Modern Love XLVI: At Last We Parley
At last we parley: we so strangely dumb
In such a close communion! It befell
About the sounding of the Matin-bell,
And lo! her place was vacant, and the hum
Of loneliness was round me. Then I rose,
And my disordered brain did guide my foot
To that old wood where our first love-salute
Was interchanged: the source of many throes!
There did I see her, not alone. I moved
Toward her, and made proffer of my arm.
She took it simply, with no rude alarm;
And that disturbing shadow passed reproved.
I felt the pained speech coming, and declared
My firm belief in her, ere she could speak.
A ghastly morning came into her cheek,
While with a widening soul on me she stared.
poem by George Meredith
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Communion
Ive touched some objects of faith more precious than pieces of eight.
Seen sacred places and ritual ways, but for communion lets go to my place.
I learned to pray on my knees.
Been taken in hand, if you please.
Had my own revelations, ideas about fate, but for communion lets go to my place.
So as the body, so as the blood, sacred as the soul is to love.
Dont be mistaken if you dont understand, divinely simple.
Part of the plan.
Take!
Eat!
This is my body!
I give it to you.
Take!
Drink!
This is my blood.
Do it in remembrance of me (so you wont forget me).
Now, Ive been a witness of grace.
Ive stared sacred days in the face.
The long long parade of ritual ways, but for communion lets go to my place.
Sacred stories are told.
Theyre passed on like pieces of gold.
So make your conclusions, consider your fate, and for communion lets go to my place.
Are you ready?
Are you ready for communion?
song performed by by Blondie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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MySelf
From the places I had been and rain that I felt
from the loneliness that conquer my soul leads to darkness,
yeah I did have friends,
I did have someone to share some
of my loneliness but why is it said
to be that my friends does wear mask
and the loneliness I own does not decrease
but increase
I did believe on them,
but as long as they haven't prove anything
as long as they haven't show me something
that belief starts to fade....
from the narrow path that
I had passed through from the fire on my soul
on the fear in my heart and a poison
on my brain that keeps telling me that I'm nobody.
No one understand me, they told me I'm weird but i just own some other beliefs that its really opposing or i mean my belief does have its own path and so as me... In this class i entered and so as previous ask them and me and the answers definitely the same
from the week I started I show nothing
the second week I show something
in the third week I show a lot of thing
in the fourth week i show nothing
again but as the second week passes
i will try and i will do show everything i got!
But the second week never came.
poem by Ellirie Aviles
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Dunes Are Made Of SanD
Cul the zeros out of my head, so i may round by the sound, the square i love to wear - She is my dress, my shadow grows on both, what was lost next to 2, by my sides - Never do i fear alone, I am held by her grip, sometimes she is more than cold, but she never will let me slip - Sometimes i stand on the dunes, the sand tells me of what passed by time - my prints are diplayed, one to a row, although never was there a path which led me to wonder astray - By my hand, in own i was grown, i do the deed which cause me harm, without a bell to ring the cause for the alarm, i stitch close what was sown - Tears which streams into rivers, do so with one flow - As Dunes Are Made of SanD
poem by Unic Cjonr
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A Spinster At Mass
She came in dressed
in the robe of a mayoress
Her hair, curly and golden
Like that of a Roman goddess
She looked round
Her eyes, large and round
Like that of a fancy bulb.
With them she me espied
In a corner under a deck
of this unnamed Church.
Behold, here's a Pandora
at mass,
As she passed;
Not even the parson
could bypass,
He stood there like a dead
wood and stared and stared
Till his eye balls fell
from its sockets
We stared and stared
And still we stood there
and stared
Till our piety fell.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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First step
What after all we are made of and with what purpose?
Is there any room to speculate or suppose?
We have to surrender only without any choice
As He is silently sit in with his firm voice
No a word is coming out without his consent
Each and every moment he is present
Do we not feel he is simply around?
Prevalent in every molecule of the ground
We may not know what will be happening next?
We look at him and find the answer ass best
It is his guidance that we sail through
Whatever has been guided is simply true
What we all must adhere to and obey?
Go to Him any time and sincerely pray
We are powerless and may extinct anytime
We will be rescued even if had remembered him sometime
Each and every action on your part must speak
That you have firm belief and not going weak
He may have all plans ready even if not prayed
Good result may leave you completely dismayed
Respond to inner voice and call
Never try to stop your conscious to prevent further fall
It is timely warning for not falling in trap
This is the only one or considered as first step
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Wilt Not Forget Thee
I love the time between eight and nine
tortured heart wilt not forget thee.
I love the time between eight and nine
long are days I do not glimpse thee.
Longed for time between eight and nine
favoured beloved; beloved time of your coming.
So far away gone throughout chill day
yet in mine thoughts ever close within me.
So far away gone throughout chill day
emotion evoke; you stir depth smitten in me.
In vain searched for face; gone throughout chill day
life revolves round; favoured time of your coming.
When foot-fall I hear upon the stair
your presence drawith near ascend thee,
expected foot-fall I hear upon the stair
heart inflates, lifts up to ascend thee,
presence felt now; I hear foot-fall upon the stair
when heard not, oh how I miss thee.
For this is time, heartfelt time of your coming
expected awaited time of your coming.
Life revolves round time of your coming
life enfolds round time of your coming.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Walk Within A Dream
I saw a building old as days
With countless rooms laid within
Walls with cracks and ivy rose
From the earth before me
Slowly I entered that place
Air ran heavy, thick to my lungs
With each taken step
I walked the rooms and halls
Some bare stripped of life
Others as though never touched
Some like a memory kept
Where instruments of music
Lay dust covered, silent
Still brought a song to thought
I saw paintings and pictures
Rich in a veil of colour
Like all the seasons held at once
A beauty found, celebrated
Then a sadness felt
In the shadowed halls
Empty with a loneliness
Another room had windows
Where a wind whistled through
I heard a birdsong carried
It passed in a second step
I thought no more of it
I descended and climbed stairs
Became lost and yet found
I knew this place well
However strange it came to me
Yes I knew this place
I felt the walls, ageless
I smelt the air, familiar
The ground beat to a pulse
A rhythm only I knew
On this my first visit
To that building which once rose
I felt at home, comforted
I looked back became held
As though I had never moved
The entrance still behind me
In spite of all the rooms and halls
Which I had walked
In spite of every step I counted
Numberless, countless, endless
I remained unmoved
Yet moved still moved
My eyes closed I felt myself pulled
Away from that old building
The rooms and walls
The cracks and the climbing ivy
That whistling wind
The music and colour
I awoke and thought
Had I walked a dream
Built upon my heart, soul, mind
Had I just walked myself
No answers came
I lay awake lost in thought
poem by Matthew Holloway
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So You Think I'm Nuts?
I'm use to being looked at as nut, but not for my political beliefs.
Its strange to stand in a lake with no water.
An unnatural position of posture.
But it doesn't change my firm belief that the poor will suffer at both the hands of democrats and republicans.
I feel isolated, and that is how they want me to feel.
All alone, just shut up and die quietly.
But I can't and I won't.
This is important, more important then anything I've wrote about in my entire life.
Millions of peoples lives are at stake and they don't realise it or they don't care.
I don't know which is worse, ignorance or indifference.
The belief speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil, then there is no evil.
A figment of my imagination I wish you were right.
I wish to believe in fairy tales.
But it doesn't sit right with my conscience.
I can't live a lie, with so much exposure of the truth these days.
Flaws are but a pigment of skin.
Opinions varying within.
A shadow watches me in loneliness, and asks me I haven't moved on.
I speak of my responsibilities that it can't comprehend.
In another life maybe I should have been a monk, because our virtues are very similar with the one exception I'm not thus I have to fight for my beliefs.
There is no harmony in what's going on around me.
All I see is this devious lust for chaos.
Like rain drops problems keep falling.
And nobody is even close to coming to the right solution.
We rather wage war, destroy the earth, become leader of the world, and get rich in the process.
I pray I live long enough to see this change.
I pray I don't see a civil war.
There is enough disagreements and civil unrest it could very well happen in my life time.
It is better that it is the road not taken.
Let me be dis-proved, make a valid argument, and just maybe all can be forgotten.
When the apple falls how long is it before it becomes rotten?
Lets makes a harvest, before this happens.
Let it be honest and true.
I know that is very hard to do.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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I Know
The years have passed so quickly,
One thing i understood:
I'm only learning to tell the trees from wood.
I know what's coming down
And i know where it's coming from.
And i know and i'm sorry, yes, i am,
But i never could speak my mind.
And i know just how you feel,
And i know now what i have done.
And i know and i'm guilty, yes, i am,
But i never could read your mind.
I know what i was missing,
But now my eyes can see.
I put myself in your place as you did for me.
Today,
I love you more than yesterday, yeh,
Right now,
I love you more, right no-oo-oo-oo-ow.
And i know what's coming down
And i know where it's coming from.
And i know it's getting better all the time,
As we share in each other's mind.
Today,
I love you more than yesterday, hey,
Right now,
I love you more, right no-oo-oo-oo-ow.
Uh, uh -
No more crying,
Uh, uh -
No more crying,
Uh, uh -
No more crying,
Uh, uh -
No more crying.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Know
The years have passed so quickly
One thing i've understood
I am only learning
To tell the trees from the wood
I know what's coming down
And i know where it's coming from
And i know and i'm sorry (yes i am)
But i never could speak my mind
And i know just how you feel
And i know now what i have done
And i know and i'm guilty (yes i am)
But i never could read your mind
I know what i was missing
But now my eyes can see
I put myself in your place
As you did for me
Today i love you more than yesterday
Right now i love you more right now
And i know what's coming down
I can feel where it's coming from
And i know it's getting better (all the time)
As we share in each other's minds
Today i love you more than yesterday
Right now i love you more right now
Ooh hoo no more crying
Ooh hoo no more crying
Ooh hoo no more crying
Ooh hoo no more crying
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mademoiselle From Armentières
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
Mademoiselle from Armentières,
She hasn't been kissed in forty years,
Hinky, dinky, parley-voo.
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
She had the form like the back of a hack,
When she cried the tears ran down her back,
Hinky, dinky, parley-voo.
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
She never could hold the love of man
'Cause she took her baths in a talcum can,
Hinky, dinky, parley-voo.
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
She had four chins, her knees would knock,
And her face would stop a cuckoo clock,
Hinky, dinky, parley-voo.
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
She could beg a franc, a drink, a meal,
But it wasn't because of sex appeal,
Hinky, dinky, parley-voo.
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
She could guzzle a barrel of sour wine,
And eat a hog without peeling the rind,
Hinky, dinky, parley-voo.
The MPS think they won the war, Parley-voo.
The MPS think they won the war, Parley-voo.
The MPS think they won the war,
Standing guard at the café door,
Hinky, dinky, parley-voo.
The officers get the pie and cake, Parley-voo.
The officers get the pie and cake, Parley-voo.
The officers get the pie and cake,
And all we get is the bellyache,
Hinky, dinky, parley-voo.
The sergeant ought to take a bath, Parley-voo.
The sergeant ought to take a bath, Parley-voo.
If he changes his underwear
The frogs will give him the Croix-de-Guerre,
Hinky-dinky, parley-voo.
You might forget the gas and shells, Parley-voo.
You might forget the gas and shells, Parley-voo.
You might forget the groans and yells
But you'll never forget the mademoiselles,
Hinky, dinky, parley-voo.
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
Mademoiselle from Armentières, Parley-voo?
Just blow your nose, and dry your tears,
We'll all be back in a few short years,
Hinky, dinky, parley-voo.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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William Bede Dalley
That love of letters which is as the light
Of deathless verse, intense, ineffable,
Hath made this scholar’s nature like the white,
Pure Roman soul of whom the poets tell.
He having lived so long with lords of thought,
The grand hierophants of speech and song,
Hath from the high, august communion caught
Some portion of their inspiration strong.
The clear, bright atmosphere through which he looks
Is one by no dim, close horizon bound;
The power shed as flame from noble books
Hath made for him a larger world around.
And he, thus strengthened with the fourfold force
Which scholarship to genius gives, is one
That liberal thinkers, pausing in their course,
With fine esteem are glad to look upon.
He, with the faultless intuition born
Of splendid faculties, sees things aright,
And all his strong, immeasurable scorn
Falls like a thunder on the hypocrite.
But for the sufferer and the son of shame
On whom remorse — a great, sad burden — lies,
His kindness glistens like a morning flame,
Immense compassion shines within his eyes.
Firm to the Church by which his fathers stood,
But tolerant to every form of creed,
He longs for universal brotherhood,
And is a Christian gentleman indeed.
These in his honour. May his life be long,
And, like a summer with a brilliant close,
As full of music as a perfect song,
As radiant as a rich, unhandled rose.
poem by Henry Kendall
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The Cry Of A Lost Soul
In that black forest, where, when day is done,
With a snake's stillness glides the Amazon
Darkly from sunset to the rising sun,
A cry, as of the pained heart of the wood,
The long, despairing moan of solitude
And darkness and the absence of all good,
Startles the traveller, with a sound so drear,
So full of hopeless agony and fear,
His heart stands still and listens like his ear.
The guide, as if he heard a dead-bell toll,
Starts, drops his oar against the gunwale's thole,
Crosses himself, and whispers, 'A lost soul!'
'No, Senor, not a bird. I know it well,--
It is the pained soul of some infidel
Or cursed heretic that cries from hell.
'Poor fool! with hope still mocking his despair,
He wanders, shrieking on the midnight air
For human pity and for Christian prayer.
'Saints strike him dumb! Our Holy Mother hath
No prayer for him who, sinning unto death,
Burns always in the furnace of God's wrath!'
Thus to the baptized pagan's cruel lie,
Lending new horror to that mournful cry,
The voyager listens, making no reply.
Dim burns the boat-lamp: shadows deepen round,
From giant trees with snake-like creepers wound,
And the black water glides without a sound.
But in the traveller's heart a secret sense
Of nature plastic to benign intents,
And an eternal good in Providence,
Lifts to the starry calm of heaven his eyes;
And to! rebuking all earth's ominous cries,
The Cross of pardon lights the tropic skies!
'Father of all!' he urges his strong plea,
'Thou lovest all: Thy erring child may be
Lost to himself, but never lost to Thee!
'All souls are Thine; the wings of morning bear
None from that Presence which is everywhere,
Nor hell itself can hide, for Thou art there.
'Through sins of sense, perversities of will,
Through doubt and pain, through guilt and shame and ill,
Thy pitying eye is on Thy creature still.
'Wilt thou not make, Eternal Source and Goal!
In Thy long years, life's broken circle whole,
And change to praise the cry of a lost soul?'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Impromptu
On a young girl showing me a scar on her cheek where a stick of wood struck her.
In its own place 'tis very good
Always to have plenty of wood ;
But, striking fair maid, that is rude,
And puts me in an angry mood.
poem by James McIntyre
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Death at the Window
This morning, while we sat in talk
Of spring and apple-bloom,
Lo! Death stood in the garden walk,
And peered into the room.
Your back was turned, you did not see
The shadow that he made.
He bent his head and looked at me;
It made my soul afraid.
The words I had begun to speak
Fell broken in the air.
You saw the pallor of my cheek,
And turned--but none was there.
He came as sudden as a thought,
And so departed too.
What made him leave his task unwrought?
It was the sight of you.
Though Death but seldom turns aside
From those he means to take,
He would not yet our hearts divide,
For love and pity's sake.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Shadow Man
Theres a man back a-ways
Who believes at where he is
And theres a girl
Up ahead who says she knows
And the street overflows
With the folk who understand
But for the guy who cant be seen
Hes the shadow man
And the shadow man is close at hand
Take a turn and see his smile
Made of nothing but loneliness
Just take a walk and be a friend
To the shadow man
You can call him joe, you can call him sam
You should call and see who answers
For he promises to come running, guided by the truth
But the shadow man is really you
Look in his eyes and see your reflection
Look to the stars and see his eyes
Hell show you tomorrow, hell show you the sorrows
Of what you did today
You can call him foe, you can call him friend
You should call and see who answers
For he knows your eyes are drawn to the road ahead
And the shadow man is waiting round the bend
Oh, the shadow man
Ohooooo oooo
Shadow man, shadow man
Its really you, its really you, its really you
Hes the shadow man
Oh yeah
Shadow man
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Speech
Think not, because thine inmost heart means well,
Thou hast the freedom of rude speech: sweet words
Are like the voices of returning birds
Filling the soul with summer, or a bell
That calls the weary and the sick to prayer.
Even as thy thought, so let thy speech be fair.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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The Darned Mounseer
I shipped, d'ye see, in a Revenue sloop,
And, off Cape Finisteere,
A merchantman we see,
A Frenchman, going free,
So we made for the bold Mounseer,
D'ye see?
We made for the bold Mounseer!
But she proved to be a Frigate - and she up with her ports,
And fires with a thirty-two!
It come uncommon near,
But we answered with a cheer,
Which paralysed the Parley-voo,
D'ye see?
Which paralysed the Parley-voo!
Then our Captain he up and he says, says he,
"That chap we need not fear, -
We can take her, if we like,
She is sartin for to strike,
For she's only a darned Mounseer,
D'ye see?
She's only a darned Mounseer!
But to fight a French fal-lal - it's like hittin' of a gal -
It's a lubberly thing for to do;
For we, with all our faults,
Why, we're sturdy British salts,
While she's but a Parley-voo,
D'ye see?
A miserable Parley-voo!"
So we up with our helm, and we scuds before the breeze,
As we gives a compassionating cheer;
Froggee answers with a shout
As he sees us go about,
Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer,
D'ye see?
Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer!
And I'll wager in their joy they kissed each other's cheek
(Which is what them furriners do),
And they blessed their lucky stars
We were hardy British tars
Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo,
D'ye see?
Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Adonis
The gods did love Adonis, and for this
He died, ere time had furrowed his young cheek.
For Aphrodité slew him with a kiss.
He sighed one sigh, as though he fain would speak
The name he loved, but that his breath grown weak
Died on his lips. So died the summer breeze;
And all the wood was hushed a minute's space,
Where I stood listening underneath the trees,
Until a wood--chat from her secret place
Chirped in an undertone, ``He is not dead,
Not dead, for lo! the bloom upon his face
Is ruddy as the newly--blossomed rose
Which even yet is woven round his head.
But sleep, more sweet than waking dream, doth close
The laughter of his eyes. He is not dead.''
Alone in that fair wood the livelong day
And through the silent night I watched him near.
But in the morning he was fled away,
When broke the dawn upon me cold and clear.
I looked within the thicket where he lay;
And lo! the sod, which he had pressed in death,
Was white with blossoms, scattered from the may,
Which made the thick air sweet with their sweet breath.
But he was gone; and I went o'er the heath,
Clutching, like one distraught, the dim air grey
With dawning,--for a voice encompassed me,
Crying, ``Fair boy, thy youth was but a span,
Yet did it circle in eternity.
Thy epic was accomplishèd. A man
Fills but the measure of his destiny,
And thine was all complete. Ere age began
To mar the royal palace of thy youth
With upper storeys of less perfect plan,
Death, kindly Death, filled with immortal ruth,
Took back the trowel from the builder's hand,
And wrote his `fecit' on thy work of truth.''
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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0978..... Belief Vs Trust
Belief is Doubtful, Trust is Certain
Belief is from Mind, Trust is from Heart
Belief is Lip Service; Trust is Heart Felt
Believe many; Trust only a Few
Believing is Easy, Trusting is Hard
Belief scores 50%, Trust scores 100%
Belief is Ordinary; Trust is Extra-ordinary
Belief is Start point; Trust is End Point
Belief is Limited; Trust is infinite
Belief is Shaking Hands, Trust is Embracing
Belief keeps Control; Trust gives up control
Belief is jumping opportunities; Trust is staying
Belief is not Time Tested; Trust passes Tough Times
Belief is Partial; Trust is Complete
Believe in Thoughts; Trust your Intuition
Belief in God is Attempting; Trust in God is Surrender
Belief is Important; Trust is Essential
Belief is Plastic Rose; Trust is Real Rose
(23-June-2010, Chennai)
poem by Gan Chennai
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