In the spirit of Rumi - 70 - Grace
Like a fine cloth for the table:
its strength, its appropriateness,
the twist and spring of its fibers,
the love and care of its making,
(and how eagerly it launders!)
all reveal themselves even while
you’re unfolding it, shaking it out;
while you’re laying it with a graceful gesture
like a magician whisking away the magic cloth
to reveal a transformation… like
a bullfighter dramatically spreading before the bull
the blood-coloured illusion of a prey…
like a mother quietly prepares a meal…
like the morning or the evening mist
rolling over the edge of a mountain plateau…
like a gentle rain in Spring falling as mercy itself…
it gives up the air trapped under it as you laid it down,
like the heart's lungs surrendering to peace
with a grateful sigh;
and as you smoothe it out on the table
it murmurs love to your hand;
and as you stand back,
it shines; awaits whatever may come to it,
waits as if it had always been
just where it is now
grace
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
Evening Rain
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
Like the day
Saw the same
All the problems
I follow
I run away
Saw the plane
The grey life
Tomorrow
But I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
But I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I close my eyes
It doesn't work
I can hear tomorrow
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
I can't stand to see the morning come
While the evening rain's still falling
song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Modest Table
A Modest Table
The table is like a flag wrapped little coffin
only it is not a flag of hubris and nationality,
but a cloth with roses, sewed by a woman
with time at hand and love in her heart.
The table is rough hewn but solid it will not
suffer illnesses of old age, but perhaps get
wood-worms.
It will last longer than I will, till new owners
will throw it on the dump or break it up and
use it as firewood a cold winter night.
In the meantime, as we wait, I rest my feet on
it when watching TV.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I want to feel the touch of spring
The mountain waits for the snow thru the hot summer,
hurt and burnt by the sun, yet believes the touch of snow
It snows and covers the mountain like a blanket of love
I want to be the mountain to feel the touch of snow.
The sand of a dried river waits for the rain to shower,
dried and chared by heat, yet believes the touch of rain.
It rains and fills the river, to bring the life again
I want to be the dried river to feel the touch of rain.
The flower waits for the spring thru the harsh winter
Frozen and frosted by cold, yet belives the touch of spring
It warms up and the spring arrives, to flower and spread happiness around
I want to be the flower to feel the touch of spring.
This is the law of nature we have to wait thru summer and winter
hurt, burnt, bleeded, and freezed, yet should believe the touch of spring
God will show Love for those who can enjoy his summer and winter
I want to believe in Love and feel the touch of spring.
poem by Arayath Jathin
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The Bullfighter Was A Lady
(words & music by sid tepper - roy c. bennett)
Pedro the bull was a killer
King of the bullfighter ringer
Hed wipe up the floor with each brave matador
And have matador stew for his dinner
He heard the crowd shouting ol
But he met his master that day
The bullfighter was a lady
And it was true love at first sight
Her red cape was waving but pedro was shaking (or shaving? )
He wanted to date her that night
Ol
Pedro the bull he was smitten
First time the love bug had bitten
He once was a mad bull, a wild and a bad bull
But now he was mild as a kitten
The people were starting to hiss
But pedro just wanted to kiss
The bullfighter was a lady
And pedro he liked what he saw
He floated on air with a rose in his hair
As he waltzed with that sweet matador
His fate was a bad one, his tale is a sad one
Its hanging right over her door
Ol!
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unexpected Love
Cool as rain on a dry summer day
Beautifully as the rainbow bridges the sky away
Fragrant as a pot of tea simmering
Soulful as a guitar strumming
Innocent as a child’s smile
Blissful as the cottony sky
Like spring you entered, as a pleasant twist
Refreshing as the early morning “Mist”
I never thought this day would come
When I would “Blossom” under the sun
From being dull and prickly
I bloomed into a morning glory
I felt alive and lost all the pain
Like daffodils I dance in the rain
Your love gave me a new leash of strength
As unexpected as a hidden treasure chest
poem by Blossom Mist
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The Cloth of Time
The concept of time is
Like a cloth
Waving in the wind.
The wind collides
And bounces,
Causing the cloth to sway.
We are the specks
Of dust
Nestled within
The fibers of time.
This cloth is where
We sleep and wake.
This wind is the result
Of our existence.
When the wind is still
The cloth of time
Hangs
Like a man
Whose time has run out.
poem by by unknown author
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A loving dinner
Story: One evening, they came home late
Mom, cooking dinner in a speedy craze
Asked: Help me to set the table, please?
There comes her sweetheart:
Zdring! ! Zdrang! ! Zdrong!
Shaking the sfrrr
sfrrr frying pan,
Mom cries out:
'LOVE! '
The daughter,
with the plates
in her hand, freeze
Dad's nose came out
from the newspaper wondering
Smiling, mom said: ~With love, my dears:
'All things that on our table come,
With love and kindness handled are.'
That evening? Oh, yes indeed,
they had one of the most beautiful
ever meals.
poem by Elena Sandu
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Magician
He said
You will look right into my eyes
Repeat every word that I say
You want some magic in your life
My love is the only way
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
His body moves behind my eyes
Obsession grows
Its a private show
Magic man with a sleight of hand
Disappearing right into my soul
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
Whoaa whoaa ohh
Hes here again
That magic man
My eyes wont turn away
Just like magnets pull me in
I cant forget his face
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
Whoaa whoaa ohh
Whoaa whoaa ohh
I walk right up and said
Take me take me take me
No pride no shame, enchanted
Call it a dream but dont wake me
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
No matter how fast he goes
Feels like slow motion
Hypnotize me frame by frame
Caught in my own dream paradise frozen
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
Whoaaa ohhh
song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gifts of Spring
Spring Seems to come over night,
Bringing beauty with all its might.
The sun shines down all around.
It makes spring colors come to life.
Without the sun...spring would be no fun.
You can hear the tulips humming in your ear,
As they kick their growing into second gear.
You can feel the water drizzling down from the deep blue sky,
As you watch the robins fly oh so high.
Fireflies buzz on by,
As they light up the midnight sky
The wind fills the air with murmurs,
That sound like little drummers.
All of these together mean spring
'Spring...spring, ' they all sing.
And when the spread the news,
There will be the most amazing views.
And then the flowers begin to wilt.
The start to turn, twist, and tilt.
Sadly, spring comes to an end,
But don't worry...summer is just around the bend.
poem by Candace Johnson
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Reveal Yourself
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself.
Life on earth is so bizarre,
We must find a way to fulfill,
What we really are,
Yes its true,
I love you,
And theres nothing you do thats wrong,
Find values of your own.
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
On the living room floor,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Till there isnt anymore.
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
For there are places even you dont know.
Reveal yourself,
For life is nothing but a movie show,
Or free yourself,
Your heart,
Your mind,
Your soul,
Your sanity,
Just got to see it,
Smell it,
Know that its reality.
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Doesnt matter anymore,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Till there isnt anymore.
There are no rules where life is concerned,
Our past must be burned,
For theres nothing we have learned,
And its true,
I believe that we must all be free,
Immortal you and me.
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
On the living room floor,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Till there isnt anymore,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
And maybe youll go down in history.
Oh, how much longer must your life remain a mystery,
It doesnt matter if youre thick and fat or thin and long,
You must find out exactly where it is that you belong.
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Doesnt matter anymore,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
On the living room floor,
Reveal yourself,
For there are places even you dont know,
Reveal yourself,
For life is nothing but a movie show,
Reveal yourself,
Your heart,
Your mind,
Your soul,
Your sanity,
Just got to see it,
Smell it,
Know thats its reality,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
Reveal yourself,
It doesnt matter if the world thinks youre right or wrong,
Reveal yourself.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lover And The Gamber
She sat on a bar stool,
her long legs dangling there,
drinking a coloured mix,
they called The Country Fair.
He sat at a table,
deck of cards in his hand,
laying them down for a game of solitaire,
the lover and the gambler.
For a brief few seconds,
as they looked around,
their eyes met in sweet seduction,
in that smoky bar downtown.
As the evening wore,
and customers began to leave,
it just left the two of them there,
the lover and the gambler.
Now if he played his cards,
close to his chest,
maybe with a bit of luck,
love would do the rest.
They looked again,
with a long lingering look.
She joined him at the table,
watched the hand that he dealt.
Each card was a heart;
cupid caught them both that night.
For now the lover and the gambler,
are now man and wife.
poem by David Harris
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An Ode for David
Inspiration
From a lopsided table?
Words written down
Told as a fable
Strange request you have
My dear friend
Inspiration I will find
This I do intend
Wooden Table
Possess my tongue
Wintered table
Cry from my lungs
Pen striking paper
You shall be my muse
May the bleeding ink
Cry of your blues
Splintered skin
In a corner rest forgotten
Winding legs
You stand wild as cotton
Pen stroke slide
Across your lofty floor
Three legs you stand
When you should have four
Awkward table
You have no friend
Ancient table
You've reached your bitterend
Should my pen learn sea legs
I'd love you once more
But, on three legs you stand
When you should have four
poem by Kay Gardner
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Treading Dangerously
When we embarked on this path together
Skies at sunrise and sunset seemed deeper
While our glowing shadows cowered in their blaze
Wary like the spring that's only heard of the winter
I ask the spring -Does the winter ever creep in?
It answers; - I don't know.
Then I realize a daunting question like a mountain stood
On our path, to surmount it, I tried to bridge things my way
At times even with coldness, but I stood rebuffed
Cause you stood on top of the hill in pride, nonchalant
I ask the mountain -Will you stand in my path again?
It answers: - I don't know.
Then I bowed to your ways and prayed
the mountain would go away; it did
but at the back of my mind it did raise it's head
Always looming in the horizon
I ask the horizon-Is it still there?
It answers; - I don't know
Now I was lost in the song of spring & the mirth of the rains
The mountain had lost its edge, yet afraid it's talons could hurt
I hid my dreams in your palm, afraid of being robbed
This was neither the place nor the time to reveal them
You shut your palms tight and shut out all the light
I groped in the darkness with only the stars that whisper
Clueless in the wind shimmering illusions
I waited for you to come through the dark end
And when I reached out I held no hand
Did I err? - I ask the night
It answers- I don't know.
I wait now for you, to throw crumbs my way
Living no moment, but dragging from one to the next
My trail of crumbs has come to an end
Both lost in the trail we made
I ask the trail -Will we find our way back?
It answers: I don't know.
The night is engulfed in darkness and the wind
Is drunk, losing it's head it threatens for blood
This is not the time to rock the seas or tempt fate
The storm is on us, tread carefully
As we wander, you blinded by pride, I by faith
Show yourself or let the seas engulf us
I ask the seas -Did we have to go through this?
It answers -I don't know.
On the trail unable to take one step towards each other
Have we taken a thousand steps away from each other?
The mountain again stood mighty in our path
I ask the trail-will we cross over?
It answers-I don't know.
After a tedious toil, you return holding my dreams
And seat your frail self on the trail
And eagerly look at me,
Holding you by the hand leading you on,
I answer-'Come! Mountain or no mountain,
If you think I can- I can'
Seema.J
1st-April-2012
poem by Seema joglekar
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Who are these people?
Who are these people? where are they streaming? Glass eyes tight shut as though they were dreaming?
Garrotted, throats slit as a token of sacrifice to the eternel god's,
Bodies cast down to the depth's of brooding pete bogs.
'Did you surrender yourself, your will to the ritual, Or be this simply a punishment for a crime, we shall never know.'
Sword's split skull's, not hard enough to kill
Just to lull, least drag their victims senses into the void.
Calling on the Goddess of spring through to autumn, of summer's sun and winter rain
Only your head, throne of the soul survives the passage of time to breathe again.
'From where did you come? ' ask's the child to his mother
'From my mother, her mother before her'
'So where does my father fit into this, what seem's such simple a matter? '
'He work's his hand's to the bone, then come's home late, wait's at the table just to get fatter.
That's what he does, he seems happy enough, he has no illusions to shatter'
'What off my father, from wence doth he stem, from his father and father before? '
'Nay, It goes way further than that, to back when, our only mother was the mother of yore
Mother of earth, blessed mother of pearl, reveal to us the wisdom's with which you blanket the world.
poem by David Lacey
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Beneath a morning mist
Beneath a morning mist
~
A morning mist hides
the potential of a beautiful sky
low cloud covers streets and roads
the moist dew of the air
cold against the skin
a freshness to the lungs
welcomed regardless
eyes look into the nothingness
eagerly anticipating the sun
to break through its light
and warm the gardens
meanwhile the mist is silent
quietly haunting all
this is just a day beginning
lets pray its beautiful
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Coming Of Spring
Spring is come back, and the little voices are calling,
The birds are calling, the little green buds on the trees,
A song in the street, and an old and sleepy tune;
All the sounds of the spring are falling, falling,
Gentle as rain, on my heart, and I hear all these
As a sick man hears men talk from the heart of a swoon.
The clamours of spring are the same old delicate noises,
The earth renews its magical youth at a breath,
And the whole world whispers a well-known, secret thing;
And I hear, but the meaning has faded out of the voices;
Something has died in my heart: is it death or sleep?
I know not, but I have forgotten the meaning of spring.
poem by Arthur Symons
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THE QUICK BRUISE AND RUN Of LOVE by Marjorie Evasco
(for Mary Ann & Marc)
I.
Summer twilight slices into two
Halves of a sweet cantaloupe;
At table, the speckled stargazer
Opens its fragrant petals windward;
At my foot, our old cat dreams.
Nothing here betrays the grace
We speak of at each meal, together
Or alone. Today, while one of us
Sits under the tamarinds,
And another wades the golden river,
I alone sit at table, a mother
Attending to the core of fruit
Cleaving to the knife, the fuchsia
Flower sundered by summer’s heat,
The cat purring its ninth life away.
II.
Yesterday night after dinner, we told
An old story, pausing at a part
We did not love but could not
Gnaw off. It is your hurt fathered
Into child’s shape, vulnerable
To faithlessness. As the story twists
In the telling, you speak of a new-
Born child, whose limbs could break
Or neck snap. were one of you to hold
The tender heels and swing against a wall.
We need to put this story right.
III.
Long, long ago on a fevered night,
A mother sat by her child’s bed,
Damp cloth soothing flame of forehead,
Limbs. in her vigil she vowed
On pain of death, to beg the life
Or health back into those cheeks.
The fever broke, she held her kind
And knew the gods had ears.
Son, Daughter, take this story-child
With care. In the curve of your arms
Your father’s fruit survives the fall,
Becomes your bruised but living grace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My April Lady
When down the stair at morning
The sunbeams round her float,
Sweet rivulets of laughter
Are bubbling in her throat;
The gladness of her greeting
Is gold without alloy;
And in the morning sunlight
I think her name is Joy.
When in the evening twilight
The quiet book-room lies,
We read the sad old ballads,
While from her hidden eyes
The tears are falling, falling,
That give her heart relief;
And in the evening twilight,
I think her name is Grief.
My little April lady,
Of sunshine and of showers,
She weaves the old spring magic,
And breaks my heart in flowers!
But when her moods are ended,
She nestles like a dove;
Then, by the pain and rapture,
I know her name is Love.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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I Miss my Spring
The spring takes leave as soon as it peeps
Says go, blooming flowers and giving sudden wind.
The spring comes only to maintain its rule, we cannot
Touch its deep. The spring did not sing the sky
Of the Bangladesh after the poet Rabindranath
These is no such noteworthy research is done in course
Of the short existence of spring. It is not discussed in
the seminar. Only a few poets wrote a few lines on some
poems of lamentations. We shall not get back
the spring as we the poet does. Only singing
(poet) song and seeing the yellow cloth
wearing women. We shall recollect it with
joy once the spring was in the royal throne
poem by Ravisankar Maitree
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Thanks To The Rolling Sea
(words & music by batchelor - roberts)
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Fish on the table and fish on the fire, fried fish hanging on the tree
Everything here that your heart desires, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling sea
Living is good and living is fine, were happy as can be
We owe all this to the salty brine, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling sea
We work all day but our hearts are gay, and while we work we sing
The mighty sea is good to us and weve got everything
Abalone steaks and tuna fish cakes, taste so heavenly
We know who we owe it to, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
Thanks to the rolling, rolling, rolling, thanks to the rolling sea
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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