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Sonnet- the Physician’s Greatness

O Physician, thou art really great!
Remarkable is thine intelligence;
Adeptly, thou changeth the illness’ fate;
Extra-perceiving man with common sense!

With naked eyes, thou mak’th right diagnosis;
The masses benefit by thine prowess;
Endowed by God with intuition’s largess,
Thou cans’t yet blindly give the prognosis.

The man with knife believes only when seen;
The man with ’scope, magnifies and believes;
The x-ray man sees patients through eyes keen;
Thou man with Steth, by ear and touch perceives.

Thou art the greatest specialist on earth!
Alas! thine number is seeing its dearth.

dedicated to the API (Association of Physicians of India) by Dr John Celes

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Take Me, O Master, Into Thine Vineyard

0 Master, take me into Thine vineyard;
Thou give me any duty as Thou please;
And when I've finish'd show me Thine backyard;
Enroll me vassal, when free of disease.

0 Master fair, Thou give me a job soon;
Thou may pay me anything in return;
To be Thine servant, humblest is a boon;
For then, I can't ever go to Hell and burn.

0 Master kind, any job will suffice;
My precious time, I've wasted for quite long;
Thou give me food, enough to do work nice;
Thou give me work before ceases Thine song.

How lucky 'tis to be in Thine vineyard!
A servant's lucky more in Thine backyard.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet- Jesus, the Son of God

One Word of Thine can heal my wounded heart;
One look divine can work wonders from start;
One Word of Thine can change water to wine;
One touch of Thine can make a Leper fine.

Authority in Thine word's what we find;
Divinity, none can be than Thy mind;
Psychology of man, Thou know'st so well,
Who can with the Son of God, argue, tell.

What anger great, Thou hast shown in some place!
Thine advice can soothe any angry face;
Thine parables drive home morals so great;
Sin's the thing, not the sinner, Thou did hate.
What love Thou had shown to the poor brethren?
And kindness too to the atheist, heathen.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Man, Thou Must Atone Now

Harass me not, Brother, harass me not;
Thou hast made blunder again, once again;
To have redressed my grievances, Thou ought,
Alas! Thou caused my heart to break with pain.

May be, Thou couldst create my file thine way;
Each person's file is maintained by One Boss;
None can prevent Truth's final Win some day;
Thine paper-work will soon be proved as farce.

Please rectify thine past mistakes somehow,
Lest God's punishment should descend on Thee;
Atone thine sin in action now and Now;
Man's cleverness can fai1 him miserably.

Why pick on me when I had done no wrong?
Canst Thou pay damages for suff 'rings long?

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet- Woman

Woman, thou art no goddess but human!
A creature of God thro’ Adam and Eve;
With flesh and blood like any other man;
In love and destiny, thou should believe.

Thou art no object of Love and passion;
Like man thou must too feel the hunger pangs;
Thou must seduce the man by tradition;
Let not thine teeth turn into poison-fangs!

Woman, love-making's not thine profession;
Labour, thou must to deliver children;
Life is not fun, mere frolic and fashion;
Let not the Serpent veer thee from Heaven.
Woman, thy role on earth is so divine;
Thou must not be the vice for men like wine.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Though Pot I am, I am Thine Pot!

Potter, Potter, making clay-pot!
Did you make me misshap’n somewhat?
Was it perhaps done on purpose?
Should I blame myself for my cross?

Perhaps, I was untimely born,
Or made in haste, Thine shop adorn!
May be Thine mood was not that good,
When Thou made me out of mere clod!

Perhaps, the mix was rather wrong,
Or else Thou sang a sadder song!
Perhaps, water salty was used;
And so I crack’d a bit when baked!

May be, I wasn’t well baked at all;
Or baked too much: suff’red a fall!
Perhaps, the hearth was not quite hot;
Perhaps, it was my own dear fault.

How do I serve Thee still? I muse;
Though handicapped, could Thou me use?
Could Thou recast my misshap’n form,
So that I can most well perform?

Could thou alter my bizarre look,
Before people think I’m a spook?
Or will I be trampled by men,
Even before I say, ‘Amen! ’

Whatev’r my fate turns out to be,
Let me serve Thee most happily!
May be, I can’t be thine pot sought;
Though pot I am, I am Thine pot!
Though pot I am, I am Thine pot!

poem by John Celes
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Sonnet 11: As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st

As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest,
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st,
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.
Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;
Without this folly, age, and cold decay,
If all were minded so, the times should cease,
And threescore year would make the world away.
Let those whom Nature hath not made for store,
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish;
Look whom she best endowed, she gave the more,
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.
She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby,
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

poem by William Shakespeare
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The Fledgling

So, art thou feahered, art thou flown,
Thou naked thing?—and canst alone
Upon the unsolid summer air
Sustain thyself, and prosper there?
Shall no more with anxious note
Advise thee through the happy day,
Thrusting the worm into thy throat,
Bearing thine excrement away?
Alas, I think I see thee yet,
Perched on the windy parapet,
Defer thy flight a moment still
To clean thy wing with careful bill.
And thou are feathered, thou art flown;
And hast a project of thine own.

poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Sonnet: Woman

Woman, thy beauty lies not in thine shape,
Nor in the color of thy skin but heart!
If only thou practiced a tongue-tied art,
And modesty with neck with a high drape!

Woman, vie not another feminine,
For jealousy is inborn in thine eyes;
Be not wayward or play the game of dice,
For thou inebriate more than old wine.

Be honest and obey thine husband’s word;
He needs thee in mind/ body and spirit;
Thy patience and love supreme are unheard;
Let not your mind contract a bad habit.

O woman of virtues, thou art the best;
Be thou firm even if death be your test!

poem by John Celes
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A Peculiar Ideal

What thou thinkest, belongs to all; what thou feelest, is thine only.
Wouldst thou make him thine own, feel thou the God whom thou thinkest!

poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Sonnet: A Poet’s Greatness

Most lucky, thou art, O Bard and winged Muse!
After thy death, thy soul remains on earth;
Thy God-giv’n gift- how well thou put to use!
And through thy passionate poems gave mirth.

Maybe, thy stay short wasn’t comfortable,
And thy heart got plunged in sadness so oft;
Maybe, thou had to live in a stable!
In God’s heart, thou shall have a corner soft.

What truths thou writ in poems beauteous!
What good advice thou rendered to live life!
How well thou showed men ought to be righteous!
How soothing balm, thou bestowed men in strife!

O great soul, thine place in Heaven’s assured,
O fisherman of souls, thy rest tho’ measured.

poem by John Celes
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Thou Swell

Thou swell, thou witty, thou sweet, thou grand
Wouldst kiss me pretty? wouldst hold my hand?
Both thine eyes are cute too, what they do to me
Hear me holler, I choose a sweet lollapaloosa in thee
Id feel so rich in a hut for two
Two rooms and kitchen Im sure would do
Give me just a plot of, not a lot of land
And thou swell, thou witty, thou grand

song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thou Swell

Thou swell, thou witty, thou sweet, thou grand
Wouldst kiss me pretty? Wouldst hold my hand?
Both thine eyes are cute too, what they do to me
Hear me holler, I choose a sweet lollapaloosa in thee
I'd feel so rich in a hut for two
Two rooms and kitchen I'm sure would do
Give me just a plot of, not a lot of land
And thou swell, thou witty, thou grand

song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wouldest Thou!

THY SERVANTS CLAIM THAT ALL POWERS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH BELONGS TO YOU!
THY SCRIPTURES HAS IT WRITTEN! AND I QUOTE!
GO YE TO MY SERVANT JOB! DESTROY ALL HE HAS, BUT TOUCH NOT HIS LIFE!
THY SERVANTS SAY THIS TO ME!
IN EVERYTHING, GIVE THANKS UNTO GOD!
WOULDEST THOU GIVE THANKS UNTO ME IF I WERE GOD AND YOU WERE ME?
WOULDEST THOU WORSHIP ME IF I HAD DONE ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME BY THE DOINGS OF THINE SERVANTS?
THY SCRIPTURES HAST PROVEN THAT THE DOINGS OF THE DEVIL BE BY THY BIDDENS!
HOW THEN CAN THOU AND THINE HOUSEHOLD BE CALLED THE GOOD?
HOW THEN CANST THOU AND THINE HOUSEHOLD BE INNOCENT?
FOR ALL EVIL BY ALL POWERS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH BE OF THEE!
FOR ALL POWERS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH BELONGS TO YOU! THEY CLAIM!
WOULDEST THOU RESPECT ME IF I DID UNTO YOU BY THE HANDS OF MINE SERVANTS ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME BY THE HANDS OF THINE SERVANTS?
WOULDEST THOU?

poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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The Disciple

Thou wilt my hands employ, though others find
No work for those who praise thy name aright;
And in their worldly wisdom call them blind,
Whom thou has blest with thine own spirit's sight.
But while they find no work for thee to do,
And blindly on themselves alone rely;
The child must suffer what thou sufferest too
And learn from him thou sent e'en so to die;
Thou art my Father, thou wilt give me aid
To bear the wrong the Spirit suffers here;
Thou hast thy help upon the mighty laid,
In him I trust, nor know to want or fear,
But ever onward walk secure from sin,
For he has conquered every foe within.

poem by Jones Very
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Sonnet: On Calumny

Be thou a saint and yet the world won't spare;
Be thou most chaste and yet, most tongues will talk;
Be thou a crook and yet people don't care;
Be thou a tiger yet, some men will stalk.

Be thou cruel and yet the world will praise;
Be thou too kind and yet the world will taunt;
Be thou rigid and yet the world can't face;
Be thou timid and yet the world will haunt;

Be thou selfish and yet the world loves thee;
Be thou selfless and yet the world thee hates;
Be thou goodly and yet you are not free;
Be thou evil and yet the world thee mates.

Be thou yourself and yet the world finds fault;
Be thou anything, yet the world will vault.

poem by John Celes
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The Tiger- past predator: present prey!

Tiger, Tiger, poached for hide!

By Man’s bullets many died;

Bones and claws of thine are dried;

Poachers have thee crucified.

Past predator, now a prey!

Recklessly killed every day;

Thy extinction is so nigh;

Mortality of thine’s high.

Lord of Jungle, O Tiger!

Hast thou become much tamer?

Thy reserves have dwindled fast;

Wilt thou soon be thing of past?

Oh, what sinews, what muscles!

Victor of fiercest tussles;

Thou with agility stalk;

Despite weight, thou canst cat-walk!

No beast dare challenge thy might;

Thine eyes glimmer green at night;

Thou live in forests so dense;

Mighty beast- ’tis no pretence.

Frightens thy roar every beast;

Stalk thou grassland’s beasts for feast;

What strength fills thy graceful frame!

Jungle Lord, wherefrom thou came?

poem by John Celes
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Witchcraft by a Picture

I FIX mine eye on thine, and there
Pity my picture burning in thine eye;
My picture drown'd in a transparent tear,
When I look lower I espy;
Hadst thou the wicked skill
By pictures made and marr'd, to kill,
How many ways mightst thou perform thy will?

But now I've drunk thy sweet salt tears,
And though thou pour more, I'll depart;
My picture vanished, vanish all fears
That I can be endamaged by that art;
Though thou retain of me
One picture more, yet that will be,
Being in thine own heart, from all malice free.

poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Devi Durga

Thou art the oneness of the infinite
Set apart open in splits of every finite
Thou art the prime matter of the cosmos
Goddess of the gods in multiplex forms

Thou art the fluorescnce of the cosmos
Candent to be livid to undo chasing darkness
Thou art the slayer of Madhu and Kaitabha
And Sumba and Nisumba and Mahisha

Thou art the multi-handed guard
Weaponed for evil to retard
Thou art the valour and hope
For Thou merciful support we scope

Thou art Devi Durga incomprehensible
Destroyer of miseries unbeatable
Thou art Durgama invincible
Saver-sailor of samsara unchallengeable

Thou art the harmonious scarp
Thou shouldst sing us in Thine harp
String along with our summation
Unto Thee we so wish in submission

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Sonnet 142: Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving,
O, but with mine, compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving,
Or if it do, not from those lips of thine
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments
And sealed false bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robbed others' beds' revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful I love thee as thou lov'st those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee.
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.
If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
By self-example mayst thou be denied!

poem by William Shakespeare
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Blessed Be Thy Name Forever

Blessed be thy name for ever,
Thou of life the guard and giver!
Thou canst guard thy creatures sleeping,
Heal the heart long broke with weeping.

Thou who slumbered not, nor sleepest!
Blest are they Thou kindly keepest:
Thine the flaming sphere of light!
Thine the darkness of the night!

Thine the morning and the even,
God of angels, God of heaven!
God of life that fadeth never!
Glory to thy name for ever!

poem by James Hogg
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