Two Gifts has Man
Beneath this old oak tree, I pondered why
The primal gloom of pain on faces passed.
What is the answer to the question asked?
'It is within, ' came chilling words nearby.
It was the Angle Death who made reply.
'It's soul asleep that causes man his cast.
The image of himself has held him fast.
To say the fault is his he will deny.'
'Two gifts has man; a shaft of golden light,
A two-edged sword that cuts the bonds of mind.
The other gift, the knowledge that 'I AM.'
Identity holds man within his plight,
Forgetting his creation, he is blind.
It's man who daily crucifies the Lamb.'
(Italian Sonnet Form)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Related quotes
Question
I don't have the answer
So why ask me, why?
Why do you ask me a question
When there is no reply?
As though the answer was this?
Did you know all along?
That so much space
Is weighed down in white silence
Who told you these things?
These imagined replies?
To the unanswered question
The question why?
There is no reply
But bad weather
Rough roads
There is no reply
Leave the rain alone
There is no reply
No reply
No answer to why
Leave the question alone
No face in the sky
No key to the door
No there is nothing, but nothing
So leave nothing alone
And turn round and go home
Watch the sea from your window
The waves rise and fall
Nothing but madness
And nothing at all! !
The moon's silver crescent
No time to recall
What is left
What is deaf
What is blind
To ritual?
To sign?
There's no pattern no season
No face in the wall
No reason too reasonable
To make no sense at all!
There is no reply
To pain
Love lost
To prayer
Why ask me these questions?
When there's no answer there?
yvette m smith july 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Wife to Be (Petrarchan Sonnet)
I stroll along a fragrant country lane
With honeysuckle perfume on the air -
And feathered crooner's warble to revere -
Then cross a golden sea of flowing grain
In empathy - it seems to sense my pain
Of knowing all was done with my affair -
Her empty meaning now the solitaire
She cast away - betrothment all in vain.
But oceans team with many fish to catch
So I must up and hoist another sail
And seek the one that really waits for me,
For soon auspicious breezes will prevail
In guiding forth to find a truer match:
The one to take my hand as wife to be.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Self Explanatory
Once a learned young man named John
asked a serious question, an earnest question,
with no attempt at humour, or to string me along.
And the questions were?
‘How do you write like that?
How do you find the titles? ’
The reply. ‘I think like that.’
His reply. ‘No one thinks like that.’
An answer beyond his belief system.
An answer he could not reconcile accept.
Easier to believe own belief systems
than search mind expand limited horizons.
Really was this reply
in truth so hard to accept?
‘If I do not think like that
how could I write like that? ’
Self Explanatory!
No Further Comment Required!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Dizzy Spin
Well I just remembered,
in fact I never have forgot.
One December morning
many years ago.
It was Christmas day,
the family, five of us,
all gathered around
for the usual opening
of the Christmas gifts from Santa.
Which on a Christmas morning
beneath the tree are found.
Our daughter Alice
had the biggest gift,
which she quickly opened
with excited tearing of the wrapping
and then she saw the picture,
on the outside of the box.
Well she just stared,
then ran away, to a nearby space.
And ran and ran in circles calling,
it’s a car, it’s a car, it’s a car!
And she just kept on doing this,
occasionally checking back to see,
if it was truly true,
or she was only dreaming
about that car beneath the tree.
Finally she sat down,
all dizzy in a spin.
And when we unpacked the car
and she was sat within,
the light that shone upon her face
was bright enough to light
a thousand living rooms,
and made all our hearts
so very warm
and full of her delight.
Recently I asked her
About that joyous time,
and she warmly told me
“That’s a distant memory dad!
But while were on the subject
there’s this little car I saw.”
That quiet and soulful statement,
puts me in a dizzy spin.
And makes me wonder
if Christmas ever ends.
poem by David Taylor
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A Prayer For Sufficient Grace
Teach us, O Lord, the newness of wisdom;
Bestow on us daily the power of the mind.
Keep us humble by the knowledge of creation;
On your sustenance allow us to continually dine.
Pour into us the divine light- your first creation,
That very first fruit of your heavenly artistry.
And open our mind's gate to your dominion
So we may partake of your inventive mastery.
Unlike man all your works are judged very good;
May we share your vision so to share your gift?
Let the works of our hands be not mere vanity,
But the product of hands that help and minds swift.
Pardon our selfish desires we no longer need;
Allow us to avail ourselves of the new libation,
That comes pouring over the fountain of goodness,
Moving as it cascades toward utmost consolation.
Consecrate within our soul a new spirit,
To guide our appointed path with divine light.
May we always reverence your dominion,
Never forsaking to hold high our sworn plight.
poem by Albert Price
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Aurobindo 145 Savitri Book 10
An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Ten: The Book of the Double Twilight
Canto Three - The Debate of Love and Death
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's
'O Death, this is the mystery of thy reign.
In earth's anomalous and magic field
Carried in its aimless journey by the sun
Mid the forced marches of the great dumb stars,
A darkness occupied the fields of God,
And Matter's world was governed by thy shape.
Thy mask has covered the Eternal's face,
The Bliss that made the world has fallen asleep.'
'Abandoned in the Vast she slumbered on: '
'But now the primal innocence is lost
And Death and Ignorance govern the mortal world
'Earth still has kept her early charm and grace,
The grandeur and the beauty still are hers,
But veiled is the divine Inhabitant.'
'The souls of men have wandered from the Light
And the great Mother turns away her face.'
'The eyes of the creatrix Bliss are closed
And sorrow's touch has found her in her dreams.'
'Forgetting her instinct of felicity,
Forgetting to create a world of joy,
She weeps and makes her creatures' eyes to weep; '
'A puritan God made pleasure a poisonous fruit,
Or red drug in the market-place of Death,
And sin the child of Nature's ecstasy.'
A long strong slap of words haunting Death
A strong long answer for Death to realise
A long strong discourse for the humans
A strong long preaching for us to discern
'Yet every creature hunts for happiness, '
Savitri continues with her accounting....
............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune
poem by Indira Renganathan
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His Answer To My Question Was A Question
His answer to my question
Was a question
My answer to his reply
Was returned
With another question
The game of
Answering and asking
Questions
Did not end
Till I questioned
The very motive
Of our conversation
We came to the conclusion
How to pass time?
Was the biggest question
Asking questions
And creating confusion
Was the answer
So we passed our time
Asking and answering questions
The question now is
Whether we did right or wrong?
The answer is
Why ask a useless question?
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Dedicated to Hesse's Goldmund
The old master sat,
withering like winter’s flowers
as he shrank -
from encroaching onslaught of creeping death.
He had watched many shapes and faces, so held
shimmering vision on virile edge of his mind.
Afterwards thoughts never ceased to plague
in every shape, a certain form repetition of line.
I think matters not what one thought or speaks.
but what we shape with willing hands before time.
So from fetal dream began careful drawing
with loving fingers, clearer its shape defined.
To picture wondrous root of image making; grief transmuted -
seeking to formulate thoughts; the sharper to bind.
Envisaged image was a perfect whole
without flaw, symmetry
sprung from life, from sacrosanct depths,
he held it within his mind.
Then cast it forth like a radiant jewel
many faceted,
even in darkness,
in faintest light it will shine.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Questions to Ponder
When did I ever deny loving you?
Never comes to mind.
For to deny what's true is folly.
It's only for the blind,
those who wish that they could see
would offer me sweet sympathy.
How could I ever deny loving you?
Impossible comes to mind.
For to deny what has become my plight
I have left behind.
I have learned that all I know
meant not a thing until you.
Why would I ever deny loving you?
No reason comes to mind.
For to deny it makes no sense.
I will never let it unwind.
I will keep it wound deep in my heart
and I will never let it depart.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Mary Had A Little Lamb
Mary had a little lamb
One holy morning
'Neath the star of Bethlehem
A brand new day was forming
Guided by the shining light
And the angel's voice
Wise men traveled through the night
To see the baby boy
'Cause Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
They gathered 'round to see the lamb
In the manger sleeping
Such a humble throne for Him
The promise God was keeping
There the shepards bowed their heads
Among the cattle lowing
The first ever Christmas gift
Was wrapped in swaddling clothes
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
For the world a sacrifice
Mary did give birth
The way she held him in her arms
Is how He holds the earth
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
Oh, Mary had a little lamb
King of kings and son of man
Mary had a little lamb of God
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Is In Love With Us
I know it hurts too much
I know that you're scared
I know you're running out of trust
Wishing you were dead
In your misery
You're not alone
So come share your tears with me
And witness it all go wrong
I know it and i feel it
Just as well as you do, honey
It's not our fault if death's in love with us oh oh
It's not our fault if the reaper holds our hearts
41+66.6 = our loss
We're breathing only to fade away
We're running just to get caught
What love's lies blessed
What love's light cursed
Just fear for the best
And hope for our worst
I know it and i feel it
Just as well as you do, honey
It's not our fault if death's in love with us oh oh
It's not our fault if the reaper holds our hearts
Death's in love with us oh oh
The reaper holds our hearts oh oh
Death's in love with us oh oh
And the reaper holds our hearts oh oh
I know it and i feel it
Just as well as you do, honey
It's not our fault if death's in love with us oh oh
It's not our fault if the reaper holds our hearts
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bow Before My Death
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
He takes my hand,
And holds me close,
Death embraces me,
He says the time has come,
Beginning now meets end,
He says the fires taken me,
And now it's time to walk,
Walk the path of fates sweet song.
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
The fires stripped me of my sins,
Humility my pride,
Now death guides me through the dark,
And speaks to me kind words,
'The pain has stopped,
It won't come back,
Your senses now are cleansed,
The soul has been washed clean',
He says the end is pleasure.
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
Death's a man clothed in blue jeans,
A white shirt stained with blood,
Death holds a knife,
Death slits my throat,
Death is the end of my beginning.
I lie beneath the flame this night.
I bow before my death.
poem by Holly Heron
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0005 'what Is There To Live For?
and you asked this question
half-privately, half publicly, (so there's some hope then?)
but we, knowing alas your high intelligence,
must pause, reflect, before we answer you...
we could just say, in our severest tones -
that question comes from a nowhere, no-time place
where ignorance is loved, and knowledge is denied..
I'd say, off the cuff, damn you, do just what you like...
you'll do that anyway..
but if you want some words from me..
(who knows the power of words, despite
all evidence to the contrary?) -
some words about what you already know...
I'd say, the answer's in the shortest word
inside your question - 'is':
that tiny window in our life
between the past - that which has shaped your 'is' -
and future - which your 'is' will make for you;
that tiny window, which the gift of life
(and what else do we know of this?)
offers you through all your lived-in life -
gift, to be free; of past and future; simply be,
live in a world of free unselfishness,
be anything and everything, be what you wish -
or better still, be what unsullied life
continually offers you out of the blue...
Or you could count your blessings -
think as Mark has written, just so beautifully, to you...
you'll do just what you do, when all things have been said
and all things written down in words - damn you -
though I for one believe you far from damned..
I knocked upon your door - you didn't answer me;
so now I'm running round the back,
calling through that tiny window
of your very present life; and just to say,
you know yourself; know all the questions, all the answers; but
I'm here for you...and by the way, that ' I ' means we...
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Dementia remembered
Before dementia, with its cruel mercy
freed her from those golden bonds
of obligations and relationships
(the chilling question, and so carefully expressed
during the morning wash and powdering,
‘are we… related…?)
she’d carefully destroyed
all the photos of her family;
while leaving all her husband’s…
what did that mean, to that so loving daughter…?
What shames can those who love, so cherish
as some further goad?
But she forgot, now that she slept downstairs
the photo of the grandfather whom I never met
(he died too early, of dread ‘cotton lung’):
flat, at the bottom of her dressing-table drawer..
he in full Freemason’s aproned proud regalia
of Hope Lodge nearby Hope Street; nearby hope…
So now, he, on the wardrobe top
and I flat on the bed
gaze at each other in unshaped relationship
with our two views of her; so totally at odds;
except, except, for love;
she, immortal like that holy Maid herself,
girl-mother in our shared sweet thoughts;
out of mind but never out of mind.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Maternal Instinct...
Are women really masochistic, I wonder…?
Why do they subject themselves to torture?
After having had one to carry on the race,
Or it might become extinct and be effaced.
Labour pains, risk to life, somehow don’t deter
A woman from doing it again to be a mother.
A friend, baffled asked a pertinent question,
Why the whole burden of nurture and creation
Was put on one sex…I draw my own conclusion,
As there can be no other answer and solution.
God knew men couldn’t endure excruciating pain
And rise above self, so thus he ordained…
Women, with some exceptions, want to be mothers…
Go for more than one, so siblings can support each other.
As He gave all of us the gift of selective memory,
The moment she holds the baby she forgets the drudgery.
I guess of all the modern scientific inventions,
The pill gave woman control over creation…
If and when she wants to have a child,
Now she can choose and independently decide…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Cuts
It's a tied rope
Life flips
Someone else
have found the mood
Break to another world
I got to tell them
I was the one before
and it's not my fault
I'm what you adore
Take my flesh I am real
What you gonna do
if I let you feel
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
The time is up
fighting against the miserables
When I step into your room
I know what's on your mind
So shut your mouth
I was the one before
I got your time
I'm what you ignore
It is true I'm healed
so what you gonna do with
if I let you feel
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Say it I know you can't
Follow cause I'm to fast
Say it I know you can't
Lay with me
Say it I know you can
Follow cause I'm to fast
Say it, say it again
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Say it, say it again
song performed by by Guano Apes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Sit Beneath This Tree
I sit beneath this tree,
Bared beneath the moon,
I'm touched by it's coolness,
I'm loved by it's light,
I sit beneath the tree,
The world can see my scars,
The hollow where my heart layed,
And where my soul escaped,
Then in my hand the dagger,
In your hands my heart,
As it quickly slows,
The necklace round my throat,
Slowly drips down my chest,
I sit beneath this tree,
As you hold onto my hand,
My soul it tries to fly,
With wongs broken from guilt,
I sit upon the earth,
As you hold my hands and plea,
Plea for my forgiveness,
Before the darkness takes control,
Plea for my love,
Before I journey to my grave,
I sit beneath this tree,
As you pain my death,
With your guilt and no forgiveness,
I sit beneath this tree,
As my soul it walks away,
Towards loved gates of Hell.
poem by Holly Heron
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Must Be No!
No is no! that is what the answer must be
Before I destroy my soul and ruin my destiny
If I think an action might corrupt my virtue or my soul
Then the answer to that question, must always be no.
Never ever will I answer with a maybe or even a yes
When I know that someday that sin I must confess
Though I might not know alot but one thing I do know
When it conflicts my pride and honor, the answer is no.
My reputation and my values is what makes myself me
It is how that I am known from what others do see
So could I lie or cheat to cause others pain or woe
The answer to that question, will always be no.
No is no! and the question must end their
As I wont say yes to cause any sorrow or despair
I will not steal or rob from a friend or even a foe
And the answer to that question, is once again no.
Though I might meet with temptation or evil or corruption
It might enter my brain which will cause a disruption
But then one day I know my past it will unfold
And I will feel proud in those times, that I did say no.
A poor man has nothing a rich man has his wealth
But that will not send a soul to either heaven or hell
So will I lie or use to deceive either the young or the old
Once again to that answer, it will always be no.
poem by Randy McClave
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Identity
Identity, fragile image of broken mirrors
The start of hope and banished fears
Razor time cuts into the innocence
Fallen gardens of an empires deluge
Travel the stars in moonlit sin
Identity is a strange foreign land
Reflections of solitude beneath the mask
Rainy night pounds with thunder
Identity is an endless hunger
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Greatest Gift
When Christmas shopping is done,
wrapped gifts lie ‘neith a tree
sparkling bright with tinsel and light
for everyone to see.
Each gift has been selected
with thoughtfulness and care.
Toys and such will mean so much
like all the gifts we bear.
But let us keep within our heart
the much greater gift than these.
One from above, with God's great love
should bring us to our knees.
A gift of birth to all on Earth.
A gift that's far from small.
To everyone, He gave His Son…
The greatest gift of all.
poem by Ron Tranmer
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