Sonnet-Think Sane, Man
Let money not become thine obsession;
For, every nickel you just leave behind;
Thy soul is priceless, thine one possession;
To keep it pure, you must always remind.
Why waste all life to earn more than your needs?
Why dupe the world when you have no true heir?
Why cheat yourself by wearing 'saintly' beads?
Can God be fair if you've been so unfair?
Why eat much sugarcane and make tongue sore?
Why have much apples and watch them get rot?
Why live in selfishness 'hind closed life's-door?
Can you get sleep on coins, notes, golden-cot?
God gives some more to share your extra wealth;
And if' you don't, it will spoil your soul's health.
poem by John Celes
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Related quotes
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
Never bother who created man
I enjoy life as I can
People tell me, Get up early
I sleep late,
So go to hell
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
Somewhere I read,
pray to god
I don’t have any time for that
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
Mother says take care of health
I say most important is wealth
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
Preachers preach,
Never be phony, Live honestly
I say fool as many
Being honest is being lousy
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
My goal is money
Even if have to kill somebody
Life without money
Is bee without honey
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
I met with an accident
Nobody lent a helping hand
I realized, I was disliked
I thought with all the might
To make life happy
One has to live rightly
Greed is worst for life
With it one can never rise
I’m a changed man
Contentment is my ambition
Now, I never earn as I can
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Health and Wealth
When I had health, I strived to earn more wealth;
I toiled so hard that I soon lost my health!
When I got wealth, more vice crept in by stealth;
My wealth was gone, so also my good health!
So, keep your health and earn some wealth;
Don't earn more wealth and lose all health;
Just use your wealth to keep your health;
In life on earth, Health is your wealth!
poem by John Celes
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To My Friend
I can’t change you but I will try;
You are my friend and you know why;
If wise, you must certainly cry!
With remorse, atone for a while.
Good men suffer for venial sins;
Here on Earth, not in hellish kilns;
Tongue has no bones; words must not mince;
A true water-fish has some fins.
Pleasures are not always the same;
Our emotions must become tame;
To enjoy joys, sorrows must call!
Life’s ups and downs, happen to all.
Born in this world, improve thine soul;
Prepare for the next Life- our goal;
A mansion-life, isn’t saintly one!
Bend, thou must ‘fore you arise, son.
Time is for good use, if you can;
Unused, forever ‘tis gone, Man;
Peace of mind, good health and some wealth,
Achieve them hard-work and by stealth.
dedicated to 'my best friend'!
poem by John Celes
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On Friendship
A soul to talk to,
Share secrets;
A soul who walks you
Through life’s stress…
A soul to laugh with,
and to cry;
Someone who makes
your tears go dry...
A soul dependable,
Who consoles;
A soul, you’re proud of,
And who cares…
A soul who’s priceless,
More than wealth;
Someone who keeps you
In good health…
A soul who affords
timely help;
Someone who gives you
right advice…
A soul with mind,
almost like yours’;
Someone who feels
like how you would…
A well-wisher;
A comforter;
A body-part
like your own heart…
A selfless soul,
Who keeps you whole;
A part of life
You dare not part…
And rarely friends too
blunders make;
And make you cry
More than your foes!
Good friends;
Thick friends;
Fine friends;
Best friend…
And that’s what friendship’s
all about;
Friends share your hardships,
joys, no doubt!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-29-2008
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: The Holy Cross
O, Let me carry Thine Cross in some way!
Though weary yet, O Let me help Thee, Lord;
O, Let me share the weight of sins, I pray;
And let me show the world, Love’s Cross and word.
Thine Cross is life to sinners world-over;
Thine Cross is Light to ones blinded sans faith;
I want to live God as Thine Cross-lover!
To follow Thee, my Lord, if Thou sayeth.
O how, I wish my soles could tread Thine path;
O how, I wish my shoulders bear Thine weight!
O Let my soul be cleansed by Thine blood-bath!
Usher me Lord, before it could grow late!
O Let me Lord, prevent Thee from one fall!
O answer me Lord, hasten to my call!
poem by John Celes
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Hymn 44 part 2
The true improvement of life.
Ps. 90:12.
Ane is this life prolonged to me?
Are days and seasons giv'n?
O let me, then, prepare to be
A fitter heir of heav'n.
In vain these moments shall not pass,
These golden hours be gone:
Lord, I accept thine offered grace,
I bow before thy throne.
Now cleanse my soul from every sin
By my Redeemer's blood;
Now let my flesh and soul begin
The honors of my God.
Let me no more my soul beguile
With sin's deceitful toys;
Let cheerful hope, increasing still,
Approach to heav'nly joys.
My thankful lips shall loud proclaim
The wonders of thy praise,
And spread the savor of thy name
Where'er I spend my days.
On earth let my example shine,
And when I leave this state,
May heav'n receive this soul of mine
To bliss supremely great.
poem by Isaac Watts
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A Last Appeal
KNOWING our needs, hardly knowing our powers,
Hear how we cry to you, brothers of ours!--
Brothers in nature, pulse, passions, and pains,
Our sins in you, and your blood in our veins.
First in your palace, or last in our den,
Basest or best, we are all of us men!
Justice eternal cries out in our name,
What is the least common manhood can claim?
'Food that we make for you,
Money we earn:
Give us our share of them--
Give us our turn.'
Landowners, bankers, and merchants, we make
Out of our lives this new wealth that you take.
Have we earned only such pitiful dole
As just holds worn body to desolate soul?
When that soul is bewildered each day and perplext
With the problem of how to get bread for the next,
Is it better to end it, as some of us do,
Or to fight it out bravely, still calling to you--
'Food that we make for you,
Money we earn:
Give us our share of them--
Give us our turn'?
Ever more passionate grows our demand--
Give us our share of our food and our land:
Give us our rights, make us equal and free--
Let us be all we are not, but might be.
Our sons would be honest, our daughters be pure,
If our wage were more certain, your vices less sure--
Oh, you who are forging the fetters we feel,
Hear our wild protest, our maddened appeal--
'Food that we make for you,
Money we earn:
Give us our share of them--
Give us our turn.'
Hear us, and answer, while Time is your friend,
Lest we be answered by God in the end;
Lest, when the flame of His patience burns low,
We be the weapon He shapes for His blow--
Lest with His foot on your necks He shall stand,
And appeal that you spurned be new-born as command,
And thunder your doom, as you die by the rod
Of the vengeance of man through the justice of God.
'Food that we make for you,
Money we earn:
Give us our share of them--
Give us our turn.'
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Sonnet: Money Ain’t The Answer
Money, we seek in life to fulfil needs;
Most labour hard to gain some extra wealth;
Some even go on to do evil deeds,
And in the process, spoil their body's health.
Money evades some persons for quite long;
Some get it accidentally, by luck;
Some acquire it through a single song;
But happiness can't come to all by buck.
For, money can't give bliss for all on earth;
Money can't solve all problems in our life;
Neither can it ensure a divine berth;
Money can bring a man unwanted strife.
And yet, the human mind stays money-mad,
Forgetting Almighty God; Oh, how sad!
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Father’s Day
Today is Father’s Day in India;
Not many know about this lovely day!
How many wifes did greet their husbands, say?
Neither did children of Himalaya!
A father labors hard for family;
Sometimes, he works extra-time to earn more;
Some mothers waste money in ways silly;
There isn’t a soul for him, to open door!
A father has problems in his work-place;
His span of life is shortened due to stress;
Despite his strife, he puts a ‘happy’ face;
Life does not treat him fairly or caress!
A father gives joy, making life less grim!
’Tis sad a life for members without him.
'Let the world then celebrate 'Father's day'
In a splendid and most joyous a way! '
poem by John Celes
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Doctor’s Day,2010
Doctor, doctor, carer of sick!
Doctor, doctor, healer on earth;
Doctor, doctor, noble is thine field;
Doctor, doctor, serve thine brethren well!
Doctor, labor all the more;
Clean and dress the chronic sore;
Let no person taint thine name;
Never forget thine great aim.
Doctor, let not wealth allure;
Doctor, lead a life all pure;
Doctor, try to always cure;
God will bless thee on earth, sure.
Dear Dr.B, K, Padmavathi M.D.,
‘Happy Doctor’s Day,2010! ’
From the Dean and staff of IRT, PMC
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-1-2010
poem by John Celes
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Lonely
If thine soul feels loneliness,
Thou art not perfectly understood
As thou soul wishes
If thine soul does not feel
The human word
It feels loneliness's hollow cry
If thine soul wearies of human love
It always has loneliness to watch thy love die
If thine soul speaks to deaf ears
Then the loneliest, most remote ears in the world, hear with melancholy
If thine soul has no hand to hold
Then loneliness walks by thy side and holds thee
If thou fear to die alone, alone with loneliness you will die
If thou fear the dark when alone, loneliness hides in the dark
Afraid with thee.
As mine tears fell
Into God's empty well
And to his lonely cell
Loneliness heard and spoke though me…
Lonely
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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To My Excellent Lucasia, On Our Friendship
I did not live until this time
Crown'd my felicity,
When I could say without a crime,
I am not thine, but thee.
This carcass breath'd, and walkt, and slept,
So that the world believe'd
There was a soul the motions kept;
But they were all deceiv'd.
For as a watch by art is wound
To motion, such was mine:
But never had Orinda found
A soul till she found thine;
Which now inspires, cures and supplies,
And guides my darkened breast:
For thou art all that I can prize,
My joy, my life, my rest.
No bridegroom's nor crown-conqueror's mirth
To mine compar'd can be:
They have but pieces of the earth,
I've all the world in thee.
Then let our flames still light and shine,
And no false fear controul,
As innocent as our design,
Immortal as our soul.
poem by Katherine Philips
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Etesia Absent
Love, the world's life! What a sad death
Thy absence is to lose our breath
At once and die, is but to live
Enlarged, without the scant reprieve
Of pulse and air: whose dull returns
And narrow circles the soul mourns.
But to be dead alive, and still
To wish, but never have our will:
To be possessed, and yet to miss;
To wed a true but absent bliss:
Are lingering tortures, and their smart
Dissects and racks and grinds the heart!
As soul and body in that state
Which unto us seems separate,
Cannot be said to live, until
Reunion; which days fulfil
And slow-paced seasons: so in vain
Through hours and minutes (Time's long train,)
I look for thee, and from thy sight,
As from my soul, for life and light.
For till thine eyes shine so on me,
Mine are fast-closed and will not see.
poem by Henry Vaughan
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Money is Honey
Money is Honey
Money money money
O my dear honey
Tinkering sound
Of Rupee, dollar and pound
The world ruled by capitalist
Made man more materialist
He toils day and night
To get the deceiving delight
Of the money and wealth
Risking spirit heavenly and health
Being clever and cunning
Man tries to find new meaning
In the material possession
Relish on wealth accumulation
Money is the medium not the means
To live life, why spilling beans
This is the irony
O my dear honey
Money, money and money
{This was written after a random thinking over the corrupting influence of money and how it has changed the meaning of life.}
Shashikant Nishant Sharma 'साहिल'
======©SNS==18 May 2012==@New Delhi=====
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Wealthy Man Don't Hoard Your Money
Some one else will own your property when you are dead and gone
The day you die the World won't stop life it will carry on
You've made it big, you've reached the top, you're plutocratic kind
But wealthy guy you too must die and leave your wealth behind.
You came out of your mother free of guilt and evil sin
But now you're just a money hoarder like all other greedy men,
Your dreams of wealth have all come true you are now a millionaire
But moneyed man you too will die as sure as cows wear hair.
There's nothing wrong with money without money man can't live
But in a man there must be what is known as take and give
And just like all other greedy men you never give but take
And the more money you accumulate the more you want to make.
Wealthy man don't hoard your money, don't be scared to spend a pound
Or someone else will spend it for you when your bones rest underground
Everybody hates a miser, no one loves a greedy soul
And you too will be forgotten when you're placed in earthy hole.
poem by Francis Duggan
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When We Die!
Not a nickel can we take back, when we die!
All earthly things, we leave here upon earth;
All treasures must sometime uselessly lie;
Ephemeral’s the world in which we live!
Not an extra hour can we live, our way;
The Maker knows that moment when each leaves;
And death will snatch us stealthily one day;
The strongest monument will soon perish.
Our health will wane and fail us doubtlessly;
All pain, diseases end some day on earth;
Our labor cannot go on endlessly;
We separate from kith, kin, friend or foe!
Our span of life is finite in its length;
Our earthly suffering must end some time;
A minute more, we can’t add by own strength;
The day shall come when we take our last breath!
Just all the good and bad deeds done, we take;
Our mortal sins could steer our soul to hell;
The Maker knows the genuine hearts from fake;
The Lord decides each soul's eternity!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-19-2007
poem by John Celes
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An Ode
WHAT boots it to be great?
To live in royal state
And feast with kings,
Since now all things
One doom await?
5
What boots it to be fair?
Sweet eyes and golden hair,
And youthful bloom,
Since in the tomb
All foulness there?
10
To live in royal state—
That is not to be great;
Sweet eyes and golden hair—
That is not to be fair.
What is it to be great?
15
Content with thine estate;
To serve thy God and King
In everything—
That is it to be great.
What is it to be fair?
20
Sweet modesty to wear;
To keep thine honour sure,
Thy bosom pure—
That is it to be fair.
Much boots it to be great,
25
Much boots it to be fair.
poem by Frederick George Scott
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The Magnetic Lady To Her Patient
I.
'Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain;
My hand is on thy brow,
My spirit on thy brain;
My pity on thy heart, poor friend;
And from my fingers flow
The powers of life, and like a sign,
Seal thee from thine hour of woe;
And brood on thee, but may not blend
With thine.
II.
'Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not;
But when I think that he
Who made and makes my lot
As full of flowers as thine of weeds,
Might have been lost like thee;
And that a hand which was not mine
Might then have charmed his agony
As I another's--my heart bleeds
For thine.
III.
'Sleep, sleep, and with the slumber of
The dead and the unborn
Forget thy life and love;
Forget that thou must wake forever;
Forget the world's dull scorn;
Forget lost health, and the divine
Feelings which died in youth's brief morn;
And forget me, for I can never
Be thine.
IV.
'Like a cloud big with a May shower,
My soul weeps healing rain
On thee, thou withered flower!
It breathes mute music on thy sleep
Its odour calms thy brain!
Its light within thy gloomy breast
Spreads like a second youth again.
By mine thy being is to its deep
Possessed.
V.
'The spell is done. How feel you now?'
'Better—Quite well,' replied
The sleeper.--'What would do
You good when suffering and awake?
What cure your head and side?--'
‘What would cure, that would kill me, Jane:
And as I must on earth abide
Awhile, yet tempt me not to break
My chain.'
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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SONNET: Start Early For Soul-care
You brush your teeth each day to stay healthy;
The frequency and brushing art matter;
You spend wisely and save to stay wealthy;
Health is more important than the latter.
You labour hard all life to earn something;
And think you can enjoy post-retirement;
You know that money is not everything;
We live under the same one firmament.
The care of soul is also one like art;
You can’t make it all pure over one night;
From birth itself, begins the goodness-chart;
God’s Grace is the one rectifying light.
Our earthly life is to get Heaven’s bliss!
But should we stay unprepared and then miss?
poem by John Celes
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Follow The Money
Ive got to follow the money
Gotta go to work
Gotta make a living
Till my body hurts
Gotta bite my lip
Gotta wreck my health
Gotta break my back
For my share of wealth
(repeat)
Ive gotta the follow money
Gotta earn my pay
I spent everything
I earned yesterday
Gotta find the cash
cos it wont find me
So I can feed myself
And my family
When I left school I was bummin around
Id smoke and drink and let my mind wander
Id roll out of bed about twelve oclock
I cant do that any longer
Ive gotta folow the money
Gotta go to work
Gotta make a living
Till my body hurts
Gotta bite my lip
Gotta wreck my health
Gotta break my back
For my share of wealth
Now I need to toil cos its good for my soul
I feel clean when Im working
You drop all the mystical celtic bull
cos that stuffs just jerking
Im not saying that I work like my dad
I know I dont work like my mum
But Im made of the same stuff and Im six feet tall
Gimme the tools Ill get the job done
Gotta follow the money
Gotta go to work
Gotta make a living
Till my body hurts
Gotta bit my lip
Gotta break my back
For my share of wealth
Ive gotta follow the money
Gotta earn my pay
I spent everything
I earned yesterday
Gotta find the cash
cos it wont find me
So I can feed myself
And my family
Feed myself and my family
Thats why
Im working
Im working
Im working
Im working
Im working
Im working now
song performed by by Proclaimers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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