When Someone Shows you the Path...
At dawn under the cool shade of the tree
Sitting and listening to his loving speech,
My eyes were brimming with tears.
I could sense he was aware and could hear,
The commotion silent cry in my heart.
Felt afraid I’ll break down and fall apart.
He looked directly with compassion at me,
Clueless, mere glance filled me with equanimity.
My intense pain was transformed into joy,
And my spirits were instantly buoyed.
Isn’t that’s how a mother‘s gentle caress
Reassures a baby crying in distress?
Joys and sorrows are like day and night-
Don’t suppress or deny or fight.
Suffering has its place as it develops compassion,
One learns to love with understanding and passion.
After listening to him talk, I can see
It somehow, had a profound affect on me….
Can acknowledgement of one's presence
touch you to the core of your essence?
30.10.08
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Compassion
It is one's compassion,
And beliefs...
To alleviate a grief felt.
With a bringing to others...
A feeling of relief,
That is received and released.
To asist in the melting...
With a helping of it to go away.
Distress seems to be left,
Everywhere on one's path today.
Another who cares,
Isn't 'asked' to be there...
But is there,
Anyway.
That is compassion,
Fashioned...
From understanding another's pain.
Compassion that is fashioned,
From a mode of action...
That one sustains.
It is not a style to maintain,
When the mood of it goes.
It is there to show,
With sincerity...
As it's received.
That is compassion,
Fashioned...
From understanding another's pain.
Compassion that is fashioned,
From a mode of action...
That one sustains.
Distress seems to be left,
Everywhere on one's path today.
Another who cares,
Isn't 'asked' to be there...
But is there,
Anyway.
And if asked to stay,
That one with compassion...
Will!
That one,
That comes with compassion...
Will.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Mother, Me And Our Special Moment
My world is small, restricted,
I wake up, it's warm and darkness,
I'm floating in the water, but i dont feel coldness,
I feel loved and protected.
Where am i?
Yes, i know, i'm in my mother's uterus,
I can feel her touch and tenderness,
She give me peace and silence.
When i am naughty dancing,
She sing for me so lovely,
I hear her voice like an echo
Directly to me vibrating.
But what is happening?
I'm moving in stormy water,
I am going down with the water
Absorbed in the vacuum.
I feel the presure, i can hear my mother screams of pain,
I spring outside as a bird will take a flight.
And there they give me directly
To my mother loving arms.
Our looks encounter,
She saw my blue eyes,
Her eyes was by tears invaded,
Of happiness for having me.
I felt her heart, i felt her love
I said proud in my baby mind,
I will reward her with a smile
Above all, she is my mother.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Compassion
You want more, and still more,
Until you get more than you ever bargained for.
Now its plain, clear as rain,
Ive seen your symptoms many times before.
Lying on your bed of pain
What will you have now?
What are riches untold in a life without compassion?
For theres no winter as cold
As a life without compassion.
Theres no prescription thats sold
That can heal you like compassion.
Well you tried and you cried,
And let your disappointment make you hard inside.
You have doubt, you reach out,
Still youre the only one you care about.
Hiding in your sack of woe
What do you need now?
For there is nothing so sad
As a life without compassion.
And even love has turned bad,
It was love without compassion.
And you dont need what you had
cause you did not have compassion.
Dying on your bed of pain
What will you have now?
Youll get no judgment from me,
I can only feel compassion.
And if thats what you need,
I will give you my compassion.
Just dont forget about me
cause we all need some compassion.
Open up your heart
So you can start to feel compassion.
Get down on your knees,
Pray to heaven for compassion.
Everybody needs compassion.
If you want to be healed
Then you know you got to feel compassion.
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love & Compassion
I used to think love was a dying art
Compassion couldnt live within a crowded heart
I saw my freedom in a poor mans eyes
Hope like a light, will to survive
A sense of dignity to hold up high
These are the simple things
That keep us all alive
And though the rich buy power for a time
One thing that money cant buy
Chorus
Love and compassion
(only) love and compassion
Give it to you
Give it to me
Love and compassion
(only) love and compassion
Thats what it takes
(give love...youre gonna feel love...
Ooo... feel love... youre gonna give love)
One night when I was feelin all alone
I saw a shadow walking in the danger zone
I knew that I would have to make a choice
Hunger in my heart, hunger in my spirit
We wont be free until we equalize
The price of power to the price of every life
And though I know its gonna take some time
Someday were all gonna find
Love and compassion
(onlv) love and compassion
Give it to you
Give it to me
Love and compassion
(only) love and compassion
Thats what it takes to relate
Love and compassion
(only) love and compassion
Give it to you
Give it to me
(oniy) love und compassion
Thats what it takes
(give love... ooo feel love... youre gonna
Feel love... if you give love)
Love und compassion
Love und compassion
Love und compassion
Love und compassion
Love und compassion
(only) love und compassion
Give it to you
Give it to me
Love and compassion
Someday were gonna find it
Oh when I was alone
And I reached out for more
I just opened my eyes
Love und compassion
I know it will take some time
But you know were gonna make it come true
Love and compassion
All my love and compassion
Love und compassion
Love und compassion
All my love, all my love und compassion
Someday, someday were gonna find it, realize it
Take some time to give
Love und compassion
Hope iike a light, and a will to survive...
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Buddhist Christmas
sitting on the bed
with my old blind dog...
breathing in, breathing out...
breathing in suffering,
all the suffering of the hungry,
the homeless, those in prison....
those ravaged by war....
of the lonely, those filled with despair,
the angry, the fearful, the lost....
breathing in deeply,
wrapping it all in snowlike stillness...
and then breathing out....
breathing out compassion,
total, unconditional, free compassion...
the oneness that feels every feeling,
hurts with every hurt,
prays with every need....
not judging, not holding back,
asking for nothing in return...
just breathing out....
and listening with gratitude
to the heartbeat of my faithful dog...
to the heartbeats of all that live...
lost inside life itself!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A sleepless grace
A sleepless grace
~
It is in her quiet grace
the touch of her fair hand
the sleepless night
seems to pass so gentle
I look to her eyes
and find my soul rooted
deeply in place
like the chestnut tree
unmoving and steadfast
there for many a year
~
she holds my heart
in the realms of her own
the whispers of conversation
fill the gaps of silences
we talk of the day now past
and those days to come
we talk of the little nothings
we talk to hear each other
comforting to a sleep
~
I lay her upon my chest
her ear to my heart
listening to my every truth
I hold nothing from her
as she holds nothing from me
and there I celebrate
her gentle quiet grace
which claimed my heart
in the sleepless night
poem by Matthew Holloway
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S.O.S.
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
I'm shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'll be standing here and I'm miles away
Making signals hoping they'd save me
I lock myself inside these walls
'Cause out there I'm always wrong
I don't think I'm gonna make it
So while I'm sitting here
On the eve of my death bed
I'll write this letter and hope it saves me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm stuck in my own head and I'm oceans away
Would anybody notice if I chose to stay?
I'll send and SOS tonight
Wonder if I will survive
How in the hell did I get so far away this time
So now I'm sitting here
The time of my departure's near
I say a prayer
Please someone save me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm lost here
I can't make it on my own
I don't wanna die alone
I'm so scared
Drowning now
Reaching out
Holding on to everything I love
Crying out
Dying now
Need some help
Is anybody listening?
Can you hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening?
song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Our Emotions Be Soaked in Wisdom!
Peace is our love, we love peace,
Dove in every heart can enjoy its life,
Peace and love make,
Nightingale in us,
sing that eternal song!
Our Worth shine in,
words and deeds,
Worth is our perseverance
Efficiency is our force!
Love Is purifier of Conduct, agitate and stir,
froth of impurity flow out,
as love stirs our heart!
Kindness and Prudence be our Action
Let our Emotions soaked in wisdom!
Affection reflect in our eyes our Feelings May Tolerate the Truth,
let Be love is our worth,
our Practice may be patience and excuse!
Let Wisdom shower our Innocence.
Innocence be our treasure,
May Knowledge Be our
Meditation
Understanding is our weapon,
Our Essence is Compassion,
Noble Compassion is companion
Passion is compassion, Forgiveness shine our path with temporal,
Path Of Divination
Because..
Global Fraternity Is
Victim Of Obscuration For They Aren't Aware Of Their
Doings, Deals & Deeds..
May our heart excuse and embrace all!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Passion And Compassion
PASSION AND COMPASSION
Jesus Christ was crucified,
Lord Buddha got enlightenment,
For passion and compassion,
The voices of Gandhiji and Martin Luther,
Were silenced by bullets,
But where is passion and compassion today,
Money has become the creater,
Of all the evils
We should adopt passion and compassion
poem by Dr. Ram Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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ll Be crying
'll Be crying tears if some of my wounds heal
'll Be crying crying child lost compassion
'll Be crying to wipe some tears filled my grief
'll be crying and the tears stream around me
'll Be crying'll be crying and the remainder of my life
'll be crying to drown in my tears
'll Be crying in the coffin and bury my grief
'll Be crying.. 'll Be crying.. 'll Be crying
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Meaning Of Fidelity
Fidelity is filled with eagerness and passion,
Fidelity is deeper than any emotion,
Fidelity is full of trust and compassion,
And is filled with a keen devotion.
Fidelity is filled with eagerness and passion,
Fidelity is a state of faithfulness from the heart,
Fidelity is an adherence to a special cause
And its' sworn vows will never part.
Fidelity is filled with eagerness and passion,
Fidelity is an allegiance bound to stand,
Fidelity is part of a Nation's domain,
And is steadfast throughout the land.
Fidelity is filled with eagerness and passion,
Fidelity is full of piety and ultimate care,
Fidelity is filled with an intense sense of duty,
And is like soothing music in the air.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Compassion and Anger
Compassion and anger were my only love
Came to me winging like a lonely dove
Gimme some loving from the Lord above
Compassion and anger
Down on the quayside things getting rough
Somebody trying to prove they are tough
Compassion and anger will soon call their bluff
Compassion and anger
Compassion and anger won't make you sad
Compassion and anger will just make you glad
What will you do when the world's turning bad
Without compassion and anger?
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Compassion Is The Sweetness That Enters
Compassion is the sweetness that enters
the wounded apple of knowledge after
you've taken your first bite out of it.
It's not an antidote to the facts of life and death.
And you should know by now if you've suffered at all,
and it's impossible not to from the moment you open your eyes,
the night is not a reward, nor the lantern of the light
that goes before you on a graveyard shift of the stars.
Compassion is the oldest instinct of the heart
and first muse of the mind that can taste only
the blowing blossoms and bitter green apples of the spring,
gripe brain, before it ripens like a sunset in your blood.
That's why the heart knows more about it than the head.
And I expect, on that basis, no one is more capable
of loving us who must doubt that we're worthy of love
to live up to the truth of it than the dead who can open
the tiny koans of the seeds at the core of things
like the lockets of fortune-cookies that break
like twisted cosmic eggs in a rush to spread their wings
like waterbirds who write the lyrics of their songs on the fly.
Words for the eye. Words for the ear. Words
for the voice of the wind like black walnut trees
and kites in a storm. And if you really know how to listen,
I mean if you can hear the wavelength of a black snake
swimming across your blood like a mantra
of terrifying, beautiful wisdom that keeps its secrets
to itself, or hear the unfathomable oceans in the black rose
whose petals and eyelids are always smashing
like white eyelashes in a squall of sunbeams
against the breakwater of a white dawn that passes
like an albino eclipse in a moonlit leper colony
of extinct black rhinos. If you even remotely
hear what I mean when I speak like this sleepwalking
through a dream grammar like a prophetic skull in a trance,
words that dance like light on the mindstream
rejoicing in the clarity of the voice that expresses
the hidden message encoded in the genes of the fireflies.
You have mouths. Speak for yourselves.
Some like lighthouses along the banks of life.
Some like thieves with searchlights for eyes on a bomber's night
when everyone is underground and the bummers are out
plundering the evacuated houses of the zodiac.
Might be the ravings of a star struck maniac talking to himself
to make sure nobody else is listening. Might be
the surrealistic lament of a Dadaist night bird
singing out loud in its sleep for things it doesn't know
it longs for, or maybe a lunatic is waxing prophetic
in a labyrinth of his own echoes trying to sound his way out
of the mountains without end he's being trying to befriend
like a cloud or an eagle silvered a moment
like the ore of a dream in the corner of the eye
of a moonrise coming on like a hurricane
with a black pearl in its teeth. The eclipse of a sacred lie
compassion concedes to an alibi without a myth of origin.
Compassion is the child of imagination that identifies
with its simulacra of suffering by applying the heart
like a bloodbank to the wounded eidolons of eyeless images
that didn't know how to bleed, or breathe, or cry or see
until compassion tempered their impression of themselves
as paradigms of rationality, by shedding real tears
in an ice age of lenses that kept their illusory distance
from the stars that came out after the rain, wet and shining,
laughter radiating through our tears, because life isn't a dry fire.
It's the hand on the rudder of a lifeboat
that keeps you from drowning from the day you were born
in the undertow of the tides of the new moon
until the night of the full when you haul everyone aboard
who's been swimming through glaciers of tears
like baby mammoths for the last twenty-five thousand years
afraid of extinction if they ever stopped to catch their breath.
Compassion is accepting everyone's death as a portion of your own.
Everyone's life as your third eye, a vital organ of your own body.
Compassion is an undisciplined action of the heart.
Compassion arises like a moonrise of inspiration
in the eyes of the older sister of the muses
who walks too much alone as if she'd devoted her solitude
to the suffering of a wounded stranger she met along the way
when she let her hair down like willows of rain
to cool the scorched earth and slake the roots of pain
until they bloomed like foxfire in the shadow of her passing.
Most poets sit around the lesser fires of their art
trying to divine the smoke of what's burning in their hearts
like autumn leaves they've heaped into books
that smoulder in tears more often than they break into flames.
But if compassion turns her eyes toward you
like a star in the darkness beyond your blazing
the Milky Way runs like a bloodstream through your veins
and you see in terrifying clarity the great mystic details
in the deep watersheds of picture music efoliating
like wildflowers and galaxies, grails, fountains,
lunar herbs, and starfish raised up off the ground
to take their place among the shining, radiant with life,
in the low valleys and high fields of an imagination that heals.
poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hear Me
You gotta be out there
You gotta be somewhere
Wherever you are
Im waiting
Cause there are these nights when
I sing myself to sleep
And Im hoping my dreams bring
You close to me
Are you listening?
Hear me Im crying out
Im ready now
Turn my world upside down
Find me
Im lost inside this crowd
Its getting loud
I need you to see
Im screaming for you to please
Hear me
Can you hear me?
I used to be scared of
Letting someone in
But it gets so lonely
Being on my own
With no one to talk to and
No one to hold me
Im not always strong
Oh I need you here
Are you listening?
Im restless and wild
I fall but I try
I need someone to understand
(Can you hear me?)
Im lost in my thoughts
And baby Ive fought
For all that Ive got
Can you hear me?
song performed by by Kelly Clarkson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gentle Child.
Gentle Child of loves sweet passions,
Bring happiness to this loving pair.
Let both have bounding compassion,
Through that childhood that both do share.
Love and laughter be always with you,
Parental strength guide your faltering way.
Happy tears like fresh morning dew,
Will help you on life's path to stay.
A Mother's love a Father's care by day and by night,
Will help you grow into a child to bring joyful delight.
Thrive Gentle child born of loves sweet passion,
Thrive, grow strong, and fulfil your purpose in living.
Remember your childhood's parental compassion,
And live your life in joyful giving.
poem by Bernard Shaw
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Why Bother to Ask the Question
Why is it,
Whenever I hear someone say...
'I don't care.'
I become aware that person has compassion?
'And...
What? '
What are you talking about, 'And what? '
I am asking you a question.
'How can you ask me that question,
When I wasn't there to hear?
And on a scale from one to ten...
How was that compassion you became aware of,
Felt?
Was it an eight?
Was it a five?
Was it a nine?
Do you know?
And if you do...
Why bother to ask the question! '
One day I am going to discover,
You are no longer in my mind.
And I am going to find myself a lot happier.
'And I wont?
Is that what you're saying?
Is that your implication?
If it is I can leave right now.
'Cause I don't need your cheese,
To spread on my biscuit.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Warmer Side Of Cool
(jack hues)
Well Im sitting on a hillside
On the warmer side of cool
With the future laid before me
Like a green and misty jewel
And to climb above the tree line
Is only for the fools
So they say
So they say
Chorus:
On the warmer side of cool
What you feel in your heart is all
On the warmer side of cool
Being cool its so easy to be cold
Well Im sitting by the seaside
On the warmer side of cool
With the ocean spread before me
Like a blue and misty jewel
And if I jump into the water
Would an angel break my fall
So they say
So they say
On the warmer side of cool
What you feel in your heart is all
Im sorry if I offend you
If Im a little bit intense
But I never did intend us
To be sitting on the fence
And even though Im guilty
Of making total sense
Im happy when its all
On the warmer side of cool
Repeat chorus
It aint cool to be cold
song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Within The Midnight Hour
In the midnight hours, my heart
breaks, the fog moves in, wraps
it arms around the morning's
longing wake. The gentle dew
falls from the nights moon, within
the loving fog, my heart
blooms.
The midnight stars fading one
by one, falling from the darkness,
until the night is done. Stars
floating within my sea of tears,
midnight awaiting for my
love to appear.
Gripping the cool night, feeling
alone, lost in the misty fog,
my heart looking for a home.
Crying to the Heaven's, my
universe in pain, moon beams
playing melodies upon my
broken heart strings.
In the midnight hour, your
sweet name I call, the galaxy
crying, losing light as it's stars
fall. Alone in the midnight hour,
my heart, the pain consumes,
within the loving fog, my heart
does bloom.
poem by Ruth warren
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Lily's Silent Tears
Each night Lily lay down her weary head
She pulled her pillow closer
Turned her face buried it deep as it soaked up all the silent tears
She cried, she begged,
She wished she hoped but most of all she closed her eyes and prayed
From the corners of her closed eyes a tear escaped….two… three….till she set them all free
Lily cried herself to sleep night after night
Crying over life and love lost
Time slipped by
High above in the heavens one night
There way up above you and I
Upon the brightest star
Sat he
Writing away his heart
He felt a tremor run through his heart
He heard a distant cry
He closed his eyes and there deep within the beauty of his loving heart He saw that tear
One silent solitary sad burning tear that bore so much pain
He closed his eyes and wished and willed
To see the owner of the tear
The silent tear that caused the tremor in his heart
He found Lily lying on her pillow crying herself to sleep
He reached out and touched her
Soothed her healed her loved her
Her days filled with warmth
Her nights filled with moonlight and love
Then one cold night he left a tremor in her heart
With unspoken word
He told her
He loved her
They were friends
But
He could never love her in the same way that she loved him
For his heart was already taken
Night after night once again Lily lays her head upon her faithful pillow
Night after night once gain she cries herself to sleep
Night after night once again she feels the tremor inside her heart
But
Night after night he feels the tremor of another
Eyes Of An Angel
She once looked into an angel's eyes.
No matter how hard that angel tries,
The angel can't disguse,
The compassion in the angel's eyes.
The angel denies,
The angel doesn't see the tears she cries,
Every time the angel comes near, a peice of hear heart dies,
All because of the angel's eyes.
She hates the angel, but the angel's eyes,
Make up for all the lies,
And at night the angel flies,
Watches her dream about the angel's eyes.
She stops and sighs,
Stops crying when she really tries,
Thinks about pain and its enormous size,
Then, yet again, cries.
The tears she cries,
The heart that dies,
When she sighs,
Will they ever be noticed by the angel's eyes?
poem by Jackie Crow
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