettoPeople, don't you understandThe child needs a helping handOr he'll grow to be an angry young man some dayTake a look at you and me,Are we too blind to see,Or do we simply turn our heads and look the other way?Well the world turnsAnd a hungry little boy with the runny nosePlays in the street as the cold wind blows in the ghettoAnd his hunger burnsSo he starts to roam the streets at nightAnd he learns how to stealAnd he learns how to fight in the ghettoThen one night in desperationThe young man breaks awayHe buys a gun, steals a car, tries to run,But he don't get farAnd his mama criesAs a crowd gathers round an angry young manFace down in the street with a gun in his hand in the ghettoAnd as her young man dies,On a cold and grey Chicago mornin'Another little baby child is born in the ghettoAnd his mama criesIn the ghettoIn the ghetto
Posted by sb11 on 05-08-2004 09:33 PM:
http://lyricsdomain.com/ 50,000 songs
Posted by sb11 on 05-13-2004 05:07 PM:
TO A MOUSE-Robert Burns-On turning her up in her nest, with the plough, November, 1785 Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie,O, what panic's in thy breastie!Thou need na start awa sae hasty,Wi' bickering brattle!I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,Wi' murd'ring pattle!I'm truly sorry Man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request: I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, An' never miss't! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's winds ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast, An' weary Winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald. To thole the Winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch cauld! But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! The present only toucheth thee: But Och! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear!
Posted by schwarzbrenner on 05-13-2004 09:29 PM:

Hey sb, I always liked Burn's "Ode to a Louse" why not include it in your repertoire. anonymous wrote: Eeny meeny meiny moe, catch a _______ by the toe, if he/she/it hollers let it go, eeny, meeny, meiny, moe.
__________________Mehr Licht
Posted by sb11 on 05-13-2004 09:58 PM:
to schwarzbrenner..surely with the word black in your nameyou are not posting racist lyrics
Posted by sb11 on 05-14-2004 12:10 AM:
Job 38:1 Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said,Job 38:2 Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?Job 38:3 Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me.Job 38:4 Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding.Job 38:5 Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it?Job 38:6 Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof;Job 38:7 When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?Job 38:8 Or who shut up the sea with doors, when it brake forth, as if it had issued out of the womb?Job 38:9 When I made the cloud the garment thereof, and thick darkness a swaddlingband for it,Job 38:10 And brake up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors,Job 38:11 And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?Job 38:12 Hast thou commanded the morning since thy days; and caused the dayspring to know his place;Job 38:13 That it might take hold of the ends of the earth, that the wicked might be shaken out of it?Job 38:14 It is turned as clay to the seal; and they stand as a garment.Job 38:15 And from the wicked their light is withholden, and the high arm shall be broken.Job 38:16 Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea? or hast thou walked in the search of the depth?Job 38:17 Have the gates of death been opened unto thee? or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow of death?Job 38:18 Hast thou perceived the breadth of the earth? declare if thou knowest it all.Job 38:19 Where is the way where light dwelleth? and as for darkness, where is the place thereof,Job 38:20 That thou shouldest take it to the bound thereof, and that thou shouldest know the paths to the house thereof?Job 38:21 Knowest thou it, because thou wast then born? or because the number of thy days is great?Job 38:22 Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? or hast thou seen the treasures of the hail,Job 38:23 Which I have reserved against the time of trouble, against the day of battle and war?Job 38:24 By what way is the light parted, which scattereth the east wind upon the earth?Job 38:25 Who hath divided a watercourse for the overflowing of waters, or a way for the lightning of thunder;Job 38:26 To cause it to rain on the earth, where no man is; on the wilderness, wherein there is no man;Job 38:27 To satisfy the desolate and waste ground; and to cause the bud of the tender herb to spring forth?Job 38:28 Hath the rain a father? or who hath begotten the drops of dew?Job 38:29 Out of whose womb came the ice? and the hoary frost of heaven, who hath gendered it?Job 38:30 The waters are hid as with a stone, and the face of the deep is frozen.Job 38:31 Canst thou bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion?Job 38:32 Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? or canst thou guide Arcturus with his sons?Job 38:33 Knowest thou the ordinances of heaven? canst thou set the dominion thereof in the earth?Job 38:34 Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds, that abundance of waters may cover thee?Job 38:35 Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go and say unto thee, Here we are?Job 38:36 Who hath put wisdom in the inward parts? or who hath given understanding to the heart?Job 38:37 Who can number the clouds in wisdom? or who can stay the bottles of heaven,Job 38:38 When the dust groweth into hardness, and the clods cleave fast together?--------------------Both Daniel and Revelation speak ofthe fixed cross.. the lion, ox, eagle, and angel(leo, taurus, scorpio, and aquarius)
Posted by sb11 on 05-17-2004 04:52 PM:
DENT-DE-LION Such a sharp name For one so soft. The bright yellow fellows Send their children aloft, Not for profit or greed, Nor of vanity's need, But to make the land bright Thru day and thru night. - Babu -
Posted by sb11 on 05-17-2004 05:57 PM:
"What silence.. thevoice of the cicadopenetrates the rocks"wrote Basho.. NPR which posted recipesfor murdered cicadaswould like tomuzzle their omkaratc@npr.orgNPR, managed by CIA-Likud's Kevin Kloseand Dan Stern
Posted by schwarzbrenner on 05-17-2004 08:20 PM:

Ach, was muss man von boesen Kindern hoeren oder lesen,wie zum Beispiel, hier von diesen, welche Max und Morris hiessen, die anstatt durch weisen Lehren, sich zum Gueten zu bekehren, oft sich mal darueber lachen, und sich heimlich lustig machen...Wilhelm Busch, Dichter Scholastikus
__________________Mehr Licht
Posted by sb11 on 05-24-2004 12:58 PM:
Joseph MohrSTILLE NACHT, HEILIGE NACHT Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Alles schlДft, einsam wacht Nur das traute, hochheilige Paar, Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh'! Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh'! Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Hirten erst kund gemacht Durch der Engel Halleluja TЖnt es laut von fern und nah: "Christ, der Retter, ist da!" "Christ, der Retter, ist da!" Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Gottes Sohn, o wie lacht Lieb' aus deinem gЖttlichen Mund, Da uns schlДgt die rettende Stund'. Christ, in Deiner Geburt! Christ, in Deiner Geburt!SILENT NIGHT, HOLY NIGHT Silent night, Holy night,All is calm, all is bright,'Round yon Virgin Mother and ChildHoly Infant so tender and mild,Sleep in heavenly peace, Sleep in heavenly peace.Silent night, Holy night,Shepherds quake at the sight,Glories stream from heaven afar,Heav'nly hosts sing Alleluia;Christ the Savior is born,Christ the Savior is born.Silent night, Holy night,Son of God, love's pure lightRadiant beams from Thy holy face,With the dawn of redeeming graceJesus, Lord, at Thy birth,Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth.
Posted by sb11 on 06-09-2004 05:39 PM:
John G. Magee "HIGH FLIGHT"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings..Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds, and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of, wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there, I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air. Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace Where never lark, or even eagle flew And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
Posted by GorillaTheater on 06-09-2004 10:54 PM:
Reagan Latin poem in dactylic hexameter
Quae te causa movet, volucris Saturnia, magni Ut tumulo insideas ardua Reaganis? Hoc moneo, quantum inter aves ego robore praesto, Tantum semideos inter Reaganes. Insideant timidae timidorum busta columbae, Nos aquilae intrepidis signa benigna damus.
Posted by GorillaTheater on 06-10-2004 02:08 PM:
Translation:What reason compels you, lofty Saturnian bird, to settle on the tomb of the great Reagan? This I say: that as I am distinguished among birds for strength, so is Reagan among the demi-gods. Let timid doves rest upon the tombs of timid men. We eagles give our standards freely to the fearless.
Posted by sb11 on 06-12-2004 08:43 PM:
America The BeautifulKatharine Lee Bates wrote the original version in 1893. She wrote the 2nd version in 1904. Her final version was written in 1913.Here is a note from Katharine Lee Bates:"One day some of the other teachers and I decided to go on a trip to 14,000-foot Pikes Peak. We hired a prairie wagon. Near the top we had to leave the wagon and go the rest of the way on mules. I was very tired. But when I saw the view, I felt great joy. All the wonder of America seemed displayed there, with the sea-like expanse." America the Beautiful - 1913O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed his grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhoodFrom sea to shining sea!O beautiful for pilgrim feetWhose stern, impassioned stressA thoroughfare for freedom beatAcross the wilderness!America! America!God mend thine every flaw,Confirm thy soul in self-control,Thy liberty in law!O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife. Who more than self the country lovedAnd mercy more than life! America! America!May God thy gold refine Till all success be nobleness And every gain divine!O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed his grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!O beautiful for halcyon skies,For amber waves of grain,For purple mountain majestiesAbove the enameled plain!America! America!God shed his grace on theeTill souls wax fair as earth and airAnd music-hearted sea!O beautiful for pilgrims feet,Whose stern impassioned stressA thoroughfare for freedom beatAcross the wilderness!America ! America !God shed his grace on theeTill paths be wrought through wilds of thoughtBy pilgrim foot and knee!O beautiful for glory-taleOf liberating strifeWhen once and twice,for man's availMen lavished precious life !America! America! God shed his grace on theeTill selfish gain no longer stain The banner of the free!O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the yearsThine alabaster cities gleamUndimmed by human tears! America! America!God shed his grace on theeTill nobler men keep once again Thy whiter jubilee!
Posted by schwarzbrenner on 06-14-2004 03:58 PM:

That is one of the most beautiful and moving poems ever put to music; it should have been be the U.S.A.'s National Anthem. It's easier to sing, more aesthetically allegorical, pietistically patriotic and not jingoistic.
__________________Mehr Licht
Posted by sb11 on 06-15-2004 02:26 PM:
BEE HAIKUBlack and yellow beeBlack and yellow butterflyon the same flower-Joan Beth Clair-SEAGULLSSeagulls in shopping malls.... far from thewater..(a fragment of a poem byJoan Beth Clair)---------------------------------------------------------------------------------SULLIVAN BALLOU'S LOVE LETTER TO HIS WIFE FROMCIVIL WAR BATTLEFIELD(poster is a pacifist who prays GOD will end immediately andforeverall violence on the planet)My very 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 O 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 I 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.Sullivan
Posted by Owl on 06-16-2004 10:05 PM:
A poem I wrote a couple years ago about homeless children....Silent DreamsAnd they weepThe children weep for loss of loveAnd they cry into the hillsOn silent nightsAnd they cry into the heavensTheir cries take flight________And in the thunder I can hear their criesComing out of heaven on thoseSilent nightsWhile their cries take flight________________The children mourn the loss of love they knewAnd they'll never know again"Oh" , the children mournAnd go into themselves to find a friendAnd share a dream__________________Yes, in the thunder I can hear their criesComing out of heaven on thoseSilent nightsAs their cries take flight__________And they dispairYes the children all dispairOf ever seeing love come to their livesAnd so they dreamAnd reconcile themselves to life that knowsNo dreamOr knows no love______________And in the thunder I can hear their criesComing out of heavenOn those silent nightsWhile their cries take flight________________"Ohhh" I can hear their cryingComing from the heavensin their homeless nightsAnd I can feel compassionWhile the children live in doubtI really want to love themCan you say that you do too_____________Then we wont hear their cryingComing from the thunderComing out of heaven in thoseSilent nightsThen their dreams take flight________________If we can love the childrenWe can give them back their livesAnd with our love we give to themA chance to dream againAnd if we love the children on their Homeless nightsThen we can see their dreams take flight_________________________________Homeless children are a problem everywhere, and iy is the sin of man that we cannot, or will not solve this despicable problem before worrying about a tax cut for the rich, or a new car, or a day at the beach, or blowing a country to hell for oil....Owl
__________________The nationalist not only does not disapprove of atrocities committed by his own side, but he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them: George OrwelThe darkest hours come just before the dawn. So if you're going to steal your neighbour's milk and newspaper, that's the time to do it.
Posted by sb11 on 06-16-2004 10:24 PM:
that is a very powerful poem, Owl..there are 14,000 aspiring poetsat http://www.postpoems.com/perhaps you would either start your own folderthere or allow me to post your poem there
Posted by Owl on 06-16-2004 10:26 PM:
Jeepers, thanks for that link. I will enjoy checking that site out..I enjoy poetry. Always wrote it, even as a kid..Owl
__________________The nationalist not only does not disapprove of atrocities committed by his own side, but he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them: George OrwelThe darkest hours come just before the dawn. So if you're going to steal your neighbour's milk and newspaper, that's the time to do it.
Posted by sb11 on 07-08-2004 05:54 PM:
TREE TALK Be my Tree:I want to leanagainst you ...feeling your rough touchwith my smoothtenderskinMake your markupon my soul -deepimpressionsrooted in moistsoil:softwhispersof EternityLet me climbup to the seventhHeaven -searchingmy way through evergreen leavesto the sweetnessof yourFruitbe my Tree:dripyour Myhrrinto my open woundshealthis feebleheart ...Myra Lochner http://www.postpoems.com/The yearning to be understood and to be healed ... talking to the creature ... the Creator ...----------------------Bite Of A Star The moon shone bright and high in the skyWhile fuzzy white clouds play a game of chaseHe smiled at them as they quickly passed byExcept for the little ones that had a sad faceHe raised a hand to pick the stars quite nearAnd spinkled upon them yellow moon dust Then passed them to the clouds so dearSaying take a bite of the star if you mustCause everyone knows that a bite of a starTastes just as good as good can beAnd gives you dreams that'll take you farAs far away as the land of candyDeborah Russell postpoems.com
Posted by sb11 on 07-10-2004 07:19 PM:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------PAUL'S EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANSIf I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful;it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things,believes all things,hopes all things,endures all things. Love never ends;as for prophecies, they will pass away;as for tongues, they will cease;as for knowledge, it will pass away. For our knowledge is imperfect and our prophecy is imperfect;but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child;when I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood.So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
Posted by sb11 on 07-16-2004 07:33 PM:
Diane Mott Davidson:Only a wimpeats shrimp
Posted by sb11 on 07-21-2004 08:04 PM:
James Marcus:She walks in fields by the rivers of my memoryThe silent sun has fallen heralding the symphonyof the nightThe sweet rain has stilled the buzz of the winged ones
Posted by sb11 on 07-24-2004 03:11 PM:
4 HaikuNo mother protectingher kids has perfected a neutral nature.In miles of grey blue water a solitary black duck glides and dives.Over ponds of pink lotus blossoms they fly... the orange dragonfliesA beautiful tree whose limbs are used forpages of pornography-Joan Beth Clair-(author of Animal Rites)
Posted by sb11 on 09-12-2004 04:38 AM:
Kahlil Gibran
On DeathKahlil GibranYou would know the secret of death.But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.(thank you Duma)
Posted by sb11 on 09-17-2004 01:00 AM:
In the Shadow of No Towers
In the Shadow of No TowersI see now the Statue of LibertyI feel the warm rays of the sunI feel the raindrop kiss of cloudsand the fresh air of the windMiracles occur in vacuums.first line from book title by-- by Art Spiegelman2nd line from another NYC writeron NPR(with apology to any WTCvictims..)THE CRICKETS SANGThe Crickets sangAnd set the SunAnd Workmen finished one by oneTheir Seam the Day upon.The low Grass loaded with the DewThe Twilight stood, as Strangers doWith Hat in Hand, polite and newTo stay as if, or go.A Vastness, as a Neighbor, came,A Wisdom, without Face, or Name,A Peace, as Hemispheres at HomeAnd so the Night became.-Emily Dickinson-(all 1775 poems at several sitesincluding http://www.postpoems.com/members/op)
Posted by sb11 on 09-25-2004 10:40 PM:
Tagore
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;Where knowledge is free;Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;Where words come out from the depth of truth;Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection:Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;Where the mind is lead forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action--Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.--Rabindranath Tagore, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913.
Posted by sb11 on 10-12-2004 11:37 PM:
The full poem of Richard Wilbur of which 1 stanza is quotedin the 1st post in this thread isTWO VOICES IN A MEADOW-Richard Wilbur-A MilkweedAnonymous as cherubsOver the crib of God,White seeds are floatingOut of my burst pod.What power had IBefore I learned to yield?Shatter me, great wind:I shall possess the field.A StoneAs casual as cow-dungUnder the crib of God,I lie where chance would have me,Up to the ears in sod.Why should I move? To moveBefits a light desire.The sill of heaven would founder,Did such as I aspire.-----------THE PARDON-by Richard Wilbur-My dog lay dead five days without a graveIn the thick of summer, hid in a clump of pineAnd a jungle of grass and honeys-uckle vine.I who had loved him while he kept aliveWent only close enough to where he wasTo sniff the heavy honeys-uckle-smellTwined with another odor heavier stillAnd hear the flies- intolerable buzz.Well, I was ten and very much afraid.In my kind world the dead were out of rangeAnd I could not forgive the sad or strangeIn beast or man. My father took the spadeAnd buried him. Last night I saw the grassSlowly divide (it was the same sceneBut now it glowed a fierce and mortal green)And saw the dog emerging. I confessI felt afraid again, but still he cameIn the carnal sun, clothed in a hymn of flies,And death was breeding in his lively eyes.I started in to cry and call his name,Asking forgiveness of his tongueless head.-I dreamt the past was never past redeemingBut whether this was false or honest dreamingI beg death-s pardon now. And mourn the dead.-----------------------------------FOR C-Richard Wilbur-After the clash of elevator gatesAnd the long sinking, she emerges where,A slight thing in the morning-s crosstown glare,She looks up toward the window where he waits,Then in a fleeting taxi joins the rest Of the huge traffic bound forever west.On such grand scale do lovers say goodbye-Even this other pair whose high romanceHad only the duration of a dance,And who, now taking leave with stricken eye,See each in each a whole new life foregone.For them, above the darkling clubhouse lawn,Bright Perseids flash and crumble; while for theseWho part now on the dock, weighed down by griefAnd baggage, yet with something like relief,It takes three thousand miles of knitting seasTo cancel out their crossing and unmakeThe amorous rough and tumble of their wake.We are denied, my love, their fine tristesseAnd bittersweet regrets, and cannot shareThe frequent vistas of their large despair,Where love and all are swept to nothingness;Still there's a certain scope in that long loveWhich constant spirits are the keepers of,And which, though taken to be tame and staid,Is a wild sostenuto of the heart,A passion joined to courtesy and artWhich has the quality of something made,Like a good fiddle, like the rose's scent,Like a rose window or the firmament.------------------ON HAVING MISIDENTIFIED A WILDFLOWERA thrush, because I'd been wrong,Burst rightly into songIn a world not vague, not lonely,Not governed by me only. -Richard Wilbur---------------------------------THE REGATTASo simply it evades, evades,So weightless and immune may go,The free thing does not need to knowHow deep the waters are with shades.-Richard Wilbur-A stanza from a poem called The Regatta in the collectionentitledThe Beautiful Changes (1947)One of infinite interpretations: do not explore buttranscend evil--------(some computer programs including Pravda's replacethe word s-u-c-k with 4 asterisks.. such as in the wordhoneys-uckle)
Posted by sb11 on 10-13-2004 07:23 PM:
Death Destruction Of Form, Home, Loved One
-by Emily Dickinson-No Bobolink -- reverse His SingingWhen the only TreeEver He minded occupyingBy the Farmer be --Clove to the Root --His Spacious Future --Best Horizon -- gone --Whose Music be HisOnly Anodyne --Brave Bobolink -----------------------------------------------THE WAR PRAYERby Mark Twain who navigated the great Mississippi .. a river necklace to St Louis' shores .. as wide as a mile in New Orleans ------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and sputtering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spreads of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country and invoked the God of Battles, beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpouring of fervid eloquence which moved every listener. It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way. Sunday morning came-next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their faces alight with material dreams-visions of a stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender!-then home from the war, bronzed heros, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation -- "God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest, Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!" Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was that an ever--merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory - An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there, waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal,"Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!" The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside -- which the startled minister did -- and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said "I come from the Throne-bearing a message from Almighty God!" The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd and grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import-that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of-except he pause and think. "God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two- one uttered, the other not. Both have reached the ear of His Who hearth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this-keep it in mind. If you beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it. "You have heard your servant's prayer-the uttered part of it. I am commissioned by God to put into words the other part of it-that part which the pastor, and also you in your hearts, fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard these words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient. The whole of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory-must follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God the Father fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen! "O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle-be Thou near them! With them, in spirit, we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it-for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen. (After a pause) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits." It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said. -------------------- Financial Times of UK Oct 15 says Kerry winning Please vote for Democratic senators to remove animal abusers (OH) Voinovich (IA)Grassley (AZ) McCain (PA) Specter (AK) Murkowski (KS)Brownback (MO) Bond. In the House dump (TX) Delay and nearly all Republicans. VOTE AK:KNOWLES /CT: DODD / FL: CASTOR/IA: SMALL/ OH: FINGERHUT /MD: MIKULSKI/ MO: FARMER /NH: HADDOCK/ SD: DASCHLE /PA: HOEFFEL/ SC: TENENBAUM/ VT: LEAHY ------------------------------------------------ Thank You God for guarding the victory of Kerry, Edwards, Democratic Senate, House and legislature races, (most governors' races) and the American and all people and beings in November and for good. Thank You for ending all wars now. 0% environmental voting records: McCain, Murkowski ------- This post is poster's and not necessarily of the majority of Kerry supporters, campaign or President Kerry. -------------------------http://groups.msn.com/demdogs/kerry2.msnw Photo of Kerry with puppy he rescued in Vietnam GOD thank You for guarding the election and person of Kerry and Democrats
Posted by sb11 on 10-27-2004 07:22 PM:
Joni Mitchell:"and they'd drop the stonesConcealed behind their rosaries" fromthe song"Magdalene Laundries"I was an unmarried girlI'd just turned twenty-sevenWhen they sent me to the sistersFor the way men looked at meBranded as a jezebelI knew I was not bound for heavenI'd be cast in shameInto the Magdalene laundriesMost girls come here pregnantSome by their own fathersBridgit got that bellyBy her parish priestWe're trying to get things white as snowAll of us woe-begotten daughtersIn the streaming stainsOf the Magdalene laundriesProstitutes and destitutesAnd temptresses like me -Fallen women -Sentenced into dreamless drudgeryWhy do they call this heartless placeOur Lady of CharityOh charity!These bloodless brides of JesusIf they had just once glimpsed their groomThen they'd know, and they'd drop the stonesConcealed behind their rosariesThey wilt the grass they walk uponThey leech the light out of a roomThey'd like to drive us down the drainAt the Magdalene laundriesPeg O'Connell died todayShe was a cheeky girlA flirtThey just stuffed her in a hole!Surely to God you'd think at least some bell should ringOne day I'm going to die here, tooAnd they'll plant me in the dirtLike some lame bulbThat never blooms come any springNot any springNo, not any springNot any spring
Posted by sb11 on 10-28-2004 08:54 PM:
Omar Khayyam
The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám Look to the Rose that blows about us--"Lo,"Laughing," she says,"into the World I blow:"At once the silken Tassel of my Purse"Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."13th Verse http://www.rosarian.com/literaturepainting by Dulac
Posted by sb11 on 10-28-2004 08:55 PM:
Repostes To Republicans
Riposte to Republican:"May birds scatter pumpkin seedsin your threetoed sloth dungpile..that it may be transformed into jade"
Posted by sb11 on 10-29-2004 02:04 AM:
3 turkey rights poems
TURKEY RIGHTS POEMSLIVING GRAVESby George Bernard ShawWe are the living graves of murdered beastsSlaughtered to satisfy our appetitesWe never pause to wonder at our feastsIf animals, like men, can possiblyhave rightsWe pray on Sundays that we may have lightTo guide our footsteps on the path wetreadWe're sick of war We do not want tofightThe thought of it now fills our hearts with dreadAnd yet we gorge ourselves upon the deadLike carrion crows we live and feed on meatRegardless of the suffering and painWe cause by doing so. If thus we treatDefenseless animals for sport or gainHow can we hope in this world to attainthe PEACE we say we are so anxious forWe pray for it o'er hecatombs of slainTo God, while outraging the moral lawThus cruelty begets its offspring: war.George Bernard ShawPOINT OF VIEWShel Silverstein-http://www.vegweb.com/foodThanksgiving dinner's sad and thanklessChristmas dinner's dark and blueWhen you stop and try to see itFrom the turkey's point of view.Sunday dinner isn't sunnyEaster feasts are just bad luckWhen you see it from the viewpointOf a chicken or a duck.Oh how I once loved tuna saladPork and lobsters, lamb chops tooTill I stopped and looked at dinnerFrom the dinner's point of view.-TALKING TURKEYSBenjamin Zephaniah.Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmasCos turkeys jus wanna hav funTurkeys are cool, an turkeys are wickedAn every turkey has a Mum.Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas,Don't eat it, keep it alive,It could be yu mate an not on yu plateSay, Yo! Turkey I'm on your side.I got lots of friends who are turkeysAn all of dem fear christmas time,Dey say 'Benj man, eh, I wanna enjoy it,But dose humans destroyed itAn humans are out of dere mind,Yeah, I got lots of friends who are turkeysDey all hav a right to a life,Not to be caged up an genetically made upBy any farmer an his wife.Turkeys jus wanna play reggaeTurkeys jus wanna hip-hopHavey you ever seen a nice young turkey saying,`I cannot wait for de chop'?Turkeys like getting presents, dey wanna watch christmas TV,Turkeys hav brains an turkeys feel painIn many ways like yu an me.I once knew a turkey His name was TurkeyHe said `Benji explain to me please,Who put de turkey in christmasAn what happens to christmas trees?'I said, `I am not too sure TurkeyBut it's nothing to do wid Christ MassHumans get greedy and waste more dan need beAn business men mek loadsa cash.'So, be nice to yu turkey dis christmasInvite dem indoors fe sum greensLet dem eat cake an let dem partakeIn a plate of organic grown beans,Be nice to yu turkey dis christmasAn spare dem de cut of de knife,Join Turkeys United an dey'll be delightedAn yu will mek new friends `FOR LIFE'.Copyright: Benjamin Zephaniah.

http://www.vrg.org/recipeshttp://www.lowellsc.org/humor/cartoons/shelton/turkey.jpg
William Blake
AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE-by William Blake-To see a world in a grain of sandAnd a heaven in a wild flower,Hold infinity in the palm of your handAnd eternity in an hour.A robin redbreast in a cagePuts all heaven in a rage.A dove-house filled with doves and pigeonsShudders hell through all its regions.A dog starved at his master's gatePredicts the ruin of the state.A horse misused upon the roadCalls to heaven for human blood.Each outcry of the hunted hareA fibre from the brain does tear.A skylark wounded in the wing,A cherubim does cease to sing.The game-**** clipped and armed for fightDoes the rising sun affright.Every wolf's and lion's howlRaises from hell a human soul.The wild deer wandering here and thereKeeps the human soul from care.The lamb misused breeds public strife,And yet forgives the butcher's knife.The bat that flits at close of eveHas left the brain that won't believe.The owl that calls upon the nightSpeaks the unbeliever's fright.He who shall hurt the little wrenShall never be beloved by men.He who the ox to wrath has movedShall never be by woman loved.The wanton boy that kills the flyShall feel the spider's enmity.He who torments the chafer's spriteWeaves a bower in endless night.The caterpillar on the leafRepeats to thee thy mother's grief.Kill not the moth nor butterfly,For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.He who shall train the horse to warShall never pass the polar bar.The beggar's dog and widow's cat,Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.The gnat that sings his summer's songPoison gets from Slander's tongue.The poison of the snake and newtIs the sweat of Envy's foot.The poison of the honey-beeIs the artist's jealousy.The prince's robes and beggar's ragsAre toadstools on the miser's bags.A truth that's told with bad intentBeats all the lies you can invent.It is right it should be so:Man was made for joy and woe;And when this we rightly knowThrough the world we safely go.Joy and woe are woven fine,A clothing for the soul divine.Under every grief and pineRuns a joy with silken twine.The babe is more than swaddling bands,Throughout all these human lands;Tools were made and born were hands,Every farmer understands.Every tear from every eyeBecomes a babe in eternity;This is caught by females brightAnd returned to its own delight.The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roarAre waves that beat on heaven's shore.The babe that weeps the rod beneathWrites Revenge! in realms of death.The beggar's rags fluttering in airDoes to rags the heavens tear.The soldier armed with sword and gunPalsied strikes the summer's sun.The poor man's farthing is worth moreThan all the gold on Afric's shore.One mite wrung from the labourer's handsShall buy and sell the miser's lands,Or if protected from on highDoes that whole nation sell and buy.He who mocks the infant's faithShall be mocked in age and death.He who shall teach the child to doubtThe rotting grave shall ne'er get out.He who respects the infant's faithTriumphs over hell and death.The child's toys and the old man's reasonsAre the fruits of the two seasons.The questioner who sits so slyShall never know how to reply.He who replies to words of doubtDoth put the light of knowledge out.The strongest poison ever knownCame from Caesar's laurel crown.Nought can deform the human raceLike to the armour's iron brace.When gold and gems adorn the ploughTo peaceful arts shall Envy bow.A riddle or the cricket's cryIs to doubt a fit reply.The emmet's inch and eagle's mileMake lame philosophy to smile.He who doubts from what he seesWill ne'er believe, do what you please.If the sun and moon should doubt,They'd immediately go out.To be in a passion you good may do,But no good if a passion is in" target=_blank forums? www.hipforums.com http:>http://www.hipforums.com/forums

Posted by adrian666 on 11-22-2004 12:56 PM:
William Blake.
This life`s dim windows of the soulDistorts the heavens from pole to pole,And leads you to believe a lieWhen you see with, not through, the eye.
Posted by sb11 on 11-22-2004 03:37 PM:
beautiful
Posted by sb11 on 11-25-2004 08:43 PM:
Aimless Love"Sometimes someone says something really small, and it just fits right into this empty space in your heart."-Billy Collins-(one of America's poet laureates)This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,I fell in love with a wrenand later in the day with a mousethe cat had dropped under the dining room table.In the shadows of an autumn evening,I fell for a seamstressstill at her machine in the tailor's window,and later for a bowl of broth,steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.This is the best kind of love, I thought,without recompense, without gifts,or unkind words, without suspicion,or silence on the telephone.The love of the chestnut,the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.No lust, no slam of the door--the love of the miniature orange tree,the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,the highway that cuts across Florida.No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor--just a twinge every now and thenfor the wren who had built her neston a low branch overhanging the waterand for the dead mouse,still dressed in its light brown suit.But my heart is always propped upin a field on its tripod,ready for the next arrow.After I carried the mouse by the tailto a pile of leaves in the woods,I found myself standing at the bathroom sinkgazing down affectionately at the soap,so patient and soluble,so at home in its pale green soap dish.I could feel myself falling againas I felt its turning in my wet handsand caught the scent of lavender and stone.---------------THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT A BLACKBIRD-Wallace Stevens-IAmong twenty snowy mountains,The only moving thingWas the eye of the blackbird.III was of three minds,Like a treeIn which there are three blackbirds.IIIThe blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.It was a small part of the pantomime.IVA man and a womanAre one.A man and a woman and a blackbirdAre one.VI do not know which to prefer,The beauty of inflectionsOr the beauty of innuendoes,The blackbird whistlingOr just after.VIIcicles filled the long windowWith barbaric glass.The shadow of the blackbirdCrossed it, to and fro.The moodTraced in the shadowAn indecipherable cause.VIIO thin men of Haddam,Why do you imagine golden birds?Do you not see how the blackbirdWalks around the feetOf the women about you?VIIII know noble accentsAnd lucid, inescapable rhythms;But I know, too,That the blackbird is involvedIn what I know.IXWhen the blackbird flew out of sight,It marked the edgeOf one of many circles.XAt the sight of blackbirdsFlying in a green light,Even the bawds of euphonyWould cry out sharply.XIHe rode over ConnecticutIn a glass coach.Once, a fear pierced him,In that he mistookThe shadow of his equipageFor blackbirds.XIIThe river is moving.The blackbird must be flying.XIIIIt was evening all afternoon.It was snowingAnd it was going to snow.The blackbird satIn the cedar-limbs.
Posted by coolinuf on 11-25-2004 09:43 PM:
My Madonna by Robert ServiceI haled me a woman from the street,Shameless, but, oh, so fair!I bade her sit in the model’s seatAnd painted her sitting there.I hid all traces of her heart unclean;I painted a babe at her breast;I painted her as she might have beenIf the Worst had been the Best.She laughed at my picture and went away.Then came, with a knowing nod,A connoisseur, and I heard him say;“’Tis Mary, the Mother of God.”So, I painted a halo round her hair,And I sold her and took my fee,And she hangs in the church of Saint Hillaire,Where you and all may see.
__________________life, : A whim of several billion cells to be you for a while.
Posted by publicus on 11-25-2004 10:57 PM:
Poetry in spanish
Aturdido silencio Porque tu silencio es canción de desaliento,porque tu silencioes mi vida perdida.Porque tu silenciorompe la luz del horizonteque me llega convertidaen cancion de melancolia.Porque tu silencioes cancion de mi pensamientoporque ya solo sientoel calor de tu aliento.Dejame ya, porque no siento.No sé ya cuando acaba la viday cuando comienza el nacimiento.Lleno de ti, con tu silencio Jose Ignacio Roca Hernandez
__________________VERBA VOLANT, SCRIPTA MANENT!
Posted by Makalu on 12-13-2004 04:20 AM:
The World by Henry VaughanI saw Eternity the other nightLike a great Ring of pure and endless lightAll calm as it was bright;And round beneath it, Time, in hours, days, years,Driven by the spheres,Like a vast shadow moved, in which the worldAnd all her train were hurled.The doting Lover in his quaintest strainDid there complain;Near him, his lute, his fancy, and his flights,Wit's sour delights;With gloves and knots, the silly snares of pleasure;Yet his dear treasureAll scattered lay, while he his eyes did pourUpon a flower.The darksome Statesman hung with weights and woe,Like a thick midnight fog, moved there so slowHe did nor stay nor go;Condemning thoughts, like sad eclipses, scowlUpon his soul,And clouds of crying witnesses withoutPursued him with one shout.Yet digged the mole, and, lest his ways be found,Worked under ground,Where he did clutch his prey; but One did seeThat policy.Churches and altars fed him, perjuriesWere gnats and flies;It rained about him blood and tears, but heDrank them as free.The fearful Miser on a heap of rustSat pining all his life there, did scarce trustHis own hands with the dust;Yet would not place one piece above, but livesIn fear of thieves.Thousands there were as frantic as himself,And hugged each one his pelf.The downright Epicure placed heaven in senseAnd scorned pretence;While others, slipped into a wide excess,Said little less;The weaker sort, slight, trivial wares enslave,Who think them brave;And poor despisèd Truth sat counting byTheir victory.Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing,And sing and weep, soared up into the Ring;But most would use no wing.'Oh, fools,' said I, 'thus to prefer dark nightBefore true light,To live in grots and caves, and hate the dayBecause it shows the way,The way which from this dead and dark abodeLeaps up to God,A way where you might tread the sun, and beMore bright than he.'But as I did their madness so discuss,One whispered thus,This Ring the Bridegroom did for none provideBut for his Bride.
__________________Progress demands development of individuality; mediocrity seeks perpetuation in standardization.
Posted by Makalu on 12-13-2004 01:47 PM:
Roses are redViolets are blue-ishIf it wasn't for JesusWe'd all be jewish!!
__________________Progress demands development of individuality; mediocrity seeks perpetuation in standardization.
Posted by sb11 on 12-13-2004 04:28 PM:
roses are redviolets are blueishJesus was a vegetarianand Jesus was Jewishchristianveg.comjesusveg.com
Posted by Makalu on 12-14-2004 01:10 PM:
roses are redviolets are bluethe venus fly-trap is carnivorous toolord help me...poetry is definately not my thing sorry
__________________Progress demands development of individuality; mediocrity seeks perpetuation in standardization.
Posted by sb11 on 01-03-2005 06:10 PM:
Carp Haiku carp leaping over the dragon's gate -Vivien Sung-red carp leaping in rice ponds-Basho?-
Posted by sb11 on 01-11-2005 09:24 PM:
Some of Rumi's Poems
Rumi thread--------------------------------------------------------------------------------— If anyone asks you how the perfect satisfaction of all our sexual wanting will look, lift your face and say, Like this. When someone mentions the gracefulness of the nightsky, climb up on the roof and dance and say, Like this. If anyone wants to know what "spirit" is, or what "God’s fragrance" means, lean your head toward him or her. Keep your face there close. Like this. When someone quotes the old poetic image about clouds gradually uncovering the moon, slowly loosen knot by knot the strings of your robe. Like this. If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead, don’t try to explain the miracle. Kiss me on the lips. Like this. Like this. When someone asks what it means to "die for love," point here. If someone asks how tall I am, frown and measure with your fingers the space between the creases on your forehead. This tall. The soul sometimes leaves the body, the returns. When someone doesn’t believe that, walk back into my house. Like this. When lovers moan, they’re telling our story. Like this. I am a sky where spirits live. Stare into this deepening blue, while the breeze says a secret. Like this. When someone asks what there is to do, light the candle in his hand. Like this. How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob? Huuuuu. How did Jacob’s sight return? Huuuu. A little wind cleans the eyes. Like this. When Shams comes back from Tabriz, he’ll put just his head around the edge of the door to surprise us Like this. From ‘The Essential Rumi’, Translations by Coleman Barks with John Moyne Ý — Love is the Water of Life Everything other than love for the most beautiful God though it be sugar- eating. What is agony of the spirit? To advance toward death without seizing hold of the Water of Life. Masnawi I 3686-87 Ý — A moment of happiness, you and I sitting on the verandah, apparently two, but one in soul, you and I. We feel the flowing water of life here, you and I, with the garden's beauty and the birds singing. The stars will be watching us, and we will show them what it is to be a thin crescent moon. You and I unselfed, will be together, indifferent to idle speculation, you and I. The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar as we laugh together, you and I. In one form upon this earth, and in another form in a timeless sweet land. Kulliyat-e Shams, 2114 Ý — Lovers O lovers, lovers it is time to set out from the world. I hear a drum in my soul's ear coming from the depths of the stars. Our camel driver is at work; the caravan is being readied. He asks that we forgive him for the disturbance he has caused us, He asks why we travelers are asleep. Everywhere the murmur of departure; the stars, like candles thrust at us from behind blue veils, and as if to make the invisible plain, a wondrous people have come forth. The Divani Shamsi Tabriz, XXXVI Ý — All through eternity Beauty unveils His exquisite form in the solitude of nothingness; He holds a mirror to His Face and beholds His own beauty. he is the knower and the known, the seer and the seen; No eye but His own has ever looked upon this Universe. His every quality finds an expression: Eternity becomes the verdant field of Time and Space; Love, the life-giving garden of this world. Every branch and leaf and fruit Reveals an aspect of His perfection- They cypress give hint of His majesty, The rose gives tidings of His beauty. Whenever Beauty looks, Love is also there; Whenever beauty shows a rosy cheek Love lights Her fire from that flame. When beauty dwells in the dark folds of night Love comes and finds a heart entangled in tresses. Beauty and Love are as body and soul. Beauty is the mine, Love is the diamond. They have together since the beginning of time- Side by side, step by step. Ý — I swear, since seeing Your face, the whole world is fraud and fantasy The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf or blossom. The distracted birds can't distinguish the birdseed from the snare. A house of love with no limits, a presence more beautiful than venus or the moon, a beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart. The Divani Shamsi Tabriz XV Ý — Let go of your worries and be completely clear-hearted, like the face of a mirror that contains no images. If you want a clear mirror, behold yourself and see the shameless truth, which the mirror reflects. If metal can be polished to a mirror-like finish, what polishing might the mirror of the heart require? Between the mirror and the heart is this single difference: the heart conceals secrets, while the mirror does not. The Divani Shamsi Tabriz, XIII Ý — This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First, to let go of live. In the end, to take a step without feet; to regard this world as invisible, and to disregard what appears to be the self. Heart, I said, what a gift it has been to enter this circle of lovers, to see beyond seeing itself, to reach and feel within the breast. The Divani Shamsi Tabriz, XIII Ý — Love is reckless; not reason. Reason seeks a profit. Love comes on strong, consuming herself, unabashed. Yet, in the midst of suffering, Love proceeds like a millstone, hard surfaced and straightforward. Having died of self-interest, she risks everything and asks for nothing. Love gambles away every gift God bestows. Without cause God gave us Being; without cause, give it back again. Mathnawi VI, 1967-1974 Ý — I am a sculptor, a molder of form. In every moment I shape an idol. But then, in front of you, I melt them down I can rouse a hundred forms and fill them with spirit, but when I look into your face, I want to throw them in the fire. My souls spills into yours and is blended. Because my soul has absorbed your fragrance, I cherish it. Every drop of blood I spill informs the earth, I merge with my Beloved when I participate in love. In this house of mud and water, my heart has fallen to ruins. Enter this house, my Love, or let me leave. The Divani Shamsi Tabriz, XXXIV Ý
Posted by sb11 on 01-11-2005 09:26 PM:
— Passion makes the old medicine new: Passion lops off the bough of weariness. Passion is the elixir that renews: how can there be weariness when passion is present? Oh, don't sigh heavily from fatigue: seek passion, seek passion, seek passion! Mathnawi VI, 4302-4304 Ý — The beauty of the heart is the lasting beauty: its lips give to drink of the water of life. Truly it is the water, that which pours, and the one who drinks. All three become one when your talisman is shattered. That oneness you can't know by reasoning. Mathnawi II, 716-718 "I am only the house of your beloved, not the beloved herself: true love is for the treasure, not for the coffer that contains it." The real beloved is that one who is unique, who is your beginning and your end. When you find that one, you'll no longer expect anything else: that is both the manifest and the mystery. That one is the lord of states of feeling, dependent on none; month and year are slaves to that moon. When he bids the "state," it does His bidding; when that one wills, bodies become spirit. Mathnawi III, 1417-1424 The springtime of Lovers has come, that this dust bowl may become a garden; the proclamation of heaven has come, that the bird of the soul may rise in flight. The sea becomes full of pearls, the salt marsh becomes sweet as kauthar, the stone becomes a ruby from the mine, the body becomes wholly soul. The intellectual is always showing off, the lover is always getting lost. The intellectual runs away. afraid of drowning; the whole business of love is to drown in the sea. Intellectuals plan their repose; lovers are ashamed to rest. The lover is always alone. even surrounded by people; like water and oil, he remains apart. The man who goes to the trouble of giving advice to a lover get nothing. He's mocked by passion. Love is like musk. It attracts attention. Love is a tree, and the lovers are its shade. Kulliyat-e Shams, 21 Ý — Love has nothing to do with the five senses and the six directions: its goal is only to experience the attraction exerted by the Beloved. Afterwards, perhaps, permission will come from God: the secrets that ought to be told with be told with an eloquence nearer to the understanding that these subtle confusing allusions. The secret is partner with none but the knower of the secret: in the skeptic's ear the secret is no secret at all. Mathnawi III, 1417-1424 Ý — When the rose is gone and the garden faded you will no longer hear the nightingale's song. The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil. The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing. If love withholds its strengthening care, the lover is left like a bird without care, the lover is left like a bird without wings. How will I be awake and aware if the light of the Beloved is absent? Love wills that this Word be brought forth. Mathnawi I, 23-31 Ý — Because I cannot sleep I make music at night. I am troubled by the one whose face e has the color of spring flowers. I have neither sleep nor patience, neither a god reputation nor disgrace. A thousand robes of wisdom are gone. All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away. The heart and the mind are left angry with each other. The starts and the moon are envious of each other. Because of this alienation the physical universe is getting tighter and tighter. The moon says, "How long will I remain suspended without a sun?" Without Love's jewel inside of me, let the bazaar of my existence by destroyed stone by stone. O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names, You who know how to pour the wine into the chalice of the body, You who give culture to a thousand cultures, You who are faceless but have a thousand faces, O Love, You who shape the faces of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris, give me a glass from Your bottle, or a handful of bheng from Your Branch. Remove the cork once more. The we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves, and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play. Then the addict will be breed of craving. and will be resurrected, and stand in awe till Judgement Day. Ý — Ode 314 Those who don't feel this Love pulling them like a river, those who don't drink dawn like a cup of spring water or take in sunset like supper, those who don't want to change, let them sleep. This Love is beyond the study of theology, that old trickery and hypocrisy. I you want to improve your mind that way, sleep on. I've given up on my brain. I've torn the cloth to shreds and thrown it away. If you're not completely naked, wrap your beautiful robe of words around you, and sleep. "Like This" Coleman Barks, Maypop, 1990 Ý — A lifetime without Love is of no account Love is the Water of Life Drink it down with heart and soul! Divan-i-Shams 11909 Ý — Last night you lfet me and slept your own deep sleep. Tonight you turn and turn. I say, "You and I will be together till the universe dissolves." You mumble back things you thought of when you were drunk. Like This, Rumi, Coleman Barks, Maypop Books Ý — I have been tricked by flying too close to what I thought I loved. Now the candleflame is out, the wine spilled, and the lovers have withdrawn somewhere beyond my squinting. The amount I thought I'd won, I've lost. My prayers becomes bitter and all about blindness. How wonderful it was to be for a while with those who surrender. Others only turn their faces on way, then another, like pigeon in flight. I have known pigeons who fly in a nowhere, and birds that eat grainlessness, and tailor who sew beautiful clothes by tearing them to pieces. (Mathnawi, V. 346-353) Like This, Rumi, Coleman Barks, Maypop Books Ý — Who is at my door? He said, "Who is at my door?" I said, "Your humble servant." He said, "What business do you have?" I said, "To greet you, 0 Lord." He said, "How long will you journey on?" I said, "Until you stop me." He said, "How long will you boil in the fire?" I said, "Until I am pure. "This is my oath of love. For the sake of love I gave up wealth and position." He said, "You have pleaded your case but you have no witness." I said, "My tears are my witness; the pallor of my face is my proof.' He said, "Your witness has no credibility; your eyes are too wet to see." I said, "By the splendor of your justice my eyes are clear and faultless." He said, "What do you seek?" I said, "To have you as my constant friend." He said, "What do you want from me?" I said, "Your abundant grace." He said, "Who was your companion on the 'ourney? I said, "The thought of you, 0 King." He said, "What called you here?" I said, "The fragrance of your wine." He said, "What brings you the most fulfillment?" I said, "The company of the Emperor." He said, "What do you find there?" I said, "A hundred miracles." He said, "Why is the palace deserted?" I said, "They all fear the thief." He said, "Who is the thief?" I said, "The one who keeps me from -you. He said, "Where is there safety?" I said, "In service and renunciation." He said, "What is there to renounce?" I said, "The hope of salvation." He said, "Where is there calamity?" I said, "In the presence of your love." He said, "How do you benefit from this life?" I said, "By keeping true to myself Now it is time for silence. If I told you about His true essence You would fly from your self and be gone, and neither door nor roof could hold you back! Rumi - In the Arms of the Beloved, Jonathan Star Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, New York 1997 Ý — In The Arc Of Your Mallet Don't go anywhere without me. Let nothing happen in the sky apart from me, or on the ground, in this world or that world, without my being in its happening. Vision, see nothing I don't see. Language, say nothing. The way the night knows itself with the moon, be that with me. Be the rose nearest to the thorn that I am. I want to feel myself in you when you taste food, in the arc of your mallet when you work, when you visit friends, when you go up on the roof by yourself at night. There's nothing worse than to walk out along the street without you. I don't know where I'm going. You're the road, and the knower of roads, more than maps, more than love. The Essential Rumi Coleman Barks Ý — Further reading: Rumi: The Path of Love, by Manuela Dunn Mascetti (Editor) Camille & Kabir Helminski, Hardcover - 96 pages ( 4 November, 1999) Element Books Ltd Hush, Don't Say Anything to God : Passionate Poems of Rumi Jalal Al-Din Rumi, Shahram Shiva, ( 1 October, 1999) Jain Publishing Company Look! This Is Love Poems of Rumi (Shambhala Centaur Editions) Jalal Al-Din Rumi, et al /Published 1996 Rumi's Divan of Shems of Tabriz Selected Odes (Element Classics of World Spirituality) Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi, et al / Published 1997 The Way of Passion: A Celebration of Rumi, by Andrew Harvey The Sufi Path of Love The Spiritual Teachings of Rumi William C. Chittick (Translator) Published 1983 Where Two Oceans Meet A Selection of Odes from the Divan of Shems of Tabriz Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi, James G. Cowan (Translator) www.khamush.com
Posted by sb11 on 02-03-2005 07:36 PM:
O ANNA NIEMUS:Is it men or women who work the most in slaughterhouses? Is it men or women who are most involved in domestic battering? Is it men or women who commit the most rapes? Is it men or women who vote for the most executions? Is it men or women who promote war, vote for war, kill in war? Is it men or women who as 'talk show hosts' allow no talk? Is it men or women who are more often pedophiles? Is it men or women who torture lab animals more?" "It is difficult to talk and to do yogic breathing exercises at the same time. Kissing, talking, eating, breathing.. must drive carefully in each others' corridors." "Tom Delay did bugs exterminate before he did kid soldiers terminate. Kissinger's Bremer has not been forthright about how many died in the last fortnight." "The rain in the Ukraine falls mainly not on the plains." "Baby maggots don't have the same PR firm that baby colts and bunnies have." "30,000 baby chicks were sent through a San Diego factory farm chipper by workers too tired to continue individual strangling. That made the chipper a chicker.. while the little drum with swirling knives into which some factories drop baby chicks is called an eviscerator.. and what is the name for those tiny mouse sized guillotines Purina as owner of the magazine Lab Animal advertised for decapitation of captive expendable lab animals?" "70 pheasants shot in Rolling Rock by Dick Cheney who's not in Iraq." "The zen of flyfishing is that zen masters don't fish.. the Buddha suffocates no creature." "cause of war:.racism .greed .warprofiteering .religious hatred .ego .ignorancefruit of war:.rape .poverty .blindness .paraplegia .orphans .burns.centuries of hatred .filled cemeteries .bloated war profiteers.refugees .homelessness .torture .tank deforestation.landmined children .bomb castration." "Like a wind scattering dandelion spores or maple samaras Lind the NASA shuttle which when it exploded sent people and thousands of captive lab animals over 6 states the innocent little nameless Mad Cow* was decimated after drawn and quartered and sent by porters to 4 states' quarters." "Martha Stewart'sfur collarwas what drewher into jail." "James Bond, a paid assassin of plutocratic cartels, a womanizer, a dipsomaniac, a speed demon.." "Oh Ronald McDonald when you smile each of your teeth gravestones stands for billions and billions of lives." "as she grazed on tomatoeswith her mate by the rivershe minded notthat others accused the hippopotamusof being hypergamous." "The dj said that when Ted Nugent (who is an animal stalker like Bush) got 40 stitches from a chain saw less forgiving deer were laughing in the underbrush." "There is a calf within CALiForniamany calves drowned in Chino mud." "we fork ourselves to death with the tines with which we spear the muscles of innocent animals." "Growing hundreds of millions in a worldwide coalition think that violence to hunting, football, and war has a correlation." "5Dthe 5d animals: dead, diseased, dying, debilitated, downed...these innocent slaughterhouse or truckcaged animals go intopet food.. to cause cancers for dogs and cats." "offended arenerves olfactoryby bodies becomedead fishold factoriesthe little ones are voiceless..powerlesssuffer nottheirsuffocation." "It is not for the dolphinsbona fortunathat they are suffocated in netsmeant for tuna." "The tomb of the unknown pig...is not as oftenthe stomachs of pig killersas the bellies of pig eaters." "We are not Zionists but Zinnists." "peace for all wants Isabelle .. Iraq Afghanistan Palestine and Israel." "Karma has written on George Bush's face. It has sculpted trixoypurine uric acid lines in his brow like music scales with no notes It has painted his face the red of cholesterol blockage It has constricted his right eye.. Time has sculpted Dick Cheney's face. His lip curls with contempt for others. His eyes evade the searchlight of truth. We pray that God give them and all beings mercy.. as God now removes them from an office through which they harm hundreds of millions of other beings." "It verily ticks us that thieves in tuxes siphon our taxes to warmongers in Texas.""eat neither the right nor leftwing of any bird..to remove the life and flightof another affects ones own life and soul flight." "God overrides at times the screenplay of Her starscript." "Trillions for war profiteersNot one cent for charity." "Prolifers support warwaging candidates whose bomber planes become partial birth abortionists." "Why is foxhunting not a class issue?There are low class hunters who have moneyThere are low class hunters who do notThere are no high class hunters.. only the unconsciousand the cruel." "His right and left brain are talking to each other more these days. The one is an atheist Marxist and the other is a Christian socialist." "the train rolls by the cows grazing in the meadows .. and they hear the moos the frightened cries of their fellows captive in the cars." "Thank You for Your descent Holy Spirit.. Dove with Your transforming Touch of Love NOW in the heart of each executing general and judge prosecutor and gov." "Vegans need no pricegouging animal abusing Pfizer Vegans want no domestic battering accident causing Budweiser* Vegans need no services from corrupt Impermanente Kaiser." "When someone is not unified not integrated he will like a motion card present different images to different people.""Angels rush in where fools fear to tread." "I realized I had been paying hit men to slaughter cows for my table... and I stopped, but not for 6 months in which I rationalized." "The worst murder is not the hot blooded killing in passion but the cold blooded premeditated murder of a judge with his pen." "Critics' long adjectival hate-sired threads." "Municipality's hapless pigeons sent by hawks to rivers stygian." "The cosmetics which hide crueltymelt quickly." "To have entities in an aura (possession) is akin to being a landlord in a house with locked rooms to which there is no access." "Alexander the Great Alexander the Great Butcher .. how much responsibility does Aristotle his teacher have?" "Only a democracy can spread democracy as only a flamecan ignite candles.The occupied US is not a democracy but an oligarchy ruledby an 18th Century anachronism, a Supreme Courtof unelected plutocrat pawns." "Some Christians know the Son but not the Father Some Muslims know not the Son but know the Father Yet to Love the One is to Love the Other." "The captive birds no longer flew Their cadaverous bodies giving flu and Avian Spongiform Encephalopathy .. Mad Chicken Mad Turkey Mad Bird in Aviano and everywhere daily grew." "We refuse of stones to be the carrier for Sharon's illegal and cruel barrier We echo that 'the wall must now fall'." "The secret macho military men have their Latin mottos, such as Celer, Silens, Mortalis (Swift, Silent, Deadly) a romantization of the assassinations of Linda Tripp's Delta Force etc. Another is Aquila Non Captat Muscas or Aquila Non Capit Muscas The Eagle does not catch flies. no.. he eats cadavers." "Lions sleep 3 daysafter devouringa murdered antelopea runner has anadded burstafter eatingvinegift canteloupenowthe antelopecan't elope (Isaiah: The lion shall lie down with the lamb)." "we are all of 1 accord Strike all our souls the same notechord It is only God whom we'll call Lord not those of butcher stock or warlords." "A father in a canoe in which his baby is seated walks more carefully than on land." "Beneath the ivory towers of Harvard are the catacombs in which a hundred thousand mice are caged." "Unforgiveness yokes us to our foes." "What has more polyps thanthe intestinal tract?the gerrymandered districtsof the indicted Tom Delay." "One need not obey the rules if he abandons a meaningless or cruel game." "He had a warning heart attack in his 30's after a meal of macaroni and cheese and big mac's and macaroons.. but God gave him a 2nd chance." "On the Australian and New Zealand ships are the living sheep valued not for their Spirit or shape but that their murdered flesh be sold in shops." "A foe is New York's Governor Pataki of every child, animal and tree Iraqi." "When we hear oxymoron we think that those who eat oxen become morons .. their brains occluded by animal fat .. cannot receive oxygen When we hear Oxfam we think famine.. that those who promote oxeating create famine." "Mad Cows and Mad Pigs and Mad Fish say it is not 'you are what you eat' but that we become whom we eat." "The poor cows froze neglected in a blizzard They dug them up and ate their gizzards." "those who serially eat cadaverswith impunityfind ecoli fat and uric acideat away their immunityeat the fruit of lightto increase spirit unityeat nonviolent foodto help the communityhttp://www.pcrm.org./" "The death rate went down when doctors struck in LAand the death rate will go down because killer vaccines are not available." "Those who get flu shots are sheep being programmedinto poisoning themselves.. for the benefit ofmultinational pharmaceutical pricegougers." "Aquila non captat muscas. The eagle does not catch flies.....no... he eats cadavers."
Posted by sb11 on 02-03-2005 07:42 PM:
O ANNA NIEMUS:"The best landlord is one whodoes not evict human beingsor squirrels and birds fromapartments or trees." "If Cleveland Indians' Wahoo is racist are not also Boston Celtics? naming a team for only part of the city?" "Is anything besides the mind ever boggled?" "What does one call those who clog their cerebral arteries with oxen fat? oxymorons." "As fast as my Mad Pig brain holes grow, my coffee generated brain tumor fills them in." "Meat or the flesh of animals has a distinctive addictive taste of uric acid, pre urine or trioxypurine, 3 oxypurines to every 2 of caffein.. dioxypurine. If you miss it, just take out a veggie burger and wizz on it." "the inebriated onefound his attemptsat statue-toryrape painful(bring downstatues oftories)." "the 'tastiness' of flesh is the uric acid or pre urinein flesh.. if one misses these trioxypurines he can take out a veggie burgerand whiz on it." "They've cut out their tongues and the larks can no longer sing the birds can no longer fly they've cut off their wings and in their next lives larks and birds will become those who've cut off larks' tongues and bird wings." "The government of China has become like UK and US a pirate of innocent kidnapped pharmaceutically abused primates." "She saidshe'll shill for Shellbut I'll not shill for ShellI'll not crush the shalenor cloud the shoalsI'll not crush the shells." "Do all beings go eventually to heaven?Yes, evenRichard Perleand Bill Gateswill some day enterthe pearly gates..(not pearls from oystersripped from their cloisters).. and yesalso you and I." "Kwon Yin from China Jesus from Israel Buddha from India Rumi from Afghanistan Martin Luther King from America Leo Tolstoy from Russia and millions of anonymous women and men live nonviolence http://PostPoems.com/members/ar." "The United States was founded by the violent overthrow of a violently founded throne." "John Deere sentMother Eartha Dear John letteras he preparedto shred more of her children." "At the camel auction slaughterhouse the camel lot the rejected creatures see no Camelot." "The path to the Mideast is littered with Nobel peace laureates who have not yet achieved what can only be achieved in each heart." "737 Americansoldiers.. deadin Iraq..not a generalamong them..not a chickenhawkamong them." "They are immobile and voiceless, and cannot ask for the mercy of water, those trapped caged house plants. In the winter they feel no breeze nor are they touched by a hand which frees." "Mel Karmazin is meretricious. His Viacom is avaricious His CBS is quite litigious His public nudity is planned and vicious. His Likud Party is vengeful, vicious. It's time to exorcise the legions which have entered Karmazin through spirit lesions." "George Tenet's charm covers his arms as a velvet sheath covers a bloodied sword. *** George Tenet head of Murder Inc. whose agency has had Afghanis die under their interrogation cannot be trusted not to plant WMD's in Iraq." "Death penalties can be imposed by unelected judges and by unelected Pentagon generals. In Iraq death penalties have been caused by .. depleted uranium 80 times the normal level.. which has generated cancer in Iraqis as well as Italian American and other troops . compulsory vaccines from the warprofiteering pharmaco-military industrial complex . Lariam, ostensibly antimalarial drug made by Roche which have killed 4 wives whose husbands had drug caused rage. . heat rising to 137 degrees and melting soap as well as turning metal soda pop cans on a loading dock into chambers in which Nutra Sweet becomes more toxic . Baghdad Boils, face lesions, blamed on sand flies... food poisoning deaths from heat on military packagedmeals . ' friendly fire' . lack of protective gear . helicopter malfunctions in Chinook, Osprey and Black Hawk helicopters . underfunded hospital system . those hostile to the invaders and occupiers of their own Iraq." "Bush says he prayed about Iraq.Unfortunately the voice he heardwas not God's but Bush Sr's." "The radio show caller said not tocall it the Iraq War but tocall it the Bush War." "Celibate the mouths of Only those monks and nuns and priests who eat no meat." "He is careful with his copulation thinking earth needs no more population." "Meditation turns loneliness into loveliness." "One can't get diseases of Mad Chicken or Mad Pig by eating tomatoes or almonds or figs." "It is said the devilquotes scripture.So do devil's advocatesand his pawns." "TOM DELAY for himself a chickenhawk for others Tom a hawk voting for missiles and bombs nukes and tomahawks Before he voted for human termination his specialty was termite extermination." "By not polling younger cellphone usersEven Zogby and Pewdo toward Bush skewwhile Gallup ABCand Newsweekobey everwar profiteers cue." "the bee does not fly with honey on his wings.. matter is irrelevant where the spirit rings." "when he realizedhis planets zodiacalhe stopped beingzoicidal.""We have heard that Superbowl Sunday is the day of mostdomestic violence.. alcohol is one of several factorswhile football is early programming in war for an imperialculture." "Football is preprogrammingin war with Superbowl Sundaythe day of most domesticbattering, demons rushingin where alcohol has madeaura lesions.The peopleare encouraged to besheep on the sidelinesled by women cheerleadersbelieving their only jobis to support men. Boozeand animal fleshabound in the standsand in the homes ofinactive spectators." "Union Carbide desecrated India with killer insecticides brought to Bhopal They violated Hinduism All bugs are sacred to Ahimsa's Gopal *** (the biggest industrial accident of all time.. involved several thousand deaths ..as killer insecticide gas killed humans.. ) Ahimsa nonviolence Gopal.. name for Krishna as protector of cows and all beings." "Like the sun, truth is self luminescent. It is reality, self evident, needing no external defense. It is immediately recognized by resonant hearts. It can be hidden for a short time by clouds or by imprisoning others indoors.. but inevitably truth conquers all, as does love. God whose name is Truth whose name is Love is ending the violence in the world now." "Not might but light lit Maccabees' lamp through the night." "John Kerry went to war for his nation's glory He returned from war knowing it gory." "What is the difference between Palestinians and Americans?Not all Americans realize they are occupied." "Because he has helped abuse lab animals in speaking normally or ex cathedra millions of Catholics define themselves as ex cath." "What's in Spam? nostrils brains?and eyes intestinal linings and uteri? anything swept from the slaughterhouse floor? except the blood already out the door Spam comes from offal Spam smells... awful from murdering pigs Hormel makes Spam from butchering pigs Hormel makes ham."
Posted by traveller on 02-03-2005 11:29 PM:
Casey At The Bat by Ernest L. Thayer The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day, The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play. And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same, A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game. A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast. They thought, "if only Casey could but get a whack at that. We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat." But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake; and the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake.So upon that stricken multitude, grim melancholy sat; for there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all. And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball. And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred, there was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third. Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell; it rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell; it pounded through on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat; for Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat. There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place, there was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face.And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, no stranger in the crowd could doubt t'was Casey at the bat. Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt. Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.Then, while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip. And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, and Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped -- "That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said. From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, like the beating of the storm waves on a stern and distant shore."Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand, and it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand. With a smile of Christian charity, great Casey's visage shone, he stilled the rising tumult, he bade the game go on.He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew, but Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two!" "Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!" But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed. They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, and they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.The sneer has fled from Casey's lip, the teeth are clenched in hate. He pounds, with cruel violence, his bat upon the plate.And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go, and now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow. Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright. The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.And, somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout, but there is no joy in Mudville -- mighty Casey has struck out. RETURN TO TOM'S HOME PAGE
__________________I'm not a doctor...........But I do look like one.Having said that... the only difference between a good doctor and a good mechanic is that the doctor washes his hands AFTER he goes to the toilet.
Posted by sb11 on 03-05-2005 02:14 PM:
Thoughts On Immaculate Conception
Thoughts On Immaculate Conception1. Leo Tolstoy: Jesus' immaculate conception can becompared to the mysterious parting and then comingtogether of the Red Sea2. Srila Prabhupad: Krishna was conceived in the wombof Devaki (5000 years ago) as mysteriously as therising moon in the east catches the rays of the settingsun in the west.3. Dick Francis: One cannot improve on an immaculate conception.. for instance, the wheel
Posted by sb11 on 03-05-2005 02:23 PM:
Brother Sun Sister Moon writers:Francesco said to the Pope:I look at the lark... she lives on a little waterand a few berries.. that is enough for her tosoar and to sing to the Lord(paraphrased)Nicholas Kazantzakis:Francis said to the almond tree: speak to me of love..and she blossomed.
Posted by sb11 on 03-05-2005 02:24 PM:
Bernardo Bertolucci in Little Buddha:1If the music string is too taut it will snap.If it is too lose.. it will not play.Pondering this, Buddha took the middle path.2Wherever the Buddha walked, lotuses grew in his footprints3. As the man prepared to cut the throatof the little goat,the goat laughed.When asked why, he said that after 499lives as a goat he would now graduateto human birth.Then he began to cry. When askedwhy, he said "i cry for you.. for I oncealso was a high priest sacrificinggoats.. and for that was condemnedto 499 lives as a goat"(paraphrased from THE LITTLE BUDDHA)
Posted by sb11 on 03-05-2005 02:27 PM:
Brother James Marcus:The silent sun has fallen heralding the symphony of the night.
Posted by Descartes on 03-05-2005 09:28 PM:
IF If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,If you can trust yourself when all men doubt youBut make allowance for their doubting too,If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,Or being hated, don't give way to hating,And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;If you can meet with Triumph and DisasterAnd treat those two impostors just the same;If you can bear to hear the truth you've spokenTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:If you can make one heap of all your winningsAnd risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at your beginningsAnd never breath a word about your loss;If you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in youExcept the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;If all men count with you, but none too much,If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds' worth of distance run,Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!--Rudyard Kipling
Posted by raffphi on 04-01-2005 03:15 PM:
Poems I Love
Le dormeur du Val - (Arthur Rimbaud 1854-1891) C'est un trou de verdure ou chante une riviere Accrochant follement aux herbes des haillons D'argent ; ou le soleil de la montagne fiere, Luit : c'est un petit val qui mousse de rayons. Un soldat jeune, bouche ouverte, tete nue, Et la nuque baignant dans le frais cresson bleu, Dort ; il est etendu dans l'herbe, sous la nue, Pale dans son lit vert ou la lumiere pleut. Les pieds dans les glayeuls, il dort. Souriant comme Sourirait un enfant malade, il fait un somme : Nature, berce-le chaudement : il a froid. Les parfums ne font pas frissonner sa narine ; Il dort dans le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine Tranquille. Il a deux trous rouges au cote droit. -------------------------------my favorite!
__________________" Merde " - Cambronne - Battle of Waterloo-18 June 1815" 2+2=5 " , Testiculum habet et bene pendentes!" Il n'importe guere qu'un etre soit croyant ou non ; il est beaucoup plus important qu'il soit bon. " DL
Posted by Domevi on 04-03-2005 05:19 PM:

quote:
Originally posted by Descartes IF If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,If you can trust yourself when all men doubt youBut make allowance for their doubting too,If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,Or being hated, don't give way to hating,And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;If you can meet with Triumph and DisasterAnd treat those two impostors just the same;If you can bear to hear the truth you've spokenTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:If you can make one heap of all your winningsAnd risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at your beginningsAnd never breath a word about your loss;If you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in youExcept the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;If all men count with you, but none too much,If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds' worth of distance run,Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!--Rudyard Kipling
THE BEST.........
__________________meeh?!?
Posted by Nozdrev on 04-04-2005 01:00 AM:
New Orleans Postcard(M. Ellis)From: Beneath a Tin Roof Press Street Wharf New Orleans, LouisianaTo: A solitary drop of rainc/o The Mississippi River_____________________A raindrop longs to pool, Into a yet, wetter pool, Into a pool, perhaps, Of ultimate wetness; There's a puddle, take care! It's filled with desire. _____________________
__________________"How can you govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese?" -Charles De GaulleNo longer active in civic affairs.--What's your opinion? I think _________, _________, _________, & ___________, are complete nutjobs. What do you think?
Posted by Domevi on 04-04-2005 04:04 AM:
Fabula de la sirena y los borrachosTodos estos senores esteban dentrocuando ella entro complemente desnudaellos habian bebido y comenzaron a escupirlaella no entendia nada recien salia del rioera una sirena que se habia extraviadolos insultos corrian sobre su carne lisala inmundicia cubrio sus pechos de oroella no sabia llobar por eso no se vestiala tatuaron con cigarillos y con corchos quemadosy reian hasta caer al suelo de la tabernaella no hablaba porque nosabia hablarsus ojos eran color de amor distantesus brazos contruidos de topacios gemelossus labios se cortaron en la lluz coral y de pronto salio por puertaapenas entro al rio quedo limpiarelucio como una piedra blanca en la lluviay sin mirar atras nado de nuevonado hacia nunca mas hacia morir.Pablo Neruda
__________________meeh?!?
Posted by sb11 on 04-18-2005 11:08 PM:
NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE"It's not what it looks like"The young husband said,kicking the red dress closer to the bed,but his wife saw the dressand her patience was gone,so quick-thinking, he picked it up - and put it on.He opened the wardrobeand told her "You see!I don't have a mistress, this dress is for me!"While outside the windowhis young lover smiled,fighting the urge to snigger like a child.She worked for a circusand relished the roleof taking her elephant out for a stroll,but parking an elephantalways dependson whether you're staying at home, or with friends.This particular elephant,being a star,sat down on his mistress's boyfriend's wife's car,with a scrunching of metaland a weary sigh,pointing his trunk casually at the sky.The wife saw the damageand screamed "What a mess!Is this elephant yours, now, as well as the dress?Will someone enlighten me -what's going on?!"She turned to her husband - and found he had gone.He fled through the windowand shinned down the pipe,before his enraged wife could deal him a swipe,with his mistress behind himhe ran to his car,while the elephant searched for his mistress's bra.But his mistress admonished"Leave that, Gunga Din!We've no time for messing about, just hop in!So with trunk through the sunroofand feet through the floor,he joined their escape at a quarter to four.And by six o'clockthey were on the M1,- a man in a frock and a girl, on the runwith a renegade elephanton the back seatand that, dear reader, makes my story complete.© Sara L. Russell
Posted by sb11 on 04-23-2005 06:42 PM:
RUMI(bilinguist.com)Again, the violet bows to the lily.Again, the rose is tearing off her gown!The green ones have come from the other world,tipsy like the breeze up to some new foolishness.Again, near the top of the mountainthe anemone's sweet features appear.The hyacinth speaks formally to the jasmine,"Peace be with you." "And peace to you, lad!Come walk with me in this meadow."Again, there are sufis everywhere!The bud is shy, but the wind removesher veil suddenly, "My friend!"The Friend is here like water in the stream,like a lotus on the water.The narcissus winks at the wisteria,"Whenever you say."And the clove to the willow, "You are the oneI hope for." The willow replies, "Considerthese chambers of mine yours. Welcome!"The apple, "Orange, why the frown?""So that those who mean harmwill not see my beauty."The ringdove comes asking, "Where,where is the Friend?"With one note the nightingaleindicates the rose.Again, the season of Spring has comeand a spring-source rises under everything,a moon sliding from the shadows.Many things must be left unsaid, because it's late,but whatever conversation we haven't hadtonight, we'll have tomorrow.(copying a Rumi's song with admiration and friendly love, toward you who is far away yet close.)
Posted by sb11 on 04-25-2005 09:11 PM:
Excerpts from The Soul of Rumi*by Coleman BarksThree Travellers Tell Their DreamsThree devout men of different religions fall in togetherby chance traveling. They stopat a caravanserai* where the host bring as a gift a sweetdessert, some taste of God'snearness. This is how people out in the country servestrangers. The Jew andthe Christian are full, but the Muslim has been fasting allday. The two say, "Letssave it for tomorrow." The one, "No. Let's save self-denialfor tomorrow!" "You want itall for yourself!" "Divide it into three parts, and each cando as he wants." "Ah,but Mohammad said not to share." "That was about dividing yourself between sensualityand soul. You must belong to the one or the other." But finallyfor some reason, he gives in,"I'll do it your way." They refrain from tasting. They sleep,and then wake and dress themselvesto begin morning devotions. Christian, Jew, Muslim, shaman,Zoroastrian, stone, ground,mountain, river, each has a secret way of being with themystery, unique and not to bejudged. This subject never ends! Three friends in a grandmorning mood. "Let us tellwhat dreams we had last night; whoever has had the deepestdreams, gets the halvah**."Agreed. The Jewish man begins the wanderings of his soul."Moses met me on the road;I followed him to Sinai: an opening door, light within light. Mount Sinai and Moses andI merged in an exploding splendor, the unity of the prophets!"This is a true dream. ManyJews have such. Then the Christian sighs, "Christ took mein his arms to the fourthheaven, a pure vast region... I cannot say..." His also deep. The Muslim, "Muhammad cameand told me where you two had gone. 'You wretch!' he said,'You've been left behind! Youmay as well get up and eat something.'" "Noooo!" laugh theChristian and the Jew. "Howcould I disobey such glory? Would you not do as Moses andJesus suggest?" "You're right,"they say. "Yours is the truest dream, because it had immediateeffect in your waking life."What matters is how quickly you do what your soul directs.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* caravanserai: an inn surrounding a court in eastern countries where caravans rest at night** halvah: a flaky confection of crushed sesame seeds in a base of syrup (as of honey) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~She Is The CreatorThere is a tradition that Muhammad said, "A wise manwill listen and be led bya woman, while an ignorant man will not." Someone toofiercely drawn by animal urges lacks kindness and the gentle affectionsthat keep men human.Anger and sharp desiring are animal qualities. Aloving tenderness towardwomen shows someone no longer pulled along by wanting.The core of the femininecomes directly as a ray of the sun. Not the earthlyfigure you hear about in love songs; there're more to her mystery than that. Youmight say she's not from the manifest world at all, but the creator of it.Note: I want to contrast this hadith about Muhammad with verses from the Koran and other hadithsthat depict women as "naturally, morally and religiously " defective. See my page on Islam. To me this is living proof that the Koran has been altered and hadiths manufactured or misquoted for political reasons. My theory is that Mohammad was a prophet and a true human being, but misunderstood and misquoted by his subsequent followers.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Gardening WorkThere was a man breaking up theground, getting ready to plant, whenanother man came by, "Why are you ruining this land?" "Don'tinterfere. Nothing can grow hereuntil the earth is turned over and crumpled. There can be noroses and no orchard withoutfirst this devastation. You must lance an ulcer to heal it.You must tear down parts ofan old building to restore it." So it is with a sensual lifethat has no spirit. A person mustface the dragon if his or her appetites with another dragon, thelife enrgy of the soul. Whenthat's not strong, everyone seems to be full of fearand wanting, as one thinksthe room is spinning when one is whirling around. If your lovehas contracted into anger, theatmosphere itself feels threatening, but when you'reexpansive and clear, no matterwhat the weather, you're in an open windy field with friends.Many people travel as far as Syriaand Iraq and meet only hypocrites. Others go all the way toIndia and see only people buying and selling.Others tranvel to Turkestan and China to discover those countries are full of cheatsand sneak thieves. You always see the qualities that live in you. A cow may walkthrough the amazing city of Baghdad and notice onlya watermelon rind and a tuft of haythat fell off a wagon. Don't repeatedly keep doing what your lowest self wants. That's like deciding to be a strip of meat nailed to dry on a boardin the sun. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~How Attraction HappensMoses is talking to someone drunk with worshiping the golden calf. "What happened to yourdoubt? You used to be sceptical of me. The Red Sea parted.Food came every day in thewilderness for forty years. A fountain sprang out of a rock.You saw these thingsand still reject the idea of prophethood. Then the magicianSamiri does a trick to makethe metal cow low, and immediately you kneel! What did thathollow statue say? Have youheard a dullness like your own?" This is how attraction happends: people with nothingthey value delight in worthlessness. Someone who thinksthere's no meaning or purposefeels drawn to images of futility. Each moves to be withits own. The ox does not turntoward a lion. Wolves have no interest in Joseph, unlessto devour him. But if a wolfis cured if wolfishness, it will sleep close by Joseph,like a dog in the presence of meditators. Soul companionship gives safety and lightto a cave full of friends.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~PainPain comes from seeing how arrogant you've been, andpain brings you out of thisconceit. A child cannot be born until the mother has pain.You are pregnant with realtrust. The words of the prophets and saints are midwivesthat help, but first you must feelpain. To be without pain is to use the first person wrongly."I" am this. "I" am that."I" am God, like al-Hallaj, who waited till that was true to say it. "I" at the wrongtime brings a curse. "I" at the right time gives a blessing.If a rooster crows early,when it's still dark, he must have his head cut off. What isthis beheading? As one mightextract a scorpion's sting to save it, or a snake's venom tokeep it from being stoned,headlessness comes from your cleansing connection toa teacher. Hold toa true sheikh. Strength will come. Your strength is hisgathering you closer. Soulof the soul od the soul, moment to moment, hope to draw breathfrom that one. No matterhow long you've been apart. That presence has no separationin it. Do you want to understandmore about this friendship? Read the sura called Daybreak.Note: Read this story by Hanh about the Buddha's Heart Sutra.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Husk and Core of MasculinityMasculinity has a core of clarity, which does not actfrom anger or greed orsensuality, and a hust which does. The virlie centerthat listens within takespleasure in obeying that truth. Nobility of spirit,the true spontaneous energyof your life, comes as you abandon other motives and moveonly when you feel the majestythat commands and is the delight of the self. RememberAyaz crushing that king's pearl!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Posted by sb11 on 04-25-2005 09:12 PM:
RUMIImra'u 'L-QaysExcerpt from Coleman Barks's Rumi - The Book of LoveImra'u 'l-Qays4, king of the Arabs,was very handsome and a poet full of songs.Women loved him desperately. Everyone loved him,but there came one night an experiencethat changed him completely.he left his kingdom and his family.he put on dervish robes and wanderedfrom one weather, one landscape, to another.Love dissolved his king-self and led him to Tabuk,where he worked for a time making bricks.Someone told the king of Tabuk about Imra'u 'l-Qays,and that king came to visit him at night."King of the Arabs, handsome Joseph of this age,ruler of two empires, one composed of territories,and the other of the beauty of women,if you would consent to stay with me,I would be honored. You abandon kingdoms,because you want more than kingdoms."The king of Tabuk5 went on line this, praisingImra'u 'l-Qays and talking theology and philosophy.Imra'u 'l-Qays kept silent.Then suddenly he leaned and whispered somethingin the second king's ear, and that second king became a wild wanderer too.They walked out of town hand in hand,no royal belts, no thrones.This is what love does and continues to do.It tastes like honey to adults and milk to children.Love is the last thirty-pound bale.When you load it on, the boat tips over.So they wandered around China like birdspecking at bits of grain. They rarely spokebecause of the dangerous seriousness of the secret they knew.That love-secret spoken pleasantly - or irritation -servers a hundred thousand heads in one swing.A love-lion grazes in the soul's pasture,while the scimitar of this secret approaches.It's a killing better than any living.All that world-power wants, really,is this weakness.So these kings talk in low tones,and carefully. Only God knows what they say.They use unsayable words. Bird language.But some people have imitated them, learneda few birdcalls, and gotten prestigious.4 Imra'u 'l-Qays: (died ca. A.D. 540) is considered the best pre-Islamic poet in Arabic. He is credited with being the first in that tradition to catch the reader's attention by referring at the benginningof a poem to a lost love.Tabuk5: City in Saudi Arabia~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~When Words Are Tinged With Lying - from Rumi - The Book of Love by Coleman BarksMuhammad gave this indication of how to knowwhat's real. "When you feela peaceful joy, you're near the truth.Unquiet and off center, jealous or greedy,then what you do seems pretentiousand those around you insincere.Speak the clearest truth you know,and let the uneasiness heal."When words are tinged with lying,they're like water dripping into an oil lamp.The wick won't light, and the pleasureof your love room will diminish.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Harsh EvidenceWhat sort of person says that he or she wantsto be polished and pure, then complainsabout being handled roughly?Love is a lawsuit where harsh evidence must be brought in. To settle the case,the judge must see the evidence.You've heard that every buried treasurehas a snake guarding it.Kiss the snake to discover the treasure!Don't run from those who scold,and don't turn away from cleansing conflict,or you will remain weak.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~6Kharraqani's MarriageThe young seeker wonders, How could a teacherlie with that woman! Can a guide agree with a thief?Suddenly Sheikh Kharraqani appears, riding a lion,firewood stacked behind him. His whip,a live serpent. Every master rides a fierce lion,whether you see it or not. Know thiswith your other eyes: There are thousands of lionsunder your teacher's thighs and all of themstacked with wood!Kharraqani knew the problem and immediatelybegan to answer, "Well, it's not out of desirethat I put up with her! Don't think that.It's not her perfume or bright-colored robes.Enduring her public disdain has made me strongand patient. She is my practice.Nothing can be clear without a polar oppositepresent. Two banners, one black, one white,and between them something gets settled.Between Pharaoh and Moses, the Red Sea."6Kharraqani: Kharraqani (d. 1034) is one of those Sufis who have no visible teacher."I am amazed at those who declare that they require this or that master. You are well awarethat i have never been taught by any man. God was my guide, though I have the greatestrespect for all the masters." Others in this line are Attar of Nashipur, who was guided by the being of lightof Hallaj Mansour, and Ibn Arabi, who was a disciple of Khidr, the invisible master of those who are masterless! Khidr's "guidance" does not consist on leading all uniformly to the same goal. Khidr helps one attain to the Khidr of one;s individual being, the spring of life, the esoteric truth that frees one from literal religion.Kharraqani says, "Each person is oriented toward a quest for his personal guide, or he entrustshimself to the collective, magisterial authority as the intermediary between himself and revelation."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Posted by sb11 on 04-25-2005 09:13 PM:
Rumi
RUMIMoses and The ShepherdMoses heard a shepherd on the road praying,"God,where are you? I want to help you, to fix your shoesand comb your hair. I want to wash your clothesand pick the lice off. I want to bring you milkand kiss your little hands and feet when it's timefor you to go to bed. I want to sweep your roomand keep it neat. God, my sheep and goats are yours.All I can say remembering you is aaayyyyyyyand aaaaahhhhhh."Moses would stand it no longer."Who are you talking to?"The one who made us and madethe earth and the sky.""Dont' talk about shoes and socks with God! And what's this with your littlehands? Such blasphemous familiarity sounds likeyou're chatting with your uncles. Only somethingthat grows needs milk. Only someone with feet needs shoes. Not God!"The shepherd repentedand tore his clothes and wandered out into the desert. A sudden revelation came to Moses:You have separated me from one of my own.Did you come as a prophet to unite or to sever?I have given each a separate and unique wayof seeing and knowing and saying that knowledge.What seems wrong to you is right for him.What is poison to one is honey to someone else.Purity and impurity, sloth and diligence in worship,these mean nothing to me. I am apart from all that.Ways of worshiping are not to be ranked as betteror worse. Hindus do Hindu things. The DravidianMuslims in India do what they do. It's all praise,and it's all right. I am not glorified in actsor worship. It's the worshipers! I don't hearthe words they say. I look inside at the humility.That broken-open lowliness is the reality. Forgetphraseology! I want burning, burning. Be friendswith your burning. Those who pay attention to waysof behaving and speaking are one sort. Lovers who burn are another. Don't impose a property taxon a burned-out village. Don't scold the lover.The "wrong" way he talks is better than a hundred"right" ways of others.Inside the Ka'abait doesn't matter which way you pointyour prayer rug!The ocean diver doesn't need snowshoes!The love-religion has no code or doctrine.Only God.So the ruby has nothing engraved on it!It doesn't need markings.God began speakingdeeper mysteries to Moses, vision and words,which cannot be recorded here. Moses left himselfand came back. He went to eternity and cameback here. Many times this happened.It's foolish of me to try and say this. If I did say itit would uproot human intelligence.Moses ran after the shepherd, following the bewilderedfoot prints,in one place moving like a castle across a chessboard. In another, sideways,like a bishop.Now surging like a wave cresting,now sliding down like a fish,with always his feetmaking geomancy symbols in the sand,recording his wandering state.Moses finally caught up with him."I was wrong. God has revealed to me that there areno rules for worship. Say whatever and howeveryour loving tells you to.Your sweetest blasphemy is the truest devotion. Through you a whole worldis freed.Loosen your tongue and don't worrywhat comes out. It's all the light of the spirit."The shepherd replied, "Moses, Moses, I've gone beyond even that.You applied the whip,and my horse shied and jumped out of itself.The divine nature and my human nature came together.Bless your scolding hand.I can't say what has happened.What I'm saying now is not my real condition.It can't be said."The shepherd grew quiet.When you look in a mirror, you see yourself,not the state of the mirror.The flute player gives breath into the flute, and who makes the music?The flute player!Whenever you speak praiseor thanksgiving to God, it's always likethe dear shepherd's simplicity.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Who Makes These Changes?Who makes these changes?I shoot an arrow right.It lands left.I ride after a deer and I find myselfchased by a hog.I plot to get what I wantand end up in prison.I dig pits to trap othersand fall in.I should be suspiciousof what I want.Personal Note: This poem highlights Rumi's belief that human free will is anillusion. Only Islam, letting go, surrender to God's will is true freedom. This also reinforcesthe Buddhist teaching that the illusion of "separateness" or Western Duality is aninstrument of the devil. Man's condition seems like a man who is afraid of drowningin an Ocean of Bliss that is surronding him. He thrashes, kicks, fights trying not to drown...This illusion and the concomitant fear are constructs of the intellect. That is why Rumi teaches that "the ladder to God is in your head - when you lower it below your feet. When you put it in the mud."I marveled one day as a drunk/high English lass I was hanging out with told a story that the only time in her life that she felt truely blissful was at an audition for a stripper job when she completely "Let go". A bystanderafterwards told her she had some sort of "halo" she said...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A Teacher's PayGod has said Be Moderate with eating and drinking,but never, Be Satisfied when taking in light.God offers a teacher the treasures of the world,and the teacher responds, "To be in love with Godand expect to be paid for it!" A servant wantsto be rewarded for what he does. A lover wantsonly to be in love's presence, that oceanwhose depth will never be known.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~from Ayaz and The King's Pearl"Don't worry about forms. If someonewants your horse, let him have it. Horses are forhurrying ahead of others."I find this line amazing. It basically puts a knife to the throat of the competitiveness of the world of ambition. It also reminds me of Jesus's sayings "If someone wants your robe, gtive them your tunic also" and "If someone asks you to walk a mile with them, go with them for two." In another place, Rumi likens the world of ambitionto a game of "King of The Hill". A child climbs a hill and claims that he is the kingfor a little while - before another kid brings him down and does the same.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~7 HallajHallaj said what her said and went to the originthrough the hole in the scaffold.I cut a cap's worrth of cloth from his robe,and it swamped over me head to foot.Years ago I broke a branch of rosesfrom the top of his wall. A thorn from thatis still in my palm, working deeper.From Hallaj, I learned to hunt lions,but I became something hungrier than a lion.I was a frisky colt. He broke mewith a quiet hand on the side of my head.A person comes to him naked. It's cold.There's a furn coat floating on the river."Jump in and get it," he says.You dive in. You reach for the coat.It reaches for you!It's a live bear that has fallen in upstream,drifting with the current."How long does it take!" Hallaj yells from the bank."Don't wait," you answer. "This coathas decided to wear me home!"A little part of a story, a hint.Do you need long sermons on Hallaj?7Hallaj: Al-Hallaj Mansour was martyred in Baghdad in 922 for saying, Ana'l Haqq, or I am the truth. I am God.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Guest HouseThis being human is a guest house.Every morning a new arrival.A joy, a depression, a meanness,some momentary awareness comesas an unexpected visitor.Welcome and entertain them all!Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,who violently sweep your houseempty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably.He may be clearing you outfor some new delight.The dark thought, the shame, the malice,meet them at the door laughingand invite them in.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Posted by sb11 on 04-25-2005 09:14 PM:
RUMIThe GranarySufi masters are those whose spirits existedbefore the world. Before the body,they lived many lifetimes. Before seedswent into the ground, they harvested wheat.Before there was an ocean, they strung pearls.While the great meeting was going on about bringing human beings into existence,they stood up to their chins in wisdom-water.When some of the angels opposed creation,the Sufi masters laughed and clappedamong themselves. Before materiality,they knew what it was like to be trappedinside matter. Before there was a night sky,they saw Saturn. Before wheat grains,they tasted bread. With no mind, they thought.Immediate intuition to them is the simplest act,what to others would be an epiphany. Muchof our thought is of the past or the future.They're free of those. Before a mine is dug,they judge coins. Before vineyards, they knowthe excitements to come. In July they feelDecember. In unbroken sunlight, they findshade. In fana, the state where objects dissolve, they recognize things and commentrationally. The open sky drinks from theircircling cup. The sun wears the gold of theirgenerosity. When two of them meet, they are no longer two. They are one and sixhundred thousand. The ocean waves are theirclosest likeness, when wind makes from unitythe numerous. This happened to the sun and itbroke into rays through the window, into bodies.The disc of the sun does exist, but if you seeonly the ray bodies, you may have doubts.The human-divine combinations are a oneness.Plurality, the apparent separation into rays.Friend, we're traveling together. Throw offyour tiredness. Let me show you one tiny spotof the beauty that can't be spoken. I'm likean ant that's gotten into the granary,ludicrously happy, and trying to lug outa grain that's way too big.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~from The Prince of KabulRumi - The Book of Love by Coleman Barks"When you think your father is guilty of an injustice, his face seems cruel.Joseph, to the envious brothers, seemsdangerous. When you make peacewith your father, he will look peaceful.The whole world is a forum for truth.When someone does not feel grateful to that,the forms appear to be as he feels.They mirror his anger, his greed, his fear.Make peace with the Universe.Take joy in it. It will turn to gold.Resurrection will be now. Every momenta new beauty, and never any boredom."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Blasphemy and The CoreMy soul keeps whispering, "Quickly,be a wandering dervish, a salamandersitting in its homefire. Walk aboutwatching the burning turn to roses.As this love-secret we are bothblasphemy and the core of Islam.Don't wait. The open plain is betterthan any closing door. Ravens loveruins and cemetery trees. They can't help but fly there. For usThis day is friends sitting togetherwith silence shining in our faces."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Wooden CagesI may be clapping my hands,but I don't belong to a crowd of clappers.Neither this nor that, I'm not partof a group that loves flute musicor one that loves bamling or drinking wine.Those who live in time, descended from Adam, made from earth and water,I'm not part of that.Don't listen to what I say,as though these words came from an insideand went to an outside.Your faces are very beautiful,but they are wooden cages.You had better run from me.My words are fire.I have nothing to do with being famous,or making judgements, or feelingfull of shame. I borrow nothing.I don't want anything from anybody.I flow through human beings.Love is my only companion.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~No FlagI used to want buyers for my words.Now I wish someone would buy me away from my words.I've made a lot of charmingly profound images,scenes with Abraham and his father Azar,who was famous for icons.I'm so tired of what I've been doing.Then one image without form came,and I quit.Look for someone else to tend the shop.I'm out of the image-making business.Finally I know the freedom of madness.A random image arrives. I scream,"Get out!" It disintegrates.Only love.Only the holder the flag fits into,no flag.Note: This poem reminds me of the bumper sticker that I once saw in Los Angeles: "Raise Flag - Close Mind". To all you close-minded patriots singing "God Bless America"...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Gazing HouseOn the night when you cross the street from your shop and your house to the cemetary,you'll hear me hailing you from insidethe open grave, and you'll realizehow we've always been together.I am the clear consciousness core of your being, the same in ecstacyas in self-hating fatigue.That night, when you escape the fear of the snakebiteand all irritation with the ants, you'll hear my familiar voice, see the candle being lit,smell the incense and the suprise meal fixedby the lover inside all your other lovers.This heart tumult is my signal to you ignitingin the tomb, so don't fuss with the shroudand the graveyard road dust. Those get rippedopen and washed in the music of our meeting.And don't look for me in a human shape!I am inside your looking. No room for formwith love this strong.Beat the drum and let the poets speak. This is a day of purificationfor those who are already mature and initiatedinto what love is.No need to wait until we die!There's more to want here than money and beingfamous and bites of roasted meat.Now, whatshall we call this new kind of gazing-housethat has opened in our town where peoplesit quietly and pour out their glancinglike light, like answering?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The interpretation of a sacred text is trueif it stirs you to hope, activity and awe;and if it makes you slacken your service, know the real truth to be this:that it's a distortion of the sense of the saying, not a true interpretation.This saying has come down to inspire you to serve -that God may take the hands of those who have lost hopeand deliver them.Ask the meaning of the Qu'ran from the Qu'ran alone,and from that one who has set fire to his idle fancy and extinguished it,and has become a sacrifice to the Qu'ran, bowing low in humbleness,so that the Qu'ran has become the essence of his spirit.That essential oil that has wholly devoted itself to the rose -you can smell either that oil or the rose, as you please.Masnawi V, 3125-3130from Jewels of Remebrance - Rumi, by Camille and Kabir Helminski~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Seek God in self-abasement and in self-exctinction,for nothing but forms is produced by thinking.And if you derive no comfort except from form,then the form that comes to birth within you involuntarily is best.Suppose it is the form of a city to which you are going:you are drawn there by a formless feeling of pleasure, O dependant one;therefore you are really going to that which has no location,for pleasure is something different from time and space.Suppose it is the form of a friend to whom you would go:you are going for the sake of enjoying his company;therefore in reality you go to the formless world,though you are unaware of that being the object of your journey.In truth, then, God is worshipped by all,since all wayfaringis for the sake of the pleasure of which He is the source.Mathnawi Book VI, v. 3749-3755From Jewels of Remembrance - Rumi by Camille and Kabir Helminski~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* Rumi: Rumi was born in the city of Balkh, a small town west of Mazar-i-Sharif, in what is modern day Afghanistan, then the eastern edge of the Persian empire, on September 30, 1207. I find it ironic that he is one of the first feminists (see the poem She Is the Creator above), and at the same time from the same country that was subjected to the rule of the Taliban. My explanation of this fact is that it is not Islam that is responsible for backwardness in many middle-eastern and Arab countries: it is ignorance that is precipitated by economic depravity which breeds the forms of hateful brands of distorted Islam that we see plaguing some Arab and Muslim countries. Rumi blasts out all those that disagree about names. Call God Allah or call Him the Holy Trinity or call him Krishna or call him Jahovah, if you quarrell about these names all of you are deluded and guilty of Bibliolatry - worship of graven images in the form of words! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Last updated by Rami E. Cremesti BS, MSLos Angeles, CA September 22, 2004
Posted by sb11 on 04-25-2005 09:25 PM:
RUMI fragments:Someone may be clairvoyant and have little visionlike the man who saw water and began leading everyone towardthe mirage.. while he had been sleeping by a river ofpure water..any search moves away from the spot where the object of thequest islisten to the sound of waves within you.. there you are dreamingof thirst when the water you want is insidethe big vein on your neck**joy accessed by meditation-----------
Posted by sb11 on 04-25-2005 10:32 PM:
Thoughts On Criticism
James Wechsler: "Describe it.. don't label it.. if you cry, your readers won't(paraphrased from the critique of James Wechsler, editor ofthe pre coup NY Post, to Pete Hamill)." Meher Baba: "Description bypasses the opposition of the reader(paraphrased)."Robert Wilson:"A haiku should be able to be read in one breath. Do not tell all, Not the rose but the scent of the rose."Simon Brett: "his performance as Marc Antony... so bad.. that even Vincent Van Gogh would not have lent an ear"(paraphrased)." "It is not anti-Semitic to criticize the policies of the state of Israel. --."-Powell, Colin "Criticism is a form of hatred."-Geegh, Mary KSH: Criticism is a form of curse"Some people are always critical of vague statements. I tend rather to be critical of precise statements; they are the only ones which can correctly be labeled "wrong.".-Smullyan, Raymond "Each generation produces its squad of "moderns" with peashooters to attack Gibraltar."Channing Pollock"Remember that nobody will ever get ahead of you as long as he is kicking you in the seat of the pants."-Winchell, Walter "The rule in carving holds good as to criticism; never cut with a knife what you can cut with a spoon."-Chas Buxton, "Even the lion has to defend himself against flies."-Anonymous "Critics' long adjectival hate-sired threads."-O Anna NiemusBruce Springsteen: I didn't want to go all polemical.
Posted by sb11 on 04-26-2005 04:35 PM:
D Lass, Pravda member:If I went vegetarian And didn't eat lambs for dinner, I think I'd be a better person And also thinner. (didn't want to plug the warpromoting corporationwhich makes up her first name)
Posted by sb11 on 04-26-2005 05:45 PM:
PROCHOICE PROLIFEEd Markovich:To abort Hitler is to become Hitler. JR:Catholics have been programmed into baby machines,told that contraception was a sin..creating overworked mothers and fathers who cannotmake enough money in many cases for their children..creating an overpopulation which is destroying the forestsof the world
Posted by sb11 on 04-26-2005 08:39 PM:
All this post by Belle Nabor:BLOSS'MING NIGHT the moon in its celestial power, shatters the pulse of a white petal;the mist rosethen lingered, diluted in fermented nectar, like ancient timeswhen love was raw and simple.belleloved@gmail.comhttp://www.short-poetry.blogspot.com/http://www.postpoems.com/members/serenesunlight findsitself flattenedon the folds of my curtain~ * ~endless fognot yet coveringthe river-s surface~ * ~beside my soupa candlesprinkling light~ * ~headstone...a butterfly landssoftly on an angel~ * ~palm treecarved into its trunk...my name too~ * ~blue sky?a jet fliesimitating the clouds~ * ~At The Rivera child throws stonesand the mouth of the watersslide open~ * ~Streetlighta streetlighttracing the outlineof my shadow~ * ~Breezethe breezeraces along the loose pagesof a haiku book~ * ~Circling Twicecircling twice?two ants surveyinga cookie~ * ~Dawnparting the mist of dawna fisherman paddleshis way home~ * ~Grasshoppertoo close to touch?a grasshoppercertain he was alone~ * ~Pale Moonstanding closerto the ocean?the pale moon~ * ~The Presence of Nothingnesssummerwhen I touch youbut your skin becomes rain.I try to hold youtuck you inside the frail foldsof my pocketbut like a quiet gleamyou slip? shape collapsingon my palm.~ * ~I Can Write Because...you opened a poemthat was once curledon the tendrils of my tongueyou told me about hopewhen my dreams shivered likea crystal glass onceafter that, it settledinstilling balanceupon a crochet of wordsto finda missing heart.~ * ~For Neruda (Tanka)(after attending a program for his 100th Birthday)somewhere in those wordsthere is a poetry made of heartsthe pounding of lovefinding its way outfrom the one who is not here*SnatchesIt is morning, Sundayoutside, the children runscreams, noisesshe puts down the book she-s readinga smile on her lipschildhood drifting in and outher heart rippedby the strings of a lonely guitar.This woman-girl, a child on her ownplayground different from theirsher mind watching re-runs of movies;stories; her dad-s words, "remember that boy?""no, but I remember how I felt"and those muddy shoes!the grass on her lipsshe wonders how they end.She puts on her glasses, hands tremblingit is windyshe exhales in a cloud of bluenesssighs about things that fadeand of childhood dreams and fearsthat remain.shovelingheaps of memories?old gardenerOld Photographsold photographsthe likeness of grandpa-swartime memoriesMoonmoonyou stare at melike I-m so prettyMuddled Thoughtscoveringmy silent reverie?this endless fogJust in TimeI grab my heartfrom his handnow, he has no timeto crumple itThe Moon and Iwriting, I ask the pretty moon,"do you ever wonder who-s the poettonight?"Rainfallrainfall?the plaintive cryof an awakened dawnHigh Tidehigh tide?I dip my hand to catchthe racing moonlightMidday Sunmidday sun?the silver glowof an eagle-s flightA Quiet Symphonygreen meadowsthe sound of grass bladesat playDisposableholdinga disposable cup?it seems so useless nowLady Girlstealing my facial creammy little niece-s attemptat womanhoodBlindfoldedthe moonin a blindfold?darkening cloudsThe Dialoguewhy can-t we see the wind, mother?so that we would learn how to feel, my son.Flycirclingmy window?the beleaguered flyMay Flowersyou, flowers, are sucha show-offthis MaySummerdaysummerday?she finds the windin a quivering leafThe Sweetest Thingchocolate drink?an ant tiptoesunnoticed at firstRestless Windrestless wind?a crocus twirlsin confusionThe Old Photographthere's a haiku to this too aboveI saw youfrom over the pilesof dust? browndashinglyinga sneeze awayin stillnessI'll sit here nowto knowyou morewithout wordssenseyour dreamswalkin bits of timelaugh, cryframea golden heart.My Short*Poetry Siteoriginally posted as acomment in cbs's blogOh, that placeit has a heart but no one knowsit can shatterlike shards of glassand this girl will gift it to the moonwhere it can-t be stolenforever to dwell there?distantbut shining all the more.maybe they will love it?for their blue dayswhen they sip teaa thirst like my own.the belleloved dreamed at 10:59 AM *TANKA (a form of short poetry that consist of 5 lines with syllable count not to exceed 31)Poet In Lovefor you, I-ll begin to writethis poem, a new setof words with my heartfull of yearningI could not speak.*~ * ~BeautyI watch two butterfliesflutter their wingsand spreadcolorsinto the air.~ * ~The Suicide NoteI must have writtenall nightthe lamp flickersushering a new dayrest at last.~ * ~Togethernessas you rest your handupon my kneeI knew then, this is somethingthat must remain?contentment.~ * ~Not A ChanceI should have closedthe windowand weep my heart outif only the birdswould stop singing.~ * ~Do You Feel It Too?if I speak of loveand its wishesas I squeeze my eyes shutdoes your heartalso break?~ * ~Forgetting Timewe sit side by sideunder the graceful starsour hands entwineddawn has arrivedtoo soon.~ * ~Wishesin bedwith my bookstill hoping to crossthe thousand milesto be with you.~ * ~When I Diewill you think of mewhen springtimecomes, when the soundof my laughtersshall echo no more?~ * ~Sonataslowlystilling timeas the last noteslinger. . .our old song.My Mindmy mind?a mosaicof cobwebstell meif it-s art.~ * ~Tonight is Like the Other NightsNeruda wrote when hewas sad: "Love is so short,forgetting is so long."*Three years have passedand yet, the moonstill paintsyour shadow.*window?after the storma raindrop slidesdrying itself*a well-lighted prison?this firefly inside a bottle warming our gazesthe steam from our coffee mugstorn pillow?in my dreamswearing a blackbeltsurf sound—the uncoiling of a troubled seaAll the above by Belle Naborhttp://www.postpoems.com/members/serenehttp://www.short-poetry.blogspot.com/
Posted by sb11 on 04-26-2005 09:15 PM:
Following are haiku of Belle Naborhttp://www.postpoems.com/members/serenehttp://www.short-poetry.blogspot.com/beholdthe blue tidesbreathing.*between the moonand a startheir distance*sensing the pathleads to nowhere, the ant changes lanes*dewdropscaught in my palma leaf's diadem.*drooping eyelidsthe moonlooks smaller now*Once Morelove suffers from too much lovingthat I vowed not to loveanymorefunny! said my heartoutsmarting meas it keeps on beating. . . and beating. . . and beating.*Valentine-s day?a pair of warm eyestangle with mine~ * ~Light Racea lamppost competes with the moon~ * ~The Road Homethis familiar road?thinking of youone step at a time*DrifterHe wears a secret smileand a grimy sweatshirt that once smelled of perfume on his first date.He checks his imaginary watch, comb his hairnervously with his hands just like the time on his first date;walks barefoot in the park wondering why everything looks not the same.~ * ~To Have You Backthe moment of estrangementmade me stand in silenceunder the white moon as she gathered her lightin a place where I pulledyou close and whispered love that runs the length of the sky.Here I amfalling into the shadowsseeking your warmthnot much have been left.I cling on to your memoryfading with the marvel of your sighremembering you herein a place where I pulled you closethe image suspendedstirring my souland still believingyou would return.Oh Men!Ah, my Heart. . .you allow yourself to be inhaledto penetrate your rocky reservebe consumed by creatureswho are simply cheats.Why not? Men speaka sweeter language far better than the midnight moonand my breath is becoming a song. They can make the pulse from my throat dance visibly that my perfume leapsfrom the valley of my breasts.So what if my Heart is weak?I can make them captives too.*balled papersin wastebasket?muse-lessCINQUAINSSunset?under my gazethe distant shining curlslike halo gems; floats dreamlike onmy lap.~ * ~http://www.postpoems.com/members/serenehttp://short-poetry.blogspot.com/2 of the poetry sites of Belle Nabor whose work is above
Posted by sb11 on 04-29-2005 10:42 PM:
Belle Nabor's compassion for the littlest is in many of herhaikuhttp://short-poetry.blogspot.com/http://www.postpoems.com/members/serenea well-lighted prison?this firefly inside a bottle*back to the timewhen snakes were red?my coloring book *crossing the mirrorthe gaitof a confused ant*freshly-cut lawna wormtrailing grassAND OTHER TOPICSa child throws stonesand the mouth of the watersslide openthe breezeraces along the loose pagesof a haiku bookopen window?the nightreleases the moon*surf sound?the uncoiling of a troubled sea*shovelingheaps of memories?old gardener*window?after the storma raindrop slidesdrying itself*drooping eyelidsthe moonlooks smaller now*warming our gazesthe steam from our coffee mugs*embracinga stone?the fragile moss*open window?the nightreleases the moon*little leafwhat made you tremblewithout the wind?*behold!the blue tidesbreathing.*An Afternoon With A Painter imprints of your touchI lingeron your brush.*his silence vmeasuringher lies.*a walk in the beachswinging sandals on my handseashells on my feet.*tracing the skythrough her windowthe stars convene.*flickering candlelightover midnight storiesmust be the wings of fairies.the above by Belle Naborhttp://short-poetry.blogspot.com/
Posted by sb11 on 05-01-2005 06:47 PM:
MAGAZINES PUBLISHING HAIKU, SENRYU, TANKA, RENGA, HAIBUN, SIJO, SEDOKA http://www.nhi.clara.net/hk004.htm -------------------------------------------- The MAG (Muse Apprentice Guild) http://www.muse-apprentice-guild.com/summer_2004/submissions.html --------------------------------------------- MINDFIRE RENEWED http://www.mindfirerenew.com/submission.html and FIREWEED http://www.mindfirerenew.com/FireWeed/0904-front.html ----------------------------------------------- blackmailpress http://nzpoetsonline.homestead.com/index11.html http://nzpoetsonline.homestead.com/SUBS.html ------------------------------------------------- Haiku Journals / Publishers Online (from Mark Alan Osterhaus' web site) http://my.execpc.com/~ohaus/haiklink.htm#Haiku%20Journals%20/%20Publishers%20Online ------------------------------------------------- Asahi Haikuist Network http://www.asahi.com/english/haiku/index.html ---------------------------------------------------- Cuttings: Haiku and Short Poems: Guides to Internet and Print Resourses by Michael P. Garofalo http://www.gardendigest.com/haiku1.htm ------------------------------------------------------ The Open Directory "Haiku and related forms" by W.Higginson http://www.dmoz.org/Arts/Literature/Poetry/Forms/Haiku_and_Related_Forms/
Posted by sb11 on 05-01-2005 07:41 PM:
http://www.jerrydreesen.com/haiku.htmhttp://www.photohaiku.net/http://www.michaelrehling.com/
Posted by sb11 on 05-01-2005 07:59 PM:
Tapping the bamboo stick3 timesthe koi come to feed-Jerry Dreesen-http://www.jerrydreesen.com/image.htm?koi,382,500,Koi,ai1the river overflowsits banksstill my glass half emptyhttp://www.jerrydreesen.com/image.htm?glass,500,365,Half_Empty,ae2beautiful art:http://www.jerrydreesen.com/image.htm?blossoms,500,370,Blossoms,ai2
Posted by sb11 on 05-01-2005 08:06 PM:
SOME POETS I LOVEKabirShakespeareEmily DickinsonYoganandaSai BabaAntoine de Sainte ExuperyRichard WilburBelle NaborSai GrafioJ FreundschuhPatricia Joan JonesMasapoetBashoIssaNerudahttp://www.postpoems.com/members/op
Posted by sb11 on 05-01-2005 09:19 PM:
Laryalee Fraser
http://www.geocities.com/laryalee/haiga04/marchtulipku1.jpgGentle urginga new star onstagethe spring sunroadside flowersthe vagrant pathof the windOn the porchhis rocking chair creaksonly the windrestless cowshead toward the barn--milky way(http://www.notmilk.com/)-Laryalee Fraser-http://laryalee.users.sunwave.net/roadsideflowers.htm
Posted by sb11 on 05-02-2005 06:35 PM:
a blade of grass missed by the mower wavers in the breeze -William Hart-*Autumn wind- the widow sweeps the same leaves again and again-Zhanna P. Rader-*Homeless man-attached to his shopping carta US flag -Zhanna P. Rader- *snow clouds gather?the scarecrow's sleevesnaps in the wind-Chad Robinson-*outgoing tidethe mussels slowlylet the ocean go-Elaine King-*Jerusalem?a sparrow restsin the shot-hole -Alenka Zorman-*Golden flowers dancePrairie fire in the windPetals are tongues of flame.-Tracy Emmert -*winter sunrisefrost crystals softeningthe barbedwire fence -Sue Mill-*early springeverywhere blossomsand umbrellas -Gene Williamson-*thunderheadfrom its towering silenceone tepid drop-Ernest Berry-*the generals plana surgical strikehearts severed from minds-John R. Snyder-*A ROSARY OF RAINsmall drops strike our foreheads in the cemetery - as we celebrate her short life God's tears -Deborah P. Kolodji -*end of the war?marines safeguard oil wellswhile museums burn-Michael Meyerhofer-*Quaker silence from a distance the voices of latecomers-Jane Reichhold editor-
Posted by sb11 on 05-04-2005 04:53 PM:
THE LADYLADY'S BEDROOMShe moved him in oncehe was unable to make the stairs.Standing midway,his lungs singinglike two boiling kettles;his hand on the raila knot she would struggle to untie.-James Mason-Poetry_Closet*RED VELVET ROOMRed velvet roomRed velvet roomrolls me in its mouthand swallows me to sleep-Barbara Feldon- (an actresswho was agent 99 in the Get Smart tv series)*YOU AND IAll these years you were there;commited...As was I. Firm boundaries in place.Then one day, these fences fell,clattering...Leaving us both free to choose.-Peter Bester-We-Love-Poems Group*Fuschia flower growsAmong twisted vines of treeMuch like our life paths-Ruth Lovejoy-*Shake Shake AwakenDawn Approaches Hearts That KnowNothing But Morning-Rachael Walper-*DRIED FLOWERHer dusty, yellowed handsgrasped the purpleand pluckedthe child from the womb.An imprint of childhood--the essence of memory.-Jean North-*Ghost in my closet."Forgive me" he moans loudly.Wish he would shut up.- Mica McCook-*She is the lure of foreststhe laughter of oaketching her name in my skin. -Jacque Zyon-*A tree is so stiffStanding in the night like a soldierWho doesn't get to march-Kellie T.... -*Water running freeWithout a care or worryNothing holding back-Spike Kellermann -*
Posted by sb11 on 05-06-2005 10:24 PM:
Rainbows bridging timeGlorious mountains to climbEcho's ancient rhymes- Michelle Hudson -
Posted by mahendra on 05-07-2005 03:19 PM:
poems I love
Love is love,poem I loveIts your loveand my lovetooSummer hascome so willbe the rainCome,let usgo thenyou and IFar far farto a placewhere no onestays butyou and Ilutsa love,ekadasia
quote:
it is white in colour

__________________ekadasia
Posted by sb11 on 05-07-2005 08:45 PM:
Thank you Mahendra, Great Indra---------Slaves could reproduce but never parent.-Tony Morrison-*Emerson, Ralph Waldo within Cruelty --------------------------------------------------------------------------------this new saint whose hanging would make the gallows as glorious as the cross....-Ralph Waldo Emerson-(told to a Boston cheering crowd in reference to the statesanctioned murder of John Brown).
Posted by mahendra on 05-08-2005 03:31 PM:
poems I love
Dear friend,Every one does.Mine is:small is my village,small is its nameI want to translate,butrightly said,to reproducein translation,thoughtand the original charmwill goaway.sincerely,ekadasia
quote:
it revolves and evolves and revolves
__________________ekadasia
Posted by sb11 on 05-08-2005 06:24 PM:
Dear Mahendra, the beauty of the Gita and Ramayana, Kabir,Yoganandaand Tagore come through.. even in translation
Posted by mahendra on 05-09-2005 03:04 PM:
poems I love
Dear friend,Nice to know your erudition.It depends on the artist whotakes the chisel in hand.Someone thought even of ..........finger than to put a wrongword.By the way,every bodyhas a love relationwith poems atleasta few that go staraightto one's heart.I do not quoteany epic.I leaveit to you.regards,ekadasia
quote:
knowing all pretend not knowing is the homile of the day

__________________ekadasia
Posted by sb11 on 05-11-2005 07:18 PM:
THANK YOU MAHA INDRA MAHENDRAWat Cluverius:The British during the Revolutionary War calledthe Americans terrorists.."*Tom Schulman:Truth like a blanket that always leavesyour feet cold
Posted by sb11 on 05-16-2005 09:53 PM:
http://www.haikupoetshut.com/basho1.htmlR.H. Blyth translation of Basho: From time to time The clouds give rest To the moon beholders.. *The butterfly is perfuming It's wings in the scent Of the orchid. *The old pond A frog jumps in The sound of water.(not til there is frictionis there sound)------------------------Stryck translating Basho:From moon wreathed bamboo grove, cuckoo song. .------------------------Beilensontranslation of Basho:Here where a thousand captains swore grand conquest Tall grasses their monument
Posted by sb11 on 05-16-2005 10:36 PM:
warm city wind cherry blossoms filling the potholes- Pamela Ness-*hello to the seaand already my pocketsfull of shells- Jane Reichhold-*http://www.bluelantern.org/
Posted by sb11 on 05-23-2005 05:39 PM:
when bombs this sad world drops come down with bread
CALIF. POET LAUREATE"To put it plainly: Just what are the oddsof you, the lover, coming out ahead,when bombs this sad world drops come down with bread?"- Al Young- December 2001From the poem " To Be The Perfect Fool"-----------http://www.poemhunter.com/p/m/poem.asp?poet=12709&poem=174710GEORGIA POET LAUREATESHOOTING RATS AT THE BIBB COUNTY DUMPLoaded on beer and whiskey, we ride to the dump in carloadsto turn our headlights across the wasted field, freeze the startled eyes of rats against mounds of rubbish.Shot in the head, they jump only once, lie still like dead beer cans.Shot in the gut or rump, they writhe and try to burrow into garbage, hide in old truck tires, rusty oil drums, cardboard boxes scattered across the mounds,or else drag themselves on forelegs across our beams of light toward the darkness at the edge of the dump.It's the light they believe kills. We drink and load again, let them crawlfor all they're worth into the darkness we're headed for. -David Bottoms -(God bless all rats everywhere. God let all live and letrats live)-----------OHIO POET LAUREATE TO AN OLD APPLE TREEThis grim old apple tree which many a MayHas greened between my window and the morn Seems to me thinking now in every sprayA thought that is to be a blossom born.Those maimed limbs plead thy story;The wounds upon thy body speak for thee:Thou art a veteran soldier scarred with glory,My brave old Apple tree!2 stanzas from a poem by Coates Kinney 1826-1904
Posted by sb11 on 05-23-2005 06:25 PM:
An Old Cracked Tune My name is Solomon Levi,the desert is my home,my mother's breast was thorny,and father I had none.The sands whispered, Be separate,the stones taught me, Be hard.I dance, for the joy of surviving,on the edge of the road.The Layers I have walked through many lives,some of them my own,and I am not who I was,though some principle of beingabides, from which I strugglenot to stray.When I look behind,as I am compelled to lookbefore I can gather strengthto proceed on my journey,I see the milestones dwindlingtoward the horizonand the slow fires trailingfrom the abandoned camp-sites,over which scavenger angelswheel on heavy wings.Oh, I have made myself a tribeout of my true affections,and my tribe is scattered!How shall the heart be reconciledto its feast of losses?In a rising windthe manic dust of my friends,those who fell along the way,bitterly stings my face.Yet I turn, I turn,exulting somewhat,with my will intact to gowherever I need to go,and every stone on the roadprecious to me.In my darkest night,when the moon was coveredand I roamed through wreckage,a nimbus-clouded voicedirected me:"Live in the layers,not on the litter."Though I lack the artto decipher it,no doubt the next chapterin my book of transformationsis already written.I am not done with my changes.The Long Boat When his boat snapped loosefrom its mooring, underthe screaking of the gulls,he tried at first to waveto his dear ones on shore,but in the rolling fogthey had already lost their faces.Too tired even to choosebetween jumping and calling,somehow he felt absolved and freeof his burdens, those mottoesstamped on his name-tag:conscience, ambition, and allthat caring.He was content to lie downwith the family ghostsin the slop of his cradle,buffeted by the storm,endlessly drifting.Peace! Peace!To be rocked by the Infinite!As if it didn't matterwhich way was home;as if he didn't knowhe loved the earth so muchhe wanted to stay forever.Halley's Comet Miss Murphy in first gradewrote its name in chalkacross the board and told usit was roaring down the stormtracksof the Milky Way at frightful speedand if it wandered off its courseand smashed into the earththere'd be no school tomorrow.A red-bearded preacher from the hillswith a wild look in his eyesstood in the public squareat the playground's edgeproclaiming he was sent by Godto save every one of us,even the little children."Repent, ye sinners!" he shouted,waving his hand-lettered sign.At supper I felt sad to thinkthat it was probablythe last meal I'd sharewith my mother and my sisters;but I felt excited tooand scarcely touched my plate.So mother scolded meand sent me early to my room.The whole family's asleepexcept for me. They never heard me stealinto the stairwell hall and climbthe ladder to the fresh night air.Look for me, Father, on the roofof the red brick buildingat the foot of Green Street—that's where we live, you know, on the top floor.I'm the boy in the white flannel gownsprawled on this coarse gravel bedsearching the starry sky,waiting for the world to end.Hornworm: Summer Reverie Here in caterpillar countryI learned how to surviveby pretending to be a dragon.See me put on that lookof slow and fierce surprisewhen I lift my bulbous headand glare at an intruder.Nobody seems to guesshow gentle I really am,content most of the timesimply to disappearby melting into the scenery.Smooth and fatty and long,with seven white stripespainted on either sideand a sharp little horn for a tail,I lie stretched out on a leaf,pale green on my bed of green,munching, munching.ш (C) 2000 Stanley Kunitz All rights reserved. ISBN: 0-393-05030-0
Posted by mahendra on 05-23-2005 06:42 PM:
poem I love
mujh ko bulalo chahe jist waqtmein gaya waqt nahin huun kiphir bhi naa aa saku.Call me any time you likeI am not the time gone bywhich can can not come
quote:
mirza ghalib
__________________ekadasia
Posted by sb11 on 05-24-2005 12:50 AM:
Thank you Mahendra... I was at a funeral yesterday at whicha Jain prayer was sung.. and you have given us a similarhonor------------------TEXAS POET LAUREATEElegy for a Former Teacherby Cleatus Rattan reprinted from The Border with permission (Texas Review Press)A screech of tiresin a minor keyand she was gone.She had beena music teacher,a good-looking woman who taught method and knew rhythm.I remember her swaying to her beat,crescendo after crescendo.Young eighth notes arrangedthemselves on the sheet music just for her.She played them fast.A drunken boy in his father’s carthe paper said.Nothing else of note.
Posted by sb11 on 05-24-2005 12:51 AM:
STARTIPPED MINARETS: British Poet Laureate Attacks War in Iraq
British Poet Laureate Attacks War in Iraq by Paul Majendie LONDON, April 3 - Britain's official poet has taken the highly unusual step of writing a poem condemning the war in Iraq. Andrew Motion said that from Eden to Babylon, death was cutting a swathe through one of the cradles of civilization. But the poet laureate insisted he was not unpatriotic, saying that he "wished well" for the British troops fighting to topple Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein.The poem, entitled "Regime Change", was a break from tradition for the poet laureate, who is appointed by Queen Elizabeth's household and traditionally writes non-political poems to commemorate major national and royal occasions.After reading the poem out on BBC Radio on Thursday, Motion said: "I wouldn't say this poem is precisely unpatriotic but I would say it is violently opposed to the war."Even though my opposition to the war is very vehement, like many other people who are opposed to it, I do nothing but wish well to the troops themselves."It is Motion's second anti-war poem. He wrote a 30-word poem Causa Belli questioning the motives of war in January.His work followed a rich tradition of British protest poets -- Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen were famed for graphic imagery bringing home the horrors of World War One trenches.Those protest poets buried the romantic view of war epitomized by Shakespeare's "Henry V" as the young monarch urged his troops to "stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood". Britain has had a poet laureate since the mid-17th century and the famous roll-call ranges from John Dryden to William Wordsworth and Lord Tennyson.Tennyson sparked controversy after the Crimean War when he wrote of the brave but foolhardy Charge of the Light Brigade with the line "The soldier knew someone had blundered".Motion wrote a ceremonial poem to mark the death of Britain's Queen Mother last year but has also written about Nelson Mandela, homelessness, national identity and bullying."My underlying feeling is that poetry ought to be part of general life rather than being ghettoized," he said. So on Thursday, he pitched into a fierce national debate about the war which has polarized opinion in Britain. Reflecting on the irony of war being fought amid names famed in different cultures, he read the poem on BBC radio:"Advancing down the road from Nineveh Death paused a while and said, Now listen here You see the names of places round about They are mine now and I have turned them inside out. Take Eden further South At dawn today I ordered up my troops to tear away its walls and gates so everyone can see that gorgeous fruit which dangles from its tree. You want it don't you? Go and eat it then and lick your lips and pick the same again. Take Tigris and Euphrates. Once they ran through childhood-colored slabs of sand and sun. Not any more they don't. I have filled them up with countless different kinds of human crap. Take Babylon The palace sprouting flowers which sweetened empires in their peaceful hours. I have found a different way to scent the air. Already it's a by-word for despair. Which leaves Baghdad, the star-tipped minarets, the marble courts and halls, the mirage heat. These places and the ancient things you know you won't know soon. I am working on it now."
Posted by sb11 on 05-24-2005 12:59 AM:
U.S. poet laureate speaks out against war
(Richard Wilbur first awakened this poster's love of poetrywith a poem TWO VOICES IN A MEADOW:Milkweed:What power had I before I learned to yieldShatter me.. Great Wind.. I shall possess the fieldHe is included among poet critics of the war)U.S. poet laureate speaks out against warFebruary 10, 2003American poet laureate Billy Collins has publicly declared his opposition against an attack on Iraq. Collins is following in the footsteps of at least three of his predecessors, former poets laureate Stanley Kunitz, Rita Dove and Richard Wilbur, who in the past days have also publicly stated their opposition to war. It is highly unusual for a sitting U.S. poet laureate to make a political statement. Collins is not known as a political poet.As was revealed by The Associated Press, Collins signed an anti-war petition last month, together with Nobel laureate Derek Walcott, Richard Wilbur, John Ashbery, Robert Creeley, Charles Simic, James Tate, and many other members of the literary establishment, condemning "an aggressive first strike against Iraq". Over the last few days he has also declared his support for the Poets against the war initiative of Sam Hamill, which caused the White House to cancel a literary symposium hosted by Laura Bush."If political protest is urgent, I don't think it needs to wait for an appropriate scene and setting and should be as disruptive as it wants to be,'' Collins told AP. "I have tried to keep the West Wing and the East Wing of the White House as separate as possible because I support what Mrs. Bush has done for the causes of literacy and reading. But as this country is being pushed into a violent confrontation, I find it increasingly difficult to maintain that separation.''A spokeswoman for the Library of Congress, the body that selects the American poet laureate, said that "Mr. Collins is free to express his own opinions on any subject."British poet laureate Andrew Motion published an anti-war quatrain last month, stating as the real reasons behind a war against Iraq "elections, money, empire, oil and Dad''.-------------FOREVER WILDMy father was the prow of a canoe....A simple liverA quiet walkerClear and DirectClose to GodClose to Nature...Forever Wild-Marcia Looney Hartman-at a memorial service for her father John Townsend Looney, who for 75 years took a few weeks of peace from his tirelesswork for peace.. to canoe at Blue Mountain Lakeand other Adirondack nature sanctuaries
Posted by sb11 on 05-25-2005 12:37 AM:
DENT-DE-LION Such a sharp name For one so soft. The bright yellow fellows Send their children aloft, Not for profit or greed, Nor of vanity's need, But to make the land bright Thru day and thru night. - Babu -THE SUN THE SUNDandelion: French for the lion's teeth.... they are saying 'the sun! the sun!'-P Neman-
Posted by sb11 on 05-26-2005 08:07 PM:
Unknown: "Capricorns of perfection include Jesus, Yogananda,Ramana Maharshi. Capricorns at their worst are 'kiss up kick downserial abusers'."Mary F: When I am meet someone who voices opinions I detest,I tell him "You have given me a lot of food for thought."
Posted by sb11 on 05-27-2005 01:03 AM:
Dharma
Elizabeth D: "When men and women meditate they become very attractive...this is one reason that they segregate themselves in somechurches"Ann Wigmore: The polarity of women is more spherical,of men more linear. To mix these polarities in a grouptakes attention away from the altar.
Posted by sb11 on 05-28-2005 08:56 PM:
STARGAZINGI breathe in the smoldering lightquilted by the murmuringsof a distant supernova.-Belle Nabor-NIGHTVISIONsplintered lighthugging the seamy bonfire.-Belle Nabor-OVERFLOWthe skies openpouring sad memoriesI'm short on buckets.-Belle Nabor-SHYNESSa framed silken glance,furtively entranced thump, thump, said the eyelash.-Belle Nabor-QUIXOTICmoonbeamson placid lakeyoung lovers meet.-Belle Nabor-OCEAN'S LUREtwo fisherman boatsgyrateto the waves' tango.-Belle Nabor-http://www.fishinghurts.com/MINSTRELSI heard robins singas I listenedto a violin.-Belle Nabor-LUCID DREAMSover translucent watersdeeper stillI see you hiddenunder a shell.-Belle Nabor-LOVELY NIGHTmoonbeams travellike flashlights,lovers under a tree.-Belle Nabor-LOVE'S ABUNDANCEhis love runneth over i sip the overflow.-Belle Nabor-HEAR OH HEAR!I heard a whisperride the breezequiet stillness of dawn.-Belle Nabor-A SPECK OF HOPEone stormynighta star emerged.-Belle Nabor-http://short-poetry.blogspot.com/http://www.postpoems.com/members/serene
Posted by sb11 on 05-31-2005 08:39 PM:
High Horse
HIGH HORSEWhat should you do whenyour elders try to knock youoff your high horse?Close the gate against themand ride off.*What should you do when your friendstry to knock you off your highhorse?Hold tight with your thighsand urge your horse into a prance.*What should you do when yourchildren try to knockyou off your high horse?Climb down from the horseand sit in the grass-J Freundschuh-http://www.postpoems.com/members/wemni
Posted by sb11 on 06-03-2005 10:17 PM:
WAYNE DYER:"You are not in the body you are in. You are not in the mind you are in. You are not the possessions you have. Stay in a constant state of gratitude. You cannot solve a problem by condemning it. When you use shame you are using the lowest energy in the universe. Play the match game. Am I matched up with the field of intention. Meditate. You cannot divide God. You cannot divide silence. Everything else comes in dichotomy." "Everything you need you already have. You are complete right now, you are a whole, total person, not an apprentice person on the way to someplace else. Your completeness must be understood by you and experienced in your thoughts as your own personal reality." "Present-moment living, getting in touch with your "now," is at the heart of effective living. When you think about it, there really is no other moment you can live. Now is all there is, and the future is just another present moment to live when it arrives. One thing is certain, you cannot live it until it does appear." "Everything you are against weakens you. Everything you are for empowers you." "There is a big difference between thinking: I'm in a relationship and something's wrong. Therefore something must be wrong with the relationship. and thinking I'm in a relationship and we've got problems. This is evidence that you are different than me." "People who want the most approval get the least and people who need approval the least get the most." "When I chased after money, I never had enough. When I got my life on purpose and focused on giving of myself and everything that arrived into my life, then I was prosperous." "There are 2 wolves living inside us.. one is angry.. one is loving... which one will survive?the one that you feed(paraphrased)." "The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don't know anything about." "The last suit that you wear, you don't need any pockets." "You are important enough to ask and you are blessed enough to receive back." "Everything in the universe has a purpose. Indeed, the invisible intelligence that flows through everything in a purposeful fashion is also flowing through you." "Present-moment living, getting in touch with your "now," is at the heart of effective living. When you think about it, there really is no other moment you can live. Now is all there is, and the future is just another present moment to live when it arrives. One thing is certain, you cannot live it until it does appear." "Successful people make money. It's not that people who make money become successful, but that successful people attract money. They bring success to what they do." "The components of anxiety, stress, fear, and anger do not exist independently of you in the world. They simply do not exist in the physical world, even though we talk about them as if they do." "To sit in judgment of those things which you perceive to be wrong or imperfect is to be one more person who is part of judgment, evil or imperfection." "You can never get enough of what you don't want." "Anything that has been accomplished by any other human being in the physical realm is within the field of possibility." "Loving people live in a loving world. Hostile people live in a hostile world. Same world." "If we are to have magical bodies, we must have magical minds." "Prosperity in the form of wealth works exactly the same as everything else. You will see it coming into your life when you are unattached to needing it." "When I chased after money, I never had enough. When I got my life on purpose and focused on giving of myself and everything that arrived into my life, then I was prosperous." "The fact that you are willing to say, "I do not understand, and it is fine," is the greatest understanding you could exhibit." "Our intention creates our reality." "You can't choose up sides on a round world." "The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don't know anything about." "When you judge another, you do not define them, you define yourself." "Abundance is not something we acquire. It is something we tune into." "There's no scarcity of opportunity to make a living at what you love. There is only a scarcity of resolve to make it happen." "Love is the ability and willingness to allow those that you care for to be what they choose for themselves, without any insistence that they satisfy you." "My circumstances do not make me what I am, they reveal who I have chosen to be. (from James Allen)." "When you squeeze an orange, orange juice comes out-because that's what's inside. When you are squeezed, what comes out is what is inside." "Real magic in relationships means an absence of judgment of others." "A am realistic-I expect miracles." "If you believe that feeling bad or worrying long enough will change a fact, then you are residing on another planet with a different reality system." "Everything you are against weakens you. Everything you are for empowers you." "Relationships based on obligation lack dignity." "If you are living out of a sense of obligation you are slave." "We are Divine enough to ask and we are important enough to receive." "Transformation literally means going beyond your form." "A transcendent being can be any miracle." "Everything is perfect in the universe-even your desire to improve it." "Everything is in motion. Everything flows. Everything is vibrating." "I think and that is all that I am." "What I am trying to do is to unmuddle the metaphysical." "You're only lonely if you don't like the person you are alone with." "There is no way to prosperity, prosperity is the way." "Everything you need you already have. You are complete right now, you are a whole, total person, not an apprentice person on the way to someplace else. Your completeness must be understood by you and experienced in your thoughts as your own personal reality." "I will grow. I will become something new and grand, but no grander than I now am. Just as the sky will be different in a few hours, its present perfection and completeness is not deficient, so am I presently perfect and not deficient because I will be different tomorrow. I will grow and I am not deficient." "A mind at peace, a mind centered and not focused on harming others, is stronger than any physical force in the universe." "If I could define enlightenment briefly I would say it is "the quiet acceptance of what is."." "People who want the most approval get the least and people who need approval the least get the most." "How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours. (from the Sufis)." "Maxim for life: You get treated in life the way you teach people to treat you." "I will grow. I will become something new and grand, but no grander than I now am. Just as the sky will be different in a few hours, its present perfection and completeness is not deficient, so am I presently perfect and not deficient because I will be different tomorrow. I will grow and I am not deficient." "Everything is perfect in the universe -- even your desire to improve it." "Everything in the universe has a purpose. Indeed, the invisible intelligence that flows through everything in a purposeful fashion is also flowing through you." "Am I connected with my Source energy? Am I sending love to those who are negative? Am I practicing infinite patience? Am I being the kind of persons I wish to attract? Act as if they are already here." "You cannot be lonely if you like the person you're alone with." "You cannot always control what goes on outside. But you can always control what goes on inside." "There is a spiritual solution to every problem." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------back to main
Posted by sb11 on 06-04-2005 09:22 PM:
Texican Sky
The Texican sky is stainedin winters blood and goldwhere dawn breaks like a woundErnest Bevans http://www.postpoems.com/members/masapoet
Posted by sb11 on 06-04-2005 09:30 PM:
These are some of my favorite poets on this site:http://www.postpoems.com/members/christiehill/http://www.postpoems.com/members/masapoethttp://www.postpoems.com/members/serenehttp://www.postpoems.com/members/patriciajjhttp://www.postpoems.com/members/wemnihttp://www.postpoems.com/members/grafiohttp://www.postpoems.com/members/shashikrishna/http://www.postpoems.com/members/1010/
Posted by sb11 on 07-02-2005 06:29 PM:
Brother James: an oxymoron: striving for peace
Posted by mahendra on 07-03-2005 06:30 PM:
poems I love
Dear friends,Still I remember,the solitary ripper,the blind(or poor blind)boy.But right now a rhyme comes to my mind:Twinkle twinkle little starAre you so wonderful what you are ?Poem is the expression of heart and all the feelings one may want to hide.regards,mahendra
__________________ekadasia
Posted by sb11 on 07-10-2005 09:37 PM:
Jimmy Buffett: on the end of each sunset ray was an eveningstar (paraphrased)
Posted by sb11 on 07-10-2005 09:55 PM:
Salem Children's Trust:And only when our searching had ceased did we find itin our own hearts
Posted by sb11 on 07-12-2005 04:59 PM:
John Lehman
John C. Lehman Jr: 1955-1991--------------------------------------------------------------------------------Greater love hath no man than to live for his friend"Hell...is the no smoking section of heaven." "His philosophy is the cans tied on the back of a shotgun wedding car." "Once you have been the great hitter of love it's time to become the great coach of love." "They may someday believe in God if now they can believein the believers in God." "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.." Niebuhr says the antiChrist is distance." "I'd get out of bed and get my wife coffee but I don't want Colombo to see me naked." "They have now discovered that the Messiah has come again.. they can't release the news til she gives up smoking." "Lady Conductor:She raised her baton.... and Beethoven answered John C Lehman Jr 1955 to 1989." "You do not need to believe you are Christ to act like Him.""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!" "Dodging winks is the game of a faithful man." "My mother's heart has its own zip code." "The Holy Spirit is here. He's playing third base." "When I was younger I thought that if prayer worked the CIA would have nuclear prayer jammers around the world." "The nihilism I was taught in philosophy class nearly destroyed me." "Sometimes it is not necessary.. the problem to solve. Changing angle of vision... the problem dissolves." "Don't hold onto yesterday's manna... today's is better." "Many have screwed the truth, but few have called her the next day." "Do not donut." "My father's will was so powerful it was a police escort into reality."The perfect sphere of silence is riven by the verbal lance
Posted by mahendra on 07-13-2005 06:54 PM:
poems I love
Dear friends,I do remember few small lines(may be stanza) formMirza Galib Sahib,the great poet which I feel relevantin modernday busy all hectic world:Chaloo door bahoot door chale jayen,Jahaan koi naa ho,Agar bimar vi ho, to koi timardar na ho.I must be wrong some where while recollecting,but essence remains the same which says(in my poor english of course)Come let us go far and far awaywhere there is noneEven if I fell ill,no doctor is thereThe translation can not inject the overflow of emotions which Ghalib's poem brings.He is the greatest poet in urdu and I love his poems.In present day context,the modern poetry and all look funny when one reads Ghalib's poems.And all remember him as a great poet.regards,mahendra
__________________ekadasia
Posted by sb11 on 07-18-2005 09:37 PM:
Thank you very much Mahendra--------(Helen Schucman over 7 years transcribed the 1500pages of the Course In Miracles in shorthand froman Inner Voice. Later Bill Thetford, her facultyfellow at Columbia, typed up the manuscript and told her after the first few pages it was coming in iambic pentameter.)."COURSE IN MIRACLES:"When I defend myself I am attacked." "Fear is like a lowlying dense dark bank of thunderclouds. You enter it and find it can not hold the fall of a button. "Guilt is a sure sign your thinking is unnatural. "What is allpervading can have no opposite." "Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. "The message is first for the messenger.
Posted by sb11 on 07-21-2005 11:22 PM:
Ramana Maharshi has left his body. His ashram is at thebase of Arunachela Mountain. He taught advaita ornonduality.RAMANA'S TEACHINGS:"At the ashram, first are fed the animals, then the beggars,then visitors, next residents, and finally the guru." *"Lakshmi will be liberated when she leaves her body.(said of the ashram cow)." *"Create no waste." *
Posted by mahendra on 07-22-2005 08:25 AM:
poems I love
Dear friends,Every one loves poems, and taste ,choice may differ.regards,mahendra
__________________ekadasia
Posted by sb11 on 08-10-2005 06:26 PM:
Dear Mahendra, Please rain on all the parched and burningareas of earth.. as you simultaneouslyend all animal slaughter-------Ekagraha:"Even to say I forgive you is an attackfor to think there is something to forgiveis to have the perceptionthat all is not perfection." \"Do not ask the insane ego what is the reality of whatyou see as a rock. See the rock as God... and it willglow... it will answer your questions.. it will heal you.." "Virgos hate chaos. Pisces is the chaos of the ocean.Virgos administer this chaos with tweezers: 'a drop for you..a drop for you'." "A first ray soul will feel like a fish out of water ata second ray ashram." "One technique in Buddhist monasteries is that the neophytefasts for a week.. and begins to hallucinate... then heis reminded that nothing he is hallucinating is real." "You are sleeping on the lap of God dreaming that you arein hell. All you need do is awaken."
Posted by mahendra on 08-11-2005 05:46 PM:
poems I love
Dear friends,I will love to quote a 'sher'(a couplet,may be ,in urdu)tum hum me samaa jaaonHum tum me samaa jaaenIn English it may be like this:You have lost your heart in meMe too.I lost my heart in youwith love.Thanks,regards,mahendra
__________________ekadasia
Posted by sb11 on 08-14-2005 09:37 PM:
very beautiful.. thank you MahendraTHOUGHTS ON NONJUDGINGSai Baba: God looks on sin as a mother looks upon herbaby's first halting attempts to walkJillelamudi Mother: The Mother sees no fault in any of herchildrenStarseed Transmissions: You do not have enough datato assign value to any actionBible: Thou shalt not judgeSri Yukteswar: The vanished lives of all are filled with manyshames. Therefore do not judge.J Mason: My mantra is "I have no opinions"Sai Baba: When the fruit is green it will not fall to the groundif you beat it with a sharp stick.. when it is ripe it fallsof its own accord in the silence of the night.
Posted by adrian666 on 08-16-2005 09:30 PM:
The Combat.
It was not meant for human eyesThe combat on that shabby patchOf clods and trampled turf that liesSomewhere beneath the sodden skiesFor eye of toad or adder to catch.And having seen it I accuseThe crested animal in his prideArrayed in all the royal huesThat hide the claws he well can useTo tear the heart out of the side.Body of leopard, and eagles head,And whetted beak and lions maneAnd frost-grey hedge of feathers spreadBehind, he seemed of all things bredI shall not see his like again.As for his enemy there came inA soft round beast as brown as clayAll rent and patched his wretched skinA battered bag he might have beenSome old used thing to throw away.Yet he awaited face to faceThe furious beast and the swift attackSoon over and soon doneThis was no time for chivalry or for graceThe fury had him on his back.And two small paws like hands flew outTo right and left as the trees stood byOne would have said without a doubtThat this was the very end of the boutBut that the creature would not die.For ere the death stroke he was goneWrithed whirled huddled into his denSafe somehow there, the fight was doneAnd he had lost who had all but wonBut oh his deadly fury then.A while the place lay blank folornDrowsing as in relief from painA grating thorn stirred a cricket chirpedA little sound was bornThe champions took their posts again.And all began, the stealthy claw slashed out and inCould nothing save these rags and tatters from the claw?Nothing, though I never saw a beast So helpless and so brave.And while the trees stand watching stillThe unequal battle rages thereThe killing beast that cannot killSwells and swells in his fury tillYou`d almost think it was despair.Edwin Muir.Edwin Muir wrote a lot of poems about the second world war, this one is about the struggle between the French Resistance and the Nazis. Hmm, does it remind you of any current events?
Posted by mahendra on 08-17-2005 05:43 AM:
poems I love
Dear friends,Right now it reminds me of Wordsworth and nature.regards,mahendra
__________________ekadasia
Posted by sb11 on 08-24-2005 06:03 PM:
If I love youwhat business is it of yours?-Goethe-Others' opinion of me is noneof my business-Alanon-
Posted by sb11 on 08-24-2005 06:18 PM:
Phillip Solomon: the sky: sometimes a clear and pure blue,sometimes ornamented with clouds, sometimes angry with anovercast, sometimes vociferous and scolding with thunder, sometimes radiant with the sun's glow, sometimes blushingwith dusk..... the wind.. which is like an eternal voice.. sometimes playful,sometimes temperamental, but always it speaks to usvalleys fields and meadows with grass like green velvet
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