Poem about Poetry - An Eastern Ballad
i long to be an eastern poet
to write about the Great wall
wean stories from every tearstained stone
that still echoes the cries of those
missing homes, wives and children
walk its length to measure the cold
and forlorn monolith borne from the
heart of stones of Shih piled high
over hills and mountains
i long to be an eastern poet
to write about the legion of
gods and goddesses in the nook
and corner on the pantheons
of the the temples of india
those alluring and well endowed
gods and goddesses who stole from
heavens to teach about salvation
senseless senses, seeds of bondage
this world a dungeon of pain, a realm
nobody should come back to except the gods
to help man metamophosise from a bundle of senses
to om consciousness, nirvana
i would love to meet Moses
to talk about the Almighty God
his little brush with death and Salvation
on the swift Nile that still oozes with the tears
of mom who lost only son to the Pharoah's princess
the river that gave him his name
his lovelorn days in the gardens of the Palace
and the parting of the Red Sea that drew a line
between the people of God and the Idols
and whether he fell in love with what he saw there (the gardens)
a world away from the madness of the world
and the secrets he culled from the Highest One
about life, death, heavens and hell that help
us wade through the sea of ignorance to enlightenment
I would love to live with the tribes, wild men
of the South seas, learn about their hungry gods and sacrifices
perhaps then i could tell good from evil,
the gods from the devils and the truth from the lies
or perhaps live a life free from the One up there
recognising man's unreadiness, unworthiness for him yet
take and love people from that corner of the heart
that we all possess, starting from the Almighty's simplest lesson
a real eastern ballad i long to sing to the world
inspired by
An Eastern Ballad
I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
An Eastern Ballad
I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Gods People
So all you people give freely
Make welcome inside your homes
Thank God you people give freely
Dont turn your back on the lesson of the lord
All prime ministers and majesty around the world
Open your eyes look, touch and feel
Rule with your heart, live with your conscience
Love, love,
Love, love and be free
Were all gods people
Gotta face up
Better grow up
Gotta stand tall and be strong
Gotta face up
Better grow up
Gotta stand tall and be strong
Gotta face up
Were all gods people
Yeah - yes there was this magic light
I said to myself
Id better go to bed and have an early night
Then i, then i, then I went into a dream
Rule with your heart and live with your conscience
Were all gods people give freely
Make welcome inside your homes
Let us be thankful, hes so incredible
Were all gods people
Were all gods people
Were all gods people
Were all gods people
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many Gods
Gods are too many in one religion-
That is an asking of much distaste.
Gods are like religions of adjustment,
Lots of them would affect us in different ways.
Gods may produce laughter,
But Thor is no good with thunder.
Gods are not selling me objects,
Due to the weather and frame of mind.
I live with gods and goddesses
For I am a job to do with the highest ones.
poem by Naveed Akram
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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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Teach Them How To Fish
you may give them fish
but for how long will you be giving them fish? for how long will you fish yourself?
teach them how to fish and they will also teach others how to fish.
that is wiser that way.
teach them poetry at first. let them read the easiest one to understand. let them
see the beauty of the simplest lines from you and from the poet that you love.
teach them how to write one from the fingers of their hand. love their work and tell them how beautiful are they. there is always beauty in every personalized line. i know.i am telling you. your lines speak what is in your heart and everything
inside our hearts are always innately beautiful
let them read their lines. let them speak the meaning that they are hiding in there. that which you have never seen yourself. let them defend beauty and grace and truth in their own work. beauty and truth and goodness have to be
defended by its creator too.
listen. open your mind. listen attentively.
teacher. listen to them. they are now making their own.
love each work.
teacher listen. now they are teaching you. now you are learning some more.
they have their own wings now.
teacher, see the sky. see them. oh how beautiful are they. they are all flying
and singing. do not wish them to come back to you. let them fly away.let them see the big wide world. let them find the other universes.
they are not yours. they belong to themselves. they are now free.
that is your happiness that even the gods cannot give you.
sit back. and write another poem for another batch. some more. some time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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0005 Letter to a Younger Poet
Thanks for your letter. Though
you’ve caught me at a rather awkward time –
I’m going into surgery tomorrow – a rather
risky op; so I’ll try to put all the answers that I’ve got
into this one letter;
I hope you'll understand...
and that helps me to make my first point to you:
write as if you, too, may not live
beyond tomorrow – write as if
it’s the last thing that you’ll ever write –
give it everything you’ve got,
hold nothing back;
or better still – write as if
the world will end for everyone tomorrow:
write so that in their last hours, too, this
will make them feel, will make them know
we’ve faced life fully, faced it so complete
that death is relatively unimportant now…
write as if it were only yesterday
that, in an air crash, all your family –
parents, wife or husband, partner, children, and best friend,
had lost their lives; write as if,
were you not to write,
your heart would break forever, or you would go mad...
write as if you’re writing somewhere
where there’s no such thing around, as ink;
you’ll have to use your own blood in the pen,
so use it carefully; so red, so living,
look at it… so beautiful, so precious,
and so solemn – use it carefully, don’t spill a drop…
write as if you’re borrowing every word
from the very centre of the universe, where suns and gods are made;
and need thus to account for every word
with your whole life, no less; know that every word
must be given back, cleaner, stronger, brighter
with your own power, than when you borrowed it;
write as if every poet that ever lived
is leaning over your shoulder, so that you
can feel their breath upon your neck as they say
‘Tell them all that we would tell,
but cannot now; tell them all of this’…
this, now, is how you must deeply be and speak;
write as if you are the only being on earth
who can tell them this; as if tomorrow, if tomorrow comes,
you shall visit them every one, at home,
and look them in the eye; write as if
you love them more than they will ever know;
write as if you were offering to live their lives with them;
write as if you were a force of nature in yourself:
as if whatever earthquake, hurricane or flood might do,
whatever law or love may greatly do,
whatever gods or men can speak, in fullest force,
this you may do, because the sound of poetry is such;
yes, write ‘as if’ – but know you really write ‘because’…
write as if – no, write because –
you know that only poetry can tell
all, that must be told, and must be known;
and as all hearts melt in the heat of your own love,
be in no doubt – and see that all are in no doubt too –
that life was never, never more serious,
never more glorious, than it is right now;
write all this.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I dance with the Gods and Goddesses
i could have danced away
in the lotus bloom,
the wood that
comes to life
under the hands
of a master carver.
my eyes fleet from
one sacred countenance
to the next,
the prelude to the
mystic dance
i am drawn to do
with the
gods and goddesses.
the first step
i learn from the
KuangYing (goddess of mercy)
with a thousand hands,
so graceful
and delicate
they curl to
form an arc
above her.
my heart
goes afflutter,
my limbs soft
my soul flies
in her gaze.
if i could
just possess
two of those
wonderful hands,
i would
swing them
in the
ballet world.
the sakyamuni
buddha in his
meditative stance -
the depth
that it brings
my heart to
the sacred world -
that empty realm
and sanctum
where everything
goes quiet to
let god take
centrestage;
those seconds
in any
dance show
where the
audience's mind
is led to
run on
infinity,
every dancer
still like me
enthralled
at the buddha's
magic and spiritual aura.
the laughing budda
with his potbelly
i nearly stumble
in my urge to
touch, to rub off
some luck
to level my
years of financial
inadequacy.
and i stand aghast
at the drunken Monk
in torn fabrics
with his mouth tightly
squeezed against
a wine gourd
reminiscent of
a baby suckling
from a mom's
succulent breast.
the whiskered
Kuang Kong (god of war)
in that familiar
honorable martial pose
with his large spear
inspires anybody's
sense of patriotism
and readiness
to make that leap
for action to protect
one's nation.
these multi-faceted gods
and goddesses
boil up my sense
of humour
in the joy
that there are
so many wondrous characters
in the heavens
waiting to light up my life
if i were lucky to enter them.
l saunter through the hall
with the ramayana
gods and goddesses
in caves, in lotuses, on rocks
sending me off
to the real world.
i dance the last
few steps that
herald me back
to the mundane world
.....of toil and pain, senses
a world these gods and goddesses
decide to sacrfice their own paradise
to get me out of.
(rayamana buddhist deities are deities
who forgo their own chance to go
into their heavens temporarily so that they could remain in the human realm to help
mankind get out of the grim cycle of reincarnation)
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Wade In The Water
(first release, live version minneapolis, december 22, 1961traditional, arranged by bob dylan)
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Well, who are these children all dressed in red?
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Must-a-be the children that moses lead
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Well out of the mountain come fire an smoke
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Jehovah nobody be he couldve spoke
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Well, Im walkin down the highway an the waters gettin low
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Walkin down the highway, nowhere to go
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
But its wade in the water
Wade in the water, children
Wade in the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
Gods a-gonna trouble the water.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two thousand years ago, we lived in a world of Gods and Goddesses. Today, we live in a world solely of Gods. Women in most cultures have been stripped of their spiritual power.
Psalm 97 part 2
v.6-9
L. M.
Christ's incarnation.
The Lord is come; the heav'ns proclaim
His birth; the nations learn his name;
An unknown star directs the road
Of eastern sages to their God.
All ye bright armies of the skies,
Go, worship where the Savior lies;
Angels and kings before him bow,
Those gods on high and gods below.
Let idols totter to the ground,
And their own worshippers confound
But Judah shout, but Zion sing,
And earth confess her sovereign King.
poem by Isaac Watts
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This Day All Gods Die
Ten thousand years into the reign of our madness
and misery from the fertile wombs of the near east born one lifestyle
and tradition like a raging storm
this brutish culture swarned across the continents and seas to pillage and rape,
with lust this eart to take,
now we stand on the brink of destruction
outside of nature stands angelic our mother culture.
we've been blindly led down darkened halls of a ravaged world deplored.
within this society lay the suffering seed.
we must dispel the falsehood and lies
and kill the gods the so desperately need
a way of life filled with grief and strife and a failing sense of mind.
for how we used to live,
how we used to thrive in the golbal community.
but now we stand alone
and struggle to fulfill the so-called destiny of humankind.
to rule this sacred eart, for what the scars are worth,
i will live as a full-sworn enemy
burn the altars upon which their dwindling faith lies.
tear the pages from their holy scriptures
(prophets speak empty words)
crucifiy their convictions
(for love of the world i stray from the selfisf path of salvation)
for with each life which turns its back on their beliefs.
the gods which make up the base of their culture cease to be.
the gifts of civilization and technology which their gods bestow are
but despair and disease gilded in fool's gold
of what does our voice sing in the chorus of distress?
this day all gods dies
song performed by by Undying
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'Author of eternal salvation
The last eternal chapter has been written
telling of how The Lamb of God was smitten.
This great story of salvation I will tell
of the Saviour who has saved my soul from hell.
My song will echo throughout eternity
and I'll sing Your praise in the heavenly city.
Life everlasting to all those who obey
eternal salvation as we walk God's way.
Prayers and petitions are offered on high
by the Only Son who came to earth to die.
The Author of Eternal Salvation came
for it was to bear our sin and all its shame.
For the Author of Life died upon the cross
suffering such agonising shame and loss.
Then rising from the dead He ascended high
into the heavens and nevermore will die.
And my name in love He has recorded there
In the Book of Life kept safe in heavens care.
With His crimson blood each letter He has penned
Waiting for the day when the book is opened.
All of the redeemed gathered in safety there
‘n the glory together each will declare
they were saved from Gods great condemnation
By the Author of Eternal Salvation.
(see also the additional information below in the Poet's box)
Gods Mistake
Have a friend, calls me up
Says hello, then hangs up
He must have read my mind
These are the days of a diffrent paradigm
Maybe once, even twice
He said God does not play dice
Yet if hes everywhere
Hes in casinos with aces to spare
Oh, love is gods mistake
Oh, love is gods mistake
Ours is not to reason why
As we fall from way up high
Into the water
Like a lamb to the slaughter
Even now, gods mistake
Sets us up for one more heartbreak
God you look mighty fine
Dressed as the devil in a cosmic pantomime
Oh, love is gods mistake
Oh, love is gods mistake
Never was so much at stake
Oh, love is gods mistake
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Retrieved Poetry
Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
But the inspiration that befell the poet,
But the gods that cursed the poet
Would never allow him grow weary.
It keeps pouring out like morning dew
From sundown to cock crow.
Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
Those would get paid
That wishes it out of this world.
Judgement day, the pay day, even today
,
Memories linger of what the gods inspired.
Only poetry has survived a worldwide flood.
Poetry is dead,
Some have said.
But the inspiration keeps coming,
But the memory keeps living.
Poetry lives on even when the world is dead;
It dies only if it is not poetry
And there is only a good few poetry.
Poetry is dead,
Some have said.
Until we start seeing poetry as poetry
And nothing more, until that day,
Until we start thinking he is inspired,
Until we stop thinking for the poet;
He is possessed he is innocent.
Poetry is dead,
So goes the argument.
Even as we cut from the same tree,
Even as we speak same universal language,
You cannot cut deep if your axe's blunt.
We can never speak from same mouth.
You can only say your own thought.
Poetry is dead,
So goes the argument,
If poetry is dead killed by death,
If poetry is dead swallowed by death,
The corpse should be in our front.
We should know how to bury it.
We should dig not cover it with dust.
Poetry is dead,
If poetry is really dead,
There is cause to weep bitterly,
There is cause to think deeply
For the world has been stripped naked.
For poetry is great, ageless, timeless, bottomless
At the burial we must remain emotionless.
poem by Chime Justice Ndubuisi
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To Deliver The Water
I need to deliver the water,
So let my joy attract your love;
Because the whole world is under the control of the gods!
With paper and ink i will write your name,
Because i will like to sit closer to you;
And like the blues of love that moves on.
It is all right with me to deliver this water,
So let the joy of my muse move straight to your heart;
Because the whole world is under the control of the gods!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Tears In God's Eyes
One man cant sleep in his penthouse bed,
Wall Street worries fill his head,
While another man dreams,
In his cardboard shed on Broadway.
Early morning traffic jam,
Wake up call for both of them,
Will work to eat
Asks easy street for small change.
And which one needs it more,
The rich man or the poor,
A change of heart and attitude,
Unselfishness meets gratitude.
Its enough to put tears in Gods eyes,
Enough to make the angels cry,
When the power of love lifts someone above,
The emptiness of their unbearable life,
Its enough to put tears in Gods eyes.
Late at night a baby cries,
His mother gives him life then dies,
But no one even by them to be sad.
And another woman fills the need,
Its her heart and his mouth shell feed,
When she gives her love to the child she never had.
Oh, and which one needs it more,
Its hard to say for sure,
When something grows, when nothing was
As strong as any bond of blood.
Its enough to put tears in Gods eyes,
Enough to make the angels cry,
When the power of love lifts someone above,
The emptiness of their unbearable life,
Its enough to put tears in Gods eyes.
Every minute, every day
A little miracles done,
Someone opens up their heart
And lets it shine like the sun,
Just the light of that one.
Its enough to put tears in Gods eyes,
Enough to make the angels cry,
When the power of love lifts someone above,
The emptiness of their unbearable life,
Its enough to put tears in Gods eyes...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Obituary
A shaken world of helpless men, seeking answers yet creating questions.Seeking life when they are constantly the reason for death.
Worshiping gods who preach love, in exchange for jihad, gods who place a race of jews above gentiles.
Seeking to free ourselves from racism and yet we spit into different faces, with gods who demand that we take the very lives they say they gave.
poem by Cupid Missed
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Sun
Written by joseph arthur
Performed by peter gabriel on diana, princess of wales - tribute
I picture you in the sun
Wondering what went wrong
And falling down on your knees
Asking for sympathy
And being caught inbetween
All you wish for and all you seem
And trying to find anything
You can feel that you can believe in
May gods love be with you
Always
May gods love be with you
Always
I know I would apologise
If I could see your eyes
Cos when you showed me myself, you know
I became someone else
But I was caught inbetween
All you wish for and all you need
I picture you fast asleep
A nightmare comes
You cant keep awake
May gods love be with you
Always
May gods love be with you
Always
May gods love be with you
Always
May gods love be with you
Cos if I find - if I find my own way
How much will I find
If I find - if I find my own way
How much will I find
If I find - if I find my own way
How much will I find
If I find - if I find my own way
How much will I find
How much will I find
How much will I find
You, yeh, you
Ill find you, you, you - oo
Ill find you, you, you - oo
Ill find you, you, you - oo
Oh I dont know anymore
What its for
Im not even sure
If there is anyone
Who is in the sun
Will you help me to understand
Cos Ive been caught inbetween
All I wish for and all I seem
Or maybe youre not even sure
What its for
Anymore than me
May gods love be with you
Always
May gods love be with you
May gods love be with you
Be with you ...
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Your Hand Of Friendship Is Brushed Aside
say thank you
try extending your hand to another hand
to the other thousand hands in this world who need other hands
those with love in their hearts those with minds still believing in friendship
tell yourself she does not deserve your offer
assure yourself she is another ghost
another virtuality
another waste
a junk
without a name without a soul without a face
extend your hand to another hand with real fingers on them
and try seeing yourself in the mirror
you still have that reflection and that ghost does not have any
be glad
you are real and she isn't
does she think that you have pain and that you need her friendship badly
such that you want to bow before her like she is the goddess of beauty
and wisdom and truth?
let her be. She is not a part of you.
why bother?
be yourself and keep that hands of friendship warm
for another one who needs it too
let the gods reign in the heavens. They live in their clouds
stay on earth and be the river for the fishes to swim
for the strangers to drink with the cup of their hands for them to quench
their thirsts
let your hands of friendshipsbe the seeds of springs
the flowers of summers
that bloom forever
let your scent spread for those who still need them
and let these gods remain as gods
because they shall always be worshipped as loveless strangers of this earth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Child of the Snows
There is heard a hymn when the panes are dim,
And never before or again,
When the nights are strong with a darkness long,
And the dark is alive with rain.
Never we know but in sleet and in snow,
The place where the great fires are,
That the midst of the earth is a raging mirth
And the heart of the earth a star.
And at night we win to the ancient inn
Where the child in the frost is furled,
We follow the feet where all souls meet
At the inn at the end of the world.
The gods lie dead where the leaves lie red,
For the flame of the sun is flown,
The gods lie cold where the leaves lie gold,
And a Child comes forth alone.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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