Retirement
O, let me be alone a while,
No human form is nigh.
And may I sing and muse aloud,
No mortal ear is by.
Away! ye dreams of earthly bliss,
Ye earthly cares begone:
Depart! ye restless wandering thoughts,
And let me be alone!
One hour, my spirit, stretch thy wings,
And quit this joyless sod,
Bask in the sunshine of the sky,
And be alone with God!
poem by Anne Brontë
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Aether
Aether is the spacious swarthiness of the skies
Of illusive hopes of finding the illumined providence
Riding on mythologies through the routeless night streams
Marooned man clutching godly stones of earthly dreams
Aether is of obscure celestial bodies
Like contents complex the human mind embodies
Descended sparklers at mortal transcience sometimes
Mortal transition sparkling in heavens sometimes
Aether is an armature of the infinities
Postulated by nature of laws
Like human mind mysterious
Posited by nature of thoughts
Aether is ethereal God aghast
Like human woes lumbaste
Obeisance soaring with vows oblate
Aether is etheric bliss immediate
Sung litanies to Aether high
Across the shapeless vast sky
Will fetch the ineffable Kalpana back nigh?
poem by Indira Renganathan
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O wretched man!
O wretched man! Why lov’st thou earthly life?
Which nought enjoys but cares and endless trouble;
What pleasure here, but breeds a world of grief?
What hour’s ease, that anguish doth not double;
No earthly joys, but have their discontents;
Then loathe that life, which causeth such laments
poem by John Wilbye
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Heaven Is Awaiting
Yes, Heaven is awaiting me, where my Lord, I know I’ll see,
When I leave this earthly life, to be greeted by Jesus Christ.
Whether through a veil of death, when I take my last breath,
Or in the twinkling of an eye, when I am raptured to the sky.
For in Christ I know my friend, this life earthly is not my end.
For this is a temporal place, where we find the Lord’s Grace,
We’re given by God, eyes to see, after this life is an eternity,
Using then the Spirit’s lead, He helps us recognize our need.
With God’s Word of Revelation, He opens eyes to salvation,
And lead by The Holy Spirit, He opens all hearts who hear it.
When in God we put our trust, He makes room above for us,
As Christ has an eternal home, for all The Lord calls His own,
Prepared without human hands, well above the earthly lands.
Rooms that’ll eternally endure, built by the hands of our Lord,
Abodes built in Heaven above, prepared by our Savior’s love.
A home lacking nothing at all; gone is the curse from the fall,
Never again a troubled heart; once there we’ll never depart.
No more worries and/or fears, as Jesus wipes away all tears.
This earthly life will be no more, once in Glory with The Lord,
And as this world passes away, in Heaven we’ll forever stay.
(Copyright ©02/2007)
Sonnet- My Ultimate Wish?
Could I not spend my days talking to God?
My precious time is spent in daily food;
If all spend lives holy, it will look odd;
Man's knowledge of the Divine is so crude.
Could I not spend my days walking with God?
What earthly work we do to save this frame!
Why do we hanker for earthly reward?
We waste God's time in sin without much shame.
Could I not spend my days thinking of God?
My thoughts are just on things of earthly mould;
Oh, how we wish that human beings laud?
Yet, without God, our hearts and souls grow cold.
Oh, how I wish I had more time for God!
Whose love for man comes with a kindly rod.
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet. Milton
Oh bard! what though upon thy mortal eyes
There fell no glimmering ray of earthly light,
And the deep shadow of eternal night
Shut from thy gaze our lovely earth and skies,
Yet was it to thy spirit's vision given
To gaze upon the splendors of that shore
Eye had not seen, nor heart conceived before.
Then didst thou, Poet Laureate of heaven,
Sing of those courts and of that angel host,
Of that majestic Spirit who in vain
Dared, warred, and fell, never to rise again,
And of that Paradise so early lost,
In strains "posterity shall not let die,"
In "thoughts that wander through eternity."
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
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The Playground of Life XIX
One hour devoted to the pursuit of Beauty
And Love is worth a full century of glory
Given by the frightened weak to the strong.
From that hour comes man's Truth; and
During that century Truth sleeps between
The restless arms of disturbing dreams.
In that hour the soul sees for herself
The Natural Law, and for that century she
Imprisons herself behind the law of man;
And she is shackled with irons of oppression.
That hour was the inspiration of the Songs
Of Solomon, an that century was the blind
Power which destroyed the temple of Baalbek.
That hour was the birth of the Sermon on the
Mount, and that century wrecked the castles of
Palmyra and the Tower of Babylon.
That hour was the Hegira of Mohammed and that
Century forgot Allah, Golgotha, and Sinai.
One hour devoted to mourning and lamenting the
Stolen equality of the weak is nobler than a
Century filled with greed and usurpation.
It is at that hour when the heart is
Purified by flaming sorrow and
Illuminated by the torch of Love.
And in that century, desires for Truth
Are buried in the bosom of the earth.
That hour is the root which must flourish.
That hour of meditation, the hour of
Prayer, and the hour of a new era of good.
And that century is a life of Nero spent
On self-investment taken solely from
Earthly substance.
This is life.
Portrayed on the stage for ages;
Recorded earthly for centuries;
Lived in strangeness for years;
Sung as a hymn for days;
Exalted but for an hour, but the
Hour is treasured by Eternity as a jewel.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Thank You, Earthly Mother
my earthly mother
that works so hard
thank you for giving
birth to this crazy mental child
my earthly mother
that art at home
thank you for healing
invisalbe injures
with kisses
my earthly mother
who is always there
thank you for being
my best friend
oh, earthly mother
that s in my heart
that is where
you will stay
poem by Akira Anderson
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Sonnet: the Human Heart
Oh Fie! The human heart within me lodged
That craves for earthly love without an end;
No matter how much it got, it feels caged;
It loves to swoop like a free bird and bend.
My heart endlessly searches for more love!
Love that is human and never divine;
And knowingly, it moves on like a Dove
In search of newer meadows and sunshine.
And when I do get it all, yet my heart
Dissatisfied becomes in a short time;
Looking for newer love’s display and art,
That can never make my life more sublime.
Oh Fie! The human heart within me lodged;
Its earthly desires can’t be resolved.
2-8-2000 by Dr John Celes
poem by John Celes
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Earthly Gifts
Read it yourself and write it yourself,
Say it yourself with the earthly gifts around you;
For the plan is in motion to meet your love.
Mark it on your bathroom mirror and,
Say it to a friend about this love;
For the time is ticking on you!
But fools adn drunkards are not part of our friends.
You are lower than the earth and,
A tenth of the plunder is for you forever!
But the body without the spirit is already dead.
Of goats and calves,
A little fire kindles the forest to him who speaks;
And like the waves of the sea,
But you need to bridle your tongue and listen to the one who speaks!
Slow to wrath is the pen of the writer,
Driven and tossed by the wind in times like this;
But like the things needed by the body.
Earthly things and earthly bodies,
Earthly gifts are part of us;
But the body without the spirit is already dead.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Forgive, as we hope to be forgiven
Kind Father of the human race,
From whom we come, in whom we live,
Hear us in heaven, thy dwelling-place,
And when Thou hearest, O! forgive.
We know there's much to be forgiven-
Our meaner thoughts of earthly birth;
We know we cannot hope for heaven
In these inferior realms of earth.
And yet of heaven we have a taste,
Of brighter blessing from above,
When over our mean earthly waste
There beams Heaven's radiant light of love.
poem by John Bowring
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Where My Plight And Labor In Vain
Where my plight and labor in vain…
Night stretch, stretch again…
Daylight and dreams abroad…
Sleep’s urge, tire retire…
Grant me a muse or amuse…
That night cease, else its turmoil
Enliven the earthly delight, heaven’s design…
Draw close the day…
Or oh! Magnificent eyes cast upon me your sight…
With your grandeur I rise
Fall upon earth’s humble bed…
Wake again to tread…
On Thine footsteps divine…
Holy flight
Early hours of light…
Ablution of soul…
Never before
Steps so firm…
As I follow thee
Tireless toil…
Now it seems…
For all that it was…
poem by Lama Abbas
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My Earthly Angel
No! not a piece of clay or a story book tellin u about the heavenly days, No! not a dream or a mythical scheme my angel is everything u wouldn't believe. His words speak volumes of wisdom for us al to hear and lowers the corruption so we hav nothing to fear, in times of trouble he's always rite there my angel my earthly angel. He does'nt have an halo, he does'nt hav wings, he does'nt shine like the sun or speak like the holy son but he is surely an angel sent from up above.his hands were like wings that raised u wen were down n lifted u so u can c al that u have done, like a sheild that never shifts, like a gentle hug in a cold blist.my angel my earthly angel. No! Its not a myth angels do exist. On the verge of breaking down he was the one I could call on, he held me up n let me stand, he was the one who always understands my angel my earthly angel
poem by Tisha Tamisha Campbell
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Solitude
There is in stillness oft a magic power
To calm the breast, when struggling passions lower;
Touch'd by its influence, in the soul arise
Diviner feelings, kindred with the skies.
By this the Arab's kindling thoughts expand,
When circling skies inclose the desert sand;
For this the hermit seeks the thickest grove,
To catch th' inspiring glow of heavenly love.
It is not solely in the freedom given
To purify and fix the heart on heaven;
There is a Spirit singing aye in air,
That lifts us high above all mortal care.
No mortal measure swells that mystic sound,
No mortal minstrel breathes such tones around,—
The Angels' hymn,—the sovereign harmony
That guides the rolling orbs along the sky,—
And hence perchance the tales of saints who view'd
And heard Angelic choirs in solitude.
By most unheard,—because the earthly din
Of toil or mirth has charms their ears to win.
Alas for man! he knows not of the bliss,
The heaven that brightens such a life as this.
poem by John Henry Newman
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The Poet’s Choice
I.
'Twas in youth, that hour of dreaming;
Round me, visions fair were beaming,
Golden fancies, brightly gleaming,
Such as start to birth
When the wandering restless mind,
Drunk with beauty, thinks to find
Creatures of a fairy kind
Realised on Earth!
II.
Then, for me, in every dell
Hamadryads seem'd to dwell
(They who die, as Poets tell,
Each with her own tree);
And sweet mermaids, low reclining,
Dim light through their grottos shining,
Green weeds round their soft limbs twinng,
Peopled the deep Sea.
III.
Then, when moon and stars were fair,
Nymph-like visions fill'd the air,
With blue wings and golden hair
Bending from the skies;
And each cave by echo haunted
In its depth of shadow granted,
Brightly, the Egeria wanted,
To my eager eyes.
IV.
But those glories pass'd away;
Earth seem'd left to dull decay,
And my heart in sadness lay,
Desolate, uncheer'd;
Like one wrapt in painful sleeping,
Pining, thirsting, waaking, weeping,
Watsh thro' Life's dark midnight keeping,
Till THY form appear'd!
V.
THEN my soul, whose erring measure
Knew not where to find true pleasure
Woke and seized the golden treasure
Of thy human love;
And, looking on thy radiant brow,
My lips in gladness breathed the vow
Which angels, not more fair than thou,
Have register'd above.
VI.
And now I take my quiet rest,
With my head upon thy breast,
I will make no fiurther quest
In Fancy's realms of light;
Fay, nor nymph, nor wingēd spirit,
Shall my store of love inherit;
More thy mortal charm doth merit
Than dream, however bright:
VII.
And my soul,-like some sweet bird
Whose song at summer eve is heard,
When the breeze, so lightly stirr'd,
Leaves the branch unbent,--
Sits and all-triumphant sings,
Folding up her brooding wings,
And gazing out on earthly things
With a calm content.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Aurobindo 71 Savitri Book 3
An appreciation on Savitri-
Book 3-The Book of the Divine Mother
Canto Four: The Vision and the Boon
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's
'O Bliss who ever dwellst deep-hid within
While men seek thee outside and never find,
Mystery and Muse with hieratic tongue,
Incarnate the white passion of thy force,
Mission to earth some living form of thee.'
'Immortal, treading the earth with mortal feet
All heaven's beauty crowd in earthly limbs!
Omnipotence, girdle with the power of God'...
'Movements and moments of a mortal will,
Pack with the eternal might one human hour
And with one gesture change all future time.
Let a great word be spoken from the heights
And one great act unlock the doors of Fate.'
What else could be better than this o'Guru
Quintessential..delighted heart overwhelmed..
Deservedly be it to the right one to the Supreme
'..there arose a wide consenting Voice; '
'O strong forerunner, I have heard thy cry.
One shall descend and break the iron Law,
Change Nature's doom by the lone spirit's power.
A limitless Mind that can contain the world,
A sweet and violent heart of ardent calms
Moved by the passions of the gods shall come.
All mights and greatnesses shall join in her; '
'Nature shall overleap her mortal step;
Fate shall be changed by an unchanging will.'
'The Lord of Life resumed his mighty rounds
In the scant field of the ambiguous globe.'
Up the hope-stairs I pause now on 'right or wrong'
For wrong is sin shameful, save and salve o'Guru...
............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune
End of Book Three, Canto Four
End of Part One
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Paradise: In A Symbol
Golden-winged, silver-winged,
Winged with flashing flame,
Such a flight of birds I saw,
Birds without a name:
Singing songs in their own tongue
(Song of songs) they came.
One to another calling,
Each answering each,
One to another calling
In their proper speech:
High above my head they wheeled,
Far out of reach.
On wings of flame they went and came
With a cadenced clang,
Their silver wings tinkled,
Their golden wings rang,
The wind it whistled through their wings
Where in Heaven they sang.
They flashed and they darted
Awhile before mine eyes,
Mounting, mounting, mounting still
In haste to scale the skies—
Birds without a nest on earth,
Birds of Paradise.
Where the moon riseth not,
Nor sun seeks the west,
There to sing their glory
Which they sing at rest,
There to sing their love-song
When they sing their best:
Not in any garden
That mortal foot hath trod,
Not in any flowering tree
That springs from earthly sod,
But in the garden where they dwell,
The Paradise of God.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Nonsensical Enigma - Love
Love
The fusion of being
To an intangible wealth, yet a collector's bounty
When the heart is soaked by surging tides of affection
By the ingrained succulence of another life form
Partiality, transcending roots, kinship or pedigree
Fidelity, surpassing the legacy of your shadow
Devotees to commitment yet free of slavery
Reverence, exceeding faith's inventory of icons
When godship is humanized to flesh and blood
Where blood is rarely splattered, but worshiped in to flush
Where flesh is seldom mutilated, but traversed for pleasure
Where the heart is captured by both an earthly and heavenly desire
The endowment of wings to the flight-impaired
The gift of the fountain of sight to the unsighted
The bestowment of a compass to a wandering heart
The bequest on man, transcendence from mortality
To the surrealism of an earthly divinity
To hold in your heart, that nonsensical enigma - love
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Come Talk With Me
Come talk with me of many a thing,
Of autumn hues, and the buds of spring,
Of cloudy skies and the sunshine's beams,
The sharp reality, and the gentle dreams.
Come talk with me of joyful times,
Of fun and laughter and pantomimes,
Of life's sweet pleasures, delights and thrills,
But not of sadness or our earthly ills.
Come talk with me of love and bliss,
Of how we felt on our first kiss,
Of when we two became as one,
And our life together became fine-spun.
Come talk with me of everything,
Of bees and birds upon the wing,
Of nature's rare beauty all around,
Things that can so, the mind, astound.
Come talk with me, converse a while,
Of precious thoughts that raise a smile,
Of remembering something that is really true,
That you're here for me and I'm here for you.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Invocation
I called on dreams and visions, to disclose
That which is veil'd from waking thought; conjured
Eternity, as men constrain a ghost
To appear and answer. ~ WORDSWORTH.
Answer me, burning stars of night!
Where is the spirit gone,
That past the reach of human sight,
As a swift breeze hath flown?–
And the stars answer'd me–'We roll
In light and power on high;
But, of the never-dying soul,
Ask that which cannot die.'
Oh! many-toned and chainless wind!
Thou art a wanderer free;
Tell me if thou its place canst find,
Far over mount and sea?–
And the wind murmur'd in reply,
'The blue deep I have cross'd,
And met its barks and billows high,
But not what thou hast lost.'
Ye clouds, that gorgeously repose
Around the setting sun,
Answer! have ye a home for those
Whose earthly race is run?
The bright clouds answer'd–'We depart,
We vanish from the sky;
Ask what is deathless in thy heart,
For that which cannot die.'
Speak then, thou voice of God within,
Thou of the deep, low tone!
Answer me, thro' life's restless din,
Where is the spirit flown?
And the voice answer'd–'Be thou still!
Enough to know is given;
Clouds, winds, and stars their part fulfil,
Thine is to trust in Heaven.'
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Italian Girl's Hymn To The Virgin
In the deep hour of dreams,
Through the dark woods, and past the moaning sea,
And by the star-light gleams,
Mother of sorrows! lo, I come to thee!
Unto thy shrine I bear
Night-blowing flowers, like my own heart, to lie
All, all unfolded there,
Beneath the meekness of thy pitying eye.
For thou, that once didst move,
In thy still beauty, through an early home,
Thou knowest the grief, the love,
The fear of woman's soul; - to thee I come!
Many, and sad, and deep,
Were the thoughts folded in thy silent breast;
Thou, too, couldst watch and weep -
Hear, gentlest mother! hear a heart oppressed!
There is a wandering bark
Bearing one from me o'er the restless wave:
Oh! let thy soft eye mark
His course; - be with him, holiest, guide and save!
My soul is on that way;
My thoughts are travellers o'er the waters dim;
Through the long weary day
I walk, o'ershadowed by vain dreams of him.
Aid him - and me, too, aid!
Oh! 'tis not well, this earthly love's excess!
On thy weak child is laid
The burden of too deep a tenderness.
Too much o'er
him
is poured
My being's hope - scarce leaving Heaven a part;
Too faithfully adored,
Oh! make not him the chastener of my heart!
I tremble with a sense
Of grief to be; - I hear a warming low
Sweet mother! call me hence!
This wild idolatry must end in woe.
The troubled joy of life,
Love's lightning happiness, my soul hath known
And, worn with feverish strife,
Would fold its wings; take back, take back thine own.
Hark! how the wind swept by!
The tempest's voice comes rolling o'er the wave -
Hope of the sailor's eye,
And maiden's heart, blest mother, guide and save!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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