Sonnet: All Earthly Things Shall Pass
Build, we may, Skyscrapers still incredible;
Make, we may, monuments, superb, splendid;
Write, we may, manuscripts, more indelible;
Sculpt, we may, statues more, less insipid.
Found, we may empires, umptine, vast, great;
Tell, we may stories that all love to hear;
Reign, we may like Kings unsurpassed, till date;
Do we may great things, unheard by man’s ear.
The glory of our earthly gains shall pass;
The splendor of man’s achievements last short;
The mightiest of earthlings dies, Alas!
Man's grandeur some day surely shall abort.
Man's art may live for longer time than life;
But continues mankind thus, despite strife!
poem by John Celes
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Related quotes
Who Is Truly Great?
Great is one who humbles oneself;
Great is one who accomplishes without expectations;
Great is one who labors for others’ welfare;
Great is one who struggles for a noble cause;
Great is one who gives his life for his Maker’s sake;
Great is one who sacrifices his precious life for truth’s sake;
Great is one who takes the road least taken;
Great is one who climbs life’s steep hills;
Great is one who treads dangerous paths for mankind’s progress;
Great is one who risks his life unduly to save others’ lives;
Great is one who although born or made handicapped does extra-ordinary feats;
Great is one who scales heights of achievements rarely done by others;
Great is one who toils in sleep-hours too for mankind’s upliftment;
Great is one who racks his brain to find a cure for a crippling disease;
Great is one who shuns selfishness for the cause of his poorer brethren;
Great is one who dies so that others can live in peace;
Great is one who lives not for oneself but others;
Great is one who loves and forgives his worst foe;
Great is one who leads life in accordance with the Word of God!
(4-13-2007)
poem by John Celes
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Stories
Through every window, we look out
what we see on the other side
holds many stories waiting to unfold.
Stories of great achievements
within someone’s life.
Stories of gathering love
found with in open arms.
Stories of perusing heartaches
where someone has gone away.
Stories a million fold
that surround every living thing.
Stories we are not aware of,
but happen before our eyes.
Stories to share with all
from those who can see them unfold.
The next time you look out a window
try and see what is really there,
the stories that are everywhere.
26 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Anniversary
ALL kings, and all their favourites,
All glory of honours, beauties, wits,
The sun it self, which makes time, as they pass,
Is elder by a year now than it was
When thou and I first one another saw.
All other things to their destruction draw,
Only our love hath no decay;
This no to-morrow hath, nor yesterday;
Running it never runs from us away,
But truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day.
Two graves must hide thine and my corse;
If one might, death were no divorce.
Alas ! as well as other princes, we
—Who prince enough in one another be—
Must leave at last in death these eyes and ears,
Oft fed with true oaths, and with sweet salt tears;
But souls where nothing dwells but love
—All other thoughts being inmates—then shall prove
This or a love increasèd there above,
When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves remove.
And then we shall be throughly blest;
But now no more than all the rest.
Here upon earth we're kings, and none but we
Can be such kings, nor of such subjects be.
Who is so safe as we? where none can do
Treason to us, except one of us two.
True and false fears let us refrain,
Let us love nobly, and live, and add again
Years and years unto years, till we attain
To write threescore; this is the second of our reign.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Babe in the Womb
This is my home;
This is my own;
I am alone;
No one’s welcome!
It is all free
For ten months’ time;
My sweet home prime,
Where I must be!
On watery bed,
I sleep for hours;
And time does pass,
And I’m not dead!
I have no shocks;
I roll about;
I do not shout;
I get no knocks!
A home, my size;
I grow, it grows;
God is my Boss;
Things are so nice.
With door just shut,
None come inside;
With God beside,
My splendid hut!
And this is where
I must stay on,
Until I’m born,
And need some air!
All is silent;
There is no light;
Things are quite bright;
I pay no rent!
God talks to me;
Calls me by name;
Reminds my aim;
To me sweetly.
I need no food;
The Lord feeds me
A meal bloody;
And things look good.
My mother calls;
I hear her not;
To sleep, I’ve got;
There are no falls!
I am all nude;
A satin-sheet,
Covers me neat,
To keep my mood!
My eyes are closed;
I cannot see
With clarity;
But I am poised;
God loves me much;
He watches me
So tenderly,
With magic touch.
I dream of days,
Of life on earth,
After my birth,
If born, in case!
I want to see
The world God made;
I wish to wade
In earthly sea!
I wish to feel
The sun’s great heat,
And place my feet
Like gliding eel.
All seems so well;
Will I be born?
Will I be torn
Apart, like hell?
I have a life
Like everyone;
I want some fun,
Despite some strife!
I hear of laws
Preventing birth,
On recent earth,
Where man is boss!
Could they kill me?
I am afraid;
I am God-made
To live freely!
Don’t make the womb,
A slaughter-house;
I bear no grouse;
Don’t build my tomb!
Have mercy, God!
I wanna live;
My love, I’ll give;
Spare me from rod.
Have pity, mum!
Don’t you love me?
I love to see
You, dad at home!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-25-2009
poem by John Celes
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Life is Too Precious to Lose
Our life on earth is most precious –
A gift of God to all earthlings;
A token of God’s love for us –
And man must live akin to kings!
The life-giver alone has right
To take away the life from us;
Will anyone with good eye-sight
Destroy it on some lame excuse?
The God of life, the living God
Loves each of us with love equal;
He’s kind and gives a just, fair rod,
And made hell for hearts of evil.
While doctors try to save man’s life,
Some try to take away one’s own,
On flimsy reasons with a knife/
By ingesting drugs called poisons.
Some try to hang oneself to death;
They feel that life has turned worthless;
They find, ‘all is not well on earth, ’
And try to end their life priceless!
What foolish act is suicide
Or attempting to take one’s life!
In haste most try to thus decide –
’Midst youngsters, this is turning rife!
And ragging is a cause sometimes
A fresher uses to end life;
And loneliness, old-age at times,
Excess suffering and undue strife!
Whatever be the cause behind,
The act is done in hurried way;
Some plan it very well in mind,
And even choose the hour and day!
To cut the thread of earthly life –
Just fools and weak-willed persons do;
Some cannot face penury, strife,
Life’s challenges, just trifles too!
And some escape from their rash act,
And thank the stars for sparing life;
And vow never to fast react
Again in life, despite much strife.
No doubt, our earthly life has woes;
And some may not manage their grief;
To some, life’s song too sadly goes;
Some end their life for pain’s relief!
Some try to immolate and die;
Some live disfigured, looking weird;
Some escape although death was nigh,
And live by Bible’s every word!
’Tis sad to hear of one’s demise;
The family is shattered fast;
Suicide is a thing unwise,
That puts someone into the past!
The Creator can’t bear to see
Life gone away prematurely;
Even the stars might cry freely
When man attempts to die early!
Our earthly life is quite worthy,
Despite all strife that comes, may be;
The caring God will help surely
To live, a wholesome life truly!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 02-17-2009
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet- A Hymn To God
0 God, forgive my youthful blunders made;
Forgive my sins of yesteryears till date;
0 let my vanity of sins past fade;
Thy Wisdom and Thy grace improve my fate.
How weary is my mind and body now?
My soul impure too craves to turn holy;
How splendid and immense has been thine love?
Thou bore for man upon a cruciate tree.
Allow my string of life to become strong,
And give me time to undo all my wrong;
Upon thy heart to rest, how much I long?
0 hear 0 God, at least my plaintive song.
How can I let my earthly life to pass,
And miss Heaven awaiting me, Alas?
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Art is Longer than Life
Much longer stays Art than an Artist’s life,
Whose earthly work is almost eternal!
His sculptures/ monuments though raised ’midst strife,
Can make any mortal, quite immortal.
The year’s consumed in the wake of an art,
His indomitable spirit and patience,
Can him enormous wealth on earth impart,
Or reward him with glory that is dense.
Each stone erected crumbles to powder;
Every painting can’t withstand time’s weather;
Inscriptions may be forgotten, brother;
But Art will live on and on much longer!
Oh, what hands made an Artist’s hands and brain!
He’s the Master Artist who brings the Rain.
poem by John Celes
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What do we do?
Oh, should I take such risks or play it safe?
I wonder whether things are worth their risk!
There is both love and murder in a cafe;
Even the Chief-guest, you may need to frisk!
Alas! nothing is guaranteed these days;
There is much wealth in rubbish/garbage too;
To become wealthy, people devise ways;
Conscientious duty, most men fail to do.
Nevertheless, people go for short-cuts;
Most men are impatient in things they do;
There are skyscrapers, in the midst of huts!
Life's problems come to rich and poor men too.
A balanced mind is what we need these days;
To keep soul pure, we don't have umptine ways.
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: What Do We Do?
Oh, should I take such risks or play it safe?
I wonder whether things are worth their risk!
There is both love and murder in a cafe;
Even the Chief-guest, you may need to frisk!
Alas! nothing is guaranteed these days;
There is much wealth in rubbish/garbage too;
To become wealthy, people devise ways;
Conscientious duty, most men fail to do.
Nevertheless, people go for short-cuts;
Most men are impatient in things they do;
There are skyscrapers, in the midst of huts!
Life's problems come to rich and poor men too.
A balanced mind is what we need these days;
To keep soul pure, we don't have umptine ways.
poem by John Celes
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Write A Poem And Immortalize Yourself
Write a poem and they'll
Read your masterpiece for
The next five hundred years!
Write a fabulous poem and they'll
Know who you are!
Write a great majestic superlicious
Poem and immortalize yourself!
Kings and presidents live and they
Die to be the footnotes of History!
But if you write a superb poem
They'll call you the immortal
Beloved of your generation!
Write the poem of the century
And you will speak in proverbs
With the gods!
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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The Largest Life
I
I lie upon my bed and hear and see.
The moon is rising through the glistening trees;
And momently a great and sombre breeze,
With a vast voice returning fitfully,
Comes like a deep-toned grief, and stirs in me,
Somehow, by some inexplicable art,
A sense of my soul's strangeness, and its part
In the dark march of human destiny.
What am I, then, and what are they that pass
Yonder, and love and laugh, and mourn and weep?
What shall they know of me, or I, alas!
Of them? Little. At times, as if from sleep,
We waken to this yearning passionate mood,
And tremble at our spiritual solitude.
II
Nay, never once to feel we are alone,
While the great human heart around us lies:
To make the smile on other lips our own,
To live upon the light in others' eyes:
To breathe without a doubt the limped air
Of that most perfect love that knows no pain:
To say–I love you–only, and not care
Whether the love come back to us again:
Divinest self-forgetfulness, at first
A task, and then a tonic, then a need;
To greet with open hands the best and worst,
And only for another's wound to bleed:
This is to see the beauty that God meant,
Wrapped round with life, ineffably content.
III
There is a beauty at the goal of life,
A beauty growing since the world began,
Through every age and race, through lapse and strife
Till the great human soul complete her span.
Beneath the waves of storm that lash and burn,
The currents of blind passion that appall,
To listen and keep watch till we discern
The tide of sovereign truth that guides it all;
So to address our spirits to the height,
And so attune them to the valiant whole,
That the great light be clearer for our light,
And the great soul the stronger for our soul:
To have done this is to have lived, though fame
Remember us with no familiar name.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Thanksgiving On my Birthday
O thank you mum, for giving birth to me,
Unlike the mothers who abort their babes;
The love and care you showed for me was fine;
You toiled so much to make the man, I am!
O thank you dad for rearing me so well,
Unlike the fathers who neglect their young;
The exemplary life you lived on earth
Made you my role-model unmatched till date!
O thank you sisters, brother - all of you,
For sharing in my joys and woes on earth;
Despite some strife, we spent a joyful time,
Experiencing life every moment!
O thank you teachers, neighbours, friends and foes;
You taught me things in life of value great;
And without you, life could have been a bore;
I thank you Mother Nature, my teacher!
O thank you dear, my wife beloved one;
And thank you children for your obedience;
You made our home a pretty one indeed;
God bless and keep you healthy, wealthy, wise!
O thank you God for blessings and your grace;
Your boundless love revealed I am special;
O help me do my duty to my race,
And earn my place in heaven in great style!
O thank you Almighty for my birthday,
That falls on Valentine's Day - lovely day!
And let me pen poems on love for all
Who want to lead a virtuous life, God's way!
'Happy Valentine's Day! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 14-02-12
poem by John Celes
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End Of All Things
Every city has its history.
History of great wars!
History of great works!
What makes a civilization great
Are the noble thoughts of noble men.
Savages are killed
And the empires built!
Draping of huge towers and artistic halls
Decorate the ageing
Frame of the ever-growing city.
Ballads are sung
For great many victories and achievements
Of great many kings!
But no one cares
To sing an Elegy
Of love lost
In the busy alleys
Of the towering cities!
Today,
Things worth nothing are everything.
People known since ages are now unknown.
Thoughts like parasites
Thrive on the dying emotions of heart.
Churches are libraries of knowledge.
And Bible just a fiction.
Man has ceased to live.
Only thing that he does is ‘EXISTS.’
His creations are the prophecies of his fall!
Civilization is built
On the debris of Barbarism.
It grows.
It develops.
And it culminates
To nothing but debris.
Because the highest peak
Of every civilization is Barbarism!
End of all things!
poem by Aditya Chandrasen Salvi
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Ballad: Pope Benedict XVI in US,2008
The Apostle of peace had come:
Pope Benedict by name;
To US, where he was welcome,
With missionary aim.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
In doldrums lies, world of today;
Man’s faith in God is weak;
Most think that science has final say;
So, God, most men don’t seek.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
The family in danger lies;
Now love does not prevail;
As virtues are replaced by vice;
And freedom blows like gale.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
The quest for God is dying fast;
Rely men in own toil;
‘The mole is mound’- all sins of past!
Man’s soul is on the spoil.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
With fervent prayers, send your pleas,
To God who is above;
The caring God will surely ease
Your problems, with great love.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Encounter living God in life;
Blessings will follow then;
God cares for you in any strife;
Keep eyes upon Heaven.
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Though holy is matrimony,
And sacrosanct is sex,
Man sins for sake of more money,
In ways that all can vex!
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Like love of God that radiates,
Let man’s heart do like-wise;
Let’s take the narrow road to Gates
Of Heaven; Be soul-wise!
‘Let faith in earthly life, God find;
Christ is the only hope,
For modern world, and all mankind, ’
Said Benedict, the Pope.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-23-2008
poem by John Celes
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Song At Sunset
SPLENDOR of ended day, floating and filling me!
Hour prophetic--hour resuming the past!
Inflating my throat--you, divine average!
You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.
Open mouth of my Soul, uttering gladness,
Eyes of my Soul, seeing perfection,
Natural life of me, faithfully praising things;
Corroborating forever the triumph of things.
Illustrious every one!
Illustrious what we name space--sphere of unnumber'd spirits; 10
Illustrious the mystery of motion, in all beings, even the tiniest
insect;
Illustrious the attribute of speech--the senses--the body;
Illustrious the passing light! Illustrious the pale reflection on the
new moon in the western sky!
Illustrious whatever I see, or hear, or touch, to the last.
Good in all,
In the satisfaction and aplomb of animals,
In the annual return of the seasons,
In the hilarity of youth,
In the strength and flush of manhood,
In the grandeur and exquisiteness of old age, 20
In the superb vistas of Death.
Wonderful to depart;
Wonderful to be here!
The heart, to jet the all-alike and innocent blood!
To breathe the air, how delicious!
To speak! to walk! to seize something by the hand!
To prepare for sleep, for bed--to look on my rose-color'd flesh;
To be conscious of my body, so satisfied, so large;
To be this incredible God I am;
To have gone forth among other Gods--these men and women I love. 30
Wonderful how I celebrate you and myself!
How my thoughts play subtly at the spectacles around!
How the clouds pass silently overhead!
How the earth darts on and on! and how the sun, moon, stars, dart on
and on!
How the water sports and sings! (Surely it is alive!)
How the trees rise and stand up--with strong trunks--with branches
and leaves!
(Surely there is something more in each of the tree--some living
Soul.)
O amazement of things! even the least particle!
O spirituality of things!
O strain musical, flowing through ages and continents--now reaching
me and America! 40
I take your strong chords--I intersperse them, and cheerfully pass
them forward.
I too carol the sun, usher'd, or at noon, or, as now, setting,
I too throb to the brain and beauty of the earth, and of all the
growths of the earth,
I too have felt the resistless call of myself.
As I sail'd down the Mississippi,
As I wander'd over the prairies,
As I have lived--As I have look'd through my windows, my eyes,
As I went forth in the morning--As I beheld the light breaking in the
east;
As I bathed on the beach of the Eastern Sea, and again on the beach
of the Western Sea;
As I roam'd the streets of inland Chicago--whatever streets I have
roam'd; 50
Or cities, or silent woods, or peace, or even amid the sights of war;
Wherever I have been, I have charged myself with contentment and
triumph.
I sing the Equalities, modern or old,
I sing the endless finales of things;
I say Nature continues--Glory continues;
I praise with electric voice;
For I do not see one imperfection in the universe;
And I do not see one cause or result lamentable at last in the
universe.
O setting sun! though the time has come,
I still warble under you, if none else does, unmitigated
adoration. 60
poem by Walt Whitman
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Awards For Greatness
Not all can get awards though deserving;
Some luck and pluck too decides awardees;
The heart knows if he/she truly deserves;
The rest remain unsung all life on earth!
Awards on earth are not the ultimate;
The greatest feats are forgotten by men;
The greatest men, women are things of past;
Achievers who get lime-light aren't greatest!
All things on earth return to dust with time;
Most famous monuments become rubble;
Even rivers do change their course often;
Nothing is permanent in earthly life!
The luckiest deserving get awards;
The less lucky can't make up to life's peak;
The unlucky forget what awards mean;
A toiling few cannot think of such things!
Yet, human toil must get recognition;
Awards, rewards encourage achievements;
A few are born with silver-spoon in mouth;
The rest great slip into oblivion!
Yet, hopelessness need not fill any mind;
A few are heros/heroines on earth;
A few are great on earth and in heaven;
A few turn greatest only in heaven!
poem by John Celes
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Fame And Infamy
The famous are by all the people praised
And monuments to their achievements raised,
But should they fail the test, their statues fall;
They really weren't so famous after all.
Their fame was bought at such a heavy cost,
And in the end in any case they lost.
For though they had a short time in the sun,
They're famous only if their armies won.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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Sonnet: Death Will Come
God breathed life into dust to make each man,
And gave him soul to realize His love;
And made each, uniquely, both man, woman:
And keep soul sin-free, and one’s love to prove.
All earthlings must perish some day on earth,
And leave behind all earthly things, we got;
A great blessing indeed is every birth;
There is no thing we call as our sheer lot!
Are we prepared to embrace death that day?
It comes thief-like to cut the thread of life;
How many can to death then bravely say,
‘I’m ready for your cruel, ruthless knife! ’
All earthlings die to turn again to clay,
Releasing soul for God’s Last Judgment Day!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-11-2008
poem by John Celes
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Dear Friend
i always love to write, as early as
gradeschool when we were classmates
while you were playing and chasing and stumbling
i just sat on the grass of the playground under a tree and scribble anything
and read a lot about some stories with lots of pictures
and colors of fairies and kings and queens and butterflies and bees,
i do not stop writing, in fact, writing has become my life
that without words i may die an instant death
i dream that i have written novels and stories and lots of poems
i wake up with some ideas like some seeds that i want to sow
and grow in the field and see them become shrubs and trees and forests
and i keep on this life writing and writing and writing and writing
for writing's sake and i wish i may live longer so i may write
some more, some sequels of my love stories and suspense thrillers
and write finally all the poems that are inside my mind
hanging like ripe grapes and creeping like vines on my fence
as i am writing now as you always want to read me
until such time my friend that i will die, or end my life myself (who knows?)
(i will not talk about it now, it is something bizarre and makes me
shiver, but who knows, well you know, all are but possibilities and nothing
but possibilities in this vast wide world of realities and dreams)
there is something i must say somehow
there is something that i must have forgotten, i have not written about myself
i have always written about them, about you, about the world,
please do not refuse me, stop playing with your life,
gradeschool ended
a long time ago, i have one and ultimate request:
write the story of my life, because it is you who only knows about it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Every Living Thing Barring Mother Nature
They may be very famous people and leave their footprints in the sands of time
And their legends may live on for centuries and even outlive the poet's rhyme
But their fame won't live on forever though them the masses celebrate
For every living thing barring Mother Nature has on it set a time date.
Every living thing barring Mother Nature will eventually go into decay
And even from history's pages be lost and forgotten one day
Suppose that's what makes all things equal and whether we are buried or burn
Mother Nature is there to receive us and to her bosom we'll return.
All of my best years behind me and I've lived most of my time span
Less than two years short of sixty soon I will be an old man
Every day nearer the last day that is the end for us all
To us then it will not matter if the living our names won't recall.
Every living thing barring Mother Nature must bow to old father time
And though the achievements of some great people may outlive the great poet's rhyme
Their fame has on it a time date it has often been said before
That only herself Mother Nature will live on forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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