Birthday Remembrances
So true it is that time stands still for none;
Run it swiftly or life's race won't be won;
Idleness leads to dreams of days gone by;
The hands of time rapidly continue to fly;
Days seem to pass as fast as dawn arises;
Night falls just as quickly as the sun rises;
Dusk disappears as midnight doth aspire;
Judgment gives way to dreams of desire;
Calendar all: give everything its own date;
Putting priorities first, all things straight;
Remembrance of the day you were born;
Whence you came; where you were torn;
From GOD's Heavenly Angelic throne;
Cast from dust; sheathed in earthen home;
An ivory palace; abundance of agape love;
Silver cord binding; to a sanctuary above;
Many an angel stands guard at our gate;
As sure as birth, death comes on to wait;
Yet not death, but eternal life; the present;
For trusting the Word; into His presence!
poem by Joseph Blitch
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Related quotes
Being still
Quiet and still
Nothing is moving
Yet, I feel
Time moving swiftly
As life stands still
So many hopes and dreams
I want to fulfill
What do I put in motion,
Rehearse as a drill?
To push things forward,
Or do continue to sit and wait?
completely releasing my will
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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Time
Linear time frames every persons day
as seconds pass in an unstoppable way.
Time moves on in a measurable amount
as we begin to age and each year we count
Time differs in aboriginal thinking
Yesterday, today and tomorrow linking.
Repeating themselves at the turn of each day
No months and years are to be found by this way.
In the beginning God said 'Let there be light'
and then the first moment of time ticked so bright.
As light shot forward matter and time was born
and then nights and days measured creations dawn.
As Light sped at its colossal speed through space.
Time began and now governs the human race.
Man's deeds are written in historic pages
showing the passage of time through the ages.
Then the atomic clock began recording
and the scientists commenced calculating.
How quickly earth spun as night and day revolved
and the time earth circled the sun was resolved.
Einstein viewed time using relativity
Through mathematics and great ingenuity.
The formula e=mc2 then found.
That Moving at speeds of light time stands its ground.
Time is relative in a different sense.
It seems to vary greatly when we feel tense.
When those anxious moments come along our way
time then seems to drag slowly to our dismay.
When we're having fun time appears to race by.
Why it passes by so fast we don't know why.
But then as we get older it seems as though
years fly quickly by but each day goes so slow.
Noting the years and each millennium.
Life races on by as it gains momentum.
We calculate the average of a life span
to estimate the lifetime of each man.
The bible says we might live three score and ten
and if by reason of strength four score and then!
Birth and death may define our humanity
but our soul lives on for an eternity.
But mankind armed with his modern medicine
accepts no limit on a life span of men.
Prolonging the course of illness and disease
unable to guarantee life's qualities.
But we can step right out of time by God's grace.
Eternity to eternity embrace.
God's plan for man in an eternity past
born again we will this creation outlast.
God is outside the limitations of time.
In an eternal 'now' supreme and sublime.
It's because of this He can transport us so.
Back in time for great healing to undergo.
The child of the past that's hidden so deeply
can be brought to Jesus feet so completely.
Real healing of body and soul can take place
because God exists outside of time and space.
God came into this earths time and history
condensed to a span and hiding His glory.
Came to this world walking and talking with men
and tasting death that we might be born again.
Now when we are standing before God on high
He sees us not as we appear when we die.
Our life before Him in panorama plays
and He sees us as the sum of all our days.
To stand alone before God's great judgement throne
Without Christ to mediate and on my own.
Cast out from Him to spend an eternal night
in Hell and misery cast out from His sight.
Why do I refuse this great gospel of grace
that can set my spirit free from sins disgrace?
Cleansed and released from the awful chains of sins
there with God as His new creation begins.
In heaven no more in times captivity
for death has been swallowed up in victory.
'This day you with me in paradise you'll be',
Christ says to the thief on the cross and to me.
Quicker Than a Wick
Those days that come,
With a visiting from darkness.
Seem to stay with us forever,
When we are young.
And too impatient to wait,
For our dreams to come true.
Some young people become distant,
And disrespectful.
With a doing of things regretted.
When days thought long and went on and on,
To become compared to minutes lived...
When aging done seems like a race to the finish line.
And those days that come with a visiting...
From darkness seem to remind us,
Our stay in the present days...
Are not for us in a foreverness to be remembered.
When we are young and many adventuresome...
And too impatient to wait,
For our dreams to come true.
Some sat in a brooding.
Not knowing what to do.
But choose to be insolent.
And then they do! Come true. Those dreams.
Although...
We seldom do realize it.
Until we've matured and reflect upon what has visited.
And why we were so concern to rush through a life,
Quicker than a wick can burn through wax...
To provide the darkness to be the canvas,
Of etched shadows cast.
To eventually end the flickering,
Of candlelight to leave silent our voices.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Life and Dreams
When life and dreams collide I pray
First things first straightens my path
When God is not first idols reign
Our own vanity rains our wrath
The pearl of great price must rule
Emotions need a guide that’s true
Life consists not in abundance of things
We are temporal heading for eternal love
Do you want the peace that God brings?
We must seek the high things above
Dreams are meant to be stepping-stones
When I carry my cross love leads me home
Life and dreams will fully join in eternity
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The poem and her poet
Death once told poor life defeated by life:
Life's no life if lived on the edge of knife,
No more a struggle, nor is full of strife,
Do ye know how many deaths is Death rife?
Death's all death; the same is not true of life,
Life tries to knot her up snaps when death's knife,
But I've heard a man asking on death bed,
Pray, tell me Death, how long ere I'm all dead?
To him, said death, straightening up his head,
Moments might when look like minutes of dread,
Minutes stretch and stretch into hours, instead,
When hours take days, and days, years, you are dead.
Remember, life's lived moment to moment,
‘Tis measured too in a moving moment,
Forget not: Death alone is permanent,
I dwell in life from birth, live life dormant;
There's no freedom in life, nor should death call,
Death changes but the bricks of prison wall,
All quarrels ‘tween life and death, big and small,
Settled are, death when proves him far too tall.
Life is a small piece, but a paragraph
Of my poem, said Death, metre nor measure but in half,
Life may decide every new beginning,
But ‘tis me that knows the length, knows ending.
Eons pass sans measure for endless time,
While no clocks tick, nor dare their hours to chime,
Boulders of rocks break down whilst time stands still,
O grinding into grains of sands sans will.
While life is stuck with my poem's first rhyme,
Death challenged life to dare the worst she can,
I'm the Absolute trouser wearing man1,
I wonder how relative would tick time!
_____________________________________________ ___________
1. Death muses himself to be the male principle, the purusha.
The poem stands for life and prakriti. The piece here depicts
a dialogue between Life, or the matter, the poem and her
creator poet, the Death. In Indic philosophy, purusha is the
presiding deity, the atman or soul, which is eternal and body
is made of prakriti, the material nature, which is death-bound.
_____________________________________________ __________________
- Musings | 12.08.12 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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The dream-ship
When the world is fast asleep,
Along the midnight skies--
As though it were a wandering cloud--
The ghostly dream-ship flies.
An angel stands at the dream-ship's helm,
An angel stands at the prow,
And an angel stands at the dream-ship's side
With a rue-wreath on her brow.
The other angels, silver-crowned,
Pilot and helmsman are,
And the angel with the wreath of rue
Tosseth the dreams afar.
The dreams they fall on rich and poor;
They fall on young and old;
And some are dreams of poverty,
And some are dreams of gold.
And some are dreams that thrill with joy,
And some that melt to tears;
Some are dreams of the dawn of love,
And some of the old dead years.
On rich and poor alike they fall,
Alike on young and old,
Bringing to slumbering earth their joys
And sorrows manifold.
The friendless youth in them shall do
The deeds of mighty men,
And drooping age shall feel the grace
Of buoyant youth again.
The king shall be a beggarman--
The pauper be a king--
In that revenge or recompense
The dream-ship dreams do bring.
So ever downward float the dreams
That are for all and me,
And there is never mortal man
Can solve that mystery.
But ever onward in its course
Along the haunted skies--
As though it were a cloud astray--
The ghostly dream-ship flies.
Two angels with their silver crowns
Pilot and helmsman are,
And an angel with a wreath of rue
Tosseth the dreams afar.
poem by Eugene Field
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No Need For The Lord
Men who think they have it all, are still affected by Adam’s fall,
Those men you see everywhere, living their life without a care.
They see no need for The Lord, who in their life goes ignored.
Unlike men, like you and me, they have no thought on eternity.
They say all that is ahead for us, is death and a return to dust.
They all believe this life will end, but that afterlife is all pretend.
If dust is the last place we go, why does Truth annoy them so?
If there is no afterlife at all, why do unbelievers hem and haw?
They say all have the same fate, as all bodies just disintegrate,
Hopelessly dealing with daily strife, only having this present life.
Saying all things start and end; but not so with Christ my friend,
Jesus Christ is eternal friend; like Him man’s being has no end.
Death may be an earthy fate, but all men have an eternal state,
For some it’s death some it’s life; it all depends on Jesus Christ.
If you believe He rose again, you my friend, can be born-again,
Born into God’s eternal family, to live with Jesus Christ eternally.
If you do not believe this is true, eternal darkness will greet you,
When you step into eternal death, upon your last earthly breath.
I simply do not understand why, some unbelievers balk and cry,
Ignoring all of the written history, about the only King of Eternity.
Nobody forces them to believe, as they choose to be deceived.
I simply will remain in The Truth, as they continue their reproof.
Is it all simply Satan’s spite, as he is wrong and Christ is right?
Friend one day they all will see, when they’re cast into eternity.
(Copyright ©05/2006)
Sweet Dreams My Angel
Go to sleep my angel and dream
Of heavenly places and heavenly faces
You shall be missed, my angel but rest in peace
In this world you could easily get hurt
Don't fret my angel you are safe in God's arms
He will take care of you
And will always be with you
Mortal dreams of riches, but my angel
You are rich for eternal life
So sleep now angel you are full of love and beauty
We will all be with you soon
Sweet dreams my angel
When you wake up you'll know that
Your dreams have come true
poem by Angie Watson
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Say I am You!
the speck of a star dust,
Filling a ray of light,
Get Exited to roam here and there!
The one who has neither born, nor die,
The eternal infinite singing its eternal song AUM,
Going round and round the Sun,
Along the revolving Earth,
Rotating about own axis along with rotating Planet!
Night is the time,
Sleeping in infinite nothing,
becoming nothing in beloved
embrace,
forgetting everything! In the lap of beloved enjoy
dreams,
may some come true,
Some may not,
Observing dreams one sees the
light within, At the dawn, with gentle breeze,
Dreams melt, innerlight into light
of world,
Never go back to sleep,
If you sleep at dawn,
What will be there at dusk? If dustfree dawn make you sleep,
Failing to Smile and work,
If can't feel lighter in the light of
dawn,
Sure the darkness covering light,
Will make you faint at dusk!
I and you are same here,
Counting the time, counting the days,
Everything is natural,
Why can't I be more natural
Why can't I be neutral,
All here are busy,
The Sun, the Moon,
The Earth,
The ocean and breeze,
Every cells of plants and animals busy,
Look at your cells,
That too are soundlessly busy,
Why can't I and you,
Say 'I am you' to the creator,
Because you too conferred same capacity,
capable to create your own world,
Your own happiness and sorrow,
Your own world of life, wisdom and knowledge,
Its show of shadow play is this world!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust
Leave me, O love which reachest but to dust,
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings.
Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might
To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be,
Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light
That doth both shine and give us sight to see.
O, take fast hold; let that light be thy guide
In this small course which birth draws out to death,
And think how evil becometh him to slide
Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.
Then farewell, world! thy uttermost I see:
Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Leave Me, O Love, Which Reachest But to Dust
Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust,
And thou my mind aspire to higher things:
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.
Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might,
To that sweet yoke, where lasting freedoms be:
Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light,
That doth both shine and give us sight to see.
O take fast hold, let that light be thy guide,
In this small course which birth draws out to death,
And think how evil becometh him to slide,
Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.
Then farewell world, thy uttermost I see,
Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Splendidis longum valedico Nugis
Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust,
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things!
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.
Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might
To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be;
Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light
That doth both shine and give us sight to see.
O take fast hold! let that light be thy guide
In this small course which birth draws out to death,
And think how evil becometh him to slide
Who seeketh Heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.
Then farewell, world! thy uttermost I see:
Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me!
poem by Philip Sidney
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Not Not Knock
Born, and Death sits at his computer
gazing out a night window daydreaming.
So many thoughts from his day streaming
while the disk drive, full pails, with calculations.
Another tooth falls from Muerte's maw
silhouetting a profile more sinister.
Key clicks resound, pressed by bony paws,
In minuet sway, away from his ministry.
From dawn to dusk while in between;
the parenthetic moments,
from dust to dust life clays to be,
as we bereave the torments.
So sojourner sun, 'Of the Two horizons', genuflects with esteem,
So-so for Death, with eternal amounts of memory,
types absolute mystery narrative reams:
'Sus palabras mundos, facturación, entre un nacimiento y la morte'.
(His world's words, invoiced, 'between a birth and death.)
Trusting In The Lord
A need for trust marks the way, as things do change, day to day,
As we become self-assured, things can be changed by The Lord,
For it is The Lord, and Him alone, Who sets the plan for His own,
Having set forth a much larger plan, than in the heart of any man.
God’s Plan shall indeed survive, just as His Will keeps man alive,
And when things appear to fall apart, real Trust must fill our heart.
As Christ leads us, in His Peace, that in dark times will not cease.
While God leads us by His hand, in this sometimes troubled land.
As present days seem to darken, it’s God’s voice we must harken,
While fully trusting in God’s will, to let our troubled heart to be still,
For God alone, does not change, while His plan remains the same,
And in this dark and troubled world, it is this Truth, we must herald.
The Lord God remains in control, through every trial, big and small,
And when His Hand I cannot see, His Truth alone is enough for me,
So as I continue my life down here, I know that God is always near,
Guiding me with Power and Grace, as I continue in this earthly race.
Friend, my trust is not in man or me, but, in The God of all Eternity,
Who alone, holds all things together, not only for now, but forever;
Sustaining all things is Jesus Christ, He, Who gave me Eternal Life,
And if Eternal Life is His to give, He’s able to help me, daily to live.
(Copyright ©07/2010)
Death
The journey of death, I think of dying as it were
a sleeping process which it brings our thoughts
the illusion of angel's, heaven, clouds and paradise,
we see ourselves in a utopia dream world,
that brings us peace and harmony. Death is a
sad word; a word that is continually present with
melancholy thoughts that haunts the mind. I always
dismiss it from my mind, but always comes back.
It's there always trying to torment me, maybe if death
wasn't so enigmatic and dreadful, our thoughts would
change. We wouldn't think about it at all. When I think
of the old age, is like thinking, death is near, it's the
nearest thing to old age. Death, death is like a cold
and lonely sigh, Death, it comes like thieves in the
night, it takes you and it wont give you a notice nor a
warning. A deep anguish takes over our feelings;
death is a sad word, An empty sensation and a huge
grief, that torture's the soul and mind. Death we can't
defeated, escape or make it null. A reminder each
day that time will eventually stop and become eternal.
Death the only sure thing we inherit from the second
we are born, death, death, I cannot comprehend the
purpose to all, we struggle in our journey in every way,
to at the end, become dust in the wind, and then after
time has past, not even a vestige of us.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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How Great The Palace Stands
I
How great the palace stands
with its golden domes
in a city that is on seven hills,
snow white where it towers seven times.
As if everything holy, righteous and wonderful
comes to stature in it,
where hymns are constantly sung,
in the inner court and at the outside
with a central stela as a sign
of life originating, pointing into the air,
with the moon and sun meeting,
rises and dies as in ancient heathen worship,
circled twice,
almost like the throne of God Himself
and year in and out
have been seen as the very fortress against evil.
This place is full of light and darkness that mixes,
much like the checked surface of a chess board,
maybe symbolic of a cycle of life and death,
that is eternal for these people?
II
After a journey over the whole earth,
coming from far as a pilgrim,
the traveller looks at the big palace,
later he stops in front of a copper door,
where there are soldiers on guard duty
and these symbols are depicted on that door:
Jesus Christ on the cross, the death of Mary,
death by torture, death on earth,
or in space,
symbols of the communion,
a vine and sheaf of wheat
and on the edge of the door
birds of the night and day
and thus again light and darkness:
a dead dove, a sleeping guinea pig,
a hedgehog, a night owl,
a tortoise bitten to death by a snake
and a threatening raven.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Death - The Gift of Life
There’s nothing certain but death
Nor beyond nor before
We are born and live to die
Death the only gift of life
We fret; make noise, shout and cry
We skid from hills to valley and back
Get torn among home, work and friends
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
We fight, we scream, we spurn
We step on each others’ toe
All to achieve and amass
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
Walk we straight with pride
Look we people in the eye
Seldom do we stop and stoop
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
We make friends, yet sly
Break hearts and water eyes
Too proud to bend or mend
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
Each death promise another
Our last breath gives forth life
To another birth to die again
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
Never can we live past in life
In death we reach the very start
From grains we come, to grains we go
There’s nothing certain but death
Death the only gift of life
poem by Thomas PJ New Delhi
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Rubaiyat of Ghosts
One can, who strangers scan, too few admire,
as most play ghosts deprived of phantom choir,
tripping, tripping up, upon life’s board,
stillborn refuting intimate desire.
In game of give and take what ranks the higher
self-interest or charity? Enquire
about ambitions intimate, bond word,
suspicion from the shadows whispers: 'Liar! '
Most men as puppets dance upon a wire
taut from birth to death, - as seller, buyer,
taught to act and not to BE - Fate’s sword
to dust must sooner, later, each retire.
So few dare seek far stars, less dare aspire
for freedom, seldom search above their mire,
for seventy or eighty years life’s cord
they eke out, seldom seeking something higher.
A burning bush survived the blazing fire,
and witness stands to Time the purifier -
yet oil on troubled waters oft is poured
by those who spurn each prophet as a liar.
Life is too short. Who’d play the poet’s lyre
must tame the vagrant strings, the versifier
tunes into harmony whose every chord
responds to inspiration all desire.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Death and Birth
Death leads to birth rather than birth, to death.
Birth is close to death and not vice versa.
Every birth is at the result of a death.
Death to birth, not birth to death, is the path.
The death of clay is the birth of a pot;
The death of the pot is the birth of clay.
Ice melts to water and water forms ice.
In each conversion, occur death and birth.
The death of a night is the birth of a day;
The death of a day is the birth of a night.
New Year means the death of the old year too.
In each transition, takes place death and birth.
The death of a seed is the birth of a plant;
The death of gametes is the birth of an embryo.
Salts die to form cells; cells die to form salts.
In each growth, form death and birth of matter.
The so called death and birth is nothing but
Deaths and births of forms made of matter.
The matter itself does not die to be born
But is converted to different forms.
Elements disappear to form plants.
Plants as food add to the animals’ flesh.
Plants and animals on death liberate
As elements, serving through worms and germs.
When a child is born, there’s no birth of life.
The embryo transforms into a child.
When a man dies, there is no death of life.
The body disintegrates to salts.
Matter, energy and life have no death
They have got one birth since when they’ve been.
They interact and come different stages
In which the pattern is death and birth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Death is......
Death is the placid resort
Where one can coolly relax
Away from the tumultuous toil of
Life’s routine rigmarole
Death is the comforting refuge
Where one can take asylum from the
inevitable assault of adversities of life
enjoying an eternal blissful solace
Death is the strong citadel
Into which one can run and hide
To find the everlasting protection
From the invading aggressive strife
Death is the sweet home
Which one longs to reach at the dusk of life
After completing and un-completing
His secular chores for an eternal rest
Death is the enticing trophy
For which one prepares using all his talents
And runs fast to complete the course
To take it at the finishing point from the hands of the umpire
Death is not the hiss of a serpent
It is the kiss of the heavenly father given to those who repent
Death is not a state of swoon,
it is a splendid boon
Death is not a disheartening demotion,
It is a much awaited promotion
Death is not an inconsolable commotion,
It is a state of departing from emotion
Death is not an appalling notion,
It is an ecstatic heavenly motion
Death is not a dreadful rift..
It is a glorious gift
To enjoy that rapturous shift,
from this world one should inescapably drift
poem by Ch J Satyananda Kumar
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