The mind can weave itself warmly in the cocoon of its own thoughts, and dwell a hermit anywhere.
quote by James Russell Lowell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life
WEAVE in! weave in, my hardy life!
Weave yet a soldier strong and full, for great campaigns to come;
Weave in red blood! weave sinews in, like ropes! the senses, sight
weave in!
Weave lasting sure! weave day and night the weft, the warp, incessant
weave! tire not!
(We know not what the use, O life! nor know the aim, the end--nor
really aught we know;
But know the work, the need goes on, and shall go on--the death-
envelop'd march of peace as well as war goes on;)
For great campaigns of peace the same, the wiry threads to weave;
We know not why or what, yet weave, forever weave.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Cuckoo Cocoon
Rael regains consciousness in some musky half-light. he is warmly wrapped in some sort of cocoon. the only sound he can hear is dripping water which appears to be the source of a pale flickering
T. he guesses he must be in some sort of cave - or kooky tomb, or catacomb, or eggshell waiting to drop from the bone of the womb.
Wrapped up in some powdered wool - I guess Im losing touch.
Dont tell me this is dying, cos I aint changed that much.
The only sound is water drops, I wonder where the hell I am,
Some kind of jam?
Cuckoo cocoon have I come to, too soon for you?
Theres nothing I can recognise; this is nowhere that Ive known.
With no sign of life at all, I guess that Im alone,
And I feel so secure that I know this cant be real
But I feel good.
Cuckoo cocoon have I come to, too soon for you?
I wonder if Im a prisoner locked in some brooklyn jail
- or some sort of jonah shut up inside the whale.
No - Im still rael and Im stuck in some kind of cave.
What couldve saved me?
Cuckoo cocoon have I come to, too soon for you?
Resigning himself to the unknown he drifts off into sleep.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poor Mind
The poor mind becomes a temple
Based on the noble and virtuous
Thoughts it possesses.
The poor mind becomes a trash can
Based on the ignoble and noxious
Thoughts it contains.
The lowly always dwell
On sinister thoughts vicious
And on loathsome thoughts injurious.
If these deleterious thoughts
Of malevolence and trash are erased
The poor mind becomes highly raised
And it becomes a temple.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Silent Cocoon
at the end
to make yourself a shield from all those
invasive matters of the
heart
you keep yourself enclosed in that
same cocoon
always that same same cocoon
hard so hard outside
this time you promise yourself
there shall be no butterfly ending
more of keeping
the silence of that cocoon
hanging upon a twig
under those
dead leaves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cocoon above! Cocoon below!
129
Cocoon above! Cocoon below!
Stealthy Cocoon, why hide you so
What all the world suspect?
An hour, and gay on every tree
Your secret, perched in ecstasy
Defies imprisonment!
An hour in Chrysalis to pass,
Then gay above receding grass
A Butterfly to go!
A moment to interrogate,
Then wiser than a "Surrogate,"
The Universe to know!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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A Charming Introduction
This was talking of a charming introduction to a vile life,
Impassable roads honoured this vile life of a hermit.
A scoundrel betraying his friends, he fetched the medicine,
Happy medicine was never happening to anybody.
The doctor collapsed forcefully by the drugs he ingested,
This drug poisoned the hermit as well, a wellness seemed able.
The marriage of these two inspired both leaders and citizens
As the hermit and doctor were at fierce odds with each other.
To make a fortune was significant to the brain and mind,
The mind contained light, and the brain consisted of darkness;
Cheerfully, the misery lasted, for the desires and lusts concentrated,
Later this meant misery was at an end, absent in the extreme.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Indian Weavers
WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.
Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . .
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.
Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . .
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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I Love What You Do For Me
(j.p. maunick/r. bull)
Smile, like a happy child
Feelin safe in your embrace
Shine, sunshine
Kiss you warmly on your face
This is the place where I am free
There is no where else Id rather be
Chorus:
Than here in your arms
Hypnotised by your charms
Every touch means so much
Boy, you blow my mind
I love what you do for me
(I love what you do, I love what you do)
What you do for me, baby
Close your eyes
And Ill creep into your dreams
Through your mind, weave a secret on your soul
All that you dream, Im dreamin too
No one else could take the place of you
(I wanna be)
Chorus
I love what you do for me
Close to yous where I wanna be
Baby, baby, baby, baby (oh)
Chorus
Repeat (fade)
song performed by by Incognito
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts Mind Soul Echoes
thoughts like children
scatter from our mind
thoughts were part of us?
thoughts came from us?
thoughts live beyond us?
thoughts outlive our lives?
thoughts mind soul echoes
haunting fragments of mind
light shines through prisms
separates into colour bands
thought trails sunset colours
spectrum ribbons thoughts
spiral into keen conceptions
meaning insight discriminates
poem by Terence George Craddock
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4. Distant Thoughts
In his splendid isolation
Sits a hermit near a cave
He doesn’t move a muscle
For his energy to save
He stares into the distance
Where he hopes to be enlightened
Not all his thoughts will bring him calm
Some often leave him frightened
He sits there nearly half asleep
As people leave him food
They mainly come in ones and two
But sometimes in a brood
The hermit sees but does not move
While little children peep
He sees for all the good and bad
In this vigil he must keep
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Butterfly
Constantly creepin' caterpillar,
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
Soon you might emerge,
And you're made to emerge.
A little longing to love, lush,
Starving for affection.
Hidden by the size of my perfection,
With one exception...
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
How do I hide somebody from the great blue wide?
I'll come and sweep you up,
'Cause your time ain't up, be patient.
Now you see the sun is rising and your realizing,
Wise enough to know,
That you gotta let yourself grow.
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
If you wanna butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
What goes around comes back around;
This is nature's way.
Be conscious of what you do,
Because you will be repaid.
If you put turnips in the ground,
You will not harvest grapes.
You are what you attracted,
And this is why I say;
Uhhhhhh...
If you wanna a butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
If you wanna a butterfly,
You gotta be a butterfly.
You know that nothing falls out of the sky.
Constantly creepin' caterpillar,
Still a swoon in a cocoon.
Soon you might emerge,
And be made to emerge.
Maybe...
Still a swoon in a cocoon (repeated MANY times!)
Uhhhhhh...
song performed by by India Arie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rooms
we all live in hutches, rooms
familiar and unfamiliar
brightly lit, dark, mysterious
unknown and gloomy
they punctuate each and
every of our thoughts
our voice echoes each and
every chamber, some distinctly,
some meekly, some warmly
some coldly, some lost between
winding dark and lit corridors
we choose to dwell in
reassuring rooms but they all
soon suffocate us with drudgeries
our attention turn to those sealed,
which we love to think a divinity sits,
who makes sure we follow through
every word of his scripts written in
the light of every chamber sealed
with the spirit of our breaths
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Bemused
invoking the dune
into a chair
I feel seated
like a queen
in a majestic scene
for free
in front of me
the sun seems so near
while I cover my feet
with warmly sand
the sea is singing
a love song
and the sky
is tuning in
as colorful
as bright
as light
as possibly can be
this landscape
prods my mind
aggregates
my thoughts
into a memory
I wish to be reality
just now
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Weight of love
His heart
Became a crumpled
Red poppy flower
A slip knot
Solipsism, thorn
A barbed iron
Slipping anchor
On a day,
Night had set sail.
On a day,
A sun must strum,
The Soloist guitar
On a day,
Wraithlike waves pushed on
Stringing under the noose
Ebony necklace of
Black beading clouds;
Blood-vessel-wine-storms
Skin-deep, whale-tanning,
Oilfields of crude tropic tears
Iris bursting blue bolts
Of abhorrent, hatred
Winging the eternal
Drum-fanning tarot cards
Shipwreck flames of pity
The dead feathered dreams
The meltdown, salt, soul
Albatross tar factory;
On a day,
The skies thoughts
Fall out of mind.
On a day,
Ribs churn like aching sandbars
With slivery icy memories
No longer gently shingled
Warmly washed ashore like jellyfish
Peacefully dying
Breathing starlight, breathless
But more like hermit crabs
Missing limbs
Is his shells heart
With its weight of love
Crushed empty...
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Do You Have Any Thoughts About Me?
Do you have any thoughts about me?
And I want to know if the thoughts that you have about me
Are any good?
Do you mind sharing the thoughts about me?
What are the thoughts about me like?
Are the thoughts about me semtimental?
Are the thoughts about me very romantic?
Are the thoughts about me full of love?
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Two Hermits
Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.
Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.
One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, 'It is long that we have
lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide
our possessions.'
Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, 'It grieves
me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs
go, so be it,' and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him
saying, 'We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine.'
Then the older hermit said, 'Charity I will not accept. I will
take nothing but mine own. It must be divided.'
And the younger one said, 'If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast
a lot.'
But the older hermit said again, 'I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The
bowl must be divided.'
Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, 'If
it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us
now break the bowl.'
But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, 'O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight.'
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Fear of my thoughts
You make me fear the thoughts in my brain
For the things I think
Of you
Thoughts which are't to be thought
Things which will never occur
I fear the thoughts in my mind
For they are things I long for
Things I know will never happen
Becasue you and I can't happen
I fear the thoughts inmy mind
because you are there every time
I can't visit my own mind
My own thoughts sadden me and enrich me with anger
Am angry atmelf
I fear my own thoughts
Just because it has what I want
Because I'm green with envy at it
Because you're there and not out here
I fear my own thoughts...
poem by Cannita Melius
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Everyone Needs A Cocoon
EVERYONE NEEDS A COCOON
Everyone needs a cocoon-
A small place in themselves in which to hide-
From the difficulties, the complaints, the arguments, the angers of this world –
A small place within themselves
In which they and their own dreams
Are master.
How else could we survive
Given the pains of all these others outside-ourselves also-
Who never let us rest?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Enter This Deserted House
But please walk softly as you do.
Frogs dwell here and crickets too.
Ain't no ceiling, only blue.
Jays dwell here and sunbeams too.
Floors are flowers - take a few
Ferns grow here and daisies too.
Swoosh, whoosh - too-whit, too-woo
Bats dwell here and hoot owls too.
Ha-ha-ha, hee-hee, hoo-hoooo,
Gnomes dwell here and goblins too.
And my child, I thought you knew
I dwell here... and so do you
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Thought Broadcasting
Silence is a silver ship
Traveling at the speed of the darkness,
Black holes are the edifices in which I
Build my thoughts-
Word by word,
Each and every syllable forms upon my lips,
And then broadcasted, aloud-
Thoughts are killers- thoughts can harm-
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
Within this room I write my thoughts
With a pen that is void of ink, or a pencil
That has no lead,
Invisible they are, but somehow,
These thoughts are broadcasted aloud.
Thoughts are killers thoughts control-
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
A silver ship with its sail to the wind,
A wild horse that canters across vast terrain, or
Pebbles that roll off of my fingertips,
That splash into the creek, one by one,
You can see, you can hear, as
My thoughts, broadcasted aloud.
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
My thoughts are a flame that only I can quench.
I am in control of what comes into my mind,
As my hands build the world from
The bricks of Time,
My thoughts control the world.
My thinking destroys those, whom I abhor,
My thoughts control the downtrodden.
Silence is a silver ship, or
The dome beneath which I dwell-
I build my edifice beneath this dome.
No one dares to enter, as
I have broadcasted a message to the world,
My eyes order the world away;
My thoughts are broadcasted aloud,
A bad thought can destroy, as good ones
Create and control,
My thoughts control the world…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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