Grand Design
Too many live in the world to be of it.
And like particles of dust,
Collect where the wind blows.
There are not enough in it but not of it,
To captivate the growth...
Of imagination these days.
Overcrowded are the pews of those praying,
To keep their lifestyles fixed to an accustomed rust...
Than there are those keeping their faith and trust,
If dust...
To be swept up to participate in all that life,
Has given them to experience.
Knowing they contribute to a grand design.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
this Too Shall Pass Away...
everyone
everything
will be blown off
by the wind as
innumerable dust particles
on an evening of dust storms
everything
everyone
will simply be washed away
in a flash flood while the
world is fast asleep
as vulnerable as dust particles
and as susceptable to flood
why indulge in polemics...
June 10,2010
9: 01pm ·
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trust
A word on my desk with dust
enough to leave some rust
Just a little dust on the table of our life
trust is just another word for little white lies
I remember the bliss of love
But also of lust
Given in faith for trust
Thrown away on a desk full of dust.
on a promissory note so clear
Even evil could not endear
so wrong my dear
you are dancing in heaven
while I am stuck here in hell
angels tell me of your bliss
your trust and mine
I do miss.
Dust In The Wind
Music : Kerry Livgren
Lyrics: Kerry Livgren
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now, Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dust In The Wind
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Flash before my eyes of curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now
Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the Earth and Sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Buddha at the Bodhi tree (Sri Lanka)
Here, to the oldest living tree
Pilgrims have flown, sailed, crawled and bussed
To feel its shade to know its strength
The world’s not owned but held in trust
It never withers, fresh shoots grow
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Does not apply to such a tree
The world’s not owned but held in trust
Buddha, in this tree’s motherland
Had conquered self and fear and lust
Now every seed the message gives
The world’s not owned but held in trust
Treasures you covet, things possessed
Silver and gold all turn to rust
Others will claim your home, your land
The world’s not owned but held in trust
Your little self’s a puff of smoke
To every living thing be just
Power brings responsibilities
The world’s not owned but held in trust
The fluttering leaves eternal tell
Man’s not immortal, die we must
Live a full life but live it well
The world’s not owned, but held in trust
poem by Sheena Blackhall
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Rings Of Gold
Gene thomas
I remember when you said
With this ring I thee wed
Now youve gone betrayed my trust
Rings of gold have turned to rust
Tears cant wash away the sin
Love thats dead cant live again
Knowing theres no hope for us
Turns those rings of gold to rust
Plans we made just yesterday
Sands of time have chipped away
Now theyve crumbled into dust
Love before was clean and pure
Never more can I be sure
You will not betray my trust
Rings of gold have turned to rust
Rings of gold have turned to rust
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Handful Of Dust
Your pressed your face against my heart
I felt that you could look right through me
We live in days that have no time
We live in times that now refuse me
And somewhere out beyond his town
There lies a world that now can turn us round
And we need it and we need it
Oh got to have some thing to believe in
Ive got enough to believe in you
What can I give just to know that its true ?
But Ive gotta begin to say
Now theyve taken my pride in this way.
How can you give me your love ?
I just cant give you enough
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust ?
I feel to thin before your eyes
I feel so naked under open skies
I once stood tall within this town
But now the time has come to bring us down.
We must have more with his power in hand
We must believe things will go as we planned
But Ive gotta begin to say
Now theyve taken my pride in this way.
How can you give me your love ?
I just cant give you enough
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust,
With a handful of dust ?
Making love through electric skies
Now I know where my fortune lies
Breathe the air and feel this land
cause its slipping through me
Like dust from my hand.
How can you give me your love ?
I just cant give you enough
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
I just cant give you enough
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
How can you give me your love ?
Now give me your love!
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
Give me
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust ?
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Until This Adventure Ends
I have no purpose meant,
To identify and acknowledge...
That which does exist.
With a repeatedness...
That collects dust and sits!
As if I am assigned,
To show others...
How to stunt and rust their minds!
I am only obligated to be aware,
And expand my consciousness.
With an acceptance of a process...
Some who do this,
Have labelled as growth!
With a daring to live life...
And to share the findings that are there.
Until this adventure ends.
Those accustomed to the taste of stale bread...
Seem to always find the time to comment on it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Handful Of Dust
Your pressed your face against my heart
I felt that you could look right through me
we live in days that have no time
we live in times that now refuse me
and somewhere out beyond his town
there lies a world that now can turn us round
and we need it and we need it
oh got to have some thing to believe in
I've got enough to believe in you
what can I give just to know that it's true ?
But I've gotta begin to say
now they've taken my pride in this way.
How can you give me your love ?
I just can't give you enough
how can you give me your trust
with a handful of dust ?
I feel to thin before your eyes
I feel so naked under open skies
I once stood tall within this town
but now the time has come to bring us down.
We must have more with his power in hand
we must believe things will go as we planned
but I've gotta begin to say
now they've taken my pride in this way.
How can you give me your love ?
I just can't give you enough
how can you give me your trust
with a handful of dust,
with a handful of dust ?
Making love through electric skies
now I know where my fortune lies
breathe the air and feel this land
'cause it's slipping through me
like dust from my hand.
How can you give me your love ?
I just can't give you enough
how can you give me your trust
with a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
I just can't give you enough
how can you give me your trust
with a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
How can you give me your love ?
Now give me your love!
how can you give me your trust
with a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picture of Love
If only I could touch your hands
Maybe you will rightly understand
Your own final destined place
And how I desire to touch your face
This is undoubtedly a picture of love
With your pink lips curled like a curve
Dust is to dust
As rust is to rust
Dust is to dust
As lust is lust
And I have found myself completely lost
Lost in an imaginary beautiful picture
Ready for you my love at any cost
I perceive this as a destined fixture
Trust is a must
As mistrust is disgust
Dust is to dust
And love is to trust
So let us adjust
Before the month of August
And I have found an entry
To your heart by pure chemistry
Your picture is the one of the century
And I will embark on this journey
A journey of curiosity
A journey of animosity
Because a picture is like a beautiful song
You can stare as you would listen to it all day long
Copyright 2007 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Better Days Are Made For The Ones Who Pay The Price
Falling down to get up,
And determined to get out of a rut...
Is better than a weeping.
Brushing off the dust,
And knowing that you've had enough...
With a strut you're keeping.
Better days are made for the ones who pay the price,
Of...
Knowing what time it is and taking advice,
Without a self defeating.
Some folks like to groan as if moans they own,
As if they live to get a beating.
Some folks like to groan as if moans they own,
As if they live to get a beating.
Better days are made for the ones who pay the price,
Of...
Knowing what time it is and taking advice.
Falling down to get up,
And determined to get out of a rut...
Is better than a weeping.
Some folks like to groan as if moans they own,
And...
Do it as if they are singing in different tones.
Well. Well. Well. Well...
Falling down to get up,
And determined to get out of a rut...
Is better than a weeping.
Brushing off the dust,
And knowing that you've had enough...
With a strut you're keeping.
Better days are made for the ones who pay the price,
Of...
Knowing what time it is and taking advice.
Well. Well. Well. Well...
Falling down to get up,
And determined to get out of a rut...
Is better than a weeping.
Brushing off the dust,
And knowing that you've had enough...
With a strut you're keeping.
Better days are made for the ones who pay the price,
Of...
Knowing what time it is and taking advice.
Well. Well. Well. Well...
Better days are made for the ones who pay the price.
Well. Well. Well...
Better days are made for the ones who pay the price.
Well. Well. Well. Well...
Better days are made for the ones who pay the price.
Well. Well. Well...
Better days are made for the ones who pay the price.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blister
Kid, picked on, love, blinds him,
found, his own girlfriend.
Its all he could ask for.
He doesnt need,
his hands,
tied up,
to persuade, this kid,
Had got, it all, too good.
Bit, dust,
And, said I live for,
I live for you.
Trust, too much, this, is what, you,
get for this is just another lie,
just another liar.
He has his hands,
tied up,
to persuade, this kid,
had got, it all, too good.
Bit, dust,
and said, I live for.
I live for you.
Trust, bliss, date, faith, trust, hate, share it,
share it all with you.
I live for you
song performed by by Quicksand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of Dust!
and so, this morning,
we talk of dust...
tiny particles
that contain universes,
cosmos, and non-thought.
formed from nothing,
to nothing we return.
infinite nothing...
and love be but the light,
shimmering,
on tiny particles
of dust!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Fair Bread
The sky is clear and scorching the sun,
Hot wind blows fast along with dust,
None seen outside but children run,
Who are beyond the evil of rust.
A man appears having staff on his head,
Who is a perspiring poor hawker,
Shouting loudly, he's moving ahead,
Who is weak but strong as a walker.
Some children buy and pay for it,
And he moves with his earlier pace,
The gust of wind and the sun him hit,
The sweat with dust lies on his face.
Coming home, he takes rest on his bed,
And thanks God truely for His grace,
Cause he's earned the fair bread,
And, so satisfaction sits on his face.
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
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Awe gust
The wind whirls
And stirs the dust
Leaving the grass with nothing to anchor
It is the august wind
That blows so viciously
After the winter’s chill
Has tormented the frail shrubs
It blows dust in my face
As if to spite me
For I can do nothing to stop it
But somewhere in me
I smile in defiance
Because I know
That the next season is spring
But unlike the august wind
I have no one to spite
I curse and praise nature at the same time
For the august wind
And the life that buds in spring
Through these episodes
I get exposed
As one with no might
I take whatever she throws
Even if I do not like it
I’m just grateful
That she doesn’t only frown
But smiles at times
poem by Matete Motsoaledi
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From Dust To Dust
A recycling comes,
To be lived as given to everyone.
From dust to dust.
In God we trust.
A recycling comes,
To be lived as given to everyone.
From dust to dust.
In God we trust.
To leech with a feeding.
And to feed from that which has been leeched.
A recycling comes,
To be lived as given to everyone.
From dust to dust.
In God we trust.
And to feed from that which has been leeched.
Until that leeching fed is done.
By you...
And me!
And...
Everyone.
Leechers!
Creatures!
And thieves under the Sun.
We be sighted to be unseen,
To hush when that moment comes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trust
As Man looks into this world of ours
And Man try's to understand what is a must
Is it our looks or is it or smarts, as he thinks
Or is it only our honor, and also our trust.
As a poor man has not much possession at all
All he owns his trust and also his pride
And on Judgment day when he meets the Lord,
He will say I have nothing, but trust he will cry.
A rich man though on the other hand
Has everything he wants or might even need
But most are without honor and or feelings
And their souls and words we could never believe
When a soul throws away a love so true,
For temptation and a moment of lust
Their dignity is gone, along with their pride
And also that need of want and trust.
Stupid person do you know what you have done
To yourself and your family and friends about
They will look at you in a different way now
In the way you, they try to figure you out.
Oh trust it is the hardest thing to gain,
Something that is given to us upon our birth
But when we don't want it to live, we let it die
And we bury it, or should I say hide it in the dirt.
Oh soul can you count the fingers upon your hand,
Of the number of people that you can trust
And can you also be counted among them too
Or are you just washed away, in the dust.
Time will come when bodies will decay
And trees will rot, and metal will turn to rust
Who knows what else will be blown in the wind
I wander though, could it be or will it be your trust.
poem by Randy McClave
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Upon Your Aging And Fixed Feet
I am not 'this' that you wish.
A novelty you expect,
As an exception to go unchanged.
Nothing on Earth that the Earth births,
Remains the same.
Rain nourishes!
And if the blooming done that I do,
Should upset you and your perceptions...
I can only wish you the best of dust collected,
Upon your aging and fixed feet.
I live to do to get done on each stage of life,
That welcomes my efforts to grow.
I wish to participate not contemplate life.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Needing Only the Benefits of Time
That which is accustomed to nourishing,
And doing this on its own...
Will continue to do so.
Regardless who believes it to be fragile,
Upon their chance discovery of its growth.
That which is accustomed to nourishing,
And doing this on its own...
Will continue to do so.
Regardless who believes it to be fragile,
Upon their chance discovery of its growth.
A growth done unnoticed,
Does not prevent the experience of it,
Because this process is not seen.
The importance of its development,
Is not reliant upon the approval of observation.
And a healing of a wound isn't done,
Under constant surveillance.
An effectiveness to do this has already begun.
Needing only the benefits of time...
With faith and patience to succeed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Accustomed To Opposition
I've grown accustomed to opposition.
As well as foolish maneuvers.
And those who object to those positions I have taken.
Nor will I apologize with regrets for those forward steps,
I chose to make that tested my faith.
And admit I do,
To the making of mistakes!
But obstacles and the fear of them,
I could not allow to slow my pace.
And those who choose to procrastinate,
With a hesitating done?
Well...
I perceive as being committed to wasting time.
And time as we live it as lived is not guaranteed to anyone,
To just sit back to see it come to leave.
I've grown accustomed to opposition.
But you know what?
I am here to participate and experience my life.
What others choose with a priority to do with their own,
I refuse to let their choices made get in my way.
I am not prone to the seeking of acceptance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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