In the spirit of Rumi - 29
O Caliphs of the world
who have executed so many saints
for daring to say that ‘I am God within myself’ –
If you yourselves are not God within yourselves,
then who are you to pronounce punishment
upon any other man?
And now, every man who carries
a sword, a dagger, bomb or gun
would think himself a Caliph,
messenger of the Lord…
how wrong they are.
Yet Allah, the great, the merciful beyond our understanding,
allows them to live on after their victims’ death - gives
a little time to know themselves
as the wheel of the potter, Destiny, turns for them,
before they return to Him
as clay to be reshaped in the Potter’s hands
or dry and crumble into dust.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Be clay
Don’t be half-hearted about this –
be clay.
You know all about clay –
be clay.
Humble, submissive, reverent –
awaiting the Potter’s hands.
Enjoy that humility, that surrender –
feel already so near God.
Now the wheel begins to turn –
the Potter is here!
Feel His hands – the more you feel them,
the more you know the love in them.
Now you’re being shaped:
turned on the wheel like a dervish turns,
you’re becoming like that tall column of stillness,
rising from the centre of the whirling skirt;
still; in the memory of the Potter’s hands;
you recognise yourself who waited for you.
*
[leaning on the poems of Hafiz]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Higher Power
How great is God, how great indeed!
How wondrous are His Laws!
How merciful to those in need
And to each righteous cause...
God is not deaf who made our ears,
Nor blind who made our eyes...
Nor is He mindful of the years
That He might show surprise!
He does not sleep, nor feint, nor fade,
Nor slacken from His word,
His promises are proudly made
So that our faith is stirred.
It's true that we were made of dust,
In Adam long ago,
Yet we've been saved, in God we trust,
In Jesus' Name we grow...
The higher power God now shares
Is free to one and all
Who humbly offer God their prayers,
No matter, great or small...
Rejoice, dear Christian saints on Earth,
Lord Jesus is our friend...
And though God's grace we don't deserve,
His mercies never end...
I tell you this, the Lord still heals,
His wonders never cease.
His tender heart knows how each feels...
His power grants us peace.
Our God's the Potter, we're the clay...
God's word is so sublime...
So rest in Jesus, come what may,
Take one day at a time...
(July 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
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Abraham (Chapter 14, Verses 24-27, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
Haven't you thought it over already
How Allah sets forth an allegory
Kalema-A-Taiyeba is like a good tree
Whose root is firm and will never die
And whose branches are in the sky.
It bears fruit in every season
By the permission of its Lord
And Allah sets forth allegories
So that they may learn lesson.
And an evil Kalema is like a bad tree
When it's uprooted, it loses stability.
Allah confirms those
Who believe in Kalema-A-Taiyeba
In this life and in the life-after
And Allah keeps the oppressors confused forever
And Allah does whatever makes Him happier.
N.B. -Allah's happiness is more than His sorrow
That's why Allah is happy.
Kalema-A-Taiyeba is the Muslim's Holy Word -
There's no god but Allah
Mohammad is the messenger of Allah.
poem by Asif Andalib
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The Holy Prophet (Chapter 11, Verses 18-20, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
And who is more unjust than he
Who forges a lie against Allah the only God?
These people shall be brought before their Lord
And the witnesses shall say,
These are they who lied against their Lord!
Behold! Definitely the unjust is cursed by God.
Those who prevent people
From the way of Allah the Creator
And seek in it-crooked matter
They are the ones who disbelieve the hereafter.
They are unable to change God's plan on earth
Nor have they any supporter besides God!
Their punishment will be doubled for all
They are the actual deaf and blind people.
poem by Asif Andalib
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So Much To Be Thankful For (Sonnetina Rispetto)
Just when you think that things are right
You get blinded and lose your sight
Just when your world starts to crumble
God gives you much to live thank for
Many surprises waiting at your door
Blessings He gives us be humble
Just when you think that things are right
You get blinded and lose your sight
So when you think nothing is right
Keep hope focus on His light
Just when you think that things are right
You get blinded and lose your sight
Just when your world starts to crumble
Blessings He gives us be humble
September 10,2009
Sonnetina Rispetto, is a poetry form created by Dorian
Petersen Potter September 8,2009
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter
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The Accessions (Chapter 8, Verses 24, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
O the believers! Respond to Allah and His messenger
Whenever he calls you to that which is your life-giver.
And remember that
Allah is present between humans and their heart
And to Him you shall be gathered.
poem by Asif Andalib
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The Holy Prophet (Chapter 11, Verses 56, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
I rely on Allah who is my Lord and also your Lord
There is no moving creature on earth
Whose control is not in the hand of our Lord
Surely our Lord is on a straight path.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Jonah (Chapter 10, Verses 107, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
If Allah do any harm to you
No one else but Allah can remove it
If He wants to do some good to you
There's none to keep back His favors a bit
He gives it to the servants of His liking
And He is the Most Forgiving Merciful Being.
poem by Asif Andalib
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The Family of Imran (Chapter 3, Verses 42-43, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
And when the angels said,
O Mary! Surely Allah has chosen you
And purified you
And chosen you above the girls of the world.
O Mary! Keep up obedience to your Lord
And humble yourself (before God)
And bow down with those who bow (before your Lord) .
poem by Asif Andalib
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Faith
And is the great cause lost beyond recall?
Have all the hopes of ages come to naught?
Is life no more with noble meaning fraught?
Is life but death, and love its funeral pall?
Maybe. And still on bended knees I fall,
Filled with a faith no preacher ever taught.
O God -- MY God -- by no false prophet wrought --
I believe still, in despite of it all!
Let go the myths and creeds of groping men.
This clay knows naught -- the Potter understands.
I own that Power divine beyond my ken,
And still can leave me in His shaping hands.
But, O my God, that madest me to feel,
Forgive the anguish of the turning wheel!
poem by Ada Cambridge
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Do Exactly
Of wisdom, knowledge and understanding;
Of peace, love and care;
Of power, beauty and kindness;
We have the spirit of truth and the spirit of error!
So do not be a lair to your friends.
Dance exactly as he danced and,
Do not follow that which is evil;
Learn exactly as he learnt and,
be very strong like the palm tree;
For this world is getting worse all the time.
Greedy dogs!
They lie to the people;
So do write out exactly as he wrote,
For the truth is always the truth.
Of a great plan,
Of a great puzzle,
It is getting worse all the time with the world;
So try to test every spirit.
I have not send them, yet they run;
I have not spoken to them, yet they speak;
But try to eat from the tree of life to gain wisdom always.
Life is like the potter's clay and,
You have to do exactly as they did;
But do go for the truth always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Can You, A Jar of clay?
How can a lowly piece of clay
Unto the Master Potter say:
'Let me be You for I am me,
Enough to be what I can be.'
Release me from Your Hand Divine,
Alone I stand, my life is mine.
My puny mental capacity
Can plan the course of the galaxy.
I will fix all worldly tangled mess,
Yes I can solve it with success -
Correct the climate, filter sunlight,
Outlive all beings though I'm finite.
I will cure diseases with one click,
Stop all wars, peace is quick.
From heaven pour all currency,
To rid the world of poverty.
In my spare time, piece of cake-
Rapists, murderers I will remake.
All these evils I will remove,
Just make me You, this I will prove.
I need no cross to save mankind,
That is passe and quite unkind.
I will set us up a world consortium,
I will even build my own asylum.
Make me You, I bet You will see
My little view is not blasphemy.
One more thing, God, can you tell?
For my info, is there a hell?
Then the Master Potter set
That jar of clay from earth's closet,
Released it from His Mighty Hand,
It broke to pieces, ground to sand.
Now just a sort of mild direction,
To jars of clay with like ambition-
Humbly think before you say,
You will run the world, can you...
a clay?
..................................... ..................................
August 10,2008
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Perfect Adultery
Nature’s game awarded the clay
To the potter’s neighbour
Who desires it not.
The potter finds his clay perchance
And longed to possess it whole, malleable and wet,
And when he does, it will become
A perfect adultery,
To the potter’s house she
Will go, to be molded whole and happy,
The potter is a good man they will say
But, good men though gentle and civil,
In things of love and romance, sometimes,
The animal in man takes over
And when it does, the potter’s act to claim his clay
Will become a perfect adultery,
When a woman young and inexperienced
Is lured into a marriage of baby making
By a man above his prime and manipulative,
When she’s abandoned in a romance of half moon
Per twelve circle,
She will yearn for love young and adventurous like hers’
To escape the boredom and loneliness of a single mother married,
When she abandon herself in a romance of young-full
Lover,
It will become a perfect adultery.
When a man gentle and pure
Falls into the hands of a woman that nags
In a matrimony of distrust,
When he stays away and befriends alcohol
And in his lighter brain finds a woman easy
And seductive,
He will submit to her bareback rough ride,
He will long for this escape at will
And when he does,
It will become a perfect adultery.
When adult-try relationship
Become a game of deceit and suspicion,
When couples seek an escape with another
Seen as compatible and trustful
And religion preaches sin of the flesh,
And nature thinks otherwise,
And the couples do their thing
Because separation is hard to get
And hypertension knocks at the door,
When they close their eyes in a romance
Of anything goes, it will be termed a
Perfect adultery,
Perfect adult-try?
Perfect adult-teen?
Perfect adult-tur?
Perfect adult-thorn
In the flesh?
©May,2010
poem by Akachukwu Chukwuemeka
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The Family of Imran (Chapter 3, Verses 59, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
Surely the example of Jesus is like that of Adam at first
Allah created whom from dust
When He said to it, be: he was.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Greatest Questions
Little boy;
What does thy know about destiny?
The poet;
I know but little about destiny
Little boy;
If ye tells me I know I will live life peacefully
The poet;
Destiny is like a wind which blows in the arabian sea,
Upon which it next direction is unknown,
You will see men growing greatly at their tender age but their next minute is unpredictable
Then, reverse it could be my former line
Little boy;
You mean destiny is like a deep wide sea
Which the direction you follow leads you any where
The poet;
Hey!
Brother we began our lives here
Tomorrow you may be richer than I
The creator has already created us before we exist
Little boy;
Then I will go to a sorcerer to foresee my destiny
The poet;
Destiny can never be look into
Even those who are summon
By the name foreseers
Do not know when termite will eat them
Little boy;
Can destiny be ever change?
The poet;
It can be change only with prayer
But my lord only give those he will
Little boy;
When shall we die?
The poet;
And so I laugh...
Death is inevitable
Non but my lord and those who had gone
Can talk about it
Little boy;
I mean
How will I die?
The poet;
For you know not where and how you were born
The the knowledge of
Where and how you will die remains with Allah
He creates the world and know every hidden things.
Little boy;
How can I live this world
The poet;
Boy!
Walk as if non is looking at you
Talk as if non is listening to you
Think as if you are thinking for others
Pray and make sacrifice
song of Father Gabriele Amorth
The Daily Mail, UK and Herald Sun (Australia) report on how
Father Gabriele Amroth of the Vatican teaches that yoga and
Harry Potter and the ‘oriental religions’ are
the works of the Devil...the following poem expresses my outrage
at such stupidity and parochialism that still exists
amongst some groups of Europeans even today in their relations
with the East
O yoga yoga
baby baby
sings Father Gabriele Amorth
in the Italian town of Terni
O yoga yoga
no go no go
to yoga yoga
baby baby
all you innocents
and pure
all blessed
and destined for Heaven
no go to yoga yoga
yoga yoga
yogurt is fine
sugar in your yogurt is fine
strawberry and apple
in your yogurt is fine
so eat eat your
yogurt yogurt yogurt
but yoga yoga
O yoga yoga
no go no go no go baby
baby baby
sings Father Gabriele Amorth
in the Italian town of Terni
and also no go to Harry Potter
baby baby baby
no go no go
no go to yoga no to yoga
and no go no go
to Harry Potter
baby baby baby
now say after me:
“yoga yoga yoga
baa baa baa
bad bad bad”
and say after me:
“Harry Potter Harry Potter
moo moo moo
bad bad bad”
O baby baby baby
at our next conference
I’ll teach you
how the Dragon is bad
and how the Chinese got it all wrong
all these centuries
with their Chinese Dragon, Dragon, Dragon
but that’s for next time
next time next time
baby baby baby
for now just repeat after me
your most reverend
Father Gabriele Amorth
in the Italian town of Terni:
O yoga yoga
no go no go
to yoga yoga
baby baby
And say after me
all ye faithful
all ye blessed:
“Harry Potter Harry Potter
moo moo moo
bad bad bad”
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Allah's Help (Chapter 110, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
When there will come Allah's help and victory
And you will see
People entering religion of Allah in companies
Then cherish your Lord's glory
And turn towards Him
Surely He is oft-returning to mercy.
poem by Asif Andalib
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The Immunity (Chapter 9, Verses 116, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
Surely Allah's is the kingdom of the skies and the earth
He gives life and causes death
And other than Allah the Creator
You have neither a protector nor a helper.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Though Pot I am, I am Thine Pot!
Potter, Potter, making clay-pot!
Did you make me misshap’n somewhat?
Was it perhaps done on purpose?
Should I blame myself for my cross?
Perhaps, I was untimely born,
Or made in haste, Thine shop adorn!
May be Thine mood was not that good,
When Thou made me out of mere clod!
Perhaps, the mix was rather wrong,
Or else Thou sang a sadder song!
Perhaps, water salty was used;
And so I crack’d a bit when baked!
May be, I wasn’t well baked at all;
Or baked too much: suff’red a fall!
Perhaps, the hearth was not quite hot;
Perhaps, it was my own dear fault.
How do I serve Thee still? I muse;
Though handicapped, could Thou me use?
Could Thou recast my misshap’n form,
So that I can most well perform?
Could thou alter my bizarre look,
Before people think I’m a spook?
Or will I be trampled by men,
Even before I say, ‘Amen! ’
Whatev’r my fate turns out to be,
Let me serve Thee most happily!
May be, I can’t be thine pot sought;
Though pot I am, I am Thine pot!
Though pot I am, I am Thine pot!
poem by John Celes
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The potter and the dancer
A potter made pots,
which are there after the potter has worked.
A dancer did dance,
which is not there after the dancer has worked.
God is a dancer,
Who dances from where things vibrate.
God isn't a potter
To create things and be away from it.
13.07.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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