A Prayer
My invocations are sincere and true,
They form my ablutions and prayers due.
One glance of guide such joy and warmth can
grant,
On marge of stream can bloom the tulip plant.
One has no comrade on Love's journey long
Save fervent zeal, and passion great and
strong.
O God, at gates of rich I do not bow,
You are my dwelling place and nesting
bough.
Your Love in my breast burns like Doomsday
morn,
The cry, He is God, on my lips is born.
Your Love, makes me God, fret with pain and
pine,
You are the only quest and aim of mine.
Without You town appears devoid of life,
When present, same town appears astir with
strife.
For wine of gnosis I request and ask,
To get some dregs I break the cup and glass.
The mystics' gourds and commons' pitchers
wait
For liquor of your Grace and Bounty great.
Against Your godhead I have a genuine
plaint,
For You the Spaceless, while for me restraint.
Both verse and wisdom indicate the way
Which longing face to face can not convey.
[Translated by Syed Akbar Ali Shah]
*
The mystic's soul is like the morning breeze:
It freshens and renews life's inner meaning;
An illumined soul can be a shepherd's, who
Could hear the Voice of God at God's
command.
[Translated by Naim Siddiqui]
Not: This poem has been written in the Mosque of Cordoba.
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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Related quotes
oh yes, Mr. Shaun, the Bible was not written in English
The Gospel of Christ and, in general,
the Holy Bible are written with the inspiration of God.
The Prophets and the Apostles
have recorded in written form
a portion of the oral teaching of the Old Testament
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
These are the original languages of the Holy Bible from' which all the translations have been derived. God's inspiration is confined to the original languages and utterances, not the many translations. There are 1,300 languages and dialects into which the Holy Bible, in its entirety or in portions, has been
translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.
This does not mean that the translations do not convey the meaning of the Bible for spiritual uprightness of the readers in their own language. On the contrary the Bible should be spread and preached to 'all nations'. The missionaries in foreign lands learn the language or the dialect of. the new area into which they bring the Bible and other religious teachings. For example, the missionaries from Constantinople, Saints Cyril and Methodios, sent to Christianize the Slavic peoples in the 9th century, first translated the Bible and the ritual books into the language of the people.
yes, Mr. Shaun, my friend the Bible was not written in English.IT was written in HEBREW, ARAMAIC, and GREEK....
But i like it written in English too, how i wish it were written in such a
language,
with a sense of class
and fashionable disguise,
for without it, how could i ever understand, God,
oh, my, God!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The White Witch
O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!
The great white witch rides out to-night,
Trust not your prowess nor your strength;
Your only safety lies in flight;
For in her glance there is a snare,
And in her smile there is a blight.
The great white witch you have not seen?
Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,
Like nursery children you have looked
For ancient hag and snaggled tooth;
But no, not so; the witch appears
In all the glowing charms of youth.
Her lips are like carnations red,
Her face like new-born lilies fair,
Her eyes like ocean waters blue,
She moves with subtle grace and air,
And all about her head there floats
The golden glory of her hair.
But though she always thus appears
In form of youth and mood of mirth,
Unnumbered centuries are hers,
The infant planets saw her birth;
The child of throbbing Life is she,
Twin sister to the greedy earth.
And back behind those smiling lips,
And down within those laughing eyes,
And underneath the soft caress
Of hand and voice and purring sighs,
The shadow of the panther lurks,
The spirit of the vampire lies.
For I have seen the great white witch,
And she has led me to her lair,
And I have kissed her red, red lips
And cruel face so white and fair;
Around me she has twined her arms,
And bound me with her yellow hair.
I felt those red lips burn and sear
My body like a living coal;
Obeyed the power of those eyes
As the needle trembles to the pole;
And did not care although I felt
The strength go ebbing from my soul.
Oh! she has seen your strong young limbs,
And heard your laughter loud and gay,
And in your voices she has caught
The echo of a far-off day,
When man was closer to the earth;
And she has marked you for her prey.
She feels the old Antæan strength
In you, the great dynamic beat
Of primal passions, and she sees
In you the last besieged retreat
Of love relentless, lusty, fierce,
Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet.
O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!
The great white witch rides out to-night.
O, younger brothers mine, beware!
Look not upon her beauty bright;
For in her glance there is a snare,
And in her smile there is a blight.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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When Suddenly You Came Along (Trijan Refrain)
When suddenly you came along
my whole life had changed,
unexpected my love was strong
life was rearranged
and butterflies dart everywhere
while some bees visit here and there
and butterflies
and butterflies
turn my stomach, I am without care.
When suddenly you came along
I did not know your name,
if to somebody you do belong,
but somehow our love came
your face had grace, your eyes did gleam
and your voice was like a stream
your face had grace,
your face had grace,
and you leapt into each dream.
When suddenly you came along
you were most beautiful
and with you I could not be wrong,
as my whole heart was full
of our great love on each new day
and my heart was happy and gay
of our great love,
of our great love
that not a thing could take away.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Without passion
I think and thought
i hoped and wished
i cried and mourned
i yelled and laughed
i screamed in excitement
then i realised it was passion.
Passion is strong
it is intense
it is a great feelin of emotion
love, hate, desire, enthusiasm, fondness, zeal, affection and ardor.
A man without passion is like a man without life.
Yes, i pride in myself, i have life because
i have passion,
i know love
i show affection
i know what it is to be fond of
i can give warmth
i am full of ardor.
Just when i was begining to be exalted by my feelings you came into my life,
i found you in my soul
then i knew what i claimed was passion, was nothing compared to what you gave me.
I came to realise that passion wasn't anything else but a woman.And not just any woman, it was you.
Then i remembered 'a man without passion is a man without life.Without you i'm incomplete, without passion i have no life
Now i can boast of passion of love of life.
Because i have you.
The Light Within
There’s a light that burns within you
that illuminates your soul
They say its always been there
Steady bright and in control
It’s the guiding spirit that drives you
As you live your life each day
Shining a light on the darkest paths
As you walk along the way
It’s the light outside the shadows
A lonely life can cast
But if you look to feel it
The darkness will not last
There’s a light of love within you
That illuminates your face
a gentle warmth that surrounds you
When your heart is in that place
The brightness of the spirit
And all the love you share
Embracing it with a passion
Nurturing it with care
Within the light is life’s meaning
Things close to the heart believed
A summation of your life time
And all things you perceived
Live the life within you
Let the light shine through
Sharing it with others
embraced by love so true
the light that burns within you
the warmth of life’s desire
let it shine on brightly
true keeper of the fire
poem by William Lindenmuth
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A Song For The Journey
A SONG FOR THE JOURNEY
Sometimes you may sing in your heart
or have song running through your head
but there’s always singing’s in your soul
and it’s on this song’s journey you’ll be led.
Towards a distant point, as yet unclear
your singing soul will lead you on
to find that place of understanding
with all your preconceptions gone.
Yet we sometimes meet more questions
Hard, hash decisions we must make
So the Soul song leads you onwards
along the pathway you must take.
The road can be both rough and smooth
its horizon hidden from your view
But the power within the singing
gives you strength to see it through.
With every step upon the road
the soul song keeps its tune and beat
and from its verses courage comes
to face the challenges you meet.
For some the song is understood
they come to recognise the voice
and in the facets of their lives
they use the song to make their choice
Some feel of the sound of singing
but don’t care, or know, where from
The song it doesn’t differentiate
into each soul it still sings on.
If we can listen to the message
and the true meaning in the song
Our footfall becomes much gentler
down the paths we walk along.
It’s the soundtrack of the life we lead
of the choices in life we make
The pragmatic or compassionate
a search for beauty, greed, or hate
Somewhere wthin the soul song
are great sacrifice and pain
and a promise ever present
of eternal peace and life again.
In the silence and the stillness
between all the bustle and the strife
listen carefully and you’ll recognise
the first and last love song of your life.
poem by Bill Mitton
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My untainted Love
my tears cried in your pupil eyes, that would heal the inner
passion of your heart, it is the zeal that makes the wound
dried up in my life a moment to take the true essence of
what is to love you so dearly
a womb of love that woven in the pinnacle of joy, has
reveal the truth that life we share is just a love that it takes
the wisdom of death as the beginning of an endless life
with the one you really love
no other love you can give, but the love you live it now, is the
only love you have to share, in order to live life to the fullness
of joy, the end is just beginning to sprout, that behind that line
of pain happiness is waiting
to give is to die and to die is to live, with the passion of living
the one you love, illuminate who you are to me, life changes
as it goes, and along the way the genuine life is sheltered in
the timeless beats of an endless yes
as every moment knock, and every wings flock, our hearts pack
that life we live and share is only the end of the beginning of
our infinitum of search of who we are in this life.... a journey
that what ever it takes... your always with me
poem by Antonio Liao
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I Washed My Face In The Morning Dew
The first strange town I was ever in the county was hangin' a man
And nobody cared if he lived or he died and I just didn't understand
So I washed my face in the morning dew bathed my soul in the sun
Washed my face in the morning dew and kept on moving along
The second strange town I was in they were laughing at a poor crippled man
Begging for nickels and dimes on the street and I just didn't understand
So I washed my face...
The third strange town that I was in was settled peaceful and nice
The rich got richer and the poor got poorer and to me it didn't seem right
So I washed my face...
Now someday times are bound to change it can't be very far
And each injustice that I have seen will come before the bar
Then I'll wash my face in the morning dew bathe my soul in the sun
Wash my face in the morning dew and my journey will be done
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Individuality
Ah yes, I love you, and with all my heart;
Just as a weaker woman loves her own,
Better than I love my beloved art,
Which, until you came, reigned royally, alone,
My king, my master. Since I saw your face
I have dethroned it, and you hold that place.
I am as weak as other women are –
Your frown can make the whole world like a tomb
Your smile shines brighter than the sun, by far;
Sometimes I think there is not space or room
In all the earth for such a love as mine,
And it soars up to breathe in realms divine.
I know that your desertion or neglect
Could break my heart, as women’s hearts do break;
If my wan days had nothing to expect
From your love’s splendour, all joy would forsake
The chambers of my soul. Yes this is true.
And yet, and yet – one thing I keep from you.
There is a subtle part of me, which went
Into my long pursued and worshipped art;
Though your great love fills me with such content,
No other love finds room now in my heart.
Yet that rare essence was my art’s alone.
Thank God, you cannot grasp it; ‘tis mine own.
Thank God, I say, for while I love you so,
With that vast love, as passionate as tender,
I feel an exultation as I know
I have not made you a complete surrender.
Here is my body; bruise it, if you will,
And break my heart; I have that something still.
You cannot grasp it. Seize the breath of morn,
Or bind the perfume of the rose as well.
God put it in my soul when I was born;
It is not mine to give away, or sell,
Or offer up on any alter shrine.
It was my art’s; and when not art’s, ‘tis mine.
For Love’s sake, I can put the art away,
Or anything which stands ‘twixt me and you,
But that strange essence God bestowed, I say,
To permeate the work He gave to do:
And it cannot be drained, dissolved, or sent
Through any channel, save the one He meant.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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History Of Us
I went all the way to paris to forget your face
Captured in stained glass, young lives long since passed
Statues of lovers every place
I went all across the continent to relieve this restless love
I walked through the ruins, icons of glory
Smashed by the bombs from above
So we must love while these moments are still called today
Take part in the pain of this passion play
Stretching our youth as we must, until we are ashes to dust
Until time makes history of us
Jeu de paumes full of faces knowing peace, knowing strife
Leisure and toil, still its canvas and oil
Theres just no medium for life
In the midst of the rubble I felt a sense of rebirth
In a dusty cathedral the living God called
And I prayed for my life here on earth
So we must love while these moments are still called today
Take part in the pain of this passion play
Stretching our youth as we must, until we are ashes to dust
Until time makes history of us
There are mountains in switzerland, brilliant cold as they stand
From my hotel room, watching the half-moon
Bleeding its light like a lamb
And the town is illumined, its tiny figures are fast asleep
And it dawns on me the time is upon me
To return to the flock I must keep
So we must love while these moments are still called today
Take part in the pain of this passion play
Stretching our youth as we must, until we are ashes to dust
Until time makes history of us
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First Date Tree Saeeded By Abdul Rahman The Firs
You are the apple of my eye,
My heart's delight:
I am remote from my valley,
To me you are the Burning Bush of Sinai!
You are a houri of the Arabian Desert,
Nursed by the Western breeze.
I feel homesick in exile,
You feel homesick in exile:
Prosper in this strange land!
May the morning dew quench your thirst!
The world presents a strange sight:
The vision's mantle is torn apart—
May valour struggle with the waves if it must,
The other side of the river is not to be seen!
Life owes itself to the heat of one's soul:
Flame does not rise from dust.
The Syrian evening's fallen star
Shined brighter in the exile's dawn.
There are no frontiers for the Man of Faith,
He is at home everywhere.
[Translated by the Editors]
*
That blood of pristine vigour is no more;
That yearning heart's power is no more;
Prayer, fasting, hajj, sacrifice survive,
But in thee nature's old dower is no more.
[Translated by Naim Siddiqui]
Not: These verses from Abdul Rahman the First
are quoted in Tarikh al Muqqari. The
following Urdu poem is a liberal
translation (the tree mentioned here was
planted in Madinatut Zahra)
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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Loves
'Sincerity comes with the wine-cup,' my dear:
Then now o'er our wine-cups let us be sincere.
My soul's treasured secret to you I'll impart;
It is this; that I never won fairly your heart.
One half of my life, I am conscious, has flown;
The residue lives on your image alone.
You are kind, and I dream I'm in paradise then;
You are angry, and lo! all is darkness again.
It is right to torment one who loves you? Obey
Your elder; 'twere best; and you'll thank me one day.
Settle down in one nest on one tree (taking care
That no cruel reptile can clamber up there):
As it is with your lovers you're fairly perplexed;
One day you choose one bough, another the next.
Whoe'er at all struck by your graces appears,
Is more to you straight than the comrade of years;
While he's like the friend of a day put aside;
For the breath of your nostrils, I think, is your pride.
Form a friendship, for life, with some likely young lad;
So doing, in honour your name shall be had.
Nor would Love use you hardly; though lightly can he
Bind strong men in chains, and has wrought upon me
Till the steel is as wax-but I'm longing to press
That exquisite mouth with a clinging caress.
No? Reflect that you're older each year than the last;
That we all must grow gray, and the wrinkles come fast.
Reflect, ere you spurn me, that youth at his sides
Wears wings; and once gone, all pursuit he derides:
Nor are men over keen to catch charms as they fly.
Think of this and be gentle, be loving as I:
When your years are maturer, we two shall be then
The pair in the Iliad over again.
But if you consign all my words to the wind
And say, 'Why annoy me? you're not to my mind,'
I-who lately in quest of the Gold Fruit had sped
For your sake, or of Cerberus guard of the dead
Though you called me, would ne'er stir a foot from my door,
For my love and my sorrow thenceforth will be o'er.
poem by Theocritus
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Ecstasy
Cover mine eyes, O my Love!
Mine eyes that are weary of bliss
As of light that is poignant and strong
O silence my lips with a kiss,
My lips that are weary of song!
Shelter my soul, O my love!
My soul is bent low with the pain
And the burden of love, like the grace
Of a flower that is smitten with rain:
O shelter my soul from thy face!
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Bloom
Did flowers bloom when you were born?
Did love learn to hang itself upon your mirrored face?
I remember when
You stood so tall in Heaven
In the hallways and out in the great wide open
But now you live in the shadows
You creep
Did you hear the trumpet call
Or was the pied piper too strong
in your ear?
Did he make you fall?
Did he make you crawl?
And by gutter or alleyway
Did you leave the same as you came?
And did you get to keep God's grace
If you promised…
You did promise
To return,
Didn't you?
God bless you in the morning
God bless you all afternoon
God bless you in the evening
And at night time too
Now it's time to lay you down
you need your sleep
And when you awake, you should pray
Pray to God that it's your soul He takes
I pray to God that He takes your soul
Did flowers bloom when you were born?
Did flowers bloom
In all the workings of their hands
Did they take from you the grace of Heaven
Did they strip that from you too?
In your grand escape
In your one mistake
Wherever you are
Do flowers still bloom by you?
poem by God Diaries
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The Poem I Most Love
THE POEM I MOST LOVE
The poem I most love
Was written to me by my dreams
Long before I was born
It did not know its name
But came from somewhere else deep inside
The beyond of God-
I do not know its name
I can only feel and hear it again and again
When the music of some other time
Some other life I lived once and have lost
Returns to me.
The poem I most love
Is the life which has been
And will never come again
Seeing it and hearing it
I know we human beings are dreams and dreams again always dreams
And never ever to be finally at peace and true
But longing and longing for what we were and not were
What we lived and did not live
What we will never be again
And always are.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Google = A Good Poem = 147, Ooo, Ooo
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
POETRY
God has always had his poets
Who He watches with love from space.
But Satan has his poets too
Who try to lead us from our grace.
King Solomon was a poet
Who spoke of love, life, death and war.
That lips were like threads of scarlet
And that breasts were roses and more.
The wild birds sing and flowers bloom
As clouds form figures in the sky.
But only humans will write poems
That shall last long after they die.
The eldest sister of all arts
Which some have called the Devils wine.
Poetry is but pure passion
To stimulate the heart and mind.
BY GOD'S POET = tom zart!
Wistful Words
O voluptuous lip, do whisper in my ear
What mine heart desires, what I want to hear
Love's soul in music, thy musical soul
To fill mine to overflow it full
With the meaning of love, thou soul's definition
The auger of truth our love in premonition
In those wistful words that lover's speak
I love you, I love you
For in those words thy soul and all souls seek
Life, and what's in life true….
My love, I'll say it too, I love you….
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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And Thus Love
And thus love, your supreme beauty enlighten bright
Over my worn, tattered soul forever gleaming
Like some far star flickering its fire into the night
Along the strikes of desert echoing dunes deep streaming
And I never loved you for your comely grace
Nor for your keen pleasing eyes or your lovely face
Yet any outer features of your rare part
Convey the inner depths of soul and consent heart
I have never loved you for your outer
Since it be foul with years and turn and alter
Your mute symbols of love like a joyful morn
A prelude to your mischievous tricks yet unborn
The joy you have brought to every wandering breeze
In meadows on wall rocks and on the trees
And what enriching beautiful thing is to glance
Back on bloom of love and sweet years
What blur forms of happy hours advance
And fill my soul with thousands cheers
For if beauty may alone be found
In all proportions of its parts around
It may not be perceived by ear
But is beauty that eyes can hear
And yet I stand now at the autumn of my life
I rise like an oak-tree, old torn dry and gray
Whose trunk bare leave less brittle with age jaws failing
And whose dark bough reflect against the mirror bay
The winter wheeling with winds moaning and wailing
(2010)
The Forests Need Beasts...
Desire, wish sincere or
Rush without shore.
Forest need beasts.
Man impressions in passion
If you will perceive the wisdom
In love you will
Get another pleasure
And then you will break in passion
In your mind.
23.04.2005
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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Tremble
(Ode to a True Love Lost)
She kissed me under the lamp post
A kiss so soft that my lips trembled
I felt her being entering my heart
And my soul wrapping itself around her
Wanting to keep for eternity
She looked into my eyes, my body trembled
Life had only one meaning, and it was she
Suddenly I was afraid.
I longed for her to be my destiny
But relationships would have to be sacrificed
And Love cannot be sullied with such things,
And then, she was gone.
We both knew it could never be.
She was the Earth and I was the Moon
Orbiting on the outskirts of her Life,
I was always just a tear away.
The years have past
And still she lies deep within my being.
If there is a God, pray grant this Sinner one last request.
When I take my last breath,
Let my Soul find her again
In a place where time and space have no meaning
And let us be together as one,
And we will welcome eternity together, as one.
poem by Steven Cooke
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