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Boy: I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart. But the saying is true: "The empty vessel makes the greatest sound."
line from Henry V, Act IV, Scene 4 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Sounds, Within And Without
have you ever listened
to the sounds of
a young boy praying
after his father and mother
have split up
have you heard the sound
a small animal makes when
it's hit by a car?
kinda like the sound a child makes
when it's split open by friendly fire!
have you felt the deep down
sound the young boy makes
when the judge sentences him
to hard time
the sound you cant see on his face
have you heard the sound
of the old man's heart
fighting to hold on
in an empty room
with the curtains pulled
have you ever heard the sound
of the wolf's howl, and
the hawk's scree
buried deep beneath
the layers that cover
your own wildness
are you listening
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In My Silence I Am Breaking
i am an empty vessel
why not fill me up a little
with your cool water
it will really matter
i am an empty vessel
for a long time now
wanting to be contained
in your fullness
you may please
fill me up to my brim
if it is possible with you
fill me with your cool waters
let me overflow
with your love
and understanding
in my emptiness
i am howling
in my silence
i am breaking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Springy Phrases
What is this sound
So sharp and so clear
That tickles and titillates
Against my ear
What tis it that causes
My spirits to sing
What could it be
This most miraculous thing
What is that makes me
feel so alive again
After an infernal winter
That seemed without end
After the ice and the freezing
And the frost bitten fingers
What is that crisp new sound
That echoes and lingers
What could it be
That makes me feel so full of hope
What could it be that
Makes me feel and act like a dope
What is this gentle sound
That Fractures fearsome, frozen rivers
this soft sibilant sound
That gives surcease to my shivers
What is that sound that
makes me feel like I’m ten again
I think that I know now…
It’s an old, long lost friend
What is this wondrous noise
and clamorous din
That makes my heart take wing
It could only be
what we’ve wanted, you see
The noisy thing that is breaking ….is Spring!
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Rains
it rains
it is far from what i guess
the road has become
one empty
platform
people run away
and then it makes me
really happy
it rains
and those who are afraid of the water
are separated from those
who have no fears
of getting wet and of being alone
of filling an empty street and be counted as
an ostrich
it rains
and the room shall be filled with people
of runaways
who want shelter
it rains and people get divided
and people know each other
and people make decisions
and the rain makes the sound
there is sorrow
but no one cares to listen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If a bamboo tube makes a loud sound, it is empty.
The Vessel That I am!
I am a weak vessel.
Strengthen me, O Lord!
Help me fill up to the brim
With virtues of all sorts.
I am a small vessel.
Make me hold more, O Lord!
Take away my porosity;
Let things remain intact.
I am a clay vessel.
Polish my sides, O Lord!
Let me stand most splendidly,
Glorifying my God.
I am a mere vessel,
Distorted somewhat, O Lord!
Place me on a rocky base,
To show the world my class!
The vessel whatever that I am
Will serve Thee only, Lord.
Fill me up with thy grace, O God
To prove that I’m fine clod!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-1-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fogging Up The Windows
the sound of a small child crying
hungry in the night
of a young woman sleepless
waiting for daylight
the sound of church bells ringing
not too far away
the sound of an old man dying
remembering how to pray
the sound of two hearts breaking
a thousand miles apart
of the last tear a fallin'
unseen in the dark
the sound of lifetimes wasted
of a love that didnt last
the sound of memories forgotten
of a time already past
can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'
life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
the sound of the nails driven
into His screaming hands
the sound of salvation
entrusted to a man
the sound of bodies falling
of buildings swept by flame
the sound of different voices
whose souls are the same
can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'
life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room....
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Within this Earthen Vessel
WITHIN this earthen vessel are bowers and groves,
and within it is the Creator:
Within this vessel are the seven oceans
and the unnumbered stars.
The touchstone and the jewel-appraiser are within;
and within this vessel the Eternal soundeth,
and the spring wells up.
Kabîr says:
'Listen to me, my Friend!
My beloved Lord is within.'
Restrict the wants to things in hand
The milk that is not full in a vessel
Can be full in an exact vessel
And even spill over from a smaller one.
Your want is the vessel and things, the milk.
25.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Running On Empty
My heart is bereft.
All the feeling now has left.
I no longer matter,
I am no longer human.
An empty vessel broken,
can't even hold a morcel.
I am running on empty,
a run of the mill sociopath.
I've hurt my best freind,
I'm rotten and lack class.
I always hoped to have her as my wife.
We could have children,
and a glorious life.
She was the best.
So much higher than the rest.
I screwed it up.
I am an empty shell.
For all that I've done,
I'll go to hell.
I wish to go back and make everything right,
but I can't my chest is so tight.
So all I can do is sit here and dream.
About all the passion and love that she does bring.
The perfect wife,
the perfect mother.
I'm running on empty.
An endless road stretches deep and bumpy.
poem by Michael McParland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The World Is A Sacred Vessel
'The world is a sacred vessel...' Thomas Merton
blue vessel
in black vacuum
miracle world
encircling
thrall of this perfect star
sacred vessel,
His living cup
to beloved proffered,
wedding gift
beyond measure.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sound of Snow
The sound of snow......
it is all of these together
or separately
or combined
and sometimes
none of them at all,
like a dark still night
where sound just doesn't belong.
....it is a kitten landing on a feather pillow,
a single thin piece of paper
floating from side to side
then settling on the ground in one graceful slide,
it is a wind through a spider's web,
long silk hair tussled by a breeze
....snow is not silent it is discrete,
hiding in the open
....a three year old's sleeping breath,
a tear of joy escaping down a red round cheek
....the sound of snow is
the moment between sleep and consciousness,
fuzzy and both empty of thought and full of promise all at once,
snow is the sound dreams would make if we heard them while awake,
snow is the sound an angel makes as it guides a soul to rest.
The sound of snow
...it's all of these together
or separately
or combined
and sometimes
none of them at all.
It's not about how loud you turn the amp up. That's not what makes it sound big. What makes it sound big is fooling around with different delays and reverb settings.
quote by Brian Setzer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I eager for You
today, O My Beloved,
I eager for you…
there was no such word
until today; today, there is..
to say, I’m eager for you
would be to say,
less than, I am…
when it’s I am, and
which you are, O My Beloved,
that eagers…
nor do I recognise eagerness..
how can I, if it’s not me?
no, today, it's an active word...
what else might I say?
to say I long, makes it sound
that I may never find you…
to say, I languish, makes me sound
so weak and hopeless…
to say, I yearn, makes it sound
as if I never knew You…
even the Hebrew word the psalmist used –
the deer that yearns for the waterbrook,
the hart that pants for cooling streams –
even that word’s uncertain; some say
it’s the way that a deer, feet slightly splayed
upon the sloping bank, stretches out its graceful neck
to the clear, pure, healing water…
some say, it’s that slight sound the deer makes,
as it gently laps that lovely water…
the sound that quenching makes...
today I am that deer, tasting what’s just out of reach…;
that feeling beyond all words possesses me –
the feeling that You who ever are inside me, Lord,
wish to proclaim You outside me –
today, O My Beloved,
I eager for to be myself; for You…
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over so in a series of kindness there is at last one which makes the heart run over.
quote by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grateful (inspired by Julianne)
You're the greatest Muse of all
I didn't have to look too far
You're the Inspirer of it all
You did breathe Life
You're the Spirit behind it all
You did Create it all
Including me
A vessel
Who needed confirmation
Who's now a true vessel
Engaged in conversation
You're the greatest Muse of all
And I give thanks
For giving me the inspiration to create
You are the greatest Muse of all
It is to You I'm grateful for
I owe it all to You all that I do
I'm an empty vessel through and through
I'm so so grateful to You
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
Julianne Tarroja is a young singer-songwriter from the Philippines. Her debut album “Grateful” is a work of true inspiration. If you haven’t listened to it, please do so. The single is a sure winner—deeply personal yet universal, spiritual but not preachy, poignant yet very contemporary and yes, it is catchy! Another favorite of mine is the less commercially-appealing but equally beautiful “Let It Rain” which is simply simply exquisite-poetry made into song.
poem by Sonya Florentino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Panhandler
The panhandler sits on the street corner.
He asks me, "Spare some change? "
Like an empty vessel, I walk past him.
I see him as another empty vessel.
Some throw him a dime,
But I treat him as a vapor.
My spirit tugs at me.
My mind says he is a ghost,
But my ghost says he is real.
The currency he needs is my time.
He might be looking for his next fix,
But what will it fix?
Another lost soul, looking to get even more lost.
The root of all evil is planting another seed of discontent.
If my God is money,
Your free time has no value to me.
Anything that is free is void of value,
But time is really my only currency.
I only see the value of my own and not another's.
My account has no statement,
For when it is gone,
I will be broke.
I hoard it as if I were broke.
Investing only in myself.
It is why I feel broken.
Some time left in my breast pocket?
It beats to help he who is beat.
Spare time is something I have.
For it really is my true value,
Given from the heart of God.
If I lend some of mine to another,
It makes Him proud.
It is the core of my love.
It is the gift of His love.
He is truly my bank.
I bank on Him,
I count on Him,
I trust in Him.
Currency says "In God We Trust",
But can God trust in me?
Investing my time,
In one who is broke.
The dividend is joy.
The change in the pan will be spent.
Could he be searching for my gold?
I fill another's heart,
I see my investment grow.
With God's currency,
I am truly rich.
Though, I am only on borrowed time.
For the panhandler was just an angel.
God's teller.
Telling God if I made a deposit or withdrawal.
God knows my balance,
As He holds my account.
He knows to which God,
I am accountible to.
And if my spirit is balanced.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As a vessel is known by the sound, whether it be cracked or not; so men are proved, by their speeches, whether they be wise or foolish.
quote by Demosthenes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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