The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.
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Forgiveness!
Forgiveness is the sweet fruit a tree giveth,
Forgiveness is that energy, a fruit to its eater giveth,
Forgiveness is the milk a cow giveth,
Forgiveness is the light, that burning candle giveth,
Forgiveness is the life, the world giveth,
Forgiveness is rain that the clouds giveth,
Forgiveness is that natural, the one understood nature giveth,
Forgiveness is the perfume of selflessness in one spredeth,
Like sunlight in winter,
like moonlight in dark,
Like cool breeze in summer,
Like oasis in a desert,
Like spring of pure love, from a pure heart forever springeth!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Alufalism songs3
Not now Please, (delay of long life)
Listen to my hope in my tears, long life is ahead of my future, the Spirit is willing yet the passage of life refuse my set-time.
NOT NOW, (success is inside men)
Success is not just in the path of Righteousmen but in their soul.
Not now, (life is needed in success also in Spiritual aspect)
i cann't die just yet, Spirit giveth life to Spirit,
Not now, i will give to my generation both born and unborn life,
my Spirit is more capable and alart to the Spiritual things.
poem by Senator alufalism
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Hope
The spirit killeth, but the letter giveth life.
The week is dealt out like a hand
That children pick up card by card.
One keeps getting the same hand.
One keeps getting the same card.
But twice a day -- except on Saturday --
The wheel stops, there is a crack in Time:
With a hiss of soles, a rattle of tin,
My own gray Daemon pauses on the stair,
My own bald Fortune lifts me by the hair.
Woe's me! woe's me! In Folly's mailbox
Still laughs the postcard, Hope:
Your uncle in Australia
Has died and you are Pope,
For many a soul has entertained
A Mailman unawares --
And as you cry, Impossible,
A step is on the stairs.
One keeps getting the same dream
Delayed, marked "Payment Due,"
The bill that one has paid
Delayed, marked "Payment Due" --
Twice a day, in rotting mailbox,
The white grubs are new:
And Faith, once more, is mine
Faithfully, but Charity
Writes hopefully about a new
Asylum -- but Hope is as good as new.
Woe's me! woe's me! In Folly's mailbox
Still laughs the postcard, Hope:
Your uncle in Australia
Has died and you are Pope,
For many a soul has entertained
A mailman unawares --
And as you cry, Impossible,
A step is on the stairs.
poem by Randall Jarrell
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A Crowned Poet
IN thy coach of state
Pass, O King, along:
He no envy feels
To whom God giveth song.
Starving, still I smile,
Laugh at want and wrong:
He is fed and crowned
To whom God giveth song.
Better than all pomps
That to rank belong,—
One such dream as his
To whom God giveth song.
Let us greet, O King,
As we pass along:
He, too, is a king
To whom God giveth song.
poem by Anne Reeve Aldrich
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In Memory of John Fairfax
Because this man fulfilled his days,
Like one who walks with steadfast gaze
Averted from forbidden ways
With lures of fair, false flowerage deep,
Behold the Lord whose throne is dim
With fires of flaming seraphim—
The Christ that suffered sent for him:
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
Think not that souls whose deeds august
Put sin to shame and make men just
Become at last the helpless dust
That wintering winds through waste-lands sweep!
The higher life within us cries,
Like some fine spirit from the skies,
“The Father’s blessing on us lies—
‘He giveth His beloved sleep.’”
Not human sleep—the fitful rest
With evil shapes of dreams distressed,—
But perfect quiet, unexpressed
By any worldly word we keep.
The dim Hereafter framed in creeds
May not be this; but He who reads
Our lives, sets flowers on wayside weeds—
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
Be sure this hero who has passed
The human space—the outer vast—
Who worked in harness to the last,
Doth now a hallowed harvest reap.
Love sees his grave, nor turns away—
The eyes of faith are like the day,
And grief has not a word to say—
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
That fair, rare spirit, Honour, throws
A light, which puts to shame the rose,
Across his grave, because she knows
The son whose ashes it doth keep;
And, like far music, this is heard—
“Behold the man who never stirred,
By word of his, an angry word!—
‘He giveth His beloved sleep.’”
He earned his place. Within his hands,
The power which counsels and commands,
And shapes the social life of lands,
Became a blessing pure and deep.
Through thirty years of turbulence
Our thoughts were sweetened with a sense
Of his benignant influence—
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
No splendid talents, which excite
Like music, songs, or floods of light,
Were his; but, rather, all those bright,
Calm qualities of soul which reap
A mute, but certain, fine respect,
Not only from a source elect,
But from the hearts of every sect—
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
He giveth His beloved rest!
The faithful soul that onward pressed,
Unswerving, from Life’s east to west,
By paths austere and passes steep,
Is past all toil; and, over Death,
With reverent hands and prayerful breath,
I plant this flower, alive with faith—
“He giveth His beloved sleep.”
poem by Henry Kendall
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A Love Letter
A love letter from me,
To you;
To say something important.
A love letter from me,
To tell a love story,
About you and me.
A love letter about friendship,
To strengthen our relationship,
And express our special feelship.
A love letter about love,
Love of life partnership,
Love of life friendship.
A love letter from you,
To say that;
You always miss me.
A love letter from you,
To tell that;
You always think of me.
A love letter written
For You, my love,
On this day.
A love letter written,
Sealed With kisses, and
Hug and Smile.
A love letter sends
By hand and
with much Heartfelt.
A love letter to
Say “I love You”;
Say “ I Miss you”;
Say “I think of you”.
A Love letter seals,
With a lot of love, and
Heartfelt.
A love letter written,
About love poem written,
In Remembrance of our sweet memory.
© Lawrence Hiung, January 2012.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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The Truce of God
After Suvla
Now to the stricken doe
And the wounded hind
There comes the Mercy of God
That is cool and kind.
To the hapless creature He made
He giveth rest.
All the woes of the world
Lie on His breast.
The tender Physician giveth
The drug of sleep,
Lest that His dove, His daughter,
Awake and weep.
Beyond all dreams of delight
Is the quiet peace,
He carries His lamb in His arms,
The blood on her fleece.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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He that killeth a man when he is drunk must be hanged when he is sober.
Letter body
Everything is there in th letter
And the letter has no letter.
Your body is a letter
You have to read and float
And go further and further.
Are you feeling comfortable?
Have you ever enjoyed your sleep?
You are not at rest
And not seen your body yet
The most valuable gift given to you.
You have not kept the body
In good condition
And the body is taking your care
Read the body read the letter of the body
And go with the body to understand the letter
And make yourself ready to get the nector.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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My friends all regarded me as a man of unsound mind because I held the view that my wife was with me in spirit always. I have lived with her spirit guiding me every day and she is with me now as I write this letter, and helps me to do as I am now doing.
quote by Alex Campbell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who killeth the lion when absent feareth a mouse when present.
Woe to the makers of literal translations, who by rendering every word weaken the meaning! It is indeed by so doing that we can say the letter kills and the spirit gives life.
There is as much difference between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as is a man's self.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Book Of Parables - Bulbul's Song
BULBUL'S song, through night hours cold,
Rose to Allah's throne on high;
To reward her melody,
Giveth he a cage of gold.
Such a cage are limbs of men,--
Though at first she feels confin'd,
Yet when all she brings to mind,
Straight the spirit sings again.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Song. Written On A Blank Page In Beaumont And Fletcher's Works
1.
Spirit here that reignest!
Spirit here that painest!
Spirit here that burneth!
Spirit here that mourneth!
Spirit! I bow
My forehead low,
Enshaded with thy pinions!
Spirit! I look
All passion struck,
Into thy pale dominions!
2.
Spirit here that laughest!
Spirit here that quaffest!
Spirit here that danceth!
Spirit here that pranceth!
Spirit! with thee
I join in the glee,
While nudging the elbow of Momus!
Spirit! I flush
With a Bacchanal blush,
Just fresh from the banquet of Comus!
poem by John Keats
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The Street Giveth & The Street Taketh Away
Hey man, gotta take a stand, so you think that youve been had
Im here to bet ya, streets gonna get ya, well two out of three aint bad
Hey man, its gettin out of hand, cross your heart and hope to die
You got yours, and I got mine, Im gonna get whats comin to ya
Chorus:
cause the street giveth and the street taketh away
Where theres no blind justice, no way
Hey man, dont you understand, you can run but you cant hide
There aint no life after death, so save your breath (youre gonna)
Be a rock n roll suicide
Hey man, do you need a hand, but I aint no blessing in disguise
Feel the agony, and the ecstacy, its gonna burn right through ya
Chorus
Lifes too short, so help yourself, cause I dont walk on water
Chorus
cause the street giveth and the street taketh away (repeats out)
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ye believe in God--believe also in Me
He in heaven who ever liveth,
Thus hath spoken: 'Not to you
Give I, as the vain world giveth,
Fleeting things and worthless too;
But my peace, serene, unfading,
Round your earthly steps shall shine;
All your heav'nward way pervading
With a stream of light divine.
'Be not troubled, sad, or cheerless;
Trust in me, and trust in God-
He shall lead you calm and fearless,
Through life's dark and varied road:
He shall bring you to the mansion
Where the spirit, blest and free,
Revels in its own expansion-
Trust in God, and trust in me.'
poem by John Bowring
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It occurred to me in my junior year of high school. I got my first letter from a big college. I still have that letter to this day - a letter from Indiana.
quote by Bo Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Dear John Letter
When you wrote me a letter
To tell me I'm better off without you
A tear ran down my face
I wiped it away
Before I thought anyone would see
I ripped the letter in little pieces
So no one would read it
But now I wished I didn't
I have nothing but your memory now
But that's slowly slipping away
And if you died
I probably wouldn't cry about it
Because I cried enough for you
In the last couple of years
I guess when you told me
I was better off in the letter
I didn't believe you then
But now I know
That best thing you ever did
Was to write the letter
That broke my heart that fateful day