They definitely mean to maintain that the process called death is a mere severence of soul and body, and that the soul is freed rather than injured thereby.
quote by Oliver Joseph Lodge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
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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A battle between soul and death
My body has become a battle field,
Battle, a fierce battle, I cried in pain,
As death comes and fights to pull the soul,
Nothing happens as death has no gain.
I have been a heart and gastric patient,
My body burns with a wound of heart,
And my heart burns with it's own light,
But soul and death wrestle part to part.
A great war took place in my body,
Death violently ordered to the soul to surrender,
But soul is not ready to surrender then war began,
Many souls and deaths saw the war and wonder.
What about my body? I shouted at them,
My body has been burning since long,
Listening this, death laughed and soul hit it,
Soul told me that “death is going to do you wrong”.
You go away otherwise the death harms you,
Soul strongly pushed to the death and saved me,
I forever pray to God to give strength to my soul,
I am very thankful to my soul to protect me like a bee.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No individual soul
Which- the soul or body-
Is the cause of one
To be holy or lowly?
Which- the soul or the body-
Is the cause for the king
To down and the traitor to crown?
Which- the soul or the body-
Is the seat of genes
That transmits features?
Soul and body are co-born
Ever since when life was born.
At no stage, be birth, embryo,
Zygote or gametes that fuse,
Was the life born for the soul
To enter the body at birth,
And part at death.
Death is no more than
A death of a twig of the tree.
28.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul’s relation to body
I love you; who is ‘I’- soul or body?
I won over your heart; you stole my heart.
Heart- do we mean the corporal one?
Soul, the fire, catches the body, the wood.
Soul to soul and body to body, no love sparks.
Soul in body loves soul in body.
Souls or bodies exclusively love not.
Soul and body are not like air and balloon.
Soul and body is like heat and body.
3.01.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For literature sake.
When the body ages, does the soul do?
When the body gets wounds, does the soul suffer?
Are body and soul like sac and air?
Not so obviously.
Are body and soul like flesh and heat?
Might be.
Does not soul die when body dies, then?
Heart is not the seat of emotion, but brain.
Soul is not distinct to be treated so.
Yet soul is distinct for literature sake.
18.02.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Between This Body And This Soul
my body thirsts for water
my soul thirsts for another
my soul immersed my soul entwined
my body grows my soul static as a thought
i shift from one channel to another
body to soul, soul to body,
the body's nature to sin
the soul's quest to heaven
God is in between.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul has an extra mileage
Soul and body: who depends on who?
Soul and body: who adds values to who?
Whom do you regard: soul or body?
Who is the cause of your actions?
Does soul departs for body decays?
Does body decays for soul departs?
Soles alone are ghosts; bodies alone are corpses.
Soul and body together gain values.
Must soul have an extra mileage?
13.08.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man has no Body distinct from his Soul; for that called Body is a portion of Soul discerned by the five Senses, the chief inlets of Soul in this age.
quote by William Blake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Body And Soul
rise with me this body of mine
sail with me o' soul of thine
for mine is a matter of time
to mold a body of mine
and have a kind
i prefer, as without me
there is none, and without you
there is no me
send me a sense to my body
o' body of mine
a friend and shadow of mine
without a dime
take me from wrong to conformity
lead me from animosity
unchain my soul from vanity
for mine is a body and soul
detach me from the unknown
shine on me o' body and soul
bring me a blessing to my soul
connect and share with me o' body of mine
laugh and talk with me so fine
run and steady with me so divine
the body of my soul and awhile
take me back to my body as a child
...possibly not! i presume...
if i die, you too die
and there is no more of me then
from whence to the end
for i live(d) with you 'til then
extract from 'body and soul'
'footsteps' june 2012 v.7
opn18062012/1534
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Value your soul
The soul and the body aren’t separate.
They’re as integrated as body and heat.
To love or hate a person is soul’s act.
To love or hate a thing is body’s act.
Soul, not body, experiences shame.
Body, not soul, ignores guilt and qualms.
Value the soul to value yourself.
07.02.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poor Soul
Poor soul, why have you chosen this body,
decided to dwell in me? A human being
while you could have had anybody
and you could have inhabited a more divine thing?
Yet you those someone on this sinful planet called earth
a mere speck in the entire universe
and from my very birth
had to struggle in a world perverse
from what it had been designed to be
and what will you inhabit when
time and destiny brings a end to me
and where will you be then?
Or will you just vanish with the thing called life,
fading into the naught without strive?
[Reference: Sonnet 146 “Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth” by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul Please Understand
Soul, you must understand
how this body sleeps with you.
Soul, you must remember
it has separate manners with you.
Soul, learn the sensual pleasures
of this body, its twists and turns,
its crooked ways, its perverted ways,
its insatiability, even its evil ways,
Soul, you have all the patience,
when the body is rested before its
time is over, Soul, awaken it,
shake it, let it shed off its dusts
of errors, its stains of lusts,
wash it with fasting, and repentance
Soul, be wise, and kind enough to
save this Body, until it rusts and
to dust it shall return, and Soul
when you go up there, Forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Understand
Soul, you must understand
how this body sleeps with you.
Soul, you must remember
it has separate manners with you.
Soul, learn the sensual pleasures
of this body, its twists and turns,
its crooked ways, its perverted ways,
its insatiability, even its evil ways,
Soul, you have all the patience,
when the body is rested before its
time is over, Soul, awaken it,
shake it, let it shed off its dusts
of errors, its stains of lusts,
wash it with fasting, and repentance
Soul, be wise, and kind enough to
save this Body, until it rusts and
to dust it shall return, and Soul
when you go up there, Forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mesalliance
I am troubled to-night with a curious pain;
It is not of the flesh, it is not of the brain,
Nor yet of a heart that is breaking:
But down still deeper, and out of sight—
In the place where the soul and the body unite—
There lies the scat of the aching.
They have been lovers in days gone by;
But the soul is fickle, and longs to fly
From the fettering mesalliance:
And she tears at the bonds which are binding her so,
And pleads with the body to let her go,
But he will not yield compliance.
For the body loves, as he loved in the past,
When he wedded the soul; and he holds her fast,
And swears that he will not loose her;
That he will keep her and hide her away
For ever and ever and for a day
From the arms of Death, the seducer.
Ah! this is the strife that is wearying me—
The strife 'twixt a soul that would be free
And a body that will not let her.
And I say to my soul, 'Be calm, and wait;
For I tell ye truly that soon or late
Ye surely shall drop each fetter.'
And I say to the body, 'Be kind, I pray;
For the soul is not of thy mortal clay,
But is formed in spirit fashion.'
And still through the hours of the solemn night
I can hear my sad soul's plea for flight,
And my body's reply of passion.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Soul
My soul is not the coward
that my body seems to be.
For my soul does remember
that my body will be free,
free of all its fears and fright
while passing through this earth,
free to experience once again
a brand new type of birth.
My soul is always patient.
Sometimes my body's not.
For my soul exists forever
while my body's just a dot
in the vastness of experience
that's come and gone for me.
And so patiently I'm learning
to acquire tranquility.
My soul will never leave me
as seasons come and go.
But my body will finally say adieu
to happiness and woe.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Angel of death, please take me now
I just want to forget what
happend to me, so recently
I just want my body to be
free, angel of death, take
my soul from me.
I dont want this pain,
so Im gonna end it in vain
let the angel of death make
my body cold
write my soul on paper,
and let it be sold.
I dont want to die old,
I want to go now,
please angel of death take me
now, somehow, let my body
be free.
Please, angel of death, take me.
poem by Nicole Buckland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A splintered soul
She left a bit of her soul
on the housing estate,
where names was daubed
on an old brick wall,
and a bit of her soul
was left behind
at her old school desk,
with her injured pride.
And a bit at the bank,
her very first job,
where she'd fallen hard
for a bloke called Bob.
And a little bit more,
when her husband died
and the sheets got wet
from the tears she'd cried.
And a bit more still
as the debts piled high
though she hid it all
from her children's eyes.
And she feels
she left a part of her
at every port of call,
and she
mourns the loss
of each little bit
of her sad and
splintered soul.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Soul Scream...
A haunting wind travels across my soul,
Death gains ground with every weary step,
Eyes of grey fill with the tears of the condemned,
My soul screams out in a plea for mercy,
Yet the spectre of death has won this race,
That soul scream has become my final breath,
I sleep entwined forever, heart, mind, body and soul...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Role of Soul and Body
The soul and body are integrated
Who governs one’s ego, desire and traits?
Are genes the seat of the soul or body?
Who commits sins and perform virtues?
Who experiences the joy and sorrow?
It is not the soul alone that does them.
It is not the body alone that does them.
Soul and body together manifest
Like the flame and candle together burn.
The struggle of the internal force with
The external force is what we call life.
Our prayers and sacrifices have no sway.
Both are independent and unconcerned.
To sum up, there is only single soul
That runs through the entire living kingdom.
It never dies nor is born with deaths and births.
Its growth is bound by the external force.
The internal force is in continuation
To the external force, which is the God
They have their own agenda to perform.
Your prayers are irrelevant to them.
No soul exists or is reborn after death.
Sins and virtues are not to carry over.
Birth and death are internal occurrence.
To live is the motto of the living things..
15.01.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Consumed Within the Process
Consumed within the process
That process we call life.
Immuned? Not from this process.
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed within the process.
That process we call life.
Immuned?
Not from this process!
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Closing its eyes only when it wishes,
To call itself out!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
It keeps the vision in precision,
Until it's in 'all' sights.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
It keeps the vision in precision,
Until it's in 'all' sights.
Consumed.
Within the process.
Just consumed.
Within the process this process.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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