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Life Within the Brake

Veiled in mist, away from eyes prying.
In the bosom of mounts 'n' peaks.
Dwelling deep within the brake.
Lone monastery stands in shadow.

In silent prayer or chant, holy order.
Opted to devote their lives,
claiming wholly an existence.
To their Omnipotent deity.

Safely in their abode, though spartan.
Nestled far from tempest's grasp.
The silence there golden, serene.
At times becoming loud, this level of quiet.

Yet, as moth drawn to flame,
mariner to siren's song.
Those seeking answers.
Curious visitors are lured.

As guests, all made welcome,
with smile friendly, handshake firm.
To join in prayer invited,
breaking of bread sip of wine.

Spend the night an offer,
for in the mount in the dark.
The cold doth reign.
In the morn with departure bid.

From the monastery, within the brake.
wishes for safe journey home.
17May11

poem by Kurt Hearth
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Fairies

They are formed with affection,
They are formed by a small child,
They are formed by a lone mind,
Now they start to fill the skies,
Life recovers from the cold,
Dancing amongst the blossom,
They're wherever we don't look,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life gets scorched by the cruel sun,
Dancing in the warm night breeze,
They scamper from human sounds,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life prepares for the darkness,
Dancing on dying leaves,
They're nowhere that we can find,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
Life is sleeping through the cold,
Dancing on the icy mist,
They find solace when alone,
Hiding from our prying eyes,
They are killed with denial,
They are killed by a small child,
They are killed with a glass jar,
Until they are almost gone.

poem by Christian Lacdael
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I Chant Your Name Oh Beloved

Chant Your Name
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the raindrops on a roof
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the breeze in the leaves
I chant Your name o beloved
Like the snowflakes on mountain peaks
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the dew drops in the field
I chant your name O beloved
As Your blood pulsate in my veins
I chant Your name O beloved
As the bees buzz around my head
In silence I chant Your name O Beloved
As they carry my whispered prayers

poem by Persian Khushi
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Beloved

On my knees i chant your name oh beloved
like the raindrops on the roof
i chant your name oh beloved
like the rusttling leave in the breeze
i chant your name oh beloved
like the dew drops in te field
i chant your name oh beloved
like the snow on mountain peaks
i chant your name oh beloved
as i breath
i chant your name oh beloved
as i whisper in sincere pray...

poem by Persian Khushi
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The scorching sun

Prying eyes are the scorching sun.
Prying eyes dry the sprouting love.
Prying eyes fail the budding love.
Yet there spring fresh sprouts and buds.
08.09.2010

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Dust And Sand

My prayer is for a better world,
where love reigns strong and all is peace.
One that is full of goodly acts,
and happiness can but increase.

My prayer is that mankind will care,
for this our earthly dwelling place.
To not abuse God’s precious gift,
of treasures, from his holy grace.

My prayer’s that hate will disappear,
and harmony in friendships grow.
To show the Lord we value life,
and that we trust his way to go.

My prayer is that we all can do,
the things needed to save our land.
For if we don’t, then there will be
no home, for man, just dust and sand.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Such, Silence Was Spiritual..

Such, silence was spiritual
Spirituality was so silent
Seated amidst 'Supremacy'
Highly high above me
Like a lotus above mire
Mind and soul somewhere apart
Eyes and ears all elsewhere...

My big-eyed gaze gazing..
His semi shut eyes tranced
Engrossed wholly of the limitless
Floating upon beyond earth's spheres
A great discovery he 's rejoicing..
Here, what am I, a tiny bit trivial
Drowned ever in tearful unsolved enigma...

So such, wonderment raised my soul
In inqusition to follow his march
A march towards the summit of silence
Upon the mounts and dawns of silence
Along the streams of silence
Along the scented florescence of silence
Along the immortal bliss of silence..

Could only be a watcher me silent
Watching my soul marching spiritful
On and on steady until someone nudged me..
Interrupted was me alone, not his vigil
For he was the Buddha teaching in silence
Succor and solace in huge silence
Such, silence was spiritual..

An experience at a buddhist monastery

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Run Silent,run Deep

(harris/dickinson)
The convoy lights are dead ahead
The merchantmen lay in their bed
The thump of diesels hammers down
In the oily sea-the killing ground
His knuckles white his eyes alight
He slams the hatch on the deadly night
A cunning fox in the chickens lair
A hound of hell and the devil dont care
Chorus
Runing silent,runing deep,we are your final prayer
Warriors in secret sleep,a merchantmans nightmare
A silent death lies awaiting,for all of you below
Running silent,running deep,sink into your silent sleep
Chill the hearts of fighting men
In open ocean wondering when?
The lethal silver fish will fly
The boat will shiver-men will die
A cast of millions-a part to play
Killer? victim? or fool for a day
Obeying an order-men have to die
Us or them - a well rehearsed lie
Chorus
The lifeboats shattered the hull is torn
The tar black smell of burning oil
On the way down to davy jones
Every man for himself - youre on your own
The wolf eyes watch the crosswire
stern tubes ready,aim and fire|
They can pin some medal on your chest
But in two more weeks - dead like the rest
Chorus

song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prayer

Prayer is
a cry in the wilderness
when the water jug is emptied.

It is scream in the dark
when fear seeks to put out
the last ray of light.

It is dance in the morning
when hope is found even
in the darkest hours.

Prayer is
oneness in fellowship
It is hope in despair
It is trembling in the awesomeness
before a holy and loving Presence,
and dwelling under God's wings.

poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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The Farewell of a Virginia Slave Mother

Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage

Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, - sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool spring where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, - sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Farewell

Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Where the fever demon strews
Poison with the falling dews
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
There no mother's eye is near them,
There no mother's ear can hear them;
Never, when the torturing lash
Seams their back with many a gash
Shall a mother's kindness bless them
Or a mother's arms caress them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,
From the fields at night they go
Faint with toil, and racked with pain
To their cheerless homes again,
There no brother's voice shall greet them
There no father's welcome meet them.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone
From the tree whose shadow lay
On their childhood's place of play;
From the cool sprmg where they drank;
Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;
From the solemn house of prayer,
And the holy counsels there;
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
Toiling through the weary day,
And at night the spoiler's prey.
Oh, that they had earlier died,
Sleeping calmly, side by side,
Where the tyrant's power is o'er
And the fetter galls no more!
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
From Virginia's hills and waters
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone;
By the holy love He beareth;
By the bruised reed He spareth;
Oh, may He, to whom alone
All their cruel wrongs are known,
Still their hope and refuge prove,
With a more than mother's love.
Gone, gone, -- sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
From Virginia's hills and waters;
Woe is me, my stolen daughters!

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Palm And The Pine

From the German of Heine.

In the far North stands a Pine-tree, lone,
Upon a wintry height;
It sleeps: around it snows have thrown
A covering of white.

It dreams forever of a Palm
That, far i' the Morning-land,
Stands silent in a most sad calm
Midst of the burning sand.

poem by Sidney Lanier
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Early Works - Far Beyond

Far beyond I see a sky of blue,
still further beyond I see
mountain peaks covered in mist.
Just beyond the sky of blue
and mountain, peaks covered in mist
lies a sun setting peacefully.
As the sun sets
it colours the sky
lighting the mountains
like a roman candle
and far beyond these burning mountains
the sun rests its head peacefully
as the day come to a close.

Date unknown

poem by David Harris
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A Veiled Face

An exulted order of the past
A veiled face appears.
Life within longs for a mast
A timid wish withers.
The unveiled eyes see
A world of beauties meagre
And it craves for being seen
By the world not so obscene.

An exulted order of the past
A guiled sweet smile crushes.
Life within falls for torrents fast
A soul snails into a world of bushes.
A sob deep within is heard
A hand that cares is seen.
An old God`s dry song is read
But any bliss around is not seen.

poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Silent Night (feat. Cormac Breatnach & Martin Dunlea)

Silent night, holy night!
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia,
Christ the Savior is born!
Christ the Savior is born.
Silent night, holy night!
Silent night, holy night!
Son of God love's pure light.
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth.
Jesus Lord, at Thy birth.
Silent night, holy night!
Silent night, holy night!

song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sea By The Wood

I DWELL in the sea that is wild and deep,
But afar in a shadow still,
I can see the trees that gather and sleep
In the wood upon the hill.

The deeps are green as an emerald's face,
The caves are crystal calm,
But I wish the sea were a little trace
Of moisture in God's palm.

The waves are weary of hiding pearls,
Are aweary of smothering gold,
They would all be air that sweeps and swirls
In the branches manifold.

They are weary of laving the seaman's eyes
With their passion prayer unsaid,
They are weary of sobs and the sudden sighs
And movements of the dead.

All the sea is haunted with human lips
Ashen and sere and gray,
You can hear the sails of the sunken ships
Stir and shiver and sway

In the weary solitude;
If mine were the will of God, the main
Should melt away in the rustling wood
Like a mist that follows the rain.

But I dwell in the sea that is wild and deep
And afar in the shadow still,
I can see the trees that gather and sleep
In the wood upon the hill.

poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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Serenade

Now the toils of day are over,
And the sun hath sunk to rest,
Seeking, like a fiery lover,
The bosom of the blushing west—

The faithful night keeps watch and ward,
Raising the moon her silver shield,
And summoning the stars to guard
The slumbers of my fair Mathilde!

The faithful night! Now all things lie
Hid by her mantle dark and dim,
In pious hope I hither hie,
And humbly chant mine ev'ning hymn.

Thou art my prayer, my saint, my shrine!
(For never holy pilgrim kneel'd,
Or wept at feet more pure than thine),
My virgin love, my sweet Mathilde!

poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Truth

I SAW Truth on the mountains, golden-shod
With day-dawn, girt about with skies
Of azure mist, half veiling from man's eyes
Her silent face and gaze upturned to God.
Beneath were clouded steeps of shale and sod,
5
Tracked deviously by feet that human-wise
Toiled upward, but toiled vainly towards the prize;
Some following, shunning some where others trod.
Yet in the darkness oft there came, "I see,"
From eager hearts I met. "Behold!" men cried,
10
Yet variously; "such are Truth's features high."
Self's shadow, form the soul's intensity
Cast on the mist, not such the face I spied,
Calm, sovereign, silent, upturned 'midst the sky.

poem by Frederick George Scott
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The Dead. (From The German Of Stockmann)

How they so softly rest,
All they the holy ones,
Unto whose dwelling-place
Now doth my soul draw near!
How they so softly rest,
All in their silent graves,
Deep to corruption
Slowly don-sinking!

And they no longer weep,
Here, where complaint is still!
And they no longer feel,
Here, where all gladness flies!
And, by the cypresses
Softly o'ershadowed
Until the Angel
Calls them, they slumber!

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Prying Eyes

Do you ever get that feeling
someone is watch you all the time.
Scrutinising every move you make
so they can tittle-tattle to the boss,
even if you innocently talk to someone.
It is an uncomfortable feeling
that you get from prying eyes
and there is nothing you can do about it,
except find another job and leave.
There is nothing you can say
when the one with prying eyes
is related to the boss.

29 February 2008