Talking XX
And then a scholar said, "Speak of Talking."
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words many indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape.
And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the color is forgotten and the vessel is no more.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Silence and Talking
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts
You cannot stand the solitude of your heart, so you speak out
Indeed, you talk from fear of being alone,
Sound becomes a diversion and a pass-time
The silence of aloneness reveals your naked self, so you seek escape
You talk without knowledge revealing truth you do not understand
When you meet a friend let spirit guide your lips and direct speech
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
His soul will know the truth from your heart
Like the taste of wine remembered,
When the color is forgotten and the vessel is no more
poem by Ray Lucero
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Self-Knowledge XVII
And a man said, "Speak to us of Self-Knowledge."
And he answered, saying:
Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always know in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.
And it is well you should.
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.
Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Read My Lips
verbal silence. read my lips.
if you see them.
read the words. read it here.
these words. read them like
flowers in the garden.
these words speak a little.
tips of the iceberg. They are less
compared to the color of my eyes
the warmth of my fingers
the suppressed beatings of my heart.
these words that you read.
if only you can see my lips.
if only you can see my face.
and body, naked on the flowing sheet of
pure paper. IF only you know
what silence means, how emptiness
eats it, if only you know how inferior
verbs and adjectives are
compared to the caresses of the hands
and the tenderness of the fingers,
touch.
read the lines silently.
these words do not shape my lips.
they come to your eyes.
in the silence of your understanding.
never shall they speak
about me. they only talk about
the hands that write sometimes
without any meaning at all.
infinitives are not infinite.
neither do verbs know what is it to be still.
and adjectives talk only about the surface.
deep under, the noise begins.
and silence of the verbs move to another side.
now, the mountains of ideas collapse
and bury the casualties of silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Fact of Life
To say a thing and doing it is good;
To do a thing: keep telling it, is bad;
To mince one’s words and speak big lies is worst!
To talk one’s heart out does not suit this world.
Some think something and talk a different thing;
Some say something and do things opposite;
A few talk truth, no matter what it costs;
The liar gets accolades for long time!
Yet, human beings ought to be quite frank;
One lie will lead to bigger lies in life;
One has to be dependable most times;
Nothing can progress without talking truth.
’Tis tough to speak the truth always in life;
But talking lies is habit-forming soon;
Accountable is man to God some day!
’Tis better therefore to always speak truth.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-31-2007
poem by John Celes
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Friendship IXX
And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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The honest liar
1. I have to tell you that
In the last conversation we had
All I told you were lies
And with all honesty now
I am telling you
That I am a liar.
2. When you asked me
Whether I am dying
I told you I am not
But I have only
A month to live
That is the truth
But look
I am not responsible for you
I am the one
That is dying here.
It is not you.
3. When we speak
I do not demand that
You tell me the truth
We are talking
Because we are here
What you say to me
Is none of my business
To require that you tell
Me the truth
Is in fact, an overburden
Our agreement is
Simple enough
That we just talk
It is nothing more
But a contract of presence
a conversation.
4. In fact what you say
Is the bonus
And it does not matter
Truth or falsehood
We just talk
For a while
While I am here
I am going somewhere
I am leaving
You will be left
And you still have
All the time to contrive
The choice is yours
I have none anymore
5. so that is it
Keep on talking
As I pretend I am listening
I keep on talking too
But my mind
Forgive me
Is somewhere else
You may not understand
It at first
But you will soon
Understand
This world is not simply meant
For one, for one like me.
Or for us.
6. at this stage
Truth and falsehood
Are irrelevant,
Out there
Is beyond truth and falsehood
It is our place.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As The Spirit Fills
Verse by verse and line by line; The Spirit fills the heart and mind.
The Spirit moves on a scribe, to pen the words down deep inside.
God uses men to reach the world, with a message for us to herald.
Some may speak while other men, The Lord above uses their pen.
Apostles would speak The Word, and men believed as they heard.
It was God’s Word they received, that would lead them to believe.
As New Believers they would go, and share so others could know,
The saving Grace of Jesus Christ, so they too could have New Life.
As The Truth began to spread, many would use parchment instead.
And The Truth many would heed, from words that they would read.
Either way, God’s Truth we share, with all those for whom we care.
Allow The Spirit to move your heart, so God’s Truth we can impart.
My friend, God will use anyone, to share The Truth about His Son.
Using any form of communication, to reach the lost with Salvation.
Join the Apostles and Prophets of old, sharing Truth till all are told,
About The Lord and Savior above, sent to all by The Father’s Love.
God still moves upon men today, helping us with the words to say,
For me the verses seem to flow, while The Spirit helps me to grow.
As I write the words aren’t mine, for my source is above and Divine.
It is The Spirit who fills my pen, and to this friend, I just say Amen.
(Copyright ©01/2006)
I, She And Silence
First, first...
Over phone...
"Hello"... "Hello"
For hours… sweet talk…
Many a laugh…
3 years later...
Face to face
"Hi"... "Hi"
Two shy smiles…
Silence...
Two cups of coffee...
Silence...
While parting two broad grins...
Silence…
She turned aside …bit her lips
I sighed…scratched head
Silence…silence…silence…
2 days later........
Over phone...
"Hello"..."Hello"
for hours …sweet talk…
Many a laugh
poem by Sathya Narayana
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The elusion of words
The elusion of words
~
I wish to say
Those words which elude me
Those I sometimes forget to say
Or I find to frightening to speak
I may misuse those words
Allow them to betray my tongue
And live with that regret
~
I do not wish to cheapen them
In saying you are beautiful
That I love you deeply
I fear they may become clichés
That you discount them
As mere polite conversations
~
How may I express myself
To reveal the truth of my soul
Frightened by the idea of loss
That I may watch you slip away
That how happy you have made me
Is a way I’d almost forgotten
That I never thought I’d feel again
~
I may not be the wisest of men
I am humble enough to admit
That as much as I play with words
Those which still elude my tongue
Talk of this love I feel for you
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Voice of Truth - A Short Story
"I cannot love her! , yelled the man.
"And why is that? ", the soft voice questioned.
"She will never change. ", the man exclaimed,
"She yells at me, scolds me and does not respect me."
"I can see how you cannot love her.", replied the voice.
The man loosened up. "You understand? ", he asked.
"Of course I understand" the voice confirmed,
"How can you possibly love a woman like that, "
"When you are expecting so much of her? "
Puzzled, the man listened to the voice further.
"You cannot love and expect at the same time.
You can either love her, or expect from her
You see, the purpose of love is to give.
It is my gift to you, to be given to another.
As is her love for you.
You choose who the gift is given to and who it is not.
You cannot expect her to give you her love.
That is a demand.
All you have the ability to do,
Is to give her yours.
The balance you seek is very unbalanced.
Patience, kindness, grace and mercy are all gifts you can give.
If you are expectant of them, they are no longer a gift.
They become a right, an entitlement or an obligation.
The gift of one's love is not a right, but a privilege.
As are all privileges, if abused, they will be taken away.'
A tear rolled down the man's face.
"My heart has been so full of myself, I had no room in it for her." The man sobbed.
"I can see how that works."
The man seeing the err of his ways, realized his love was not true.
He returned to his wife with a new love.
A love not defined by himself,
But as defined by the voice of truth.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Song of the Soul XXII
In the depth of my soul there is
A wordless song - a song that lives
In the seed of my heart.
It refuses to melt with ink on
Parchment; it engulfs my affection
In a transparent cloak and flows,
But not upon my lips.
How can I sigh it? I fear it may
Mingle with earthly ether;
To whom shall I sing it? It dwells
In the house of my soul, in fear of
Harsh ears.
When I look into my inner eyes
I see the shadow of its shadow;
When I touch my fingertips
I feel its vibrations.
The deeds of my hands heed its
Presence as a lake must reflect
The glittering stars; my tears
Reveal it, as bright drops of dew
Reveal the secret of a withering rose.
It is a song composed by contemplation,
And published by silence,
And shunned by clamor,
And folded by truth,
And repeated by dreams,
And understood by love,
And hidden by awakening,
And sung by the soul.
It is the song of love;
What Cain or Esau could sing it?
It is more fragrant than jasmine;
What voice could enslave it?
It is heartbound, as a virgin's secret;
What string could quiver it?
Who dares unite the roar of the sea
And the singing of the nightingale?
Who dares compare the shrieking tempest
To the sigh of an infant?
Who dares speak aloud the words
Intended for the heart to speak?
What human dares sing in voice
The song of God?
poem by Khalil Gibran
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The Sequel to a Reminiscence
Not in the street and not in the square,
The street and square where you went and came;
With shuttered casement your house stands bare,
Men hush their voice when they speak your name.
I, too, can play at the vain pretence,
Can feign you dead; while a voice sounds clear
In the inmost depths of my heart: Go hence,
Go, find your friend who is far from here.
Not here, but somewhere where I can reach!
Can a man with motion, hearing and sight,
And a thought that answered my thought and speech,
Be utterly lost and vanished quite?
Whose hand was warm in my hand last week? . .
My heart beat fast as I neared the gate--
Was it this I had come to seek,
"A stone that stared with your name and date;"
A hideous, turfless, fresh-made mound;
A silence more cold than the wind that blew?
What had I lost, and what had I found?
My flowers that mocked me fell to the ground--
Then, and then only, my spirit knew.
The Message
I have not the gift of vision,
I have not the psychic ear,
And the realms that are called Elysian
I neither see nor hear;
Yet oft when the shadows darken
And the daylight hides its face,
The soul of me seems to hearken
For the truths that speak through space.
They speak to me not through reason,
They speak to me not by word;
Yet my soul would be guilty of treason
If it did not say it had heard.
For Space has a message compelling
To give to the ear of Earth;
And the things which the Silence is telling
In the bosom of God have birth.
Now this is the truth as I hear it-
That ever through good or ill,
The will of the Ruling Spirit
Is moving and ruling still.
In the clutch of the blood-red terror
That holds the world in its might,
The Race is learning its error
And will find its way to the light.
And this is the Truth as I see it-
Whoever cries out for peace,
Must think it, and live it, and be it,
And the wars of the world will cease.
Men fight that man may awaken,
And no longer want to kill;
Wars rage, and the heavens are shaken
That man may learn how to be still.
In the silence, he finds his Saviour-
The God Who is dwelling within;
And only by Christ-behaviour
Is the soul of him saved from sin.
There is only one Source-no other-
One Light, and each soul is a ray;
And he who would slaughter his brother,
Himself he is seeking to slay.
Now these are the Truths we are learning
Through evils and horrors untold;
For the thought of the race is turning
Away from its methods of old.
And the mind of the race is sated,
With the things that it prized of yore,
And the monster of war is hated,
As never on earth before.
Oh, slow are God's mills in the grinding,
But they grind exceedingly small;
And slow is man's soul in the finding,
That he is a part of the All.
Through æons and æons, his story
Is bloody and blackened with crime;
But he will come out into glory
And stand on the summits sublime.
He will stand on the summits of Knowledge,
In the splendour of Light from the Source;
And the methods of church and of college
Will all of them change by his force.
For the creeds that are blind and cruel,
And the teachings by rule and by rod,
Will all be turned into fuel
To light up the pathway to God.
This is the Truth as I hear it-
The clouds are rolling away,
And spirit will talk with Spirit
In the swift approaching day.
War from the world shall be driven,
From evil shall come forth good;
And men shall make ready for Heaven
Through living in Brotherhood.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Talk To Her
When you talk to her talk to her
Like it was somebody else
Talk to your mama
Don't get smart
But I have a heart to heart
and just like you would
Would you doubt us
Cause everything you do or say
You got to live with everyday
She's somebody's baby
She's somebody's sister
She's somebody's mama
Now when you go to her
Speak truthfully
Honest as you can be from your heart
You're in a situation
But you're losing patience
Take your time and look her in the eyes
When you just can't find the words you want
And it's hard to reach a point
Where you both can understand
Don't just tell the truth
But tell the whole truth
It'll make a better man out of you
When you talk to her talk to her
Like it was somebody else
Talk to your mama
Don't get smart
But I have a heart to heart
and just like you would
Would you doubt us
Cause everything you do or say
You got to live with everyday
She's somebody's baby
She's somebody's sister
She's somebody's mama
He doesn't matter if
She's wearing mini skirt or business suit
Whether she's twenty-five or ninety-nine
Treat her the way your mama talked you to
She could be the queen shieber
song performed by by India.Arie from Voyage To India
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 122
I will worship you in Spirit and Truth
My delight is to come to this place
The place where you dwell in your sanctuary
Where we lift up our eyes to thy Face
And together with my brothers and sisters
I shall come before thy throne
You're the bright morning star, the Son of God
You're the Christ, the chief cornerstone
This place that I find you is Spirit and Truth
It dwells in the heart of men
The New Jerusalem, the heart of God
Of its glory I shall write with my pen
And the house of David lives on forever
And we dwell in the holy of holies
We dwell in the midst of your burning heart
In this place our spirits are free
poem by Frank McEleny
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Some Took The Words Away
Poor head
Can hardly move my lips for speaking
I said
So, what is this thing I cannot explain?
I'd blame all the things I feel but can't quite place
Perhaps they're written on my face
Someone took the words away
Why don't you speak up and say what you mean?
Summon my powers of conversation
I talk to myself,
I'm fine
When you're around,
Then I decline the invitation
It's strange to finally find myself so tongue-tied
A change has come over me
I'm powerless to express
Every thing I know but cannot speak
And if I try my voice will break
Someone took the words away
Someone took the words away
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep Talking
For millions of years mankind lived just like the animals
Then something happenend which unleashed the power of our imagination
We learned to talk
Theres a silence surrounding me
I cant seem to think straight
Ill sit in the corner
No one can bother me
I think I should speak now ___________ why wont you talk to me
I cant seem to speak now ____________ you never talk to me
My words wont come out right ________ what are you thinking
I feel like Im drowning _____________ what are you feeling
Im feeling weak now _________________ you never talk to me
But I cant show my weakness _________ what are you thinking
I sometimes wonder ___________________ what are you feeling
Where do we go from here
It doesnt have to be like this
All we need to do is make sure we keep talking
Why wont you talk to me _____________ I feel like Im drowning
You never talk to me _________________ you know I cant breathe now
What are you thinking ________________ were going nowhere
What are you feeling _________________ were going nowhere
Why wont you talk to me
You never talk to me
What are you thinking
Where do we go from here
It doesnt have to be like this
All we need to do is make sure we keep talking
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Role Of Grief Via Silence....
for as long as grief
does not leave you
silence will always speak louder
than any
shouts of joy or whispers of romance
silence is that brick on the road
cars are disturbed by its red elegance
women find it not just for the house
little in-significances
life is more chiseled this time
refined garments
perfumed feet
shiny white fingernails
drops of rain beneath the soiled feet
for as long as grief hovers on
unrequited love
there will always be more to tell
not in words not in words
it is the silence
that dwells on the wounded lips
it is the silence
that creeps in the heart
deadens the tongue
glowing soul, winged spirit without wounds
now, pure joy like light dispersed
in black skies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Silence Is
Silence is sitting back in the recliner after a day
at work when the radio was too loud.
Silence is hearing the birds singing after hearing
neighbors bickering.
Silence is listening to beloved hymns after hearing
yourself complaining about things that cannot be changed.
Silence is reading the words of Rumi after reading news of
rape, murder and molestation.
When one is silent about another's wrongdoings, silence is
the sound of the devil shouting. So speak up, and he will
not be heard!
When one is silent in prayer and rest, silence is the sound
of God talking. So speak up, so He may be heard!
Yes, when God talks to you, let Him talk through you!
Be silent no longer!
poem by Greg Oosterhouse
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The Art Of Words
words form
only part
of the message
silence
subtle body language
mood
tone
intuition
imply
meaning
Eastern Western
communication styles
are vastly different
as a poet I to may love
long quiet moments
own meditation silence
I also am suspicious of words
when the soul rings hollow
when eyes lie before my face
I also am more concerned
with purity of actions
I know many lack discipline
not understanding importance
of personal family honour
keeping word integrity prime
we believe in using silence
as a way of communicating
when deception is detected
why confront with knowledge
what perceived cannot admit
what weak souls hide from self
sometimes it is better
to talk too little
than to talk too much
take special note
of the pauses
between words
the thinking mind
strives for truth
nobility heartfelt
or a mask to fence behind
the mind that does not
seek to know itself
before important actions
decisions are made
is impetuous
lacking judgement
less talk
longer periods
of silence
use the strength
of silence
to unravel truth
the silence
which disturbs
a strategy
of deception
may unnerve
the deceitful
silence can be
unspoken agreement
a respectful sign
it might mean
something unpleasant
is better unsaid
saving face
a mercy given
manners refined
listen to silence
learn the power
the harmony of nature
poem by Terence George Craddock
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