Climbing West Of Lotus Flower Peak
Amongst the grandeur of Hua Shan
I climb to the Flower Peak,
and fancy I see fairies and immortals
carrying lotus in their
sacred white hands, robes flowing
they fly filling the sky with colour
as they rise to the palace of heaven,
inviting me to go to the cloud stage
and see Wei Shu-ching, guardian angel
of Hua Shan; so dreamily I go with them
riding to the sky on the back
of wild geese which call as they fly,
but when we look below at Loyang,
not so clear because of the mist,
everywhere could be seen looting
armies, which took Loyang, creating
chaos and madness with blood
flowing everywhere; like animals of prey
rebel army men made into officials
with caps and robes to match.
Related quotes
Ching-a-ling Song
(as heard on the deram antholgy 1997)
Whilst flying through an azure cloud
A crystal girl Id spy
She kissed the blue birds honey tongue
And stuttered as she sighed
I wish to sing the chicken song
Ching-a-ling song is fine
Id give my jewels and caviar
To make this daydream mine
Ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling,
Ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling,
Ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling
Doo dah doo doo dah dah, doo dah dah dah dah dah dah dah
While stepping through a heavens eye
Two lover souls we spied
They wished the cloud boys sang to me
A cheerful happy cry
We love to play our love-strong hearts
No better do we know
No gifts of money do we give
For love is all we own
Na na na na na na, na na na na na na na na
Ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling,
Ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling,
Ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling
Na na na na na na, na na na na na na na na
Ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling,
Ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling,
Ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling, ching-a-ling
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Harbour: The Four Lakes Of Madison
Four limpid lakes,--four Naiades
Or sylvan deities are these,
In flowing robes of azure dressed;
Four lovely handmaids, that uphold
Their shining mirrors, rimmed with gold,
To the fair city in the West.
By day the coursers of the sun
Drink of these waters as they run
Their swift diurnal round on high;
By night the constellations glow
Far down the hollow deeps below,
And glimmer in another sky.
Fair lakes, serene and full of light,
Fair town, arrayed in robes of white,
How visionary ye appear!
All like a floating landscape seems
In cloud-land or the land of dreams,
Bathed in a golden atmosphere!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Dreams, where do they come from?
dreams, where do they come from?
a colourful buddha smiling in his
shapely flowing robes so friendly
on a bed and disappearing into no trace
as i come to have a closer look of him
an antique i had thought a porcelain wonder
is he the harbinger of the dream?
and bed bed bed so many antique beds
in so many styles and shapes
they look so inviting with their ample space
and the name Mizuko, yes
that's the name of the shop
and as i am about to leave
a woman in err flowing bridal garb
i wonder i remember the dream rightly
dreams are always such that you cannot
remember all
and oh yes she comes walking into the shop
and as she looks, i awake in another world
the buddha, the beds, the bride
the myriad questions that pop out
of my head now are a million lotuses
that beg for an answer from the heavens
with their colourful lustrious wide opened hands
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Wild Forest Flower
Rough around the edges but a tender center
This is my wild forest flower
Short and slender with long flowing blonde hair
This is my wild forest flower
A loving heart that goes beyond what I can see
This is my wild forest flower
I want to hold my flower in my hands
Wondering why she holds back and refuses to stand
I water it every now and then to watch it grow
But it takes too long because it’s a little slow
So I wait patiently for the flower to begin to rise
Even though I can still hear the weeping willows cries
Firm and hard headed but with a loving touch
This is my wild forest flower
Always hiding and always scared like a little child
This is my wild forest flower
The only one im willing to be with anymore
This is my wild forest flower
A darkened hush rises in the sky above my flower
The roots slowly exposing themselves out of fear
A forest fire begins in the distance soon to consume it
The fire rages ready to consume the small thing in power
This little bitty flower that I love and hold so dear
but I laugh because I know how this fire got lit
poem by Branden Aeling
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The Pasture
I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I shan't be gone long. -- You come too.
I'm going out to fetch the little calf
That's standing by the mother. It's so young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I shan't be gone long. -- You come too.
poem by Robert Frost
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Bishops Robes
Dressed in bishops robes
Terrifies me still
In bishops robes
Bastard headmaster
I am not going back
I am not going back
I am not going back
Children taught to kill, to tear themselves to bits
On playing fields
Dressed in bishops robes
I am not going back
I am not going back
I am not going back
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bishop's Robes
Dressed in Bishop's robes
Terrifies me still
In Bishop's robes
Bastard headmaster
I'm not going back
I'm not going back
I'm not going back
Children taught to kill
To tear themselves to bits
On playing fields
Dressed in Bishop's robes
I'm not going back
I'm not going back
I'm not going back
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn XXI: Ye Simple Souls That Stray
Ye simple souls that stray
Far from the path of peace,
That lonely, unfrequented way
To life and happiness,
Why will ye folly love,
And throng the downward road,
And hate the wisdom from above,
And mock the sons of God?
Madness and misery
Ye count our life beneath;
And nothing great or good can see,
Or glorious, in our death:
As only born to grieve,
Beneath your feet we lie;
And utterly contemned we live,
And unlamented die.
So wretched and obscure,
The men whom ye despise,
So foolish, impotent, and poor,
Above your scorn we rise:
We, through the Holy Ghost,
Can witness better things;
For He whose blood is all our boast
Hath made us priests and kings.
Riches unsearchable
In Jesu's love we know;
And pleasures, springing from the well
Of life, our souls o'erflow;
The Spirit we receive
Of wisdom, grace, and power;
And always sorrowful we live,
Rejoicing evermore.
Angels our servants are,
And keep in all our ways,
And in their watchful hands they bear
The sacred souls of grace;
Unto that heavenly bliss
They all our steps attend;
And God himself our Father is,
And Jesus is our friend.
With him we walk in white,
We in his image shine,
Our robes are robes of glorious light,
Our righteousness divine;
On all the kings of earth
With pity we look down,
And claim, in virtue of our birth,
A never-fading crown.
poem by Charles Wesley
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Hymn XXI: Ye Simple Souls That Stray
Ye simple souls that stray
Far from the path of peace,
That lonely, unfrequented way
To life and happiness,
Why will ye folly love,
And throng the downward road,
And hate the wisdom from above,
And mock the sons of God?
Madness and misery
Ye count our life beneath;
And nothing great or good can see,
Or glorious, in our death:
As only born to grieve,
Beneath your feet we lie;
And utterly contemned we live,
And unlamented die.
So wretched and obscure,
The men whom ye despise,
So foolish, impotent, and poor,
Above your scorn we rise:
We, through the Holy Ghost,
Can witness better things;
For He whose blood is all our boast
Hath made us priests and kings.
Riches unsearchable
In Jesu's love we know;
And pleasures, springing from the well
Of life, our souls o'erflow;
The Spirit we receive
Of wisdom, grace, and power;
And always sorrowful we live,
Rejoicing evermore.
Angels our servants are,
And keep in all our ways,
And in their watchful hands they bear
The sacred souls of grace;
Unto that heavenly bliss
They all our steps attend;
And God himself our Father is,
And Jesus is our friend.
With him we walk in white,
We in his image shine,
Our robes are robes of glorious light,
Our righteousness divine;
On all the kings of earth
With pity we look down,
And claim, in virtue of our birth,
A never-fading crown.
poem by John Wesley
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Dear Guardian Angel
Dear Guardian Angel
Thank you for watching over me
Dear Guardian Angel
You are oh so sweet
You protect me from the wrong
And lead me to the right
If I’m lost in the dark
You take me to the light
Dear Guardian Angel
Why do you care?
Dear Guardian Angel
Thank you for always being there
You take my hand
And wipe away my tears
You hold me close
And fight away my fears
Dear Guardian Angel
Please stay close to me
Dear Guardian Angel
Thank you, I know you’ll always believe
You watch me sleeping quietly
You caress my face lovingly
You brush my bangs out of my eyes
You give me sunny skies
Dear Guardian Angel
Can I make it up to you?
Dear Guardian Angel
Thank you for always being true
Guardian Angel
I thank you
Guardian Angel…
I thank you
poem by Tyra Falconwing
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? Your Guardian Angel ?
Outside of heaven's door,
there is a bell to ring,
when you pull the cord,
you'll hear a heavenly choir sing.
The door will be opened by your guardian angel,
and on that beautiful face there will be a smile,
because with help you are not in hell,
and you face each other for quite awhile.
Your guardian angel know's everything about you,
your guardian angel has cherished your soul,
your guardian angel know's you have tried to be true,
your guardian angel help's you into your final goal.
So be true to yourself and help your fellow man,
and you will find you'll never be on your own,
do as much or as little as you can,
and your guardian angel will help you home.
May 15th 2007
poem by Alan J Duffield Lock
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Dreamy River
There's a dreamy river flowing
Down the street from my house
I walk down there after work
But I paddle my way home
There's a dreamy river flowing
On every street corner in the world
And if that young moon is in the sky
She'll wink at you and let you pass by
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my refrigerator into my mouth
It only costs a few dollars
To keep those shelves stocked
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my mouth into my gut
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my wank into the street
There's a dreamy river flowing
In my mind as I lay to sleep
There's a dreamy river flowing
From a town I've never been to
Across this great country
And also from overseas
Sometimes from people's kitchens
Transversing time and space
I float down this river
Every night and day
There's a dreamy river flowing
From the hops and the malts and sugar
I call it my brother, I call it my wife
I call it my true friend
Let me float upon you dreamy river
And drown all these sorrows
That call to me from pasts I've severed
poem by Spencer Breau
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Waterway Crossing
The river flowed
Serenely at first
Then turbulently
Before finally drying up
Still, his effervescence,
Not his evanescence
Is what wells up in my memory
For his waters, running,
Unleashed a dam in my soul
That the words stuck within
Now rush forth unrelenting
A whole decade's worth of words
I never knew how to speak before
So I am grateful to the river
For tapping gently at my core
Yet sadder all the same
To realize, that beautiful river far away
Had to stop flowing
Before the one inside of me
Could start pouring out at will
Nevertheless, my river shall go on
It shan't be kept silent
It shan't be quieted by sorrow
Perhaps one day it'll flow,
As all rivers eventually do,
Straight into the great big ocean
Where the first river had gone on to
And when our waters meet
He would not know me
He would not realize his feat
He would not greet me like a sister
And even so, the crossing would be sweet
poem by Donna Dolorical
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A Shower
Water flowing down his black-haired head like the Greeks'
Streaming past his dark eyebrows and his deep eyes
Down his sharp nose and past his smooth cheeks
Dripping down his lush lips, past the mouth's rise
Water flowing down his strong jaws and steady chin
Streaming past his thick neck into the collar bones it trips
Down his biceps and sculptured arms that cause a din
Dripping down his hands and delicate fingertips
Water flowing down his broad shoulders
Streaming past his chest and slender warm back
Down his muscled stomach and thighs, hard as boulders
Dripping down his knees to his calves, which can bare a whack
Water flowing down his ankles to his firm feet
Creating a pool of pure liquid on the ground
Down his hard body, the water so sweet
The liquid dripping around him, so profound!
poem by Monalno Kim
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Injustice is triumphant
Robes show us men as seers.
There are seers without robes.
The world sees men by robes.
Injustice is triumphant
23.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Christ Is The Light
Revealing shadows of the night
Dispersing doubtful haze
When Jesus comes Salvation’s Light
Brings faith that will amaze
The faith to stand, to rise and shine
Move mountains to the sea
Turn normal water into wine
And set the captive free
Yet Light’s not all that Jesus brings
God’s Son is so much more
He is! The Light the bible sings
That leads to Heaven’s door
He’s hope, He’s joy, He’s Heaven’s grace
The strength of God’s elite
The radiance on Moses’ face
And Lamp unto our feet
When Heaven’s brilliant Light arrives
When Jesus reigns within
We’ll see the church not only thrives
But lives to combat sin
“I am! The Light” said Christ quite plain
“I came on earth to give
I came to die and rise again
In order that you live”
Walk not by night and fall astray
Be clad in robes of white
Believe in Christ God’s Son today
And walk within The Light
The Light in ever flowing streams
The Light of God divine
The Light fulfilling wildest dreams
The Light that now is mine
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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Hymn 40
The business and blessedness of glorified saints.
Rev. 7:13ff.
"What happy men, or angels, these,
That all their robes are spotless white?
Whence did this glorious troop arrive
At the pure realms of heav'nly light?"
From torturing racks, and burning fires,
And seas of their own blood, they came;
But nobler blood has washed their robes,
Flowing from Christ the dying Lamb.
Now they approach th' Almighty throne
With loud hosannahs night and day;
Sweet anthems to the great Three One
Measure their blest eternity.
No more shall hunger pain their souls;
He bids their parching thirst begone,
And spreads the shadow of his wings
To screen them from the scorching sun.
The Lamb that fills the middle throne
Shall shed around his milder beams;
There shall they feast on his rich love,
And drink full joys from living streams.
Thus shall their mighty bliss renew
Through the vast round of endless years;
And the soft hand of sovereign grace
Heals all their wounds and wipes their tears.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Our forefathers
High memories with power
Shine through the wintry North
On every peak's white tower,
On Kattegat so swarth.
All is so still and spacious, `
The Northern Lights flow free,
Creating bright and gracious
A day of memory.
Each deed the North defending,
Each thought for greater might,
A star-like word is sending
Down through the frosty night!
To hope they call and boldness,
And call with double cheer
To him, defying coldness,
On guard the Eider near.
No anxious shadows clouding,
No languid, lukewarm mist
Our heaven of mem'ries shrouding,
This eve of battle-tryst!
May, as of yore, while ringing
The bells unseen loud swelled,
Come leaders vict'ry bringing,
Whom th' army ne'er beheld.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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A Bug Trapped in a Bowl
Encircled by peak on peak of life's dust,
man is a bug trapped in a bowl,
all day skittering up its sides,
ever falling back, never bounding out,
his imagined joys always beyond his reach,
his present miseries ever close by,
till eventually his little river of years dries up,
and old age takes teeth, takes hair, takes all.
poem by Han Shan from Huangshan Poems from the T'ang Dynasty, translated by Stanton Hager
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Shadows on the Down
When daffodils danced in Chuck Hatch, and white clouds
Drew their own shadowy purple across the hills,
Darkening the valley where the small flint church
The Saxon built stood roofless to the sun,
Believe me, Memory, it was not a shadow!
No shadow of a cloud you saw that day
Flowing across the smooth deep-breasted downs,
But something darker, sweeter,--the wild thyme
Of Sussex, flowing like a river of joy
That tossed a hundred skylarks up.
& nbsp; &n bsp; &nb sp; &nbs p; ; No shadow,
Believe me, Memory, but the purple thyme
Flowing by windmill and by wattled fold
On to the white chalk coast and sparkling sea.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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