The Festival Of Lights
Rows of lamps lit up the place.
My home was also covered with lights.
You feared the darkness leaving a trace...
Few candles at the gate would make it right!
Set out for lamps to meet the need of your eyes,
I walked through a world of darker night;
Where amidst noise, the plea of silence had to die
And starved faces with trembling hands stood upright.
While lighting up the facade, we remained unaware
About the darkness within, we didn't care.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
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Within my own life, I read all the beloved novels by lamps of vegetable oil; I saw the Standard Oil invading my own village, I saw gas lamps in the Chinese shops in Shanghai; and I saw their elimination by electric lights.
The Cab Lamps
The crescent moon and clock tower are fair above the wall
Across the smothered lanes of ’Loo, the stifled vice and all,
And in the shadow yonder—like cats that wait for scraps—
The crowding cabs seem waiting—for you and me, perhaps.
The cab lamps are watching as they watched for you and me,
The cab lamps are a-watching and they watch unblinkingly.
The sea breeze in Macleay Street and star-angels over all,
But the slinking cabs of darkness keep their watch beside the wall.
Oh! the years we slipped like months—and the months like a day—
When our cabs slid from the stand—touched the kerb and sped away—
Oh! the cloak on girlish shoulders—Oh! the theatres and light!
And the private rooms and supper that were all in a night!
Oh! the rickshaw in Colombo! And the flat that no one knew,
Where the cab lamps watched Haymarket—London cabs for me and you.
Oh! the gay run “Home” by Paris when the world was ours to play
And the wild run back by Frisco that seems all in a day.
Oh! the cab lamps and rose curtains, when the lie called love seemed true,
While an honest wife and husband suffered by the lanes of ’Loo.
Oh! the health and strength and beauty and the money with its power—
And those two good lives we ruined that was all in an hour.
But the night policeman’s coming with a sharp suspicious eye,
And he’d shift us “quick and lively” to the sweet by and by.
So we’ll seek our frowsy bedroom, if the old hag lets us through—
Where our folks died broken-hearted in the cruel lanes of ’Loo.
The cab lamps are watching as they watched across the sea,
The cab lamps are watching, and they watch for you and me.
For you and me they waited, when the thing called love seemed true,
But the bull’s-eye of our midnight must not flash on me—and you.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Improvisations: Light And Snow: 11
As I walked through the lamplit gardens,
On the thin white crust of snow,
So intensely was I thinking of my misfortune,
So clearly were my eyes fixed
On the face of this grief which has come to me,
That I did not notice the beautiful pale colouring
Of lamplight on the snow;
Nor the interlaced long blue shadows of trees;
And yet these things were there,
And the white lamps, and the orange lamps, and the lamps of lilac were there,
As I have seen them so often before;
As they will be so often again
Long after my grief is forgotten.
And still, though I know this, and say this, it cannot console me.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Lines
On observing the light of two lamps in the
Town form a Triangle with a conspicuous
Star in the Evening Sky.
Two lights below and one above—
Two lights that lead astray,
And one that points to blissful rest
After life’s feverish day.
False Lights of Earth! that shine to lure
The wayworn traveller on,
Till in some lonely wild he sinks
And lies in darkness down.
Fair star of night! thy friendly ray,
To erring man is given,
The finger-post of Deity
Marking the road to Heaven!
poem by Caroline Carleton
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Deepavali – The Festival Of Lights, 2011
Light the lamps and adorn your home;
The ‘Festival of Lights’ has come;
Make the sweetmeats and food dainty;
Dress in new clothes, looking pretty!
Share the joy with neighbours around;
Light the crackers, making great sound;
Throng the temples, heartily pray;
Good has won o’er evil today.
Let love of men and divine love,
Enrich your mind and heart, soul now;
Spread the light to dispel darkness;
Let life be filled with happiness!
‘HAPPY DEEPAVALI,2011 TO INDIANS GLOBALLY! ’
poem by John Celes
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Deep Wound Near Fever Social Causes
deep wound near fever social causes
delving into tunnels lighting candles
holding lamps high warming other hands
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Impression de Nuit ( London )
See what a mass of gems the city wears
Upon her broad live bosom! row on row
Rubies and emeralds and amethysts glow.
See! that huge circle like a necklace, stares
With thousands of bold eyes to heaven, and dares
The golden stars to dim the lamps below,
And in the mirror of the mire I know
The moon has left her image unawares.
That's the great town at night: I see her breasts,
Pricked out with lamps they stand like huge black towers.
I think they move! I hear her panting breath.
And that's her head where the tiara rests.
And in her brain, through lanes as dark as death,
Men creep like thoughts...The lamps are like pale flowers
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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I just don't think there are any rules to color. You have a small space with no windows? Put lamps in there, make it dramatic, paint the ceiling black. Do something with it. If it's dark, accentuate the darkness.
quote by David Bromstad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lamp-lighting By Nurses
By lamps, you light although daylight,
You light the world of darkened lives
Of ailing patients and dying,
Giving them hope of life quite bright!
The lamps you hold by hand today
Affirm your wish to toil always,
Relieving pain and sufferings
Of sick, diseased brethren all day!
Like ‘Lady with the lamp’ you show
Your heart has love and compassion
For mankind sick and afflicted;
To God, the Healer, you thus bow!
The lamps will show the world around
That nurses are a noble lot
Who sacrifice their lives and time
To make everybody’s health sound!
May nurses fill the world with cheer!
Like Nightingale, serve sick always;
Your work is more than gold, aye, dear!
Be bold but kind to human race!
Fondly dedicated to the ‘I Batch’
Of IRT SON students and staff
poem by John Celes
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Perfidy
Hollow rang the house when I knocked on the door,
And I lingered on the threshold with my hand
Upraised to knock and knock once more:
Listening for the sound of her feet across the floor,
Hollow re-echoed my heart.
The low-hung lamps stretched down the road
With shadows drifting underneath,
With a music of soft, melodious feet
Quickening my hope as I hastened to meet
The low-hung light of her eyes.
The golden lamps down the street went out,
The last car trailed the night behind;
And I in the darkness wandered about
With a flutter of hope and of dark-shut doubt
In the dying lamp of my love.
Two brown ponies trotting slowly
Stopped at a dim-lit trough to drink:
The dark van drummed down the distance slowly;
While the city stars so dim and holy
Drew nearer to search through the streets.
A hastening car swept shameful past,
I saw her hid in the shadow,
I saw her step to the curb, and fast
Run to the silent door, where last
I had stood with my hand uplifted.
She clung to the door in her haste to enter,
Entered, and quickly cast
It shut behind her, leaving the street aghast.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Rays are not barred
You are beyond the reach.
I am behind the ditch.
Can we shake hands?
You are upon a tower.
I am on the floor.
Can we hear words?
You are in, door shut.
I am out, in wait.
Can we cross our glances?
You are in a cave.
A new moon night.
Can I search for you?
You are ashore.
I am with no oar.
Can I sail to you?
We are lamps, burning.
Lamps kept apart.
Their rays are yet meeting.
We are not separated
Our union is absolute.
Barrier has no fence.
5.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Bavarian Gentias
Not every man has gentians in his house
in soft September, at slow, sad Michaelmas.
Bavarian gentians, big and dark, only dark
darkening the daytime, torch-like, with the smoking blueness of Pluto's
gloom,
ribbed and torch-like, with their blaze of darkness spread blue
down flattening into points, flattened under the sweep of white day
torch-flower of the blue-smoking darkness, Pluto's dark-blue daze,
black lamps from the halls of Dis, burning dark blue,
giving off darkness, blue darkness, as Demeter's pale lamps give off blight, lead me then, lead the way.
Reach me a gentian, give me a torch!
let me guide myself with the blue, forked torch of this flower
down the darker and darker stairs, where blue is darkened on blueness even where Persephone goes, just now, from the frosted September
to the sightless realm where darkness is awake upon the dark
and Persephone herself is but a voice
or a darkness invisible enfolded in the deeper dark
of the arms Plutonic, and pierced with the passion of dense gloom, among the splendor of torches of darkness, shedding darkness on the lost bride and her groom.
poem by David McKee Wright
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The place I call home
I'm leaving now.
I'm going home.
I'm leaving now.
To the place I call home.
I won't come back.
I'll be at home.
I'll be happy there.
The place I call home.
Where the birds sing.
And the flowers dance.
Where the wind whispers.
In the place I call home.
The children play.
The stars sparkle.
The dogs bark.
In the place I call home.
I'm going now.
To my home.
Where I'll live freely
In the place I call home
poem by MyLittle Secret
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The Responsibility of Love
Where you are now, the only lights are stars
and oil lamps flaring on vine-covered porches.
Where you are now, it must be midnight.
No one has bothered to name all the roads
that overlook the sea. The freshened air
smells of myrtle and white jasmine. A church
stands on the headland, and I hope it might
keep one thought of me alive in your head.
Autumn is here: warm days becoming cold.
The trees dropp more leaves, love, each time it rains.
I eat my meals with the TV turned on,
but softly so the neighbors won't complain.
The kilim is stained by the food I spilled
the first day-and the second-you were gone
poem by G.E. Patterson
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Tavern Lit By Lamps
The tavern tables stay lit by the lamps,
These are the lamps of excellence.
My tables collect more money
And the energy is also collected.
May this tavern express the whole joy,
May we enter a real improvement,
And may the gates of this city be for sustenance.
These shopkeepers are so careful, more than you,
Let monsters and werewolves be dignified
And then the worst enemy is around.
The tavern is an absolute sanctuary,
A wonderful way of gambling and dancing.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Matthew (Chapter 25)
‘The Heaven’s kingdom is like ten
Virgins, who took their lamps to meet,
The bridegroom in his wedding feast;
Five were foolish but five were wise.’
‘The foolish ones went with their lamps,
Which had no oil in them at all;
The wise ones also took their lamps,
Along with oil to use in flasks.’
‘The bridegroom came a bit delayed;
The virgins felt drowsy and slept;
A cry was heard at midnight loud,
‘Behold, the bridegroom comes, meet Him! ’
The virgins woke and trimmed their lamps;
The foolish ones then asked the wise,
‘Spare us some oil to keep lamps on.’
The wise ones then replied, ‘Sorry,
We need the oil for our own lamps;
It may not be enough for both;
Go to the merchant shop and buy.’
While foolish virgins went to buy,
The bridegroom came during that time;
The ones ready, accompanied him;
The wedding hall’s door was then locked.’
The other virgins then arrived;
They cried, ‘Lord, Lord, open the door! ’
The bridegroom but replied, ‘Amen,
I say to you, I know you not! ’
‘So, stay awake for, you know not
The day, nor hour when bridegroom comes! ’
‘A man who went on a journey,
To all his servants, gave money,
As per each one’s ability.’
‘He gave five talents to the first;
Two talents to the servant next;
One talent only, to the last,
And went away immediately! ’
‘The one who got five talents made,
Another five talents by trade;
The one who had two talents too
Likewise had made another two;
The one with just one talent dug
A hole to bury it in ground.’
A long time passed; the master came
To settle accounts with servants;
He told the first who’d made five more,
‘Well done my faithful servant good;
I’ll give you better jobs to do;
Come share your master’s joy, rejoice! ’
‘He said the same to the second;
The one who got just one talent
Said, ‘Master, I know you too well.
You are a demanding person:
Harvesting where you did not plant,
Gathering when you didn’t scatter.
So, out of fear, I dug a hole
And buried it quite safely whole
Here is your talent you gave me.’
His master then replied to him,
‘You wicked, lazy servant, Oh!
Your master, when you knew so well,
Why didn’t you in a bank, put it,
So that the interest, I could get? ’
‘He took the talent from this one
And gave it to the one with ten;
The one who labors will get more;
The one with less will be made poor!
He ordered then, the lazy one,
Into the darkness, to be thrown,
Where people wail and always groan! ’
‘When Son of Man in glory comes,
His angels will surround Him then,
And He will sit in His great throne!
All nations will stand before Him,
He’ll separate one from the next,
Like shepherd does with sheep and goats.’
‘He’ll place his sheep onto His right
And place the goats onto his left;
To those on right, the king will say,
‘Ye, blessed by my Father, come,
Into the kingdom made for you,
From the beginning of the world! ’
‘For, I was hungry, you gave food;
And I was thirsty, you gave drink;
I was a stranger, you welcomed;
I lay naked and me, you clothed;
When I was ill, for me, you cared;
When in prison, visit, you paid.’
The righteous then will ask the Lord,
‘When did we feed you while hungry?
When did we offer drink in thirst?
When did we welcome you stranger?
When did we clothe you when naked?
When did we care for you when ill?
When did we see you in prison? ’
The king will say to them again,
‘Amen, I say to you, amen,
Whatev’r you did unto the least
Brothers of mine, you did for me! ’
Then he will say to ones on left,
‘Depart from me, you accursed all,
Into the fire eternal,
Prepared for Satan and devils.’
‘For, when I was in hunger great,
You never gave me food to eat;
And when in thirst, for drink, I asked,
You never cared to offer me.’
‘When like a stranger, I met you,
You never cared to welcome me;
I lay all naked, without clothes,
You never cared to spare a dress;
In prison when I became ill,
You never cared to visit me.’
They will then answer and say, ‘Lord,
When were you hungry and thirsty?
When were you naked, a stranger?
When did we fail to meet your needs? ’
He’ll answer them and say, ‘Amen,
What you didn’t do to ones the least,
You did not do unto me too! ’
‘And these will get eternal rod,
While righteous get eternal life! ’
(6-13-2007)
poem by John Celes
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Street Light
The shine of many city streets
Confuses any countryman;
It flickers here and flashes there,
It goes as soon as it began,
It beckons many ways at once
For him to follow if he can.
Under the lamp a woman stands,
The lamps are shining equal well,
But in her eyes are other lights,
And lights plus other lights will tell:
He loves the brightness of that street
Which is the shining street to hell.
There's light enough, and strong enough,
To lighten every pleasant park;
I'm sorry lights are held so cheap,
I'd rather there were not a spark
Than choose those shining ways for joy
And have them lead me into dark.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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The Waiting Watchers
They shall come in the black weathers
From the heart of the dead embers,
Walking one and two over the hill.
And they shall be with you, never farther
Than your bedside.
At their will
The smell of putrefaction lingers
And floor is carpetted with rotting hair;
Or sheets are torn to shreds
By the beaks of dead dry birds
And the red blood clots in your cup.
Put up your swords!
What steel can cut the throat of next year's dream,
What tongue is tunes to speak last night's quick scream?
Go alone by darkness;
Burn the clippings of your nail;
Donate a thousand candles.
But do as you will,
When sun is blind and lamps are lit once more,
Two and one, they shall be standing
At your door
poem by Henry Treece
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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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Head lamps can't burn off
the fog, just illuminate
your place on the road.
quote by by Cretan Maineiac
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