Sunday Morning - VI
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 the 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.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sunday Morning
1
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.
2
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.
3
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.
4
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.
5
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.
6
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.
7
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.
8
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
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What is Death to you?
Those who see death
know the Horror of its sight
Those who meet death
tend to fall upon mystical places
Those who seek death
hear the wailing of black laughter
Those who beat death
see diffrently how things had just been
What is Death to you?
poem by Sammy S. Quence
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What is Death to you?
Those who see death
know the Horror of its sight
Those who meet death
tend to fall upon mystical places
Those who seek death
hear the wailing of black laughter
Those who beat death
see diffrently how things had just been
What is Death to you?
poem by Sammy S. Quence
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All The Rivers
'All the rivers run into the sea.'
Like the pulsing of a river,
The motion of a song,
Wind the olden words along
The tortuous turnings of my thoughts whenever
I sit beside the sea.
'All the rivers run into the sea.'
O you little leaping river,
Laugh on beneath your breath!
With a heart as deep as death,
Strong stream, go patient, grave, and hasting never,-
I sit beside the sea.
'All the rivers run into the sea.'
Why the passion of a river?
The striving of a soul?
Calm the eternal waters roll
Upon the eternal shore. At last, whatever
Seeks it-finds the sea.
'All the rivers run into the sea.'
O thou bounding, burning river,
Hurrying heart! I seem
To know (so one knows in a dream)
That in the waiting heart of God forever,
Thou too shalt find the sea.
poem by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward
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When Rivers Begin To Recede..
Rivers recede often in search of their spots of origin
And the mighty oceans begin to recall their past!
Rivers never get back to them.
A river whispers something into the ears of the paternal mountain
Her travelogue is it perhaps.
She falls silent then.
In the depths of the seas a sigh is heard
And it reaches the ears of none.
No river begins to flow again!
The pearls of the seas are shattered across the shores
And the carcasses of little Mermaids afloat the shallow waves.
At the tops of the peaks one hears the shouts of joy.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Fresh Endeavour
So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.
I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Chinese New Year
as we welcome the
Water Dragon
enter our rivers and seas
let us not fail to
see
the woods growing alongside
the banks and
shores
slowly growing new leaves
promising us
full harvests of better
fruits next year
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pluck A Plum Where There Is No Tree
PLUCK A PLUM WHERE THERE IS NO TREE
God who freed
from fruit the seed
can pick a pear
from a baby tree.
God who sired
the hallowed fig
does harvest fruit
from a barren sprig.
God made blooms pastel
and bright fruits
and can a kumquat take
from a tree of quince.
Who made Pluto and
the Pleiades
can pluck a plum
where there is no tree.
================================ =====
(to Senator George Mitchell
.. tireless worker for peace
in America and Europe)
The Sanskrit word for the Wish
Fulfilling Tree is Asritakalpalateeka.
It is spoken of in Revelation.. the
tree with 12 kinds of fruit.)
poem by Saiom Shriver
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A poem
I cradle the travelers in their windy Birth,
My name is Mother....Mother Earth.
I Give them a bed in nature to lie,
When they hear that sweet lullaby.
I wash them in my rivers and streams.
Thier furtive flight is a product of dreams.
When the dream ends and they always come clean.
They thank me with colors and odors of fall,
And remind me to give Old Man Winter a call.
What am I?
The leaves inspired by,
The one who says,
'Semper Fi '
I AM' Mother Earth- 'I AM' Love
' i am' mother earth and you see my beauty every day.
from above you see my majestic mountains
which is my face.
you climb my face and see every crack and crevice
of the beauty that i hold.
the rivers and the oceans is the blood
coursing thru my veins, giving my sweet nectar
of life that i have.
the ground is my body which i give to you
to nourish you, and give you my fruits of life.
I AM MOTHER EARTH-I CAN NOT BE DENIED.
'i am' LOVE.
and i like mother earth will caress and climb your beautiful mountain, and kiss every crevice and crack.
'i am' LOVE.
and i will course thru every vein, touching
everything in my path, and nourishing every
part of your body, as the rivers and oceans
touch the land.
'i am' LOVE.
as the ground is to mother earth
and gives fruit and life to this planet.
so will my love, savor all the fruit and
nectars that you have to offer.
AS MOTHER EARTH AND LOVE.
i live, so that you may survive
and you survive, so that i may live.
and this is all that i have to give.
MOTHER NATURE AND LOVE GO HAND IN HAND
AND DESTRUCTION THEY WILL NOT STAND.
'i am LOVE. i will not be denied.
poem by Louis Rams
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Raffles of Life
death fear and tremble every heart, a final
destination of every soul, of no where to
believe that death is not an exemption of
life but life after this life, it’s the end of
every beginning, nor the fate to
accept that it’s the final
happiness that man
has long waited for
in life
you don’t need to live because you want to die,
though, you have to die in order to live, the
meaning catches many stream in the
river and sea, every thing will be
happy, you may not find but you
may seek it, for in the end the
paradise is waiting
even the clouds have something to say
the night has been envying the day
the stones rushing the shore
to be seen, for in every
birds, there is feather
that flees
so why all have got there shared to be
raffle in life, the air breath has but
nothing to see, though the eyes
close vividly can feel, the
beauty of death, the
Prophets and
Messenger
always
shout
for
thee
as life comes and it may go, the raffles. seems
so easy when you’re Free.......
poem by Antonio Liao
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LIFE and DEATH
You would know the secret of death;
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in life?
The owl whose night eyes are blind to daylight,
Cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you yearn to see the spirit of death,
Open your heart wide to the wonder of life.
For life and death are one, even as a river and sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent,
Knowledge of the great beyond;
And like seeds dreaming ‘neath the snow,
Your heart dreams of spring.
Trust your dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling subject,
Waiting to be honored by his king.
Is the subject not joyful beneath his trembling?
That he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked,
In the wind and melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing,
But to free the breath from restless tides,
That it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you sing?
And when you have reached the mountain top,
Then you shall begin to climb!
And when the earth claims your limbs,
Then shall you truly dance.
(Inspired by Kahlil Gibran)
ROTMS
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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A Death Of A Women
a death of a women is a lost for us
a lost of a great personality
a lost of some one special
a lost of a mother n a loving sister
a lost of a great wealth
a death of a women is full of cries
a death of a protected shield
a death of a key of paradise
a death of a trainer;
a taker carer
a death of a women,
is a death of our heaven
a death of a cheering smile
a death of a emotions n wishes
a death of a world!
poem by Angels beauty
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Will death spare thee?
Will death spare thee? Whose life doth bless
Beauty perfected by love's tender stroke
Enthralled in a frame for my eye to caress
Dressed in raiment elegant as baroque
Grandiose in light colors of black, of red
Thou infest mine heart and communicate emotion
An internal beauty, which can never be said
Speaks in awe and humbles by veneration
Refusing to quench death's blood thirst
Thy remain flawless, beyond the limit of time
In a paradise of beauty, wert beauty is nursed
To there mine soul elevates, transcends and doth chime
With the angels unseen and wert earth is abound
In heaven's symphony, in heaven's sound
Wert art live in paradise found…….
Will death spare thee?
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Beauty Lies On The Shore Of Disgust.
Beauty,
Thunder is beauty
The lightning is beauty,
More than I can imagine
Beauty has rest
It resides along the shores of disgust
Love is beauty
Enough, it will one day bring back
What is lost at shore.
Curse thy beauty
For it is more grand than thou
I crave for a sound of the beauty I can hear
I will never understand
I still wish
To contemplate what beauty would once contemplate
To see it alive, breathing
Breeding, spreading
This of it was once rare as it exceeds
Living amongst this life
A world full of un-needingness
Please as I pleade for a life
I wish to breathe
Amongst the feeling of beauty
The rare of it’s occasion
Hanging on a wall
Jumping from a floor
Dancing in the light
I wish that beauty would live
Beauty can not be one in the deceased
Mearly waiting and suspended along
Shores of that which is disgust.
poem by Liam McColl
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Mother Earth And Sons
the child insistent
shakes the tree and so
the fruits fall on the ground
some not ripe though
and he does not
eat it
what a waste
but mother never says
a word
the child grows
spoiled as mother is
tolerant
the man remains a
child and mothers get old
he shakes the world
mother earth now
as silent as mothers are
the earth shakes
and all the children are buried
under the cracks
the fire within
like hell burns
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Epilogue
Carol, every violet has
Heaven for a looking-glass!
Every little valley lies
Under many-clouded skies;
Every little cottage stands
Girt about with boundless lands.
Every little glimmering pond
Claims the mighty shores beyond—
Shores no seamen ever hailed,
Seas no ship has ever sailed.
All the shores when day is done
Fade into the setting sun,
So the story tries to teach
More than can be told in speech.
Beauty is a fading flower,
Truth is but a wizard's tower,
Where a solemn death-bell tolls,
And a forest round it rolls.
We have come by curious ways
To the light that holds the days;
We have sought in haunts of fear
For that all-enfolding sphere:
And lo! it was not far, but near.
We have found, O foolish-fond,
The shore that has no shore beyond.
Deep in every heart it lies
With its untranscended skies;
For what heaven should bend above
Hearts that own the heaven of love?
Carol, Carol, we have come
Back to heaven, back to home.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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The ripe pear
Quartering this ripe pear
- a knife-and-fork job; it gave little away
except a slight softness around the stalk,
yet seems to contain more juice than
any work of man could hold -
quartering this ripe pear,
I'm caught up in wonder:
this is almost too good for human beings -
it should have a religion built around its praise;
as if it wishes to tell us something
that we might have overlooked
about such mouth-worn phrases as
Nature's bounty and God's grace..
or as if, two thousand years ago,
it had leaned, heavy on its branch,
from the wall of Plato's leafy Academy,
saw him writing of ideals,
and smiled;
and now I've written that,
I can eat this pear,
tasting it and what I've written;
this pear, I swear,
now tastes even better;
as if I had submitted
on some altar, to be consumed by praise;
praise that tastes of pear; pear that tastes of praise.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Run Away From Life
(peter tork)
Peter tork music (bmi)
Lead vocal: davy jones
Lets run away from life together
Let me run away from life with you
Lets run away from life together
Leave behind the stormy weather
Lets find out what fantasy can do
Where well go to they cant touch us
Life is perfect nothing more to do
Nothing more than well be needin
Life is paradise in eden
Eatin grapes and makin love with you
Rest unchanging, no more fights
We wont ever even disagree
Lets go off into the heavens
In eternal happiness for free
Nothings wrong, no strings attached
No reason to get crazy, never blue
Nothin from your noisy neighbor,
Nothins new, no trial, no labor
Cross the river jordan, hallelue
Rest unchanging, no more fights
We wont ever even disagree
Lets go off into the heavens
In eternal happiness for free
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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