Verses of the Sikh Gurus
I closed the cover of a book, just read.
A book of poetry, whose thoughts had touched
The sanctum sanctorum of my being.
I sat in silence pondering the depth
To which the sense of my awareness had
Been moved. I weighed the immemorial
Message of each word, whose meanings had been
Divinely etched upon the copper plate
Of thought. I floated in a dim light
And shade, that tideless flood of nothingness,
Seeking a gleam of illumination.
While strolling through such words my mind drank deep
The inspiration found therein, which made
Intensely sensible the beauty and,
The power and, the majesty of its
Eternal truths. I found each leaf an age
Within the Granth of life, the text itself
Eternity.
(Blank Verse)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Related quotes
You Cant Judge A Book
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
When I was young and went to school
My mama taught me the magic rule
And what she said I tried my best to follow
She said
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
Then I left school and moved around
And what I saw and what I found
Made me remember what she said to follow
She said
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
And now I think, by now Id know, that what appears is not always so
And I remember what she said to follow
She said
You cant judge a book by looking at the cover
No, you cant judge a man by looking at the cover
And you cant judge a book by looking at the cover
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Silence Of Edgar's Mind
Edgar had an evil approach
to his writing and to his
poetry that he composed
inside his mind and on
the paper that he wrote
upon.
His characters inside
his stories and poetry
had a shattered affect
that seem to have consumed
his mind as he wrote inside
the silence of his mind.
The silence of Edgar's
mind, gave him the evil
and the turmoilless thoughts
that shaped his short stories
and poetry into what it became
today.
But when i read his
poetry i can feel
his tortured soul
having so-much contorl
over him, that him
begins to battle
with his chastisng
emotions and his soul
That was forever making
him write the poetry
and the shoet stories
that he was chosen to
write until the end of
his life that he lived,
As he found himself
so desparately etched
with the loneliness
of being who he was as
a person.
As i got inside the
silence of Edgar Allan
Poe's mind i found a
constant struggle of
selfless-convictions
coming undone before me
as i read his work out loud.
poem by Erie Morganmaples
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Aurobindo 116 Savitri Book 7
An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Seven: The Book of Yoga
Canto Six: Nirvana and the Discovery of the All-Negating Absolute
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's
'Effacing heaven with its enormous stride
It willed to expunge the choked and anguished air
And end the fable of the joy of life.'
'It seemed to cry to her without thought or word
The message of its dark eternity
And the awful meaning of its silences: '
'In her own depths she heard the unuttered thought
That made unreal the world and all life meant.'
'Who art thou who claimst thy crown of separate birth, Line 102 to
At last know thyself, from vain existence cease.'Line 132
'I am Death and the dark terrible Mother of life,
I am Kali black and naked in the world,
I am Maya and the universe is my cheat.'
'For only the blank Eternal can be true.'
'O soul, inventor of man's thoughts and hopes, '
'At last know thyself, from vain existence cease.'132
All well said here and me spellbound in silence
Thine askesis has felt high such and I wonder..
'A shadow of the negating Absolute,
The intolerant Darkness travelled surging past
And ebbed in her the formidable Voice.
It left behind her inner world laid waste:
A barren silence weighed upon her heart,
Her kingdom of delight was there no more; '
'Only her soul remained, its emptied stage,
Awaiting the unknown eternal Will.
Then from the heights a greater Voice came down,
The voice of Light after the voice of Night:
The cry of the Abyss drew Heaven's reply,
A might of storm chased by the might of the Sun...
............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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I read a book
I read a book
Not to enhance my looks
I read a book
Maybe to avoid being a crook
I read a book
Not just to learn how to cook
I read a book
To ascertain how to defend my rights
Not just to acquire knowledge
Reading a book I pledge,
Is one of the roads to the light
I read a book
To understand how a kings territory
Is defended with pieces such as the rook
I read a book
So there will be no questions asked
When I count correctly what you took
I read a book
So that I play not ignorant
Now on life I’ve a different outlook
I read a book
So if I come up with all the right answers
I will know for sure it is not merely a fluke
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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A Closed Book
A book unopened
leaves words to die.
A book unopened
leaves words to lie
in perpetuity,
never alive, never free
to deliver its thoughts
for any to see.
Who was the writer?
What did he pen?
The absence of readers
are lost and then
the book lies quietly
on a shelf
and maybe all by itself it knows.
It will never be opened.
It will always be closed,
just like some people
who won't open up
and speak their words to you.
Their life is something
you'll never know,
something you won't view.
For they are a closed book too.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Aurobindo 55 Savitri Book 2
An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Two: The Book of the Traveller of the Worlds
Canto Thirteen: In the Self of Mind
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's
'At last there came a bare indifferent sky
Where Silence listened to the cosmic Voice,
But answered nothing to a million calls;
The soul's endless question met with no response.'
'An abrupt conclusion ended eager hopes,
A deep cessation in a mighty calm, '
A silent answer ever to be explored in silence
'And a margin and a blank of wordless peace.'
'In secrecy wraps the seed the Eternal sows
Silence, the mystic birthplace of the soul.'
'In God's supreme withdrawn and timeless hush
A seeing Self and potent Energy met; '
The Silence knew itself and thought took form:
Self-made from the dual power creation rose.'
'In the still self he lived and it in him; '
One in one-dogma in concealed realisation..
'Then suddenly a luminous finger fell
On all things seen or touched or heard or felt
And showed his mind that nothing could be known;
'The world seemed a long aeonic failure's scene: '
'Existence' self was shadowed by a doubt; '
'A veil that hung between the soul and Light,
An idol, not the living body of God.'
A subdued smile admits this in my heart..
'A noise was heard, between, of thought and prayer,
A strife, a labour without end or pause;
A vain and ignorant seeking raised its voice.'
'Immortal by renewed mortality, '
'To be was a prison, extinction the escape.'
Ever green words escaping Time's level...
............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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Why.............?
The American book of 'why',
The Asian book of 'why',
The European book of 'why',
The African book of 'why',
The Australian book of 'why',
The most asked question in the valley of world events;
Especially when one explodes a bomb!
The Christian book of 'why',
The Muslim book of 'why',
The Jewish book of 'why',
The Hindu book of 'why',
The Krishna book of 'why',
lLife is like the yeast which makes the bread rise;
But, the writer always has his or her own mind.
The Pagan book of 'why',
The Buddhist book of 'why',
The Protestant book of 'why',
The Confucian book of 'why',
To all life's aspects with the remaining books of 'why';
Poetry is the literature that muses with the mind.
Shall the trumpet be blown in the city and,
The people will not be afraid?
Seven bulls and seven rams,
I am the planted tree by the rivers of waters.
I am very young in years but,
The word 'why' is the question that goes around easily.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Book
I have found myself searching for a book in my father's attic.
A book that he meant to burn, but instead hid away.
On his deathbed he told me categorically to destroy it,
by burning each page come what may.
The book was a Greek translation from ancient Aramaic text,
which was discovered in eastern Turkey in 1886.
The goat herder that found it sold it for a few Turkish lira
to a Greek mountain climber and archaeologist.
In Athens he read it and told a learned friend about its contents,
his so called friend told someone else and so did he.
This inevitably led to the book being stolen and repeatedly sold,
until my father bought it from a French soldier in 1943.
As a young man my father studied ancient Greek at university
and soon realised what the book contained.
It was a powder keg of mind blowing revelations about the psyche,
its development and expansion were explained.
It detailed the mind control of others, mysticism, and the occult.
The practice of spiritual and angelic communication.
The transportation of the body to other dimensions,
and life's process of perpetuation.
My father read the book though didn't practice it's teachings,
he realised the enormous threats to life it contained.
But for many reasons he found its destruction impossible,
so it's fate with me remained.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Silence Between
the silence between
words being written and read
seduces the mind to think
thoughts of creation anticipate
the blank canvas of the mind
which mirrors the open soul
calling out to listen
to the sound of pen upon paper
a mind at work
is a beautiful thing
and in writing seductive
words flow into sentence
a verse crafts itself
to be seen, felt
all in the aftermath
of the silence between
words being written
words being read
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Take Back the Virgin Page
Written on Returning a Blank Book
Take back the virgin page,
White and unwritten still;
Some hand, more calm and sage,
The leaf must fill.
Thoughts come, as pure as light
Pure as even you require;
But, oh! each word I write
Love turns to fire.
Yet let me keep the book:
Oft shall my heart renew,
When on its leaves I look,
Dear thoughts of you.
Like you, 'tis fair and bright;
Like you, too bright and fair
To let wild passion write
One wrong wish there.
Haply, when from those eyes
Far, far away I roam,
Should calmer thoughts arise
Towards you and home;
Fancy may trace some line,
Worthy those eyes to meet,
Thoughts that not burn, but shine,
Pure, calm, and sweet.
And as, o'er ocean far,
Seamen their records keep,
Led by some hidden star
Through the cold deep;
So may the words I write
Tell through what storms I stray --
You still the unseen light,
Guiding my way.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Eternal Truths
In God’s Word you will hear, Eternal Truths, all men should fear,
A fear that comes as you heed, the Truths of God that you read,
Eternal Truths for all us to see, revealed by God to you and me,
A Divinely inspired Revelation, by God to lead men to salvation.
Revealing His Truth, for us to tell, others about Heaven and Hell,
Through the Holy Spirit of Christ, He shows eternal truths of life,
And He, who gave all men breath, speaks to all of eternal death,
God sets right before everyone, death or Eternal Life in His Son.
The fear God puts in me and you, is reverence to see us through,
To Guide us on this temporal earth, to that place of eternal worth,
As God moves upon our heart, with a Love, which will not depart,
And a fear that makes men wise, as His Spirit opens up our eyes.
They just say we have no proof, about God’s Word we call Truth,
And so God’s Truth they deny, embracing instead, the Devil’s lie;
Although you will die my friend, the eternal soul will have no end,
Your body in the ground may rot, but, your eternal soul shall not.
Some may read and simply say, that all men will just die anyway,
With no care at all, when or why, or where they go when they die,
But, every soul at its last breath, will face God and eternal death,
Unless a soul knows Jesus Christ, then he enters into eternal life.
(Copyright ©02/2008)
Daily You Are So Part Of Me
Daily you are so part of me,
as if you know every thought
and in the silences between us
there is a deep kind of understanding.
You are part of every breath,
are part of my life and soul,
are etched deep into every dream
are found even in melancholy and pain.
There is a hidden message in every moment,
in every moment that we look at each other
and you understand every action and word
long before they even are mine.
In the silences there are sweet messages,
that at times says much more than mere words
bringing a kind of joy to our passion and kisses,
and I am happy to have found you.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Cover Up
Cover up
With loving protection
Guard your love
In every direction CHORUS
Don't give up
For fear of rejection
Stand your ground and voice an objection
Run away my sister and brother
Be afraid of love when the lover VERSE 1
Tries to read the book by the cover
Wrapped up in the arms of another
(Repeat chorus)
Cover up prolonging the yearning
Just ahead the fires are burning VERSE 2
Swim for shore the tides are now turning
Love the ones you love with your learning
(Repeat chorus)
Look ahead the futures depending
On the brave to now start defending VERSE 3
Tell the world the message you're sending
We don't need an unhappy ending
(Repeat chorus)
Got to be safe if you want to be free BRIDGE
To sit in the shade of the family tree
(Repeat verse 1)
(Repeat chorus)
Got to be safe if you want to be free
To sit in the shade of the family tree
song performed by by UB40 from Cover Up
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crush On You
You found out
Kick it
You found out i've got a crush on you
You must have heard it from my best friend
She's always talking when she should be listening
Can't keep a secret to save her life
But still I trusted her with all I had inside
I never knew a rumour could spread so fast
But now the word is out all over town
That i'm longing for you
How did you know cos I never told
You found out i've got a crush on you
No more charades my heart's been displayed
You found out i've got a crush on you
Maybe I was the one who left a trace
Was there a message written on my face
Were my emotions so easily read
That you could know my thoughts before a word was said
Was it my eyes that let you know I had control
Because the way you moved was so self-assured
You knew I would surrender
How did you know cos I never told
You found out i've got a crush on you
No more charades my heart's been displayed
You found out i've got a crush on you
Kick it
One time
Get it up
Get down
How did you know cos I never told
You found out
No more charades my heart's been displayed
You found out
How did you know cos I never told
You found out i've got a crush on you
No more charades my heart's been displayed
You found out i've got a crush on you
You found out i've got a crush on you
You found out i've got a crush on you
song performed by by Aaron Carter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where's My Inspiration?
I can not think.
My mind is at a gridlock.
Where’s my inspiration?
Boredom is highly overwhelming,
But then I think,
“A poem about boredom! ”
Stupid, huh?
But still,
I-can-not- think.
Where’s my inspiration?
I lie on my bed,
Mind empty.
I stare at the ceiling,
At the blank white wall.
Then I stare at my paper,
A blank white canvas.
But then I look closer
It isn’t blank.
It’s filled with lines,
And not just any lines,
BLUE lines.
They aren’t even solid either.
With closer inspection,
They are dotted.
Some even have breaks in them.
Well,
Look at that.
I’ve found my inspiration.
“What is it? ” You may think.
To tell the truth it’s nothing special.
My inspiration came from everywhere around me.
My closed mind soon opened up and spoke to my hand.
It’s funny how the mind works,
Don’t you agree?
poem by Devon McElveen
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Healing Through Poetry
The content of her book is very nice
And what she writes about she knows
She tells us of her struggles so well
Her love for God and His Son just flows
I am so glad that I got her book
Faith thru her book the soul uplifts
From my heart I recommend it to you
'Healing through Poetry' is a poetic gift
I really enjoyed reading this book so much
She surely shares some of her hopes and pain
Her poetry is a true tale of faith and love
Mary's healing thru Christ shows not in vain
Wonderful author gave me another perspective
Her love for her son shines all the way indeed
Poetry content can bring inspiration to all
For my part I'm happy that her book I've read
November 22,2009
Author's note: 'Healing Through Poetry.' This is Mary Ann Duhart's first poetry book.
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter
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A Journey Of A Poet
A journey begins with
A thought in our mind
Words are chosen and formed.
Lines of poem
Well Written with meanings
With words of emotions and expressions
A poet starts with
An inspiration of mind,
An aspiration in soul mind
With reflection
On our life experience
We start to
Compose some
Wonderful poetry
Expressing our innermost thoughts
With deep contemplation
To put them in poetry words
A journey begins when
A poet takes his imagination
To a place where
No one ever dream or imagine before.
A poet's journey ends by
Writing another lovely poem
And deep reflection
A poet remains
As a poet
When he or she
Continue to
Write and Share
lovely poems with the world.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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The Garden
There is a fenceless garden overgrown
With buds and blossoms and all sorts of leaves;
And once, among the roses and the sheaves,
The Gardener and I were there alone.
He led me to the plot where I had thrown
The fennel of my days on wasted ground,
And in that riot of sad weeds I found
The fruitage of a life that was my own.
My life! Ah, yes, there was my life, indeed!
And there were all the lives of humankind;
And they were like a book that I could read,
Whose every leaf, miraculously signed,
Outrolled itself from Thought’s eternal seed.
Love-rooted in God’s garden of the mind.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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An Echoing Truth
In a world of right and wrong, we have Truth, that echoes strong,
And from the world’s ancient past, God’s Truth shall forever last,
To be for men a guide and light, for discerning wrong from right;
God’s Guiding Truth for every need, when souls choose to heed.
God’s Word echoes loud and clear, as men of true wisdom fear,
God who reigns above the earth, who gives The Word true worth,
God, Who spoke this world in place, opens hearts by His Grace,
And with that Grace He will impart, Eternal Truth into man’s heart.
A Book, that many seldom read, has the Truth that all men need,
While others never even heard, the Eternal Truths in God’s Word;
Eternal Truths that man can trust, which were written for all of us,
Truth revealed to all the world, which all believers need to herald.
This truth’s more than knowledge of, The One who reigns above,
But what He had did for everyone, sending Christ, His Only Son,
His Truth, revealed to every nation, leads a soul to His Salvation,
When they come to Jesus Christ, that soul, receives Eternal Life.
Open The Word and you will see, Truth about our present reality,
And you will see through history, others pointing men to eternity,
How Godly men of old would tell, others about Heaven and Hell,
Knowing all are just one breath, away from Eternal Life or Death.
(Copyright ©06/2010)
At The First Light Of Day
I now create poems at daybreak
Each one has a sunshiny theme,
Capturing thoughts as soon as I wake
My text resembles a dream.
I consider friends over the ocean
As I write my poetry in motion.
Birdsong is sweet at the dawning
As I welcome the first light of day
And words overflow without warning
~ I think I have found a new way ~
Writing verse with care and devotion
The story of Poetry In Motion.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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