Illumination
of soul made whole awakens
from hibernation
haiku by Jonathan Robin
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Soul Receives From Soul
Soul receives from soul that knowledge,
therefore not by book nor from tongue.
If knowledge of mysteries come after
emptiness of mind, that is illumination of heart.
History is not a burden on the memory but an illumination of the soul.
quote by Lord Acton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty awakens the soul to act.
quote by Dante Alighieri
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Greet the Sun
A journey I’ve made
From painted eyes and ears
To one now with hope
No longer tainted in tears
I’ve stumbled and fell
Into the abyss of hell
But saw the light
Will it fade as I fight?
I’ve so long fought
The darkness within
Almost lost sight
As I struggled to swim
The hands out stretched
I grasp in despair
They’ve given me strength
To climb out of despair
No longer the cold
Envelopes my soul
Warmth never felt
Awakens my soul
So with love and respect
I bow to the ones
Who pulled me out?
To greet the sun
poem by Kaila George
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When Sun Peeps
When sun peeps thru heaps of clouds
Lotuses blossoms with ray beams
East horizon echoes with bird chirpings
World awakens thru divine melodies
When sun peeps thru window
Dreams dissolved in the eyelid
Dew drops dances on the meadow
Morbid moods became placid!
When sun peeps thru curtain
Kissed the rosy cheeks of virgin
Raised the emotives of unknown origin
Created the beauty illumination
When sun peeps thru hut
Melted the life of rut
Created new life of gut
Transcends the life of hurt!
poem by Mula Veereswara Rao
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Pray Sincerely
There may exist various types of lamps
They'd have been from different camps.
They may exist made of various materials
They may be made for the Imperials.
They may exist in divergent shapes
In multifarious forms even as of grapes.
They may exist in many hues predominant
Made of disparate colours prominent.
They may contain oils multiform
Each with a varying viscosity norm.
They may hold distinct types of wicks
Each made of diverse sticks and picks.
Though the lamps are amply diversified
In all aspects they are one from inside.
And when all of them are ignited
Lo! They are in the same way lighted!
All have the same light energy of flame
A gas in excited state, the plasma—to name.
All forms of lamps from their foundation
Emit the same brilliant illumination.
There may exist different views of the Divine
And different paths may exist to reach the Divine.
But the mode of approach to attain the goal
Is our sincere effort to pray with heart and soul.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Question And Answer
'CAN the soul die, believe you?
Because it seems to me
My soul is dead and buried,
So still it seems to be.
'It quivers not with joy;
It moaneth not with pain;
There is no note in nature
Awakens it again.
'Those white clouds in the azure;
Those lanes; those breezy trees;
Those softly gliding swallows;
Those fluted melodies;
'Those shadows in the meadows,
Running a fitful race;
With pleasure once they thrilled me,
But coldly now I gaze.'
Fear not; oh! not so lightly
The soul of mortal dies;
It has but wept itself to sleep,
And all unconscious lies.
The surging feelings overwrought,
They have but ebbed away,
And left the soul a little while
With all their changeful spray.
But stronger, deeper, fuller, in
The billowy tide will roll,
And overflood, with life and love,
The ever living soul.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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This 'n' That
Sometimes, I think about this ‘n’ that,
resurrecting damaged memories,
just to torture my soul.
Sometimes, when lying in bed,
I think about this ‘n’ that,
I doze off to unconsciousness.
Sometimes, this ‘n’ that gets to me,
disemboweling my being,
a cruel unusual punishment.
Sometimes, this ‘n’ that
awakens my demons,
painstakingly I exorcise my fallen angels.
Sometimes, I think about this ‘n’ that,
especially things that don’t matter anymore,
to torture my soul.
Copyright © George Ross 2011
poem by Geordie Ross
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Assail the Heavens
My soul sleeps,
Shrunk from the tides of life
Slid into tight hibernation.
A frozen time of suspension.
The time of longing has past
It is now a time of death,
In this winter of my life.
For I shall fade away
And a new spring shall dawn.
Soon recycling, rebrith.
The buds shall open to the sun.
The barren ground will bear new fruit
And my soul will thaw, awaken,
Breaking its fast, melting flesh;
Leaping forth and blaze to light.
Assail the heavens, be free.
poem by Paul Brookes
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Mono No Aware
I see the silhouette of my body
Standing in front of me in the mirror.
I polish the glass, so that I may see
That part of myself reflecting clearer.
I want the depths of my vision to grow
Sharper and more focused in the clear light,
Though, in it, my imperfections will show
As the illumination becomes bright.
Still, I fear one day a dust may settle
To dull the shine my young hands have made.
I wonder why I impede my mettle
To worry for what the future may fade
Since now's temporary image is here,
And destiny is made to disappear.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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The Supreme Soul
In awakeness,
I was there,
My mind was there,
My body was there,
In my dreams,
I was there,
My mind was there,
But my body was lost.
In my deep sleep,
I was there,
But I lost the mind,
So do I lost my body.
In my state beyond,
In the depth of my sleep,
I never sleep,
Nor did I awake,
It was a state,
Of no movement,
No dreams,
And no thinking!
I was without knowledge,
But I was the knowledge,
I was the illumination,
Of the supreme soul,
With whom I parted
On my birth.
I lost my memory,
Of my parent soul
But for the active
Five senses
Of my body,
The gift of the supreme soul!
I attained him,
When I lost the senses,
When I lost the earthly bond
When I lost the turbulations,
Of the earthly passions!
In union with him
The supreme soul
I lost my self,
And my soul,
Melted and immersed
With the supreme soul!
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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Dream Maker
My dream maker
Most vivid dreams
My dream creator
Is it what is seems?
Placing my head on the pillow
For a heavenly night
Illumination sheer
Like an Angel in the light
Apearing in the unconscious
Only to wake my eyes
As the combination of hues
Slowly start to die
Looking around me for my dream creator
Realizing they have disappeared from sight
Closing my eyes tightly and wishing with all my might
That my dream creator
Isn't what is seems
Not a sheer illumination
Nor a combination of hue
Instead of my dream creator
Please be my dream come true.
poem by Hannah Owens
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The Budding
The budding.
A rebirth of a season missed.
Spring arrives to lift spirits high.
Clear blue skies are witnessed...
As white clouds drift.
The budding.
Of flowers and grass and the leaves,
On Oak, Maple and Birch Trees.
Welcomes a lilting done of wind,
Introducing a Spring breeze to ease...
With a life that seems to be enjoyed again.
The budding.
Of familiar love known,
Yet hibernated in the Winter...
Amidst snow drifts.
And we smile and laugh and again forget,
That stress we welcomed to separate us...
From identifying those blessings,
That surrounds us to reach for complete happiness.
To explore and experience all of nature's treasures.
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding.
The blooming done.
And the joy!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Darkness Awakens Into Spring
Dreary cold Days are gone
Awesome how the trees begin budding
Ravishing is the beauty the
Easter lilies along the fences
Caddy dids and crickets begin
There Sweet Song as the
Darkness awakens into Spring
Now the birds are beginning to
build there nest high in the trees
Preparing for there young
Every now and then you can hear a
Frogs Croak and a big ribit
From time to time sweet smell of
spring is in the air as the
Darkness awakens into Spring
Angelic is the spring air
Wonderful how the tree and flowers
Awaken to the suns beautiful light
As I am sitting here in my window
I watch as a little family of Cardinals
begin to make the trees in my
Back yard there home every year
They return here to build their
nest for their young
As the Darkness Awakens Into Spring
By Melissia Ann Senter
poem by Melissia Ann Senter
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Hibernation is a covert preparation for a more overt action.
quote by Ralph Ellison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come What May
When one awakens and no longer fast asleep,
There's a need...
To find an honesty in someone,
Everyday.
Come what may.
And that one who's wished is sought to say,
Exactly what they mean.
And everyday.
Come what may.
That someone who's not bothered by,
What others have done.
And someone there who will cuddle,
Without troubles on their tongue.
Everyday!
Come what may.
When one awakens and no longer fast asleep,
There's a need...
To find a honesty in someone,
Everyday.
Come what may.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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~ Finally Niv Is In Petrified Punctuation ~
~ Finally Niv Is In Petrified Punctuation ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
29 October 2010
Psychic erosion
Myopic hibernation
Heart’s deflation
Soul’s corrosion
Poet’s induration!
Editors in contemplation
Printers in obfuscation
Poetry in delirious delusion
Readers in confusion!
Finally Niv is in petrified Punctuation.
.
====
Copyright reserved by author
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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Inspiration~ micropoetry
Inspiration is like a gentle breeze it slowly passes, softly touches, leaves an everlasting impression and awakens the eternal soul!
Man tends to act either out of inspiration or out of desperation. But be careful often acts done in desperation lead to miseries.
poem by Meetika Srivastava
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Awakens
Awakens
Memories......
that linger on in shadows of thought
Dusty illusions caught in a web of desire
Pushed back
and dwarfed by darkness
With but one kiss
forever burns and ignites
these words that I write
Longings wantonly hidden
With but one kiss
Passion flames arise
with searing tears
and I was moved
Memories......
that scatter rhymes
upon the grounds of summer
Left to linger longer
Till a gentle kiss awakens
13 July 2008
© 2008 Frog First (All rights reserved)
A New Season
i welcome the new season
when i do not like to do the usual things i do,
and they look for me
on places they always see me
the lecture room is full but i will not be there
my cell phone rings but i will not answer
i turn everything off
it is a new season of my life
for them to see me die outside
for me to make life anew inside
away from the crowd
into the solitude of my soul
into the calm pond
lotus like i sit
seeking myself, long lost, and weary
molting like a snake, in hibernation, like a mud fish
hiding its head on mud
cracking soil in summer
till the next rain.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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