Jade
THE patient craftsman of the East who made
His undulant dragons of the veined jade,
And wound their sinuous volutes round the whole
Pellucid green redundance of the bowl,
Chiseled his subtle traceries with the same
Keen stone he wrought them in.
Nor praise, nor blame,
Nor gifts the years relinquish or refuse,
But only a grief commensurate with thy soul,
Shall carve it in a shape for gods to use.
poem by Edith Wharton
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Stone
Stone alone hide the unity of the soul
Self centre chiseled in many a form
Partake the centre of the universe
Alone
Stone alone
The griffins grave keepers opening the jaws
Partake shadow in a
Stone
Stone alone
The Sphynx upside down
Clinging to the edges of a smile
Ice frozen on the mysteries
Of centuries Centaur raging at Minotaur
Now laugh all around
Winking cunningly
Gioconda mocking
Drop a glove on the floor
Flirting with death
A black hand will lift
White gloved touch of
Stone
Alone
Stone alone will carve the face
Cut the faces into a living wound of the stone
Rocked in the cradle swinging left right
Tectonically
To the ground
To the stone
Absolutely discentred
Alone
Summon the unity
Aloneness hanging from the rope
Bitter ends of days
Edges crying for the summits
And the summits seeking the edges
In the hide and seek of the soul alone
Stone alone hide the unity of the soul
First ray shattered upon the horizon
Horizon rise
At night alone by day alone
Soul alone stone alone
Carved
YOU
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Stone Alone
Stone alone hide the unity of the soul
Self centre chiseled in many a form
Partake the centre of the universe
Alone
Stone alone
The griffins grave keepers opening the jaws
Partake shadow in a
Stone
Stone alone
The Sphynx upside down
Clinging to the edges of a smile
Ice frozen on the mysteries
Of centuries Centaur raging at Minotaur
Now laugh all around
Winking cunningly
Gioconda mocking
Drop a glove on the floor
Flirting with death
A black hand will lift
White gloved touch of
Stone
Alone
Stone alone will carve the face
Cut the faces into a living wound of the stone
Rocked in the cradle swinging left right
Tectonically
To the ground
To the stone
Absolutely discentred
Alone
Summon the unity
Aloneness hanging from the rope
Bitter ends of days
Edges crying for the summits
And the summits seeking the edges
In the hide and seek of the soul alone
Stone alone hide the unity of the soul
First ray shattered upon the horizon
Horizon rise
At night alone by day alone
Soul alone stone alone
Carved
YOU
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Gods
The ivory gods,
And the ebony gods,
And the gods of diamond and jade,
Sit silently on their temple shelves
While the people
Are afraid.
Yet the ivory gods,
And the ebony gods,
And the gods of diamond-jade,
Are only silly puppet gods
That the people themselves
Have made.
poem by Langston Hughes
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There Is A Warning!
I already warning you!
I do not have regrets!
I did what i could do!
that is what left to me!
And if you want to blame me. And continues.....
search hard and deeply in yourself.
maybe the cause, maybe, its within all of us
I refuse to be your shame
i refuse accept your blame
I refuse to be your chance! !
But, still, i can remove your grief
the same, that you want put in to me.
And makes me cracked. Like a crystal that can not be fragmented
Thanks to you! And for you i wish
Go to hell! ! ! !
poem by Mirna Morgan
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Gods of the East
Because I sought it far from men,
In deserts and alone,
I found it burning overhead,
The jewel of a Throne.
Because I sought--I sought it so
And spent my days to find--
It blazed one moment ere it left
The blacker night behind.
We be the Gods of the East--
Older than all--
Masters of Mourning and Feast--
How shall we fall?
* * * * *
This I saw when the rites were done,
And the lamps were dead and the Gods alone,
And the grey snake coiled on the altar stone--
Ere I fled from a Fear that I could not see,
And the Gods of the East made mouths at me.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Le Panneau
Under the rose-tree's dancing shade
There stands a little ivory girl,
Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl
With pale green nails of polished jade.
The red leaves fall upon the mould,
The white leaves flutter, one by one,
Down to a blue bowl where the sun,
Like a great dragon, writhes in gold.
The white leaves float upon the air,
The red leaves flutter idly down,
Some fall upon her yellow gown,
And some upon her raven hair.
She takes an amber lute and sings,
And as she sings a silver crane
Begins his scarlet neck to strain,
And flap his burnished metal wings.
She takes a lute of amber bright,
And from the thicket where he lies
Her lover, with his almond eyes,
Watches her movements in delight.
And now she gives a cry of fear,
And tiny tears begin to start:
A thorn has wounded with its dart
The pink-veined sea-shell of her ear.
And now she laughs a merry note:
There has fallen a petal of the rose
Just where the yellow satin shows
The blue-veined flower of her throat.
With pale green nails of polished jade,
Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl,
There stands a little ivory girl
Under the rose-tree's dancing shade.
poem by Oscar Wilde
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After Omar
Awake for morning in the bowl of night
has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight.
And lo the hunter of the east has caught
The sultan’s turret in a noose of light.
Omar Khayyam
Awake for morning in the bowl of night
is pouring never ending streams of light
Which emanating from the east has fought
and put the darkness of the night to flight.
The sun displays to every man his might
Has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight
His gifts are given free cannot be bought
or sold by any man. None has the right.
And Lo the hunter from the east has caught
so easily the prey that he has long sought.
The Imam prays but prayers will gain him nought
Because the Sun is stronger than he thought.
The Sultan's turret in a noose of light
Presents newly awakened eyes a sight
each day that comes unbidden and unsought.
Accepted by all men as their birthright.
12-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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A June-Tide Echo
(After a Richter Concert.)
In the long, sad time, when the sky was grey,
And the keen blast blew through the city drear,
When delight had fled from the night and the day,
My chill heart whispered, " June will be here!
" June with its roses a-sway in the sun,
Its glory of green on mead and tree."
Lo, now the sweet June-tide is nearly done,
June-tide, and never a joy for me
Is it so much of the gods that I pray?
Sure craved man never so slight a boon!
To be glad and glad in my heart one day--
One perfect day of the perfect June.
Sweet sounds to-night rose up, wave upon wave;
Sweet dreams were afloat in the balmy air.
This is the boon of the gods that I crave--
To be glad, as the music and night were fair.
For once, for one fleeting hour, to hold
The fair shape the music that rose and fell
Revealed and concealed like a veiling fold;
To catch for an instant the sweet June spell.
For once, for one hour, to catch and keep
The sweet June secret that mocks my heart;
Now lurking calm, like a thing asleep,
Now hither and thither with start and dart.
Then the sick, slow grief of the weary years,
The slow, sick grief and the sudden pain;
The long days of labour, the nights of tears--
No more these things would I hold in vain.
I would hold my life as a thing of worth;
Pour praise to the gods for a precious thing.
Lo, June in her fairness is on earth,
And never a joy does the niggard bring.
A Lush Green Garden
Before the first ray of sunlight
on a frosty winter morn.
The frost has hazed the windows
to a feature of lands
long before our life began.
To the time when dragons ruled the world
with their hot breath and thunderous roars.
However, the gods were not happy
with their chosen rulers
and banished them away.
The crown they then handed to man
in hope for a better job done.
Since then man has ruined
everything his eyes gazed on.
Therefore, like the dragons of long ago,
the gods may decide in time
to banish man as well.
Returning this planet
to the lush green garden
that it used to be.
poem by David Harris
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Gestalt....
is it the shape?
the shape of your face, your heart,
is it just the shape, of your body, the color of your hair,
the kinkiness of your eyes,
is it just the shape of the bowl that matters to you?
what about the contents of the
bowl, or if it is empty, what about the air that fills it somehow?
do you see it? no you don't, so
it is not just the shape, neither just the parts,
or the whole, there is something more in shapes and colors
and
even contents,
there is the will that bends everything
to mercy
there is the decision that convinces us all
to be one, this sympathy,
that empathy, that belief that i cannot live
without you,
that someone dies when someone leaves,
that life is better with us
in all these,
that there is life after our deaths,
there is this
unseen coming, this one that we want to
grasp yet
because we think we failed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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New Beginnings
A glow in her eye
As he waved goodbye
Thats where it all began
She was a loving girl
He was a caring guy
Together they had plans
They were married and had a baby
His name was johnnie
Wait a minute, thats me
Why am I only three years old again
Spinning and spinning and spinning
There was no gleam in your eye
When you passed us by
In the parade this time
You had nothing to say
And youre always on your way somewhere
But today you just stood still
You were a quiet kind of person
Who asked for nothing and got just that
So they sent you away to kill for your country
Could you blame him?
Could you blame them?
No. and in the end
When we meet again were friends
Will we ever learn that we are always gods children
And gods never made moral decisions
They made love
song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My New-Cut Ashlar
My New-Cut ashlar takes the light
Where crimson-blank the windows flare.
By my own work before the night,
Great Overseer, I make my prayer.
If there be good in that I wrought
Thy Hand compelled it, Master, Thine--
Where I have failed to meet Thy Thought
I know, through Thee, the blame was mine.
The depth and dream of my desire,
The bitter paths wherein I stray--
Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,
Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay.
Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,
Bring'st Eden to the craftsman's brain--
Godlike to muse o'er his own Trade
And manlike stand with God again!
One stone the more swings into place
In that dread Temple of Thy worth.
It is enough that, through Thy Grace,
I saw nought common on Thy Earth.
Take not that vision from my ken--
Oh whatsoe'er may spoil or speed.
Help me to need no aid from men
That I may help such men as need!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Dragon's Delight
dragon's fire,
dragon's flame,
dragons dance and dragons play,
filled with darkness,
filled with light,
these dragons feel so delighted,
the bonfire blazes,
the dragons dance,
as the moon's twilight sets in the east,
their dance turns with fire,
as it turns into an inferno,
the dragons eyes shine like diamonds,
as the night continues into the day.
poem by Nicholas Spandrel
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Old wonder flush'd the east anew
Old wonder flush'd the east anew
and shed the golden air, and wing
of song that summon'd, from the dew
and rapture of the fields of spring,
old wonder blossom'd in my heart:
because the threatening dream of old,
that nightly wont to bid us part,
now changing, gave me to behold
thy rosy maidenhood that pass'd
and greeted me with stranger grace,
who knew that meeting for our last
and far from mine thy biding-place.
And I have thank'd the threat of sleep,
because the secret heart that flow'd
with phantom wound was proven to keep
beneath its living springs bestow'd
the pang that seven years since was felt
keen thro' my life yet soft dispersed
along all veins that thrill or melt —
old wonder, blossom'd, not inhears'd:
and eyes perchance made dull and slow
by the long days' subtle dusty mesh
waked gladly from their fear, to know
old wonder, old and ever fresh.
poem by Christopher John Brennan
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The king's consort
I
Love, was it yesternoon, or years agone,
You took in yours my hands,
And placed me close beside you on the throne
Of Oriental lands?
The truant hour came back at dawn to-day,
Across the hemispheres,
And bade my sleeping soul retrace its way
These many hundred years.
And all my wild young life returned, and ceased
The years that lie between,
When you were King of Egypt, and The East,
And I was Egypt's queen.
II
I feel again the lengths of silken gossamer enfold
My body and my limbs in robes of emerald and gold.
I feel the heavy sunshine, and the weight of languid heat
That crowned the day you laid the royal jewels at my feet.
You wound my throat with jacinths, green and glist'ning serpent-wise,
My hot, dark throat that pulsed beneath the ardour of your eyes;
And centuries have failed to cool the memory of your hands
That bound about my arms those massive, pliant golden bands.
You wreathed around my wrists long ropes of coral and of jade,
And beaten gold that clung like coils of kisses love-inlaid;
About my naked ankles tawny topaz chains you wound,
With clasps of carven onyx, ruby-rimmed and golden bound.
But not for me the Royal Pearls to bind about my hair,
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Dragons
In the year of the Jade Emperor,
In the time of the people’s pain,
The sun was hot, the people groaned
The sky gave up no rain;
‘The sky gave up no rain, ’ he said,
‘The ground was dry as a bone,
There were no rivers or lakes to feed
The crops that the people owned.
The rice lay waste in the paddy fields,
The people ate bark and clay,
While on the shores of the Eastern Sea
Four dragons laughed and played.’
‘These creatures, made of snake and claw,
Of horn, and fire and scale,
Looked down to see the people pray,
To hear the people wail,
So Black, and Yellow, Long and Pearl,
For these were the dragons’ names,
Felt sad for the people’s plight, and said,
“We must bring on the rain! ”
Without the rain, the people die,
They are so poor and thin,
We needs must enter at Heaven’s Gate
So He will intervene! ’
‘They flew to the Jade Emperor
Who promised to send them rain,
But then sat back with his minstrel songs,
Forgot the people’s pain.
For ten long days the dragons paused
To wait the darkening clouds,
But only saw the people cry,
Lay out their dead in shrouds.
They laid their dead in shrouds, ’ he said,
‘The lastborn to the first,
The dragons said, “He heeds us not,
Won’t slake the people’s thirst.”’
‘The dragons flew to the Eastern Sea,
They knew it would bring them pain,
But to ease the hurt of the brown, dead earth
What else, but the soothing rain?
Now, dragons’ care for man’s despair,
His hopes, his joys, his tears,
They send their many blessings down,
Relieve the people’s fears.
They flew on out to the Eastern Sea
Its waters so clear and deep,
They flung it up to the heavens high
That what they’d sow, they’d reap.’
Then down it came in a storm of rain
That fed the people’s joy,
They laughed aloud at this water cloud
That the dragons had employed.
The moment the Jade Emperor
By the Sea God was informed,
He stamped and raged, and bellowed loud
That he would not be scorned!
He called his Generals and his troops,
To make the dragons’ answer,
Then called the Mountain God to him
To lie on them forever!
Caught fast beneath a mountain each
The dragons still were glad,
They’d saved the people from their pain,
The price they paid was sad;
But not unbearable, they thought,
So Long, and Black and Yellow,
With Pearl, devised another plan
That they might ever follow.
They turned themselves to rivers wide
To flow across each valley,
From West to East, the Long, the Black,
The Pearl flows, and the Yellow.
Four dragons’ that once cared for man,
Four dragons’ spread their tails,
They fed the crops that man might eat,
Might sing or dance, not wail;
The Heilongjiang is River Black,
The Dragon of the north,
And south of him, the Huanghe flows,
The Yellow Dragon’s course;
The Yangtze is the Dragon Long,
The Changjiang, to the mouth,
While Pearl is now the Zhujiang,
The Dragon of the south.
23 December 2005
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Three Steps
THREE steps there are our human life must climb.
The first is Force.
The savage struggled to it from the slime
And still it is our last, ashamed recourse.
Above that jagged stretch of red-veined stone
Is marble Law,
Carven with long endeavor, monotone
Of patient hammers, not yet free from flaw.
Three steps there are our human life must climb.
The last is Love,
Wrought from such starry element sublime
As touches the White Rose and Mystic Dove.
Poor world, that stumbles up with many a trip,
A child that clings
To the great Hand, whose lifting guardianship
Quickens in wayward feet the dream of wings!
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Magnificat
Praise God, who wrought for you and me
Your subtle body made for love;
God, who from all eternity
Willed our divided ways should move
Together, and our love should be.
I wandered all these years among
A world of women, seeking you.
Ah, when our fingers met and clung,
The pulses of our bodies knew
Each other: our hearts leapt and sung.
It was not any word of mine,
It was not any look of yours;
Only we knew, and knew for sign
Of Love that comes, Love that endures,
Our veins the chalice of his wine.
Because God willed for us and planned
One perfect love, excelling speech
To tell, or thought to understand,
He made our bodies each for each,
Then put your hand into my hand.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Jade immortality
Red silk link tablets
-jade by jade
Mark a once space
- of mortal wish
Now a private immortal
-cased in silence
Her inclined features
-through the stare
How close am I
-the ache apparent
Her inquiring look yearns
-at the response
The dream is made
-of endless life
The solitary plaques unanimous
-declaim the reality
The shape is itself
-its own reply
poem by Michael Oliver
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Gods
Gods of the white man,
Gods of the black man,
Gods of the almond shade
all of these Gods
have done one thing,
made the people afraid.
Gods of the red man,
Gods of the brown man
Gods of the yellow hue,
all of these Gods
have done the same
divided them into
Separate people
who've been led to believe
their God is the holy one
to save their souls
and pardon them
and deliver them
from earthly sin.
How can there be
so many Gods?
Isn't there only one?
One for every single soul
born unto this earth.
He's every color that there is
since the world's begun.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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