Enigma
The world is enough to read
A hyperbolic sense of creed
Te path is cocksure and neat
There is no mercy nor do any plead
Hath divine power come to thee?
An idiosyncratic sense of gelid
How to vouchsafe this flibbertigibbet
It is wine upon world is sullied
A miniature of towering high bid
What for the womb? What lull deed?
poem by Hafiz Qasim
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Related quotes
There will be and can be no rest till we admit, what cannot be denied, that there is in man a third faculty, which I call simply the faculty of apprehending the Infinite, not only in religion, but in all things; a power independent of sense and reason, a power in a certain sense contradicted by sense and reason; but yet, I suppose, a very real power, if we see how it has held its own from the beginning of the world — how neither sense nor reason has been able to overcome it, while it alone is able to overcome both reason and sense.
quote by Max Muller
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Good Counsel of Chaucer
Flee from the press, and dwell with soothfastness;
Suffice thee thy good, though it be small;
For hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness,
Press hath envy, and weal is blent o'er all,
Savour no more than thee behove shall;
Read well thyself, that other folk canst read;
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.
Paine thee not each crooked to redress,
In trust of her that turneth as a ball;
Great rest standeth in little business:
Beware also to spurn against a nail;
Strive not as doth a crocke with a wall;
Deeme thyself that deemest others' deed,
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.
What thee is sent, receive in buxomness;
The wrestling of this world asketh a fall;
Here is no home, here is but wilderness.
Forth, pilgrim! Forthe beast, out of thy stall!
Look up on high, and thank thy God of all!
Weive thy lust, and let thy ghost thee lead,
And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.
poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
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The Mediator
O Christ, true Son of God most high,
Thy name we praise for ever;
Whoe'er to Thee for help doth cry
Shall find Thee fail him never;
'Tis Thou wilt plead,
Thou intercede
With God, for us who need Thy prayers so sore:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
To Thee the Father giveth now
All power in earth and heaven;
Sin, Satan, Death to Thee must bow,
All fetters Thou hast riven,
Bade fear to cease,
And made our peace,
That now to God we dare our hearts outpour:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
Fulness of grace is in Thy Word;
The Life, the Truth, the Way
To life eternal art Thou, Lord;
To Thee alone we pray,
Who didst appear
A servant here
To bear the sin that crushed the world before:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
poem by Hans Sachs
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Nativity
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov'd imprisonment,
There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into the world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room?
Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient,
Stars and wise men will travel to prevent
The effect of Herod's jealous general doom.
Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith's eyes, how He
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie?
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.
poem by John Donne
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His Own World
I had a world of my own once
It used to belong to me
All in a rush, and all in a hurry
It went away, it was so blurry
Nothing makes sense now
His own world can’t be shared
My own world is gone
It had a life, it had a soul
Inside me I feel an empty hole
Something that’s not quite
Meant to be full?
I am in a world were I am a fool
It is not right, and it isn’t cool
That’s his own world over here
My own world is gone, it’s not
Near, it went away and took with
It, every bit of my accomplishment
Left I am with nothing now
Inside our out, behind the cow
In his world he has everything
If I had claim to a world
It would be a nothing
It would be an ultimate zero
A frozen fortress of doom
Destruction follows me down a path
Strikes me furious with it’s wrath
Where did my world go?
Where is my own world?
6-2-07
poem by Jesse Tampa
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DEPRESSED.....by Talile Ali
I WAS DEPRESSED
DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT
MY DENIAL MUST BE SO HIGH
I JUST CAN'T MAKE SENSE IN IT
I'VE BEEN LOSIN MY WHOLE SOUL
AND MY ENTIRE BELIEF SYSTEM
AS I AGE, IT ALL WILL OUT
NOTHIN TO CLAIM OR HELP RETRIEVE THEM
MY WORLD SEEM SO EMPTY AND LONELY
MY HEART IS SO TIRED OF GAMES
MY MIND'S SO WELL READ, THAT IT'S HOPING
SOMETHING HAPPENS REAL SOON AND NOT BLAME
I WAS DEPRESSED
AND I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT
MY DENIAL MUST BE SO HIGH
I JUST CAN'T MAKE SENSE IN IT
I GUESS IT IT GOT MUCH WORSE
I COULD DIE
BUT IF THAT WERE SO
I GUESS I WOULD CRY
poem by Talile Ali
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Bowed With a Sense of Sin
Bowed with a sense of sin, I faint
Beneath the complicated load;
Father, attend my deep complaint,
I am Thy creature, Thou my God.
Though I have broke Thy righteous law,
Yet with me let Thy Spirit stay;
Thyself from me do not withdraw,
Nor take my spark of hope away.
Mercy unlimited is Thine;
God of the penitent Thou art;
The saving power of blood divine
Shall ease the anguish of my heart.
Then let not sin my ruin be,
Gives me in Thee my rest to find:
Jesus, the sick have need of Thee,-
Thou great Physician of mankind.
In my salvation, Lord, display
The triumphs of abounding grace;
Tell me my guilt is done away,
And turn my mourning into praise.
Then shall I add my feeble song
To theirs who chant Thy praise on high,
And spread with an immortal tongue
Thy glory through the echoing sky.
poem by Augustus Montague Toplady
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Prayer is commission. Out of the quietness with God, power is generated that turns the spiritual machinery of the world. When you pray, you begin to feel the sense of being sent, that the divine compulsion is upon you.
quote by E. Stanley Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty In You Boils Like Wine Yet You Are So Divine
You are eternal so is love
Everything is for change but not beauty of my love..
Beauty in you is admired by all
Here i'm as adorable not for all..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty is you that's true
Honey.. it's true mirror never lies you..
I never lie but can lie for you and
For your happiness can die for you..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty is sacred so are you
Beauty is priceless so in you
You are precious but not for the world
Can bet anything to make you my world
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beautiful is you not my life
Your beauty is immortal not my eyes
Oh Mine...
Your beauty is the way to heaven
Show me way to your heart which is next to seven..
Take me the way i am and
make me the way you want..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
You are my love worth to die for
You are my freedom worth to fight for..
I made my guts to compromise
Beauty in you is worth a sacrifice..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
My words can sail but are not for sale
Can sacrifice in love to make you my fairy tale..
This song of mine is only for you my sunshine
I can sing this song specially for you my divine..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
I've signed your name on each dropp of my sweat and
Will dream of you till the last day of my breath..
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine
Beauty in you boils like wine yet you are so divine..
poem by Dr Vinay Sirigere
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Eight senses
(poetry in progress)
the world starts out
with a consciousness
half a consciousness
then one consciousness
then they morph with one sense,
ask the mountain
they stand and stand until the
volcanoes start to throw them out
then two senses, ask the trees
and the shrubs criss crossing
with your paths in the field
they stand and stand, take
the sunshine and make green
a colour for continuous evolution
their only shortcoming is their
two sense world, they stand and stand
a state of being, a state of living
and that's all
the three senses, the four senses
and the five senses, the human beings
they cry to God to let them
have eternal life
but what ever that's for
without the sixth, seventh, or eight sense
unveiled to them
sixth, the sense to connect the past
with the future
the seventh, the sense to connect
the future with the million of consciousness
clarmouring for the eight senses
to be with the ultimate, the Om,
the Divine where all senses
come together with one Supreme
consciousnes, amalgamation of
senses where knowledge springs forth
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Prophet Muhammad 2
His birthday is approaching
And I wish
to say
some words about him
on his birthday
Some say
So and so
And I feel I Love Him
More than my heart
As long as I can see
He smiled to me
His love
is more than any
His Mercy
Oh
He is sent Mercy
To me
to my disturbed world
Light
in my eyes
yearn
For thee
For thee
For thee
May I see
You and me
every hard day
Healing my wounds
With your hugs
Like a most kind father
For me
For me
When I am lost
In my tears
I remember
He is sent
For me
And my brave world
And I see
my smile
yearning
for thee
yearning for thee
I regret
I once
May be
forgot thee
forgive me!
poem by Eman Elbadawi
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Lovers By The Sea
Sometimes only the sea makes sense to me
All the morose of the world dissipates
Waves and tide seem so divine
Salt air and old fishing boats
Fog horns and clam shells
Constant change and all the kelp
Endless horizon and winding shore
Sunlight or moonlight the sea is mystery
I am losing contact with the world
With the selfish swirl
The money game
The quest for power
The affront and masquerade
But the sea has never waned
Seagulls still fascinate me
Like a poem I can't forget
The sea still makes sense to me
No names, position, no games
By the sea I feel a freedom
Like there is still away back home
Tonight the lighthouse is on
Thank you Lord for the sea
She walks like a dream on the shore
Lovers by the sea are pure beauty
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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To Cut Their Lives
I've read so many poems
Of young ones wanting
To cut their lives
Why is that so abundant?
In this world we all call home
Tears cascade from my eyes
As I read each poets write
Why would you want to be?
Away from your family
And your friends
I know I'm not a saint
Was a zombie most of my life
But at least I'm still breathing
And have my own son
Within my life
I try to understand
The pain you all went through
But it makes no sense to me
To why you want to cut your selves
I shudder to think
If my son would do that too
It would just kill me for sure
Because he is the apple of my eye
I beg I plead with sorrow
Throw away all those nasty knifes
And embrace the gift god gave you
An ever lasting life
poem by Kaila George
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Christ of Everywhere
"Christ of the Andes," Christ of Everywhere,
Great lover of the hills, the open air,
And patient lover of impatient men
Who blindly strive and sin and strive again, --
Thou Living Word, larger than any creed,
Thou Love Divine, uttered in human deed, --
Oh, teach the world, warring and wandering still,
Thy way of Peace, the foot path of Good Will!
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Dies Irae
On that great, that awful day,
This vain world shall pass away.
Thus the sibyl sang of old,
Thus hath holy David told.
There shall be a deadly fear
When the Avenger shall appear,
And unveiled before his eye
All the works of man shall lie.
Hark! to the great trumpet's tones
Pealing o'er the place of bones:
Hark! it waketh from their bed
All the nations of the dead,--
In a countless throng to meet,
At the eternal judgment seat.
Nature sickens with dismay,
Death may not retain its prey;
And before the Maker stand
All the creatures of his hand.
The great book shall be unfurled,
Whereby God shall judge the world;
What was distant shall be near,
What was hidden shall be clear.
To what shelter shall I fly?
To what guardian shall I cry?
Oh, in that destroying hour,
Source of goodness, Source of power,
Show thou, of thine own free grace,
Help unto a helpless race.
Though I plead not at thy throne
Aught that I for thee have done,
Do not thou unmindful be,
Of what thou hast borne for me:
Of the wandering, of the scorn,
Of the scourge, and of the thorn.
Jesus, hast thou borne the pain,
And hath all been borne in vain?
Shall thy vengeance smite the head
For whose ransom thou hast bled?
Thou, whose dying blessing gave
Glory to a guilty slave:
Thou, who from the crew unclean
Didst release the Magdalene:
Shall not mercy vast and free,
Evermore be found in thee?
Father, turn on me thine eyes,
See my blushes, hear my cries;
Faint though be the cries I make,
Save me for thy mercy's sake,
From the worm, and from the fire,
From the torments of thine ire.
Fold me with the sheep that stand
Pure and safe at thy right hand.
Hear thy guilty child implore thee,
Rolling in the dust before thee.
Oh the horrors of that day!
When this frame of sinful clay,
Starting from its burial place,
Must behold thee face to face.
Hear and pity, hear and aid,
Spare the creatures thou hast made.
Mercy, mercy, save, forgive,
Oh, who shall look on thee and live?
poem by Thomas Babbington Macaulay
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Sonnet 40: As Good To Write
As good to write as for to lie and groan,
Oh Stella dear, how much thy power hath wrought,
That hast my mind, none of the basest, brought
My still-kept course, while others sleep, to moan.
Alas, if from the height of Virtue's throne,
Thou canst vouchsafe the influence of a thought
Upon a wretch, that long thy grace hath sought;
Weigh then how I by thee am overthrown:
And then, think thus, although thy beauty be
Made manifest by such a victory,
Yet noblest conquerors do wrecks avoid.
Since then thou hast so far subdued me,
That in my heart I offer still to thee,
Oh do not let thy Temple be destroyed.
poem by Philip Sidney
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O Infant Just Out Of Womb..!
O infant just out of womb
What are your thoughts
Of this world?
Who makes you to smile?
What your plans are for today
Or for morrows?
Why this cry at birth?
Did not like to exit cosy comfort of
Mother's womb?
Ever faulty are our guesses
Of your cries and smiles.
O god grant me
The power to read
The language of infants!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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The New York Times
Oh,
It makes no sense to me
Yeah, I was living in a different world when I heard the news
I keep having the same bad dream
And it makes me want to hurt all the people who have done this thing to you
When I see your face, I can see you smile
Read all about you in the new york times
When I see your eyes, I can see your light
When I think about what happened
It makes me crazy
It makes no sense to me,
This eye for an eye thing,
It has gone too far
I dont know anyone who doesnt hurt inside
I would like to believe we could learn from this
And maybe some day we can make things right
I want to believe in this world
I want to believe in this life
I want to believe in a world that does not seem real
When you read between the lines
When I see your face, I can see you smile
Read all about you in my new york times
When I see your eyes, I can see your light
When I read about the world
It makes me crazy
I want to believe in this world
I want to believe in this life
I want to believe in a world that does not seem real
When you read between the lines
Gotta read between the lines
Whoa, gotta read between the lines
I really want to believe I can make things right
I want to believe I can learn to feel alright inside
I want to believe I can learn to make things right
Oh, I want to believe in this world
I want to believe in this life
I want to believe in a world that does not seem real
When I read the new york times
I see your face, I see your smile
Read all about you in the new york times
I can see your eyes, I can see your light
When I think about what happened
It just makes me crazy
When I close my eyes
You seem so alive
I really think about you
I want to believe we can make things right
I want to believe
I want to believe
I want to believe
I want to believe
Oh, I want to believe in this world
I want to believe in this life
I want to believe in a world that does not seem real
When I read the new york times
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With All Thy Gifts
WITH all thy gifts, America,
(Standing secure, rapidly tending, overlooking the world,)
Power, wealth, extent, vouchsafed to thee--With these, and like of
these, vouchsafed to thee,
What if one gift thou lackest? (the ultimate human problem never
solving;)
The gift of Perfect Women fit for thee--What of that gift of gifts
thou lackest?
The towering Feminine of thee? the beauty, health, completion, fit
for thee?
The Mothers fit for thee?
poem by Walt Whitman
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A Stoic against the wind
He stands in the storm with a straight face like a Flagship.
An Idealist in his idiosyncratic world
and he never bows to injustice or heeds any ill-advise.
This saintly character is a maverick.
He imagines a better society; an equilibrium
and he needs deeds to change the whole atmosphere.
He goes in every street corner with his megaphone
but to his creed nobody listens.
Corrupted young generation's malfunctions and their malice
is a cause for distress to the entire world?
This social worker though he stands in the storm
cannot stand among the exorcists.
He will be chased very soon to his hallucination world
by these underworld henchmen.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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