Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people.
quote by Kahlil Gibran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Sinner's Death
Death most resembles
a prophetess who is without honor
in her own land
or
a poetess who is a stranger
among her people
How frighteningly will it be
when death soon spoils her appetites
and makes this world
so empty,
and so soon
suddenly her sinning stops
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hajj
Hajj is compulsory for the Muslims
Who are able to perform it
From every point of view
During Hajj the pilgrims
Wear a white piece of cloth
Which resembles the cloth
Of the Muslim’s corpse
To remind them
One day they will die and face God
It also reminds them
All are equal in the eyes of God
God will see only our works
And the prayers of others for us
On the Day of Judgment
The circling around the holy Kaba
Reminds us of the angels
Who circle around the throne of God
When we say, I am present O God
I am present and so on
God’s body looks at us and listens
When we perform Salat
During Hajj
God becomes more than happy
Because so many people together
Surrender to God at one point of time
In the most holy land of earth
When we run to and fro
On the Safa and Marowa hills
It reminds us of the sorrowful sight
Of mother Hazera
The wife of prophet Abraham
When we throw stones at Satan
It reminds us of the patience
And dependence on God
Of prophet Abraham
And prophet Ismile
At last when we reach
The holy field of Arafat
It reminds us of the joy
Of prophet Adam and Eve
When they fell down on earth
From paradise
And met each other
After a long long time
poem by Asif Andalib
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A prophet is not without honor except in his own country among his own people.
Meaning of Death
when a poet writes of death
don't take it literally
death has many meanings
which differ significantly
to a poet death might mean
death of a past
which is a new beginning
one that might last
death to a poet is life
time to start a new chapter
turn the page
turn sadness into laughter
to a poet death is a new start
ending of strife
closing, locking the doors
of their old life
death has so many meanings
not only for a poet
all parts of life leads to death
some just don't know it
death means change
chance for a new beginning
put the past behind
stop losing, start winning
so to a poet
death is not always bad
we must write our feelings
whether good or sad
p.s.not sure this makes much sense
but i was buzzed ;)
poem by Sandy Nobody
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Two Doors
A long time ago in a land far away,
a stranger appeared from nowhere.
He had journeyed through a portal
that govern time and space.
It pulled him through to a place
of which he knew not where.
On his arrival, he was arrested
and sent before the King
who was a wise old man,
and who loved to play games.
He looked at the stranger,
asked where he had come from.
The stranger could not say.
To say he did not know
was a crime throughout the land.
It was a plea of guilty.
The King looked at the stranger and said.
The punishment for your answer
under our law is certain death.
However, you are a stranger
so I am giving you the choice of two doors.
One door leads to happiness,
the other leads to instant death.
The choice will be all yours.
You will be taken to the arena,
given a special key
that will fit both of the doors.
At the stroke of twelve,
the stranger was marched to the arena
and left standing there.
The two doors stood side by side,
all he had to do was choose.
He moved towards them
and stood for a moment of two.
Finally, he advanced towards the left,
but at the last moment,
changed his mind and opened the right.
As the door opened,
the stranger gasped at what was inside.
Did the stranger open the right door?
I will let you the reader to decide.
30 October 2007
poem by David Harris
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Prophets Without Honor
You may be a prophet without honor, in the home of an earthly father,
Mocked by a sister or a brother, also, misunderstood by your mother.
From the family you grew up in, you are now divided by Truth and sin,
For God’s Truth, in which you now abide, puts you on a different side.
Now, you have a Heavenly Father, who, with your life, you now honor,
And brothers and sisters in Christ, who support you, in your New Life.
Regarding old sin, we walk away, regardless what our family may say,
Striving together to do what’s right, hand in hand in our Savior’s Light.
With no honor from our own family, still living, just like we used to be,
Without the indwelling Holy Spirit, they’ll scoff at Truth as they hear it.
And only the Spirit can open the eyes, of those who claim to be wise,
So instead of twisting Truth they hear, they’d be filled with a holy fear.
Friend, a prophet is one whom God, uses while upon this earthly sod,
To share God’s Truth with all men, in a world, that stands condemned.
But, a prophet’s family may not heed, the saving Truth that they need,
As your witness for Christ our Lord, by your family, just goes ignored.
Friend that is why we need to pray, thus backing all the words we say,
So that all of the seeds we sow, will take root in their hearts and grow.
This, so that your natural family, will acknowledge the God of Eternity,
And then join us as a prophet of, Christ our Savior, who reigns above.
(Copyright ©09/2008)
Poet, O Poet
Let not the dog out
The poet cried.
Poet, poet, O poet
Imagine, imagine and imagine
Your imagination is our wealth
Your imagination is our health
Imagine, imagine and imagine
Create things on your own
In your own world my dear poet
That is not known and that is owned.
Let not the dog out
The poet cried.
Poet, poet, O poet
We have no control over anything
We have no control over the land
That is dreamy.
It is only you O poet
Who can control us from that land
Where nothing to be shame
Where no body is there to blame
Where there is only fame and fame.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Prophet
In his dream an old man appeared.
“Good king, I have news”
“Tomorrow a stranger will come.
I sent for him. He’s a prophet you can trust.
Listen to him.”
As dawn rose, the king was sitting in the
watchtower on the roof.
He saw someone coming.
He ran to meet this guest.
Their souls knit together,
without stitch or seam.
The king opened his arms and
held the prophet close to him.
He led him to the head table.
They dined.
“At last I have found what only
patience can bring. This one whose
face answers any question and who
simply by looking can loosen the
knot of intellectual discussion.”
The king touched the prophet’s arm,
and said “Speak to me of Jerusalem”
The prophet smiled…
(Inspired by the brilliance of Rumi)
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Before a Poetry Reading
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I'm feeling nervous but I mustn't show it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I hope to heaven that I won't blow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I mustn't reveal that I'm a second-rate poet!
I'm only a rhymer, but they don't know it!
If you've got no talent you'll have to grow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Jungle Fever
a prophet gets no
honor in his town. I'm no prophet but only
a poet trying to write the poetry of the day
but they watch me with the hawk's eye.
no longer do I sing
the songs of Innocence, for out
of the egg-shell matrix have I graduated
into the profound absurdity of the real world,
where ambiguity wears the crown in its jubilation,
and the well dressed don who wears
a stetson hat and the business suit
from Bradford, smiles with you and plots your downfall.
no longer do I sing
the songs of Innocence,
no longer do I sing as a bird.
''by the rivers of Babylon, there we wept
when we remembered Zion''.
only rivers of brass and tears
and the syntax of vines intermingle
in this jungle fever.
poem by Enoch John
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Oh prophet!
Oh prophet! Oh prophet! get up and flee
The dormant city
Is vicious, merciless without joviality or glee
Oh prophet! Oh prophet get up and run
The dreadful city before the rising sun
The gentle night welcomes with cover and calm
Oh prophet! oh prophet get up and haste your retreat
The night city drums thunder and beat
A place so foul, no man is liberated or free in solitary streets
Oh prophet! oh prophet get up and hide
This city is filled with bigotry and shameful pride
The night is pure with divinity and delight
Oh Prophet! oh Prophet wake up and rise
Large treasure rapture city eyes
Their sins are blotted in shape and size
Oh prophet! oh prophet take a warning heed
Tomorrow God's wrath will over the city take lead
And with fury and fire burns her towers and her peaks
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Stranger In A Strange Land
Stranger, stranger in a stange land.
He looked at me as one who should run.
We asked him to smile for a photograph.
Waited a while to see if we could make him laugh.
So did I seek for a cigarette.
His smiling face I cant forget.
It looked like it crossed the street.
He said, Ill wait here.
I wish you were here.
I wish you were here.
Stranger, stranger in a strange land.
He look at me like I was the one who should run.
I watched as he watched us get back on the bus.
I watched there it was.
The way it was there.
He was with us.
And I really dont mind sleeping on the floor.
I cant sleep after what I saw.
I wrote this letter to tell you,
The way I feel.
I wish you were here.
To see what I could see, and hear.
I wish you were here.
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not
The poet I am, and the poet I am not
‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Am A Poet
Iam a poet
ı was born a poet
ı feel that frommy childhood
why the storks
chatter on the chimneys
and nest there
their young beak black
their eggs catch cold in winter
ı am a poet
but sometimes ı am misunderstood
that upsets me
very
sometimes people scold me
why the hell you look at me
strangely
they say
do ı resemble someone
do you recognise me
ı am just a poet
ı cannot say
ı s ı t my fault
to be born poet
ı wanna write a poem about you
so ı look and try to understand
your attitude
why does this bother you
ı was born so
ı watch a little child
leaving her mother
throwing herself to the water shower
in the pool in spring
then ı ask the child to return to mother
cause she is looking eagerly looking AFTER
does not like a stranger
she does not know what a poet is too
and lives plain and direct
ı am a poet
ı wish
ı were not born so
ı long for a humble and simple life
living may be in poverty
cause understands me nobody
even the closest around me
poem by Metin Sahin
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Salman Rushdie, indeed any writer who abuses the prophet or indeed any prophet under Islamic law, the sentence for that is actually death.
quote by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Prophet And The Poet: Sing Songs In Poetry
"The prophet and the poet
both writing pages spanning history
as yet unrealized in their own age."
Is poetry gift lofty thoughts
impassioned feelings expressed
through imaginative words?
Poetry once served
a sacred divine purpose
still poses questions.
Why was beautiful poetry
so carefully scripted
into both an Old Testament
and contrast New Testament
of divine inspired Bible?
Poetry in the Book of Psalms?
Poetry blesses
written literature
of Hebrew people.
Read the Song of Moses
the Song of Miriam
celebrating their salvation
celebrating the destruction
of Pharaoh's army
drowned in the Red Sea. Exodus 15: 1-21.
Poetry preserves history
a poetic work a Hebrew hymn
dating from 12th century B.C.?
Remember Song of Deborah.
Remember Song of Barak son of Abinoam. Judges 5: 1-31.
Lessons of how God's enemies have fallen.
But God's people
also fall slain by sword
as did proud Saul.
Remember Song of the Bow
David's lament over the death
of Saul and three of his sons 2 Samuel 1: 17-27.
Abinadab Malchishua Jonathan. 1 Samuel 31: 1-6.
Remember lessons in poetry
lessons by astute wise attended.
Remember Burden of Nineveh Nahum 1: 10-3: 19.
God decrees time of judgement
prophet speaks sentence God acts.
Quotation from "The Prophet And The Poet" by Terence George Craddock.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Loud And Clear
I hope that you will miss me
Put me down on history
I feel such a reject now
Get yourself a life
I hope that you're sorry
For not accepting me
For not adoring me
That's why I'm not your wife
People are stranger
People in danger
People are stranger
People deranged or,
I remember there was
Nothing I could ever do
Never could impress you
Even if I tried
Tell somebody who cares
Fill the room with empty stares
Go to bed and say my prayers
Keep them satisfied
People are stranger
People in danger
People are stranger
People deranged
Loud and clear I make my point dear
I hope that you never
Get the things you wanted to
Now I cast a spell on you
Complicate your life
Hope you get a puncture
Everywhere you ever drive
Hope the sun beats down
on you an
Skin yourself alive
Ra la la la la la la la - Ra la la la la la la la X 4
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loud & Clear
I hope that you miss me
Put me down on history
I feel such a reject now
Get yourself a life
I hope that youre sorry
For not accepting me
For not adoring me
Thats why Im not your wife
People are stranger
People in danger
People are stranger
People deranged or
I remember there was
Nothing I could ever do
Never could impress you
Even if I tried
Tell somebody who cares
Fill the room with empty stares
Go to bed and say my prayers
Keep them satisfied
People are stranger
People in danger
People are stranger
People deranged
Loud and clear I make my point my dear
I hope that you never
Get the things you wanted to
Now I cast a spell on you
Complicate your life
Hope you get a puncture
Everywhere you ever drive
Hope the sun beats down on you and
Skin youself alive
Ra la la la la la la la
Ra la la la la la la la x4
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'Jesus of Nazareth
The Prophet they put to death
was Jesus of Nazareth.
For they had Him crucified
and upon the cross He died.
Then Jesus of Nazareth
Cried "Forgive" with His last breath
And then bowing His head
Entered the realms of the dead
But Jesus of Nazareth
then burst through the gates of Death
For He was the Promised One
God's Only Belovèd Son.
Now Jesus of Nazareth
has conquered Sin and Death.
He has risen from the grave
with power and might to save.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Comes Death (A song)
'Out the window lies the future,
where we can see, but never reach her.' - P.N.
All the world is hopeless,
All the sights been seen
all the land is bought up
all the dreams been dreamed
The end comes to everything
to every time - to every place
comes death on wings of fire
cones death on wings of dark
All the years are fruitless
all the work's been done
all the curses lifted
all the prizes won
The end comes to everything
to every dream - to all that's green
comes death with eyes of fire
comes death with eyes of dark
All the difference taken
all the people same
all that's war is broken
all this peace is lame
The end comes to everything
to every war - to every peace
comes death with thoughts of fire
comes death with thoughts of dark
All the gold is rusted
all the cities gone
all the wind is hollow
all the lights left on
The end comes to everything
to every story - every theme
comes death on tireless mission
comes death with darkened peace
poem by Poet Dragon
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