I Dreamt... (Judgement)
i dreamt...
having left this body,
i stood in the netherlands,
waiting for what came next...
i heard a voice,
that made my soul tremble...
a voice that had eyes.
'are you here to judge me? ' i asked.
there was a great silence...
then these words cut through the dark:
'no, judge yourself! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
Judge
Judge is not here to decide
Who is winner and who is loser.
Judge is here to decide
Who is in right point.
No judge is empower to
Pronounced death sentences
No judge has got power
To give life to the lifeless.
Judge can not decide
The synonyms and antonyms
Judge can not say
The right source for right word.
Judge is not judge
So long as the judge is mortal
Judge is judge
If judge is eternal.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Eternal Hope For Your Soul
I would judge only
that your pain is great
almost more
than your soul can bear.
I would judge only
that your pain was
born in great injustice.
I would judge only
that your wrist scare scars
bear self witness to pain.
But I would not
judge your soul,
your right or wrong,
but I can discern,
that only a divine love,
can resurrect dead life...
in your heart,
give eternal hope,
for your soul.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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No Voice
There are times when we feel
we have no voice
we are suffocated by circumstances.
Our voice is lost in the void;
we wander with eyes open
and no mouth for things to say.
Those around us are oblivious
that our presence is near.
We are invisible
with only our ears to hear.
We have no voice to shout our protests clear,
no voice to vent our anger at what we can hear.
Our voice is silenced by circumstances
some of which we do not understand.
We have no voice today or tomorrow,
and even if we had a voice
would it be heard?
Would our words fall
on vacant and deaf ears?
The question remain unanswered
for around us silence reins.
Silent as our protests
and frustration is all we gain.
One day our gag maybe lifted,
but will it be too late.
There maybe no one around us
and our anger will be lost,
lost in the silence when no one is there.
We can only hope that one day
when the silence clears
our voice among the millions
will finally be heard.
15 September 2009
poem by David Harris
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Three Pretenders
Three pretenders forced their entry
There wasn't time to defend or attack
Somewhere inside I held their fury
But one by one my defenses began to crack
The first became a voice from my childhood
Without a world to call his own
Asking questions but doubting the answers
And too confused to stand up and face it alone
I can feel my body tremble
Like an animal under the gun
Can you feel your body tremble
Look in and see the eyes of Three Pretenders
The second came a shadowy hustler
Selling anything not nailed to the ground
He put a price on my resistance
And if it's high, I know he'll be marking it down
The third became a mysterious traveller
Stormy words like sea-weathered sails
His life was scarred with peaks and valleys
A haunted kingdom crumbling against the gales
I can feel my body tremble
Like a child afraid of the dark
Can you feel your body tremble
Look in and see the eyes of Three Pretenders
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Cant Judge A Book
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
When I was young and went to school
My mama taught me the magic rule
And what she said I tried my best to follow
She said
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
Then I left school and moved around
And what I saw and what I found
Made me remember what she said to follow
She said
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
And now I think, by now Id know, that what appears is not always so
And I remember what she said to follow
She said
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She danced
last Night I dreamt again
walking the countryside
holding your hand in
my hand
Wished always
dancing on the love notes
which my heart plays
Surprised a day
received a front row pass
of a ballad to be performed
by a dancer of class
and my heart danced
on my own tune
The day arrived
reached the Audi
But was sorted out
an odd man out
by the security
I tossed invitation
was given last row stand
and Dekho...
A mermaid arrived
on the dice
and started to dance
Stood shocked
turned to stone
when I saw her face
It was the same hand
which once I embraced
To draw her attention
I shouted and cried
but in crowd, my voice died
She kept on dancing
with her heart and soul
I kept on waiting
On me if she ogles
Music came to a grinding halt
Audience stood in ovation
every one seemed enthralled
I smiled with my watery eyes
I preferred to vanish
decided not to eclipse the SUN
I dragged my body
as in Auditorium my soul I left
to brighten the world
I go back to
abyss of my body
without soul
poem by K.B. Manchanda
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The Metaphor Of The Mirror And The Light
there is this face
in the mirror and it is talking to the body
to remind its skin
that it is real,
lights are turned off
and the face only hears a voice
from its mouth
it is assured still that it is a face
of someone it knew
so well
and will not deny it
the voice faded in darkness
and the face
hears nothing
and sees nothing about
its skin
and eyes
it is dark
and there is no voice anymore
except the
silence
and the loneliness that is about
to make a scream
to the mirror
that had long shut itself
because there is no light
the face demands a voice
the mirror begs for light
for the voice is a security
that life exists
and the light is the only
anchor of the mirror
when it becomes a boat
in the sea
of emptiness
but there is no light
and there is no voice
the mirror breaks the silence
the face becomes the wind
there is no boat
much less an anchor
there is only a word written
on paper
left on the floor
and it is spoken for no
one....
poem by Sebastian Soberania
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Dont Cry
Take just one look around me
Tell me what you see
Your reflection and the brokenhearted memory
I tried so hard to do the best I could
You lied and now we got to get this understood
Dont cry, dont call me
I dont want you around me
Who are you to judge me
Im only what you made me
You should have took advantage
Of every waking moment
But you thought that you had time to wase
And you were so dead wrong
I tried so hard to do the best I could
You lied and now we go to get this understood
Dont cry, dont call me
I dont want you around me
Who are you to judge me
Im only what you made me
I dont wanna see your tears
I dont wanna hear your voice
Dont you know you made the choice
Boy you did me so wrong
Dont cry, dont call me
I dont want you around me
Who are you to judge me
Im only what you made me
Dont cry, dont call me
I dont want you around me
Who are you to judge me
Im only what you made me
Take just one look around me
Tell me what you see
Your reflection and a brokenhearted memory
Dont cry, dont call me
I dont want you around me
Who are you to judge me
Im only what you made me
song performed by by Faith Evans
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do not Judge me (First Poem Submitted)
As I stand before you
with the reality of the shame of my sins in my arms.
Do not judge me.
You do not know me.
You do not know the pains I have suffered,
As you look at me like I am a demon from the pits of Hell.
Do not judge me.
You do not know me.
Picture youself alone as I, needing the comfort and touch of another.
Would you not do the same?
Do not judge me.
You do not know me.
And my child has already been marked like a person with the plague.
Not given a chance,
Do not judge him,
You do not know him.
We all have sinned and it is not our job to judge,
So do not judge me.
You do not know me.
(I wrote this after watching Scarlett Letter)
poem by Tamara Daniel
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Pardon my call Lord
Oh! open the gate of heaven, and
Listen to my call my heart has
whisper the silent of the night of my
soul as the key unlock the voice of
surrender of my trusted soul bereaved
in the grave of fading home
dawn come no more, in the shadow
of my grave; loaded with flowers in the
head smell like nobody holds the candid
picture in the window of yesterday and
the silence bold, to come in the light to
admonish my limit
oh! my Dear Creator, patiently wait
you'll come to thy living soul; cleanse
my body and humble my lonely heart;
show me the emptiness of your hatred,
tangle my longing and puzzle in the
wilderness of suffering burning my
immortality
dear Lord of calling, have pardon my
voice and judge my soul of my
wickedness, i trust in you......
poem by Antonio Liao
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Mysteries And Mayhem
Well I'm trying to tell you about a thing I thought I saw
It came to me in a dream one night
When a voice began to call
I heard my name being summoned as I looked around to see
A hooded judge and jury
There was no mercy there for me
Well I can't make it, I just can't figure it out
This dream is drivin' me crazy
I gotta know what it's all about
The mark is upon me, and the mark of Cain brings fear
A cold wind's blowin' right down my back
I'm runnin, I'm runnin' from a figure that's dressed in black
I think my legs are made out of lead
Cause I'm runnin' but I'm going nowhere
The bad dream is coming closer and closer
I got a feelin' he'll always be there
Forever is a long time to spend in agony
And the demons of confusion have got a place for me
The mark is upon me, and the mark of Cain brings fear
I was tired, so tired of runnin'
I had to turn and look around
I saw eyes that looked right through me
And a voice that made no sound
My body froze and I stood and stared, unearthly face before me
From the depths of a hooded nightmare, I saw what could not be
Mysteries and mayhem from the pinnacle I see
There's no answer when there's no question
The mark of Cain bears hard on me
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Genius
The great genius closed his eyes
And his mind poured out of his body
And he was one with the sun,
The moon and the stars...
Across the void his mind explored
And suddenly he heard a voice...
'Who are you?
I know you are out there.
Tell me about yourself...'
The great genius introduced himself,
Told of his achievements, his inventions,
Told of the awards that he'd won
And that he now sought a better home,
Saying Earth no longer needed him...
The voice explained, that he must stay,
That he must help others to improve,
For all life dies and needs nurturing
Before the end comes to one and all...
The great genius explained Mankind,
Saying it was slow and obstinate,
Both good and bad, wise and foolish
And he longed for separation...
Perhaps to a higher plane of existence.
'Please stay where you are, dear friend...'
Replied the voice. 'Please persevere...
The wise do not forsake the foolish,
They beseech the Creator to help,
For what is life without love for others? '
Then the great genius sighed and agreed.
He bid the voice farewell and returned...
Way back across the darkness of the void,
Way back to the sun, the moon and the stars,
Back to the home world and to his own home.
And the voice was asked by his companions,
Of what had just happened a little while ago
And the voice chuckled to himself and said,
'It's OK, I've stopped another one...'
poem by Denis Martindale
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Who is to judge?
Family Heads, are you right to judge?
Political Heads, are you wise to judge?
Religious Heads, are you just to judge?
Judicial Heads, are you true to judge?
Individuals, are you free to judge?
One is right to one’s act.
Each act ends with its fate
As each birth meets its death.
Which birth is not just?
Which act is not just?
Who are you and I to judge?
Time is supreme and beyond us.
08.06.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Flying without wings
i could surf the sky without my wings,
yes i can reach the sky with your blue eyes
moon, if only you believe in me
i don't even needs a wings to dive, when
i know that your are there, ready to catch
me when everything is on high
i know i can tell you that beyond that dark
clouds, you still awaits me in the shadow
of that sky
i can now ask, the reason why when iam
almost there i heard an alluring voice of
sound asking me to lay my wings
i know where my heart tremble, shaking
shouting for joy, for where ever i close my
eyes my ears listen to your voice of love
tell me then if my soul echo in a distance
land who reveals the melody of my heart,
and the spirit of your wings lingers on beneath
the horizon of my heaven
come my wings, fly and bring me to the
place where no wind could blew my dream
for only in you i will hold on to the sky of
dreams
poem by Antonio Liao
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Sonnet: God is the Best Judge
Which man can judge others accurately?
Is it a thing easy to judge others?
The human judge best though learned be, errs;
No one can judge his neighbor ev’r ably.
A man has both a good and bad backgrounds;
Only the proportion varies with time;
No man is perfect, not even his rhyme!
Can one predict the layers within mounds?
Man is so complex; so is his action;
No man can be perfect akin to God;
God’s judgments will be free of mal-function;
No man is perfect, his judgment is odd!
Let not a man judge his neighbor rashly!
God is the only Judge who does justly.
poem by John Celes
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The Watcher on the Tower
I
The Voice of a Man
WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?
The Voice of a Woman
Yea, what of it?
The Watcher
A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
But God is there above it.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
II
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Night of sorrow!
The Watcher
Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
Have courage! There’s To-morrow!
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
III
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Is it other?
The Watcher
I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
The Morning comes, my Brother.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
IV
Voice of the Man
What now, what now, O Watcher?
The Watcher
Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?
Voice of the Woman
The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Song I: Though the World Be A-Waning
Love is enough: though the World be a-waning
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover
The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,
Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,
And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over,
Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;
The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter
These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.
poem by William Morris
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That Voice Again
I want to be with you
I want to be clear
But each time I try
Its the voice I hear
I hear that voice again
Im listening to the conversation
Judge and jury in my head
Its colouring everything
All we did and said
And still I head that sharp tongue talking
Talking tangled words
I can sense the danger
Just listen to the wind
I want you close I want you near
I cant help but listen
But I dont want to hear
Hear that voice again
I want to be with you
I want to be clear
But each time I try
Its the voice I hear
I hear that voice again
Im hearing right and wrong so clearly
There must be more than this
Its only in uncertainty
That were naked and alive
I hear it through the rattle of a streetcar
Hear it through the things you said
I can get so scared
Listen to the wind
I want you close I want you near
I cant help but listen
But I dont want to hear
Hear that voice again
What I carry in my heart
Brings us so close or so far apart
Only love can make love
I want you close I want you near
I cant help but listen
But I dont want to hear
I hear that voice again
I want to be with you
I want to be clear
But each time I try
Its the voice I hear
I hear that voice again
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Child Face
Hers is the child's face
at the window
the face which won't leave my mind, .
The longing there,
the voice says
how long til help comes?
In every meeting
even if the room is windowless
I see her face
hear that voice
and I think
we working for you in here;
it won't be long.
Every meeting
has a judge
whether what I am doing there
helps her.
Every conversation, deed and thought
has a judge
whether it helps her,
every urgency
has a queue
and she stands at the front.
Every heart beat
carries hers first.
If there is nothing being done in the room
for her
I leave.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Ch 04 On The Advantages Of Silence Story 12
A preacher imagined his miserable voice to be pleasing and raised useless shouts, thou wouldst have said that the crow of separation had become the tune of his song; and the verse- for the most detestable of voices is surely the voice of asses- appears to have been applicable to him. This distich also concerns him:
When the preacher Abu-l-Fares brays
At his voice Istakhar-Fares quakes.
On account of the position he occupied the inhabitants of the locality submitted to the hardship and did not think proper to molest him. In course of time, however, another preacher of that region, who bore secret enmity towards him, arrived on a visit and said to him: ‘I have dreamt about thee, may it end well!’ ‘What hast thou dreamt?’ ‘I dreamt that thy voice had become pleasant and that the people were comfortable during thy sermons.’ The preacher meditated a while on these words and then said: ‘Thou hast dreamt a blessed dream because thou hast made me aware of my defect. It has become known to me that I have a disagreeable voice and that the people are displeased with my loud reading. Accordingly I have determined henceforth not to address them except in a subdued voice’:
I am displeased with the company of friends
To whom my bad qualities appear to be good.
They fancy my faults are virtues and perfection.
My thorns they believe to be rose and jessamine.
Say. Where is the bold and quick enemy
To make me aware of my defects?
He whose faults are not told him
Ignorantly thinks his defects are virtues.