Like This
If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
Like this.
When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the nightsky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,
Like this.
If anyone wants to know what 'spirit' is,
or what 'God’s fragrance' means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.
Like this.
When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen knot by knot the strings
of your robe.
Like this.
If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead,
don’t try to explain the miracle.
Kiss me on the lips.
Like this. Like this.
When someone asks what it means
to 'die for love,' point
here.
If someone asks how tall I am, frown
and measure with your fingers the space
between the creases on your forehead.
This tall.
The soul sometimes leaves the body, the returns.
When someone doesn’t believe that,
walk back into my house.
Like this.
When lovers moan,
they’re telling our story.
Like this.
I am a sky where spirits live.
Stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.
Like this.
When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in his hand.
Like this.
How did Joseph’s scent come to Jacob?
Huuuuu.
How did Jacob’s sight return?
Huuuu.
A little wind cleans the eyes.
Like this.
When Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he’ll put just his head around the edge
of the door to surprise us
Like this.
Related quotes
Why Me?
When the hopes are hassled
And relationships are rattled
Naïveté asks, why me?
When wishes are whacked
And dreams are dashed
Naïveté asks, why me?
When fantasies are fettered
And blessings are battered
Naïveté asks, why me?
When desires are demolished
And ambitions are admonished
Naïveté asks, why me?
When temptations are traumatized
And passions are pulverized
Naïveté asks, why me?
Strangely,
Naïveté with influence
And naïveté with affluence
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with name
And naïveté with fame
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with health
And naïveté with wealth
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with fiefdom
And naïveté with wisdom
Never asks, why me?
Naïveté with beauty
And naïveté with booty
Never asks, why me?
poem by Hitesh Sheth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Can't Say No
Here I am
There you are
If you ask me to walk a thousand miles just to be where you are,
I can? say no
If you ask me.
If I had a dime, it? yours as well as mine.
I? keep the penny, you know I would and gladly give you the nine.
I can? say no
If you ask me
Ooh, ooh, ooh,
If you told me tonight to get up
Pack my bags let? go away,
I wouldn? even care what my Mommy, what my Daddy might have to say.
?ause I can? say no
If you ask me .
Ooh, ooh no!
(You?e too beautiful to be. to be)
You know I can? say it, baby no!
(You mean everything to me)
No ifs and no maybe?
No!
(that? why I, that? why I, that? why I, that? why)
You know I can? say it baby,
I can? say no
If you ask me.
Ooh ooh ooh. Sometimes I get so angry with him
I walk around I pout all day.
And the he kisses me and asks me do I love him
In a sweet soft sexy kind of way,
I can? say no
If he asks me.
On No I can? say no if he asks me.
I can? so if he asks me
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Is 16 And The Other 18
the police officer arrested them
last night while they were strolling on the park
and this is the story:
he asks for their names and they say they have none
he asks from where they come from and they say
they do not really know
he asks them where they are going and they tell him
they are still undecided
he asks them what is in their bags and they say they are just nothing
he asks them some more and they say
they have nothing to say of themselves
they come from nowhere
and they are heading nowhere
and the police handcuffed them
these vagrants
these potential terrorists of this rural place
where the people still love peace
and this afternoon the police officer brings them all to me
and he tells me about the whole story
about his questions and their answers
and i am looking at them and they look at me
straight in my eyes
with dignity and without shame
with all pride
that they are telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth
that this one whose age is 16 and this other one whose age is 18
are simply talking about
themselves
and about us
and about the policeman himself
and surely, i agree
we have no names, we do not know where we come from and we do not
really know where we are going
we are all like that, in the strictest sense of the word, except
for our little pretensions
and so i ordered the policeman to release them all
and let them be
themselves
and let them go in peace and finish their journey with all ease
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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435
The Police Officer Arrested Them
Last Night While They Were Strolling On The Park
And This Is The Story:
He Asks For Their Names And They Say They Have None
He Asks From Where They Come From And They Say
They Do Not Really Know
He Asks Them Where They Are Going And They Tell Him
They Are Still Undecided
He Asks Them What Is In Their Bags And They Say They Are Just Nothing
He Asks Them Some More And They Say
They Have Nothing To Say Of Themselves
They Come From Nowhere
And They Are Heading Nowhere
And The Police Handcuffed Them
These Vagrants
These Potential Terrorists Of This Rural Place
Where The People Still Love Peace
And This Afternoon The Police Officer Brings Them All To Me
And He Tells Me About The Whole Story
About His Questions And Their Answers
And I Am Looking At Them And They Look At Me
Straight In My Eyes
With Dignity And Without Shame
With All Pride
That They Are Telling The Truth, The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth
That This One Whose Age Is 16 And This Other One Whose Age Is 18
Are Simply Talking About
Themselves And About Us
And About The Policeman Himself
And Surely, I Agree
We Have No Names, We Do Not Know Where We Come From And We Do Not
Really Know Where We Are Going
We Are All Like That, In The Strictest Sense Of The Word, Except
For Our Little Pretensions
And So I Ordered The Policeman To Release Them All
And Let Them Be Themselves
And Let Them Go In Peace And Finish Their Journey With All Ease
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is This Between You And Me?
When dawn arrives, sun rises,
And daylight bristles awake,
Never asks; Who leaves an ache as keepsake? ,
Grateful for each day, that he didn’t forsake.
When it rains, the cuckoo sings,
The forest echoes with his cravings,
Never asks; Whose soul-wrenching greetings the rain brings?
Tying her mute existence with what heartstrings?
When the wind moans in sweet whispers,
In ripe orchards, where the fruit anchors,
Never asks; With what sweet nothings he casts his doubts? ,
But in deeper shades she flushes.
When the moon returns on the rung of stars,
The night in obeisance crawls, like hungry jaguars,
Never asks-questions about his whereabouts, all that in the darkness chars,
But steers to him on the shoulder's of the lodestar.
When the storm hurls thunder and rain,
Enduring the earth braces open and doesn’t complain,
Never asks; What havoc in this rage she sustains?
Content to know in her hands, lie the reins to his restrain.
When the butterfly flickers mingling colors,
The blossoms throw no tempers, till their contrast blurs,
Never asks; Who steals my colors and violates the sanctity of my lair?
With open arms to his designs she willing concurs.
When the clouds lie scattered & wander,
The hills try hard to delay their departure,
Never asks; Who rides off to what strange lands with my emotions?
She knows with her heavy on his heart he returns.
Now, you have the temerity to ask me;
What is this between you and me?
x-x-x
Seema.Joglekar
5th Dec-2009
poem by Seema joglekar
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Sinners, Turn, Why Will Ye Die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, your Maker, asks you why?
God, who did your being give,
Made you with himself to live -
He the fatal cause demands,
Asks the work of his own hands,
Why, ye thankless creatures, why
Will ye cross his love, and die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, your Saviour, asks you why?
God, who did your souls retrieve,
Died himself, that ye might live;
Will you let him die in vain?
Crucify your Lord again?
Why, ye ransomed sinners, why
Will you slight his grace, and die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, the Spirit, asks you why?
He who all your lives hath strove,
Wooed you to embrace his love:
Will you not his grace receive?
Will you still refuse to live?
Why, ye long-sought sinners, why
Will you grieve your God, and die?
Dead, already dead within,
Spiritually dead in sin,
Dead to God while here you breathe,
Pant ye after second death?
Will you still in sin remain,
Greedy of eternal pain?
O ye dying sinners, why,
Why will you for ever die?
poem by Charles Wesley
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Hymn VI: Sinners, Turn, Why Will Ye Die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, your Maker, asks you why?
God, who did your being give,
Made you with himself to live -
He the fatal cause demands,
Asks the work of his own hands,
Why, ye thankless creatures, why
Will ye cross his love, and die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, your Saviour, asks you why?
God, who did your souls retrieve,
Died himself, that ye might live;
Will you let him die in vain?
Crucify your Lord again?
Why, ye ransomed sinners, why
Will you slight his grace, and die?
Sinners, turn, why will ye die?
God, the Spirit, asks you why?
He who all your lives hath strove,
Wooed you to embrace his love:
Will you not his grace receive?
Will you still refuse to live?
Why, ye long-sought sinners, why
Will you grieve your God, and die?
Dead, already dead within,
Spiritually dead in sin,
Dead to God while here you breathe,
Pant ye after second death?
Will you still in sin remain,
Greedy of eternal pain?
O ye dying sinners, why,
Why will you for ever die?
poem by John Wesley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My father said, 'Politics asks the question Is it expedient Vanity asks Is it popular But conscience asks Is it right'
quote by Dexter Scott King
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He asked me
He asks me to dance
I stand and stare
I am flabergasted
Refusal defiently no.
I stand shaking
and say yes!
He smiles at me.
Takes my hand
and walks me to the
dance floor.
And guides me
how to dance.
His hands are soft
He smeels nice
I feel proud
First boy ask me
to dance.
this poem was written last year 4th june 2005. i thought no boy would ever ask me to dance, after i looked terrible, and after all my pain i had. the grey sickness was to be seen on my face, and suddenly there stands aboy and asks me to dance. i certainly wouldn't have thought this would have happened-after all i was just starting to control my depression.
poem by Celine Berghmans
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Cowardice asks Is it safe Expediency asks Is it politic But Conscience asks Is it right
quote by William Punshon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cowardice asks: Is it safe? Expediency asks: Is it politic? But Conscience asks: Is it right?
quote by William Punshon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Michael Robins’s Class Minus One
At the desk where the boy sat, he sees the Chicago River.
It raises its hand.
It asks if metaphor should burn.
He says fire is the basis for all forms of the mouth.
He asks, why did you fill the boy with your going?
I didn't know a boy had been added to me, the river says.
Would you have given him back if you knew?
I think so, the river says, I have so many boys in me,
I'm worn out stroking eyes looking up at the day.
Have you written a poem for us? he asks the river,
and the river reads its poem,
and the other students tell the river
it sounds like a poem the boy would have written,
that they smell the boy's cigarettes
in the poem, they feel his teeth
biting the page.
And the river asks, did this boy dream of horses?
because I suddenly dream of horses, I suddenly dream.
They're in a circle and the river says, I've never understood
round things, why would leaving come back
to itself?
And a girl makes a kiss with her mouth and leans it
against the river, and the kiss flows away
but the river wants it back, the river makes sounds
to go after the kiss.
And they all make sounds for the river to carry to the boy.
And the river promises to never surrender the boy's shape
to the ocean.
Her own Life....
the middle aged woman
speaks about all the bad luck in her life
she is poor, her heart is broken
her husband is sick
her children all dumb
she has no house to live
she has no relatives to
help her
then she asks me
on what part of her life will she be grateful to God?
she does not know the word
about thanks
then the older woman asks her
to give back at 3 p.m. today the life that the Lord has given her
she realizes what she has which she has not given importance
she shakes her head, kneels on the ground and
said thanks to God....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Old Man With His Hat
There Little Robbie found him in an old yellow album
A blurred picture of a half old man with his hat
Standing in front of the coffin
He smiles shy but wide with his teeth gone making a hole like Little Robbie when he lose his baby teeth
Little Robbie doesn’t recognize him and he wonder where he is now
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his big sister
But his sister doesn’t recognize him and she wonder who he is
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his mother
But his mother doesn’t recognize him and she wonder how he was there
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his father
But his father doesn’t recognize him and he wonder what he did there
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his uncle
But his uncle doesn’t recognize him and he wonder when the picture taken
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks hopelessly to his grandfather
His grandfather takes a deep look to that picture and wonders why Little Robbie asks
Little Robbie says, “I want to meet him! I want to know about him! I want to play with him! ”
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
But his grandfather shakes his head, “No, he is not.”
He is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
He is just an old man with his hat
“He accompanied your great grandfather when he sick until his death. This picture is taken in a burial of your great grandfather.”
His grandfather stares at little Robbie
“Now, are you disappointed? ”
He is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
He is just an old man with his hat
Little Robbie shakes his head, “No, I am not.”
Though he is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
Though he is just an old man with his hat
“But I still want to meet him, I want to know about him, and I want to play with him! ”
And then he could be one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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God Whose Gifts In Gracious Flood
God, whose gifts in gracious flood
Unto all who seek are sent,
Only asks you to be good,
And is content.
So the world, when all things are
Sparkling, yet does nought ignite,
Only asks you to be fair,
And finds delight.
And my heart, in the sweet shade
Of two beauteous eyes steeped o'er,
Only asks if you be glad,
And nothing more.
poem by Victor Hugo
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Pay For What You Get
Work ourselves, fingers to the bone
Suck the morrow, drain my soul
Pay your dues, and your debts
Pay your respects, everybody tells you
You pay for what you get
You pay for what you get
Everybody asks me how shes doing
Has she really lost her mind?
I said, I couldnt tell you Ive lost mine
Words, words, words have you heard
A bird in hand is much better than,
Any number free to wander
Fly away...
Stay
You pay for what you get
You pay for what you get
Everybody asks me how shes doing
Has she really lost her...
Everybody asks me how shes doing
Since she went away
I said I couldnt tell
Im okay
Im okay
Im okay, how are you?
Pay for what you get...
Pay for what you get...oh...
Pay for what you get...
Pay for what you get...
Oh...
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Creative Knots And Have Nots
If 'me' may be, if not un me[t], as least not knot me, if mind can candle hand maid entrancing universe unto itself, may the universe be a mind unto itself dispelling compelling spelling. If so, can it mind that minds can cant, or cannot decant Kant, encapsulating insight along dotted line frame forms spurning formal form frames?
Fresh fusion transforms chaos confusion to creative fractal constellation of potent energy sub-particles. Verbal wake-shake makes time, taking time out for its own acorn ache sake discarding corn flaking rhyme. Also sprach Zarathustra disregarding state me[a]ntal lines, to [t]ra[n]ce light waves as if existence de[e]pended upon its s[p]eed, [st]arching star I Ching, portraying paradoxical parallelax perceptions as personnified spinning neu[t]rons mock both convictions and neutrality. Is all relativity one [m]asks?
17 May 2011 variation of Prose Poem on the Mind's Universe II
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIII
Author notes
Wor[l]ds in [b]rackets convey two or more meanings
me[t]: me and or met
state me[a]ntal state mean tall?
statemental, state me ant all; state meant all, sate or ate men tall etc.
[t]ra[n]ce: trace and or race, ace, trance, tance, and or rance
de[e]pended: deep ended and or depended
[st]arching: starching and or St. arching
neu[t]rons: neutrons and or neurons
[m]asks: masks and or asks
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Desert Spirit
I roamed in the desert
The sand is before me
I continue on my path,
Then a castle rises in front of me.
I see a prince in the garden
His hair is gold like the sun
His eyes the color of the sky
His cloak the color of midnight
And upon his head is a crown of silver stars.
He looks up from a wounded animal and he sees me.
I can see the sadness in his eyes.
I ask him if the animal is dead
He says no, and I offer to help
His eyes start to sparkle
I go to the wounded animal and pray
The wound is healed
The prince then looks at me
And I can see the love in his eyes
He asks if I would like a tour of the castle,
I say yes
We talk for hours about different subjects
As we go into the garden that night
I felt I was in love with this prince
He asks if I would like to stay with him
My answer is yes.
He then takes a cloak and puts it around me
The cloak is the color of the sky.
He also takes a crown of gold stars
And puts it on my head
I have fallen in love with a spirit
Who has in return loved me
He is known as Desert Spirit
He is Jesus Christ
The Lord God Almighty.
I am Qalme Tari Mistress of Death Nat Norville.
Cretics Welcome
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Desert Spirit
I roamed in the desert
The sand is before me
I continue on my path,
Then a castle rises in front of me.
I see a prince in the garden
His hair is gold like the sun
His eyes the color of the sky
His cloak the color of midnight
And upon his head is a crown of silver stars.
He looks up from a wounded animal and he sees me.
I can see the sadness in his eyes.
I ask him if the animal is dead
He says no, and I offer to help
His eyes start to sparkle
I go to the wounded animal and pray
The wound is healed
The prince then looks at me
And I can see the love in his eyes
He asks if I would like a tour of the castle,
I say yes
We talk for hours about different subjects.
As we go into the garden that night
I felt I was in love with this prince
He asks if I would like to stay with him
My answer is yes.
He then takes a cloak and puts it around me
The cloak is the color of the sky.
He also takes a crown of gold stars
And puts it on my head
I have fallen in love with a spirit
Who has in return loved me
He is known as Desert Spirit
He is Jesus Christ
The Lord God Almighty.
poem by Natasha Norville
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Such A Good Boy
(carly simon/robbie shakespeare/mike mainieri)
He asks her for permission
To take the car
Light his cigar
Play his guitar
Burn down the barn
He asks her for permission
To tie his shoes
To take a snooze
To read the news
To sing the blues
Chorus:
Hes such a good boy
A real mamas boy
She treats him like a toy
Hes such a good boy
(repeat)
He asks her for permission
To get a tan
To play his hand
To blow a grand
To be a man
He asks her for permission
To say goodnight
To see snow white
To watch the fight
cause shes always right
Chorus
She points her finger
And waves her hand
And acts just like a queen bee
But hes foolin? her
cause he doesnt ask
Her for permission
When he comes to see me
Chorus
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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