Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.
quote by Robert Browning Hamilton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two in the Campagna
I
I wonder do you feel to-day
As I have felt since, hand in hand,
We sat down on the grass, to stray
In spirit better through the land,
This morn of Rome and May?
II
For me, I touched a thought, I know,
Has tantalized me many times,
(Like turns of thread the spiders throw
Mocking across our path) for rhymes
To catch at and let go.
III
Help me to hold it! First it left
The yellowing fennel, run to seed
There, branching from the brickwork's cleft,
Some old tomb's ruin: yonder weed
Took up the floating weft,
IV
Where one small orange cup amassed
Five beetles,—blind and green they grope
Among the honey-meal: and last,
Everywhere on the grassy slope
I traced it. Hold it fast!
V
The champaign with its endless fleece
Of feathery grasses everywhere!
Silence and passion, joy and peace,
An everlasting wash of air—
Rome's ghost since her decease.
VI
Such life here, through such lengths of hours,
Such miracles performed in play,
Such primal naked forms of flowers,
Such letting nature have her way
While heaven looks from its towers!
VII
How say you? Let us, O my dove,
Let us be unashamed of soul,
As earth lies bare to heaven above!
How is it under our control
To love or not to love?
VIII
I would that you were all to me,
You that are just so much, no more.
Nor yours nor mine, nor slave nor free!
Where does the fault lie? What the core
O' the wound, since wound must be?
IX
I would I could adopt your will,
See with your eyes, and set my heart
Beating by yours, and drink my fill
At your soul's springs,—your part my part
In life, for good and ill.
X
No. I yearn upward, touch you close,
Then stand away. I kiss your cheek,
Catch your soul's warmth,—I pluck the rose
And love it more than tongue can speak—
Then the good minute goes.
XI
Already how am I so far
Out of that minute? Must I go
Still like the thistle-ball, no bar,
Onward, whenever light winds blow,
Fixed by no friendly star?
XII
Just when I seemed about to learn!
Where is the thread now? Off again!
The old trick! Only I discern—
Infinite passion, and the pain
Of finite hearts that yearn.
poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Stubborn Hearts
Stubborn hearts never learn
They will just keep on breaking
For faithless love they always yearn
Not tired from all the waiting.
Stubborn hearts keep loving
When ears are deaf to words
When eyes are blind to seeing
All the passion it accords.
Stubborn hearts are always true
And realize the matter
This heart is always here for you
And it cannot wait for later.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Where Is My Passion
Where is my passion
Far too much pain
Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?
Where is my passion
I need must know
Where is my passion
I want so much to grow
Where is my passion
Lost in your lips
Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss
Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes
Where is my passion
Release me to fly
Where is my passion
There in your hands
Where is my passion
Touch me…expand
Where is my passion
Please…be a man
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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Finite to fail, but infinite to venture.
quote by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our knowledge can only be finite, while our ignorance must necessarily be infinite.
quote by Karl Popper
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Thus it is necessary to commence from an inescapable duality: the finite is not the infinite.
quote by Hans Urs von Balthasar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faith is an act of a finite being who is grasped by, and turned to, the infinite.
quote by Paul Tillich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Think of something finite molded into the infinite, and you think of man.
quote by Karl Wilhelm Friedrich Schlegel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God kisses the finite in his love and man the infinite.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Infinite growth of material consumption in a finite world is an impossibility.
quote by E.F. Schumacher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Civilization is the process of reducing the infinite to the finite.
quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Language makes infinite use of finite media.
quote by Karl Wilhelm Von Humboldt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.
quote by Martin Luther King
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man's unhappiness, as I construe, comes of his greatness; it is because there is an Infinite in him, which with all his cunning he cannot quite bury under the Finite.
quote by Thomas Carlyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little about passion
Passion kills,
Passion thrills,
Passion fills,
with a sense of purpose..........
Passion may chill,
Passion makes ill,
Passion is still,
Pain mistaken as passion........
(2 7/Jan'/'09)
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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The Measure Of Love
The measure of love, in truth, is this:
To treasure each sigh, close by, then kiss!
I've revelled each girl I yearn,
Just to discern the measure of love!
Soft embraces, gazes... In search for one true friend...
Let go... then watching love grow...
Then lips pressed tight, just right,
As if our two hearts said, 'Hello! '
Love prays this is so...
The measure is true in gentlemen...
Right out of the blue! So who knows when?
It's meant to astound you, too...
So you can view the measure of love!
The measure of love, in truth, is this:
To treasure each sigh, close by, then kiss!
I've revelled each girl I yearn,
Just to discern the measure of love!
Soft embraces, gazes... In search for one true friend...
Let go... then watching love grow...
Then lips pressed tight, just right,
As if our two hearts said, 'Hello! '
Love prays this is so...
The measure is true in gentlemen...
Right out of the blue! So who knows when?
It's meant to astound you, too...
So you can view the measure of love!
poem by Denis Martindale
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a world continuously grows
from a finite body
making it infinite
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Seeing the world with god
i look through my body
at the world, the stars, moon
stars beyond stars
i know there are stars, moon
stars beyond stars too
from my temporary sphere
the aura that shines
from this physical self
the trillion of cells
all the moving atoms,
electrons, protons
the universe inside and out
i look at them
from my infinite self
god the puppeteer
shrewdly playing
the beginning, the end
the two walls
between the human brain
the man innocently walks
to oblivion
some attempt to broaden the width
others like me attempt to
to burst out of the walls
to take a peep outside
the limitations, this physical self
the world outside
the god inside and out
the moon, sun, universe
the things outside
i too have become a galaxy
as i join god to take
a look at his worlds
a meteor flashes by
a cell loses hold
flushed by blood
to another world
an infinite me
looking at the finite me
all the stars, moons,
universe outside
and inside
all the cells that i own
that soon would
squeeze me out
to join the plane
where i could view
the beat of the universe
the expansive universe
myself a galaxy
the zillion of selves
those stars, suns
spinning towards
a full stop?
eternity?
the human brain
stretched towards
a world of no end
suffocated in its attempt
i stand beside god
for just a moment
to take a peek at
all his workings
wondering all the motives
behind his pupputeering
the moons, the suns, the universe
the cells acting out his drama
round and round
casting off light
i saw a star burst
light light years away
the cancer patient
carrying a cell
that too has burst
soon to cast that black hole
over the finite self
the infinite journeys to
rest on another finite self
the universe
i standby the creator
to look at his puppeteering
wondering his motives
in his design
the privilege he gives me
to share a view
of his craft
my mind flying
outside the two walls
of the brain
instead of between
infinity
my body
the universe
i look at them
like the stars, moon, meteors
this infinite me
with a finite self
of stars, moons,
stars beyond stars
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Infinite Finite Plasmatic Immersion
Poetry is the plasmatic insight of the infinite
in the multiple framed realities of the finite.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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