Related quotes: Supple and turbulent, a ring...

Sunday Morning - VII

Supple and turbulent, a ring of men
Shall chant in orgy on a summer morn
Their boisterous devotion to the sun,
Not as a god, but as a god might be,
Naked among them, like a savage source.
Their chant shall be a chant of paradise,
Out of their blood, returning to the sky;
And in their chant shall enter, voice by voice,
The windy lake wherein their lord delights,
The trees, like serafin, and echoing hills,
That choir among themselves long afterward.
They shall know well the heavenly fellowship
Of men that perish and of summer morn.
And whence they came and whither they shall go
The dew upon their feet shall manifest.

poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sunday Morning

Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.
She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
Encroachment of that old catastrophe,
As a calm darkens among water-lights.
The pungent oranges and bright, green wings
Seem things in some procession of the dead,
Winding across wide water, without sound.
The day is like wide water, without sound,
Stilled for the passing of her dreaming feet
Over the seas, to silent Palestine,
Dominion of the blood and sepulchre.

Why should she give her bounty to the dead?
What is divinity if it can come
Only in silent shadows and in dreams?
Shall she not find in comforts of the sun,
In pungent fruit and bright green wings, or else
In any balm or beauty of the earth,
Things to be cherished like the thought of heaven?
Divinity must live within herself:
Passions of rain, or moods in falling snow;
Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued
Elations when the forest blooms; gusty
Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights;
All pleasures and all pains, remembering
The bough of summer and the winter branch.
These are the measure destined for her soul.

Jove in the clouds had his inhuman birth.
No mother suckled him, no sweet land gave
Large-mannered motions to his mythy mind.
He moved among us, as a muttering king,
Magnificent, would move among his hinds,
Until our blood, commingling, virginal,
With heaven, brought such requital to desire
The very hinds discerned it, in a star.
Shall our blood fail? Or shall it come to be
The blood of paradise? And shall the earth
Seem all of paradise that we shall know?
The sky will be much friendlier then than now,
A part of labor and a part of pain,
And next in glory to enduring love,
Not this dividing and indifferent blue.

She says, 'I am content when wakened birds,
Before they fly, test the reality
Of misty fields, by their sweet questionings;
But when the birds are gone, and their warm fields
Return no more, where, then, is paradise?'
There is not any haunt of prophecy,
Nor any old chimera of the grave,
Neither the golden underground, nor isle
Melodious, where spirits gat them home,
Nor visionary south, nor cloudy palm
Remote on heaven's hill, that has endured
As April's green endures; or will endure
Like her remembrance of awakened birds,
Or her desire for June and evening, tipped
By the consummation of the swallow's wings.

She says, 'But in contentment I still feel
The need of some imperishable bliss.'
Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,
Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams
And our desires. Although she strews the leaves
Of sure obliteration on our paths,
The path sick sorrow took, the many paths
Where triumph rang its brassy phrase, or love
Whispered a little out of tenderness,
She makes the willow shiver in the sun
For maidens who were wont to sit and gaze
Upon the grass, relinquished to their feet.
She causes boys to pile new plums and pears
On disregarded plate. The maidens taste
And stray impassioned in the littering leaves.

Is there no change of death in paradise?
Does ripe fruit never fall? Or do the boughs
Hang always heavy in that perfect sky,
Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth,
With rivers like our own that seek for seas
They never find, the same receding shores
That never touch with inarticulate pang?
Why set pear upon those river-banks
Or spice the shores with odors of the plum?
Alas, that they should wear our colors there,
The silken weavings of our afternoons,
And pick the strings of our insipid lutes!
Death is the mother of beauty, mystical,
Within whose burning bosom we devise
Our earthly mothers waiting, sleeplessly.

She hears, upon that water without sound,
A voice that cries, 'The tomb in Palestine
Is not the porch of spirits lingering.
It is the grave of Jesus, where he lay.'
We live in an old chaos of the sun,
Or old dependency of day and night,
Or island solitude, unsponsored, free,
Of that wide water, inescapable.
Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quail
Whistle about us their spontaneous cries;
Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness;
And, in the isolation of the sky,
At evening, casual flocks of pigeons make
Ambiguous undulations as they sink,
Downward to darkness, on extended wings.

poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Chant Your Name Oh Beloved

Chant Your Name
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the raindrops on a roof
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the breeze in the leaves
I chant Your name o beloved
Like the snowflakes on mountain peaks
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the dew drops in the field
I chant your name O beloved
As Your blood pulsate in my veins
I chant Your name O beloved
As the bees buzz around my head
In silence I chant Your name O Beloved
As they carry my whispered prayers

poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beloved

On my knees i chant your name oh beloved
like the raindrops on the roof
i chant your name oh beloved
like the rusttling leave in the breeze
i chant your name oh beloved
like the dew drops in te field
i chant your name oh beloved
like the snow on mountain peaks
i chant your name oh beloved
as i breath
i chant your name oh beloved
as i whisper in sincere pray...

poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chant

We cant turn back the clock
But we can chant for love
Lets cut the idle talk so we can
Chant for love
We always have the time to quarrel
About such problems as money and war
Lets put it off until tomorrow
Who needs another dose of sorrow?
It dont necessitate an act of faith
To chant for love
What alibi is strong enough to wait
To chant for love
Though we dont hold the reigns of power
Somebody else seems to be in control
We mustnt waste another hour
Well get directly to the soul
If we can
Chant
For a world united
Chant
For a world thats dying for love
The hare krishna plays a drum and bell
When he chants for love
The tribal priest is afraid of hell
So he chants for love
I am not pushing some religion
Dont get me wrong,
I never mess with such things
Just be true to your own vision
This is your personal decision
The dervish spins to a hu hu hu
When he chants for love
Nobody knows what the angels do
When they chant for love
Youre at the bottom of the ladder
Someone may try to tell you where you should start
But the words, they never matter
If you can feel it in your heart
Then you can
Why dont you chant?
You can chant
Chant, chant, chant ...

song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chant Has Begun

The spirit of the people
The spirit of the people
The spirit of the people
The rhythm has begun ...
Old men with their protocol
Lead us off to war
Sometimes we dont even know
What were fighting for
Marching to the beat of their drum
Leaders we no longer trust
Told too many lies
The promises they made to us
Were never realised
Hear me now the chant has begun
Nowhere left to turn
No-one left to turn to
Voices raised in anger
They dont have the answer
Our whole worlds in danger
Oil slicks on the ebbing tide
Progress out of hand
Blind men choke on swallowed pride
Heads down in the sand
Dont wanna see the damage theyve done
Trees destroyed by acid rain
Falling from the skies
When our children place the blame
Who will tell them why
Hear me now the chant has begun
Why is love so rare
All this talk of warfare
Voices raised in anger
They dont have an answer
Pass the word along
We can wait no longer
Too much blind destruction
Follow loves instructions
Now the chant has begun
(chant)
Make your choice theres no escape
Add your voice, the chant has begun

song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taw Shi

The desert wind
From the East
Binding us together
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
The day has come to prove
To prove your love
Forever
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
Among the two
I prefer you
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
Among the two
You must come through
Oh let me see you
Set fire to the night
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me this dance
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Chant with me this chant
So follow me
Across the sand
To where the music's playing
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
The sands will blow
A thousand years
The rythm still remains
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
Among the two
I prefer you
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
Among the two
You must come through
Oh let me see you
Set fire to the night
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me this dance
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Chant with me this chant
Oh, oh YAH YAH
TAW SHI WA NADAR
Oh, oh YAH YAH
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
Oh let me see you
Set fire to the night
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
Oh, oh YA YA YA!...

song performed by by Ofra Haza
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mubarak Out, Mubarak Out' 'Game Over'.

Mubarak promises to dismiss present minion cabinet
promising new administration to dance to his bidding.
New minions appointed by Mubarak to dance his tune
new minions to tackle unemployment to promote him?

Protesters forced off into side streets chant chant chant
“People want to change the regime” cry justice dignity.
Appointment new Vice President under Mubarak thumb
fails to appease cut ice because Mubarak regime is done.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life And Death

All the creatures of Earth are in the control of
The Almighty;
Death brings icy touch to all Earthy creatures,
To relatives, provides plight.
“Buddhadeva” says life is sorrowful,
Pray God, serve the poor,
To achieve salvation;
Mysterious is Lord Jagannath’s creation.
O Devotees, come and surrender before Bhagavana
Jagannath’s feet,
Chant the sweet name morn, eve, day and night before
The alluring attracting
Image of Almighty.
In Bhakti, chanting the sweet name derive peace;
Purity;
Bhagabana Jagannath is the Director of the Universe,
An ocean of delight,
Lord Jagannath hears everything having no ears;
Does everything having no hands, fulfils Bhakta’s desire.
Think of Jagannath, chant the sweet name, pray him,
Surrender on his lotus feet,
Remember him before death;
Remember Bhagbana Jagannath day and night,
He is a firmanent of mirth.

poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fall (Sept 3,2002)

A summer endeth-
A fall beginneth

Where do all passing souls hideth?

It was a summer that just was
A just delayeth
A just barest
just in timeth

As the monks chant
I scrawl out healing words
That soothe my soul
From this page I draw strength
From the lines I find perseverance

The sun has set
Darkness filters into the shadows
Left untouched by the light

poem by Midnights Voice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Omnipresent God

The Om of God
A chant to sing
It resonates
I contemplate

Colorful vibrations
Inner journey's to
Far off constellations.

I travel thus to find myself
A Self realization.
God is there
God is here
A spiritual sensation.

He fills all space and time
I need not chant a rhyme
Behold God's Love Divine
Is ever Mine and Thine.

poem by Lynne FincherSpringarden
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Objectivity

There is a mob in the backyard,
protesting my nightmare.

They wear t-shirts bearing the image,
of the man who wants me dead.

They chant the same 'Down With Jeff! ' slogan
so forcefully I swear it has a shadow.

What have I done to deserve this?

I pick up a sign and move among them,
like a kind of silence murderers return to.

I join the chant against me,
and for the first time I feel a sense of belonging.

poem by Jeffrey McDaniel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Demagogue

Yawp, yawp, yawp!
Under the moon and sun.
It's aye the rabble,
And I to gabble,
And hey! for the tale that is never done.

'Chant, chant, chant!
To woo the reluctant vote.
I would I were dead
And my say were said
And my song were sung to its ultimate note.

'Stab, stab, stab!
Ah! the weapon between my teeth
I'm sick of the flash of it;
See how the slash of it
Misses the foeman to mangle the sheath!

'Boom, boom, boom!
I'm beating the mammoth drum.
My nethermost tripes
I blow into the pipes
It's oh! for the honors that never come!'

'Twas the dolorous blab
Of a tramping 'scab'
'Twas the eloquent Swift
Of the marvelous gift
The wild, weird, wonderful gift of gab!

poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Le... Poème secret

Voilà de quoi est fait le chant symphonique de l'amour qui bruit dans la conque de Vénus
Il y a le chant de l'amour de jadis
Le bruit des baisers éperdus des amants illustres
Les cris d'amour des mortelles violées par les dieux
Les virilités des héros fabuleux érigées comme des cierges vont et viennent comme une rumeur obscène
Il y a aussi les cris de folie des bacchantes folles d'amour pour avoir mangé l'hippomane sécrété par la vulve des juments en chaleur
Les cris d'amour des félins dans les jongles
La rumeur sourde des sèves montant dans les plantes tropicales
Le fracas des marées
Le tonnerre des artilleries où la forme obscène des canons accomplit le terrible amour des peuples
Les vagues de la mer où naît la vie et la beauté
Et le chant victorieux que les premiers rayons de soleil faisaient chanter à Memnon l'immobile
Il y a le cri des Sabines au moment de l'enlèvement
Le chant nuptial de la Sulamite
Je suis belle mais noire
Et le hurlement précieux de Jason
Quand il trouva la toison
Et le mortel chant du cygne quand son duvet se pressait entre les cuisses bleuâtres de Léda
Il y a le chant de tout l'amour du monde
Il y a entre tes cuisses adorées Madeleine
La rumeur de tout l'amour comme le chant sacré de la mer bruit tout entier dans le coquillage

poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
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The Suspense Of The Carver....

trance.
chant.
focus, the white flowers are blooming
on the rolling sides of the hill,
the trees are lush with leaves
the skies as clear as
air, blue clouds hang
and then keep on moving
along the same direction
with the winds
trance,
chant,
focus,
lotus position, the mind as crown
the heart beats
so faintly,
the ants are waiting
the worms are calling
attention
the grass creeps
as the tomb-keeper
carves a name
on a slab
it has the same letter of your
first name..

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deity Of Deities

DEITY OF DEITIES
VAVROO VAHANA PATRA
Mother Mahamaya Devee Durga
Appears on Earth on Saptamee day Of Autumn
Beauteous is that dawn.
Devotees chant the Mother’s name
delightfully and prostrate at Her feet.
Children play with delight;
Devotees assemble before the altar,
under the Sun God’s cosy light.
The Mother listens to the pleas
of all, and satisfies their desires.
Poets too chant Mother’s name
with devotion and depict her great beauty.
The mother is the Deity of Deities, Supreme.
The Mother’s heart is soft and cosy,
She comes to shower love and affection
on all Devotees seeking her protection.

poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dove

If haply thou, O Desdemona Morn,
Shouldst call along the curving sphere, "Remain,
Dear Night, sweet Moor; nay, leave me not in scorn!"
With soft halloos of heavenly love and pain; --

Shouldst thou, O Spring! a-cower in coverts dark,
'Gainst proud supplanting Summer sing thy plea,
And move the mighty woods through mailed bark
Till mortal heart-break throbbed in every tree; --

Or (grievous `if' that may be `yea' o'er-soon!),
If thou, my Heart, long holden from thy Sweet,
Shouldst knock Death's door with mellow shocks of tune,
Sad inquiry to make -- `When may we meet?'

Nay, if ye three, O Morn! O Spring! O Heart!
Should chant grave unisons of grief and love;
Ye could not mourn with more melodious art
Than daily doth yon dim sequestered dove.

poem by Sidney Lanier
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Ode To Village

⁯ Ode to Village
Whistling voice of the cuckoo bird,
Sacred scene in muddy attire,
Gong chant with its croaky voice,
And Ayangalu beating the bygone drum..
Market women dancing to the ryhme of drum,
Home we go,
With our hoe dangling on our shoulders,
Lark welcoming our breezing air,
Heap celebrating many years of slavery,
Children playing with their morose pant,
Agbegilodo, the tree cutter,
Prying on the naked canopy of ageless trees...⁮

poem by by unknown author
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Raise your heart

Proud as he sheded blood, he raised his heart
Legacy darken from the new generation but he played his part
Black power
Black power
The chant of generations the results of centuries
The Power of the human heart
The Power of compassion
The Power of empathy
Melatonins apart from mirroring gold and silver
Chant his courage; for his land have abandoned true valor
Forget not his image for as children of men, sacrifice builds our hearts.

poem by Bernardo Adantor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Manuka Waka Migration Journey

flax fibre
twist plait
knot

ropes pull waka
rata season scarlet
letter tui bellbird chant

forest call
dawn chorus
awake spirits

melody songs
kauri earth rooted
sky stand poet

chant flies
spindle poet taxes
starvation soul

screaming write
visions boil in own blood cells
eyes boil flay flesh in vision quests