A great sense of peace entered my body, and seemingly into every cell.
quote by Harold E. Hughes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Me
Not the ever wrangling desires
Linked to my transcience.
Not sense enemies-attachment.
Nor the false name i own
As my own.
Not the body
Bee like i make cell by cell.
Inside the great dream
We don't really are anything.
The knowledge of real ME
Is with Him
Who is sharing my eyes.
poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A stem cell is essentially a blank cell capable of becoming another, more differentiated cell-type in the body, such as a skin cell, a muscle cell or a nerve cell.
quote by Virginia Foxx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cell Phone Mania
Cell phones to the right,
Cell phones to the left,
Cell phones, cell phones,
everywhere I look.
Red alert, stop! Listen,
shut up and drive,
shut up and read,
Cell phones, why so many.
Everyone talking,
cell phones in cars,
cell phones in bars,
eating places, cell phones.
There you can't escape
from them, you say
to yourself, the restroom,
no one would dare
use cell phone in there,
oh no, I hear someone,
talking to me, I answer them,
oh, sorry sir, did not know you
were on cell phone.
Oh, so many,
shut up, and walk.
Do away with cell phones,
and it would be like,
the crash of '29'.
People need cell phones,
sometimes their nice,
to have, but so many,
cell phones, might
as well join them
if you can't lick 'em,
join them.
Cell phone, cell phone
now how do I use this
thing, oh cell phone, cell phone,
Hello, Hello, oh that's
you mert.
wrote 1-19-07
Upon the union of the male germ cell with the female egg cell, a new cell is created which almost immediately splits into two parts. One of these grows rapidly, creating the human body of the individual with all its organs, and dies only with the individual.
quote by Christian Lous Lange
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kiswar Q'inti
The Royal Hummingbird of the North has entered this body
penetrating the solar plexus
infiltrating each cell
she brings with her the sweetness of all the flowers of the world
How can I be angry for even one second that you are gone?
She brings with her the Ancestors
the Grandmothers and Grandfathers
now I will never be alone
How can I ever be insincere again?
The vigilant Falcon who lived here before is confused
now the Hummingbird and the Falcon must make their peace
May it be so
This is my victory:
You are not the first longing thought as I wake to the morning
You are not the last night-thought as I fall into dreaming
This is my task:
To hold the tension between the miraculous and the tragic.
*Quechua for the Royal Hummingbird
poem by Joan Woodbridge
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Let me keep watch
Let me keep watch
Over your body when
You are resting in peace.
Let me sacrifice
My meditation to you
When you are resting in peace
Let me protect your body
From rotting
When you are resting in peace.
Let me protect your memories
And dreamless dreams
When you are resting in peace.
Let me plant a fruit tree
Above you that I may still eat
When you are resting in peace.
Let me storm the gates of heaven
When you are resting in peace.
Let me give you oblation
Of our experience
When you are resting in peace.
Let me breathe for you
When you are resting in peace.
Let me douse the fires of hell
When you are resting in peace.
Let me glorify your name
When you are resting in peace.
Let me be your counterpoint
When you are resting in peace.
Let me overcome the light
When you are resting in peace.
Let me touch your organs
When you are resting in peace.
Let me drink your water
When you are resting in peace.
Let me describe your bones
When you are resting in peace.
Let me dream your dreams
When you are resting in peace.
poem by David E. Patton
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Three In One
how many selves
are there in me
well, there is me
that could sense
the others, be they
the mind or body
there is this being
that drives each cell
at its own will,
night and day
and another that
would cheer me
on when i do things
he considers right
and err.. that makes
three in one
and isnt that a familiar
entity
if only all three
could reveal each other
to each other
this me the most confused of all
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Memorized Body
Who you are, your shape—
The construct of your body—
Is breaking apart,
Becoming a bunch of flakes
Each and ev'ry day.
Your skin will replace itself
Slowly—cell by cell.
In time, this you that you are
Will vanish for the next you.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Jesus In Cell
Last night Jesus entered my cell.
Oh, how sad was Christ, how tall!
The moon entered after him the cell,
and made Him taller and sadder, I recall.
His hands were like lilies on graves,
Eyes as deep as forests' lands,
The moon threw silver on his garments in waves,
silvering His big, pierced hands.
I got up from under the old, gray blanket of mine:
- God, where do you come from? From what age, tell me, please?
Jesus gently put a finger to His mouth as a sign,
motioned for me to be quiet and at ease...
He sat next to me on the mat full of dust...
- Put your hand on my wounds, on my veins,
On his ankles were shadows of wounds and rust,
It was as if he had once worn chains...
Sighing, He stretched His tired bones
on my mat where cockroaches go.
The moon shined through the cell's stones,
but the thick lattices reflected stripes on His snow.
The cell looked like a mountain,
it looked like a skull,
and there were biting lice, pain, and many fears,
On my hand, I felt my head fall,
I fell asleep for a thousand years...
When I woke up from my abyssal dream,
the straw smelled like flowers, like a fresh rose.
I was in the cell and the moon was agleam,
only Jesus was nowhere... nowhere close.
I stretched out my arms, but no one, only silence.
I asked the wall: no answer at all!
Only the cold rays, sharpened by violence,
with their spear piercing me into the cell wall.
- Where are you, God? I screamed at the bars.
Smoke was coming from the moon on the narrow trails,
I touched myself... and on my hands... scars...
I found the marks of His nails.
poem by Radu Gyr, translated by Marius Alexandru
Submitted by anonym
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Cycle
cell to worm
to body of an
animal
to death
rotten flesh back
to worm
and cell
there is an
exit from this
useless cycle
there is
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We have entered the cell, the Mansion of our birth, and started the inventory of our acquired wealth.
quote by Albert Claude
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Demon In Me
The demon in me's not dead,
He's living, and well.
In the body as in a hold,
In the self as in a cell.
The world is but walls.
The exit's the axe.
("All the world's a stage,"
The actor prates.)
And that hobbling buffoon
Is no joker;
In the body as in glory,
In the body as in a toga.
May you live forever!
Cherish your life,
Only poets in bone
Are as in a lie.
No, my eloquent brothers,
We'll not have much fun,
In the body as with Father's
Dressing-gown on.
We deserve something better.
We wilt in the warm.
In the body as in a byre.
In the self as in a cauldron.
Marvels that perish
We don't collect.
In the body as in a marsh,
In the body as in a crypt.
In the body as in furthest
Exile. It blights.
In the body as in a secret,
In the body as in the vice
Of an iron mask.
poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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Life's sparkle...
There are times when my soul becomes engulfed,
In feelings of fear, confusion and lonliness,
And all sense of direction is seemingly lost,
When the chilling air of self doubt fills my soul,
Each pathway seemingly leading to despair,
Yet this breeze has awakened me to my own failings,
I meander swiftly along alley ways of hope,
Through crowded passage ways of emotion,
Seeking to be the resurrector of dreams once held,
Hope reborn, life's mission remembered,
Those past times relived when we were as one,
The imprint of beauty and love tattooed upon my soul,
Has become the blueprint my heart shall surely follow,
So that we me once again sparkle with the freshness of life...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
We all wear our past like some cosmic backpack,
Although we cannot see it, we know it's there,
And we may only outrun it by being better than we were...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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My Beauty
There’s are days when you just wanna feel like a beauty in everyone’s eyes. But there’s always a butt head to make you feel less then you are I believe if you think or know you are then you are. It’s only what you make of it. There are times when I don’t feel beauty at but I think of what I always told myself. “My beauty is not just a pretty face. The beauty I have is a brand new sent of peace. My beauty is lovely peace sense of laughing out loud. My beauty is like an oak wooden chair that my daddyand I love to sit and think in. My beauty is a graceful smile I give her everyday.
My beauty I have is a great sense of style that I have to show the world. My beauty is my fragrant smell of lavender on my skin and hair. Beauty that I want is a 5 star hotel that someday I will stay in when I’m famous. Beauty is my toned color of the skin on my body. My beauty slowly surely of love i feel for you.
Beauty is my sleek smooth skin of my true beauty is deep within me. Now I know the sign of beauty I was bless with.
poem by Evevona Plummer
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Death is a divorce
Death is a divorce.
The soul and the body are separated.
The soul escapes; the body decays.
Who is the cause: the soul or the body?
‘It is the body’, accuses the soul,
‘As it went unfit.’ ‘It is the soul’
Reprimands the body, ‘which found me stale.’
Who is the male: the soul or the body?
‘Male is the body’ complains the soul,
‘In whose home I entered as a bride.’
‘Male is the soul’ retorts the body,
‘Who deserted me to seek the other.’
Death is the divorce,
Where both separate.
11.02.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peace Came
When peace came,
I showered under streaming light
- Silent, settling -
Effectuating over all -
The reassurance drunk
From Mother Nature's breast.
And rays channeled through
The greys of ancient gloom
That paste the hopelessness of
Dying on the battlefield or
The losing out upon a risk
In love;
Byes to precious life
(A husband, child, a wife) :
Or failure:
Crashed careers; bleak depression,
The fallen - ruined, spurned -
Covered in veneers of rasping blight.
When peace came, a gate begged
A gentle path inviting me to
Stroll through verdant fields of spring,
Bristling with a bouncing life
Of colour; flowers cheering to
The air ‘We have a chance in nature! '
When peace came, my addled head was
Reconciling, airing, ringing true -
The sense of crushing pressure dead;
Instead, I flamed a faith anew!
When peace came, I saw our youth
Inside a multicultural womb; our
Death was pointing to a proud
And glorious tomb engraved with words of
Freedom for the soul that was when
Once a body whence it thrived.
When peace came, there happened you -
A fragrance dancing ‘gainst a new and
Frightened innocence of beauty
- Eyes ready; slender arms of care -
A tender skin to be caressed.
And we were blessed by starting fresh
In rhythms of pervading warmth;
Serenity.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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I Am A Divine Act Of God
(Prayer)
I am a Divine Act of God;
Here, now and forever
I am self contained
Whole
Healed in every cell of my body
God’s Light fills me
Light I give freely to all
I am compassion, peace, love
I am happiness, joy
I am grateful
I am
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Insignificantly Significant
Millions of particles,
Making up my body.
Millions of bodies,
Making up a world.
Millions of worlds,
Making up a universe.
Removed from this,
I feel alone.
Yet, I am a piece of the puzzle.
A part of a bigger picture.
Insignificantly significant.
One infected cell spreading.
Affecting the body,
Eventually, killing the host.
One infected host spreading.
Eventually killing the world.
One cell at a time,
One person at a time.
But in order to heal the world,
The host must heal first.
For if an infected host can destroy,
Then a well host can build.
A body will heal,
One cell at a time.
Until it is healthy.
A world will heal,
One person at a time.
Until it is done.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Sound Of Wings.....
from the bars of the cell,
i learned freedom from the body.
from the underside of the bridge,
i learned home has not a house.
from forty years of working,
i learned the bitterness of the slave.
from the political lies,
i learned that truth cant be bought.
from the books i read,
i learned to reason and question.
from the heroin needle,
i learned the value of life.
from love lost,
i learned how to love.
from doubt i learned seeking,
in seeking i found god to be more.
from the scars on my heart,
i learned to be a man.
from battles fought and lost,
i learned the need for peace.
from discrimination i learned equality,
from anger i learned forgiveness.
from the mirror i learned responsibility...
from the bars of the cell,
i learned the sound of wings!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Am In This Cell
i am in this cell
to live some more i need a very secure and strong
cell wall,
tight in my silence and isolation everything will be safe & fine
nothing in nothing out
this is what it is all about.
i am a dead cell, now, not comes in nothing goes out
see, i am shrinking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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