En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Darshana

Who looks to whom?
And who looked first?

Everything that has direction
has its contraflow.

The ikon whose golden frame you gently touch
painted its painter so that it might look within you.

That white-bearded man whose photo
you just glanced at, was photographed
by the Ganges’ snowy swirling waters
to be there to bless your eyes, to smile your mind.

For you who arrived, hot, dusty, saddle-sore,
the saint has waited patiently to see you become him.

For you, the whole world awaits
with answers to your questions yet to ask.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Facebook Chatter

so many questions
and so many answers to choose from
can't decide yet
which one

but there is an answer hidden in your hair
your eyes speak them for me
i am restless
i need it now to calm me down
to dispel the questions
with only one answer from you
tell it to me gently
and then touch
me with your lips
my silence is always unfilled.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The eyes of the ikon

The door creaks as she opens it
and the fall of the heavy iron latch
echoes through the empty church.

The atmosphere inside, this cold day,
is heavy, as such holy places are,
locked now at night; heavy,
with what? Anticipation? Memory,
of all the human emotions
that have passed through them?
There’s still the clinging promise,
the fragrance of yesterday’s incense;
it could almost be a midnight forest
in its wood-scented mystery.

She lights a candle, drops a coin
slowly, as those do to whom
each coin has a meaning.

She is small, shrunken as the aged are,
wrapped into roundness against the cold,
yet neatly; today there’s an extra sense of purpose
about her walk towards the glittering
gold ikonostasis –

is it the anniversary of the day
her husband perished in the labour camp?
Or the day her son died fighting
so that such as she might live,
to mourn him, proudly, all her life?

Or was she, is she, that unmarried, famous
junior lecturer who lost her job
for speaking truth, whose students
carried her shoulder-high and placed her
on the tank outside the university,
challenging its gun?

She kneels in front of the ancient ikon,
framed in gold; the ikon that tourists
note with a glance, as ‘Christ’…though when painted,
it was known as ‘Son of God’; now they call it
‘Son of Man’ – that seems to suit it.

She looks intently into its eyes
as she has so many times; each time,
a new day, asking what He has in store for her.
As intently as its painter, praying as he worked,
that He might come and fill the painted form
with His eyes, His heart, His soul; all that He brought to earth
from That which sent Him…

She looks into the eyes of the ikon –
or does the ikon look at her?
In some other world, there is mighty sound,
perhaps a word; the air is filled with soundlessness;
there’s fire that burns forever; great waters flow
like grace itself; new earth is watered.

She sees, in some great where between
herself and all things, love that cannot be measured;
mercy that can only explain itself with itself;
grace that’s only known; her life
opens itself to her clearly, soundlessly;
all is revealed to the seeking heart.

The candles flicker; the door creaks,
and the heavy iron latch echoes
once, in the empty church. The Son of Man
in the form of an old woman wrapped against the cold,
steps out into His kingdom. A few snowflakes;
a pale winter sun. Look into her eyes.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ikon

The door creaks, as she opens it
and the fall of the heavy iron latch
echoes through the empty church.

The atmosphere inside, this cold day,
is heavy, as such holy places are,
locked now at night; heavy,
with what? Anticipation? Memory,
of all the human emotions
that have passed through them?
There’s still the clinging promise,
the fragrance of yesterday’s incense;
it could almost be a midnight forest
in its wood-scented mystery.

She lights a candle, drops a coin
slowly, as those do to whom
each coin has a meaning.

She is small, shrunken as the aged are,
wrapped into roundness against the cold,
yet neatly; today there’s an extra sense of purpose
about her walk towards the glittering
gold ikonostasis –

is it the anniversary of the day
her husband perished in the labour camp?
Or the day her son died fighting
so that such as she might live,
to mourn him, proudly, all her life?

Or was she, is she, that unmarried, famous
junior lecturer who lost her job
for speaking truth, whose students
carried her shoulder-high and placed her
on the tank outside the university,
challenging its gun?

She kneels in front of the ancient ikon,
framed in gold; the ikon that tourists
note with a glance, as ‘Christ’…though when painted,
it was known as ‘Son of God’; now they call it
‘Son of Man’ – that seems to suit it.

She looks intently into its eyes
as she has so many times; each time,
a new day, asking what He has in store for her.
As intently as its painter, praying as he worked,
that He might come and fill the painted form
with His eyes, His heart, His soul; all that He brought to earth
from That which sent Him…

She looks into the eyes of the ikon –
or does the ikon look at her?
In some other world, there is mighty sound,
perhaps a word; the air is filled with soundlessness;
there’s fire that burns forever; great waters flow
like grace itself; new earth is watered.

She sees, in some great where between
herself and all things, love that cannot be measured;
mercy that can only explain itself with itself;
grace that’s only known; her life
opens itself to her clearly, soundlessly;
all is revealed to the seeking heart.

The candles flicker; the door creaks,
and the heavy iron latch echoes
once, in the empty church; the Son of Man,
in the form of an old woman wrapped against the cold,
steps out into His kingdom. A few snowflakes;
a pale winter sun. But look into her eyes.

[revised]

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Instead Of Being A Pessimist

You want answers to your questions?
Ask yourself this...
What began the origin of those questions.
And...
How did they begin for you to exist.

You want a life you like?
Oppose to the one you don't?
Why have you chosen to dislike what you do?
And who enforced this dislike upon you.

Do you live with wishes to fulfill your dreams?
Or are you focused on others,
Who seem to have 'your' things.

Are you focused upon others,
Who seem to be living your life?
Doing those things,
You wish for you also to like?

Perhaps those questions you ask,
Are not yours afterall.
And perhaps those answers,
That have come to you answered...
You ignored them to disbelieve,
Those answers received...
Were not yours.
Because you spend your time,
In the minding of other people's business!

And your business,
You haven't given your time to see...
Succeed.
But your time is spent,
Lamenting others you despise and criticize.

You want answers to your questions?
Wait for therm patiently to come.
Before you impatiently decide,
To get up and leave.
Believing they can be found,
With you not around.

You want answers to your questions?
Ask yourself this...
What began the origin of those questions.
And...
How did they begin for you to exist?
Ask yourself that.
Instead of being a pessimist!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Holy Russia

The door creaks, as she opens it
and the fall of the heavy iron latch
echoes through the empty church.

The atmosphere inside, this cold cold day,
is heavy, as such holy places are;
locked now at night; heavy,
with what? Anticipation; presence; memory
of all the human emotions
that have passed through them?

There’s still the clinging promise,
the fragrance of yesterday’s incense;
it could be a midnight cedar forest
in its dark wood-scented mystery.

She lights a candle, drops a coin
slowly, as those do to whom
each coin has a meaning.

She is small, shrunken as the aged are,
wrapped into roundness against the cold,
yet neatly; today there’s an extra sense of purpose
about her walk towards the glittering
gold ikonostasis –

is it the anniversary of the day
her husband perished in the labour camp?
Or the day her son died fighting
so that such as she might live,
to mourn him, proudly, all her life?

Or was she, is she, that unmarried, once famous
junior lecturer who lost her job
for speaking truth, whose students
carried her shoulder-high and placed her
on the tank outside the university,
challenging its gun?

She kneels in front of the ancient ikon,
thick with gold; the ikon that tourists
note with brief glance as ‘Christ’…though when painted,
it was known as ‘Son of God’; now they call it
‘Son of Man’ – that seems to suit it.

She looks intently into His eyes
as she has so many times; each time,
a new day, asking what He has in store for her;

asks as intently as its painter: praying as he worked,
that He might come and fill the painted form
with His eyes, His heart, His soul; all that He brought to earth
from That which sent Him…

She looks into the eyes of the ikon –
or does the ikon look at her?
In some other world, there is mighty sound,
perhaps a word; the air is filled with soundlessness;
there’s fire that burns forever; great waters flow
like grace itself; new earth is watered.

She sees, in some great where between
herself and all things, love that cannot be measured;
mercy that can only explain itself with itself;
grace that’s only to be known; her heart
opens itself to her soundlessly;
all is revealed to the seeking heart.

The candles flicker in the draught; the door creaks,
and the heavy iron latch echoes
once, in the empty church; the Son of Man,
as an old woman, wrapped against the cold,
steps out into His kingdom. A few snowflakes;
a pale winter sun. But look into His eyes.

*

(revised)

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Day You Dissolve Into Whiteness...

a white car waits for you
at the white side of the road
you are in your white suit
white socks and white shoes
you are white yourself
pale lips and snowy face
dusty eyes, clear tears
falling down to your cheeks

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seasons......

Spring brings joy and revival
The world is filled with freshness,
Sprinkle and sparkle glimpse
Sky gets painted with Rainbow;

Summer is bright and colourful
Bright yellow flowers bloom afresh,
Summer has arrived with fullness,
White, yellow, red, orange and blue;

Autumn is dusty and dry
Withering and falling old leaves,
Autumn is setting in fast
Old decay for new to arise;

Winter is cool and blissful,
Snow is pleasant surprise,
Everything is painted white,
Soon it shall melt to make way;

The cycle of Seasons goes on,
World changes with its mood.

poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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A Smile

A smile
and that was it
she had you captured
and that was

the first time
you saw her
as you climbed aboard
the school bus

that November
and as you took
your seat toward
the back

you carried her smile
with you
and it seeped into
and seemed to enter

every pore
and veins
and artery
of your being

and when you
looked up front
there she was
sitting with her head turned

still gazing at you
and that smile
and those sparkling
blue eyes

and all the rest
of the kids on the bus

seemed not to be
seemed elsewhere
it was (at least to your mind)
just you and her

and that smile
and those eyes
and as you looked away
out of the window

the sun seemed
to make efforts
to shift clouds
to bless your day.

poem by Terry Collett
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More Questions Than Answers

There are wars around us daily and the world sleeps,
But read your Bible always to know the facts about all these prophesies!
For there are more questions than answers on this earth,
And like a red mark on the foreheads of mankind.

Of hope in life,
Of power in the name of war,
Of love to the people we care for,
Of faith on the journey on this earth,
And of a sound mind in the land of roses;
But there are more questions than answers on this earth.

Beside the service of two,
Elias came as a surprise to us! !
And like the prophecy that is known to you;
But there are more questions than answers on this earth.

Captured by various lusts,
But we brought nothing to the world and we will take away nothing out of it!
And like our tears after the bombs,
But there are more questions on this earth than answers.

Bombs everywhere! !
And like the corpses after the wars;
But in youthful lusts with green-uniforms like the flesh and blood as seen in Ivory Coast and in Libya!
And the world sleeps because of its many problems.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Painter Man

Went to college, studied arts
To be an artist make a start
Studied hard, gettin my degree
But no one seemed to notice me
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
Tried cartoons and comic books
Dirty postcards could have done
Here was where the money laid
Classic art has had its day
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
Did adverts for t.v.
Household shops and brands of tea
Labels all around the cans
Who wanna be a painter man
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man
La...la...la...la...la...la...
La...la...la...la...la...la...la...
Painter man, painter man
Who wanna be a painter man

song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Childhoods End (live)

Track 9 _Misplaced Childhood_
And it was morning.
And I found myself mourning,
for a childhood that I thought had disappeared.
I looked out the window,
And I saw a magpie in the rainbow, the rain had gone
I'm not alone, I turned to the mirror,
I saw you, the child, that once loved.
The child before they broke his heart,
Our heart, the heart that I believed was lost.
Hey you, surprised? More than surprised,
to find the answers to the questions,
Were always in your own eyes.
Do you realize that you give it on back to her?
But that would only be retraced in all the problems that you ever knew,
So untrue.
For she's got to carry on with her life,
and you've got to carry on with yours.
So I see it's me, I can do anything
And still the child,
'Cos the only thing misplaced was direction
And I found direction.
There is no Childhood's End.
There is no Childhood's End.
Cos' you are my childhood friend.
Cos' you are my childhood friend.
Oh lead me on.
Hey you, you've survived.
Now you've arrived,
to be reborn in the shadow of the magpie.
Now you realize, that you've got to get out of here.
You've found the leading light of destiny,
burning in the ashes of your memory.
You want to change the world.
You'd resigned yourself to die a broken rebel,
But that was looking backward.
Now you've found the light.
You, the child that once loved,
The child before they broke his heart.
The heart, the heart that I believed was lost
So it's me I see, I can do anything.
I'm still the child.
'Cos the only thing misplaced was direction, and I found direction.
There is no childhood's end.
There is no childhood's end.
There is no childhood's end.
I am your childhood friend.
Oh.. lead me on

song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Touch

Golden touch
I was broken till you came along
You put the words back into my song
In your world is where I now belong

Golden touch is it that I love you so much
I was lost till I met you
I now love everything you do
I live now just because of you

Golden touch
Your are the object of my desire
I am like a cat on a high wire
For you I would walk in front of gunfire

Golden touch
This to you I must confess
Your mind and body I want to possess
I long for you to kiss and caress

Golden touch my Liege
You are the key to my success
My love I can no longer suppress
You are a beautiful princess

Golden touch
To me I grant you total access
With you I feel no distress
You have driven me to total madness

Golden touch
No longer these thoughts I can suppress
With my eyes you I’ve undress
If the world would know I could care less

Golden touch
These words I wish to you to express
You’ve brought me out of my sadness
You’ve driven back the darkness
You are my goddess and my empress

Golden touch
I wasn’t quite right and you made me see the light
You are what I’ve been longing for
With your love I could never want more

poem by Wilfred Mellers
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A great scientist

He was full of questions.
For others, he provided answers
that stunned their knowledge and their world;
for him, his answers were but springboards
for his further questions.

He was the humblest of agnostics,
the humblest too, of atheists:
in the absence of sure faith in answers,
he lived with faith in questions;

and lived in wonder – full of wonder at the laws
that unfolded to his curiosity;
an eternity of questions;
an eternity of wonder at the world;

and perhaps, the God he did not believe in,
smiled, and loved him as a true believer;
sharing the goodness, truth and beauty of the universe
as angels may; believing in the love of law,
as the God of questions and creation must.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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After The Wedding

After a Wedding

After the wedding when the happy couple
stood on the old church steps to have their
picture taken and a throng of people where
jousting to be in the frame too, I walked
around in the church and found in a corner
a white but dusty marble Virgin Mary.

Her eyes were demurely downcast: I said:
“We’re alone you can open your eyes now.”
Was it just my imagination, caused by my
longing to believe, that I saw an eyelid flutter
and a half smile play upon cold, dusty lips?
….Pale as limestone I rejoined the throng.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Outro

All of the seasons
And all of the days
All of the reasons
Why I've felt this way
So long
So long
Then lost in that feeling
I looked in your eyes
I noticed emotion
And that you had cried
For me
I can see
What would touch me deeper
Tears that fall from eyes
That only cry?
Would it touch you deeper
Than tears that fall from eyes
That know why?
A lifetime of questions
Tears on your cheek
I tasted the answers
And my body was weak
For you
The truth

song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just to see your smile

Just to see your smile

Just to see your smile
The stars gather in the sky
And to feel your touch
The wind passes by

Just to see your smile
The waves hit the shores
And the sun wakes up so early
To see you offcourse

Just to see your smile
Fragrance comes into flowers
And to touch your hair
Water pours down in showers

Just to see your smile
The moon follows you everywhere
There’s someone else too who
Often follows you, if you care

Just to see your smile
I can bring down the stars
And decorate your way
With beautiful flowers

Just to see your smile
I have waited for years
Leading a life that was
Sunken deep in tears

Just to see your smile
I can give away
Everything I have
Without any dismay

Just to see your smile
Gives me happiness without measure
I wish I could see it
On your face forever

Just to see your smile
I thank God for these eyes
In five feet four inches
My whole world lies

poem by Vivek Mehta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crashing Down

I've never see the sky like that
I can't believe that it could do that
I closed my eyes before the sun could set
I slept and waited for my, waited for my...
I waited for my dreams to land
I waited for my dreams to touch down
I waited patiently to hear the sound
I waited for the song to get me out, to get me out of
And I was up above
Watching myself crashing down
Yes I was up above
Watching myself crashing down
I've never seen so many lights
I've never heard so many voices
No one will tell me how I ended here
No one will tell me where, oh tell me where, oh tell me where I am
Where I am
And I was up above
Watching myself crashing down
Yes I was up above
Watching myself crashing down
Watching myself crashing down
Yes I was up above
Watching myself crashing down
Then I was up above
Watching myself crashing down
Watching myself crashing down

song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Childhoods End?

(fish / marillion)
And it was morning
And I found myself mourning, for a childhood that I thought had disappeared
I looked out the window
And I saw a magpie in the rainbow, the rain had gone Im not alone
I turned to the mirror, I saw you, the child, that once loved
The child before they broke his heart
Our heart, the heart that I believed was lost
Hey you, surprised?
More than surprised, to find the answers to the questions, were always in your own eyes
Do you realize that you give it on back to her?
But that would only be retraced in all the problems that you ever knew
So untrue
For shes got to carry on with her life, and youve got to carry on with yours
So I see its me, I can do anything
And Im still the child
cos the only thing misplaced was direction
And I found direction
There is no childhoods end
There is no childhoods end
Cos you are my childhood friend
Cos you are my childhood friend
Oh lead me on
Hey you, youve survived
Now youve arrived, to be reborn in the shadow of the magpie
Now you realize, that youve got to get out of here
Youve found the leading light of destiny, burning in the ashes of your memory
You want to change the world
Youd resigned yourself to die a broken rebel
But that was looking backward
Now youve found the light
You, the child that once loved
The child before they broke his heart
Our heart, the heart that I believed was lost
So its me I see, I can do anything
Im still the child
cos the only thing misplaced was direction, and I found direction
There is no childhoods end
There is no childhoods end
There is no childhoods end
I am your childhood friend
Oh, lead me on

song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Religions of Man - Part I - or - Get Close to the Shore Yourself

The Religions of Man
Are like vast rivers
Meandering slowly
Across great plains to the ocean

Fed
By waters from the heavens
Travelling different directions
To reach the same ultimate destination

But
Some now flow so slow
That they have lost all sense of direction
Others have become altogether dried up
Some so polluted
They support no hope for life
Either here or after

So
Best use your own senses
And your mind
To find how to get close
To the shore by yourself
Where you will find
Fast clear streams
That flow straight into
The Ocean of Truth
That still patiently
Awaits us

poem by Egal Bohen
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Tears

Words and music by geddy lee
All of the seasons
And all of the days
All of the reasons
Why Ive felt this way
So long
So long
Then lost in that feeling
I looked in your eyes
I noticed emotion
And that you had cried
For me
I can see
What would touch me deeper
Tears that fall from eyes
That only cry?
Would it touch you deeper
Than tears that fall from eyes
That know why?
A lifetime of questions
Tears on your cheek
I tasted the answers
And my body was weak
For you
The truth

song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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