The Arrow of His Glance
Friend, the arrow of his glance struck
my eyes;
Its point pierced my heart (and) his
sweet image entered my soul.
For a long time I have been staying
(here) watching the road, standing
at my house.
My life clings to (my) dark beloved,
(he is) a life-giving herb.
Mira says I am sold into the hands of
Giridhar, but people say I am loose.
Related quotes
The Image of a Friend
As I look through the window of friendship,
I see in the gentle wind,
The whispered breeze of an angel,
It is in the image of 'friend'.
This friend has a heart of compassion,
Caring that comes without end,
The giving of love to others,
Characterizes my dear friend.
This friend has hands that carry,
The load of your burdens with ease,
Hands that will hold others' problems,
Grasping with love, not to cease.
This friend has eyes, understanding,
That see to the heart of a soul,
Eyes that are never condemning,
But rather see new ways to grow.
This friend has ears that listen,
And hear the call of a friend,
Ears that will cherish the moment,
And take the time to lend.
The image of friend described here,
Is the picture I see in my mind,
When I look through the window of life,
Your image is what I find!
poem by Jean Penner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mira Danced with Ankle Bells
Mira danced with ankle-bells on her feet.
People said Mira was mad; my mother-in-law
said I ruined the family reputation.
Rana sent me a cup of poison and Mira
drank it laughing.
I dedicated my body and soul at the feet of Hari.
I am thirsty for the nectar of the sight of him.
Mira’s lord is Giridhar Nagar; I will
come for refuge to him.
Your Slander Is Sweet
Rana, to me your slander is sweet.
Some praise me, some blame me. I
go the other way.
On the narrow path, I found God’s
people. What should I turn back for?
I am learning wisdom among the
wise, and the wicked look at me
with malice.
Mira’s Lord is Giridhar Nagar.
Let the wicked burn in the kitchen fire.
Mira’s God is the lifter of mountains.
I don’t like your strange world, Rana,
A world where there are no holy men,
and all the people are trash.
I have given up ornaments, given up
braiding my hair.
I have given up putting on kajal
(collyrium), and putting my hair up.
Mira’s Lord is Giridhar Nagar; I have
found a perfect bridegroom.
Someone's Watching Over Me
I found myself today
Oh I found myself and ran away
But something pulled me back
A voice of reason I forgot I had
All I know is you're not here to say
What you always used to say
But it's written in the sky tonight
[chorus]
So I won't give up
No I won't break down
Sooner than it seems life turns around
And I will be strong
Even if it all goes wrong
When I'm standin' in the dark I'll still believe
Someone's watching over me
I've seen that ray of light
And it's shining on my destiny
Shining all the time
And I won't be afraid
To follow everywhere it's taking me
All I know is yesterday is gone
And right now I belong
To this moment
To my dreams
[chorus]
So I won't give up
No I won't break down
Sooner than it seems life turns around
And I will be strong
Even if it all goes wrong
When I'm standin' in the dark I'll still believe
Someone's watching over me
It doesn't matter what people say
And it doesn't matter how long it takes
Believe in yourself and you'll find
It only matters how true you are
Be true to yourself and follow your heart
[chorus]
So I won't give up
No I won't break down
Sooner than it seems life turns around
And I will be strong
Even if it all goes wrong
When I'm standing in the dark I'll still believe
That I won't give up
No I won't break down
Sooner than it seems life turns around
And i will be strong
Even if it all goes wrong
When I'm standing in the dark I'll still believe
Someone's watching over
Someone's watching over
Someone's watching over me
Oh oh Someone's watching over me
song performed by by Hilary Duff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For The Price And The Cost Of One's Life
The fact that it's talked about,
To be discussed...
Has advanced from whispers,
To an accepting public not shocked.
Secrets and demons do not join hands,
When the tentacles of evil reaches.
And has come to squeeze the life,
From one who has sold...
An image made to appear as sweet,
But with a lost soul.
And in places where the doing of it,
Is expected...
Souls are sold to glimmer like gold,
For the price and the cost of one's life.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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See you in Heaven, promise.....
remember me Lord, when you are in the paradise
oh! a sweet words uttered at someone in the brinks
between life and death, a last word of sweeten the
flavor of death, recipes in the altar of heaven
life stop as it goes in every extreme current it flows,
ripen in the day it live, leaving the soul to be
called, now rise up and hear the sweet melody it
swings, in the ear the high decibels of harmony it
belongs, watch me rejoice my soul as it fade,
cheering the echo of the heaven as it sings, the
angels are waiting you for too long
dear mother Mary please don't leave me alone, in
the darkest night I waited you until dawn, and Father
as you see me now, my heart is wary for a little
minute I loose your hands leaving to my own as
if I can stand, my heart tremble and my body stumble
of nowhere to go, I'm at a mess, only you can be
my best
promise me that you'll see me again, in the heaven, my
beloved friend's and love one's want me to stay, in
your wonderful land your words will be done.....Promise
....I'll see you in heaven!
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mary McNeely
Passer-by,
To love is to find your own soul
Through the soul of the beloved one.
When the beloved one withdraws itself from your soul
Then you have lost your soul.
It is written: "I have a friend,
But my sorrow has no friend."
Hence my long years of solitude at the home of my father,
Trying to get myself back,
And to turn my sorrow into a supremer self.
But there was my father with his sorrows,
Sitting under the cedar tree,
A picture that sank into my heart at last
Bringing infinite repose.
Oh, ye souls who have made life
Fragrant and white as tube roses
From earth's dark soil,
Eternal peace!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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I am pale with longing for my beloved;
I am pale with longing for my beloved;
People believe I am ill.
Seizing on every possible pretext,
I try to meet him 'by accident.'
They have sent for a country doctor;
He grabs my arm and prods it;
How can he diagnose my pain?
It's in my heart that I am afflicted.
Go home, country doctor,
Don't address me by my name;
It's the name of God that has wounded me,
Don't force your medicines on me.
The sweetness of his lips is a pot of nectar,
That's the only curd for which I crave;
Mira's Lord is Giridhar Naagar.
He will feed me nectar again and again.
[Translated by Nita Ramaiya]
Giving Up
Giving up will never be an option
in my life anymore.
I did it once before,
but will never do it again.
For years, I walked in limbo
after giving up on something I loved.
It got to a point where I lost myself
and travelled down many lonely roads.
Never will I do it again
and cheat myself that it was right.
Giving up will never be an option
as long as my body has life.
I have travelled down that road,
and know where the heartaches lie.
I have felt the isolation
and the lonely tears you cry.
Giving up will never be an option
and it should never be to you.
Where I have returned to life
so it can happen to you too.
A fire is never out
as long as one spark remains.
We should always remember that
in whatever we want to do.
20 June 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Are We Lost?
what they did to us
we want to deceive history
oppressed we tell them
cause, they are the masters,
effect, we are the slaves
the past dissolves like smoke
shaped like a mushroom in the sky
forget we do not just choose
curse, we seem to point, like a rocket
in the sky that the North has shot into space
beware! beware! that naked little girl ran
in the road of destruction,
screaming, now just a picture in the archives
of a long forgotten history,
she died, her name is written like an epitaph,
where are we? we like to forget
but the stigma of the tattoo still clings on our skin
not a rose, not a heart pierced by an arrow
with blood dripping in the stillness of it all,
we are hearts beating into an abyss of fear
hostage to ourselves, chased by our own shadows,
we pretend we can sleep in this prolonged darkness
we can't, haunted forever
we keep on running without an end
for a destination.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Celestial Music
I have a friend who still believes in heaven.
Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God.
She thinks someone listens in heaven.
On earth she's unusually competent.
Brave too, able to face unpleasantness.
We found a caterpillar dying in the dirt, greedy ants crawling over it.
I'm always moved by disaster, always eager to oppose vitality
But timid also, quick to shut my eyes.
Whereas my friend was able to watch, to let events play out
According to nature. For my sake she intervened
Brushing a few ants off the torn thing, and set it down
Across the road.
My friend says I shut my eyes to God, that nothing else explains
My aversion to reality. She says I'm like the child who
Buries her head in the pillow
So as not to see, the child who tells herself
That light causes sadness-
My friend is like the mother. Patient, urging me
To wake up an adult like herself, a courageous person-
In my dreams, my friend reproaches me. We're walking
On the same road, except it's winter now;
She's telling me that when you love the world you hear celestial music:
Look up, she says. When I look up, nothing.
Only clouds, snow, a white business in the trees
Like brides leaping to a great height-
Then I'm afraid for her; I see her
Caught in a net deliberately cast over the earth-
In reality, we sit by the side of the road, watching the sun set;
From time to time, the silence pierced by a birdcall.
It's this moment we're trying to explain, the fact
That we're at ease with death, with solitude.
My friend draws a circle in the dirt; inside, the caterpillar doesn't move.
She's always trying to make something whole, something beautiful, an image
Capable of life apart from her.
We're very quiet. It's peaceful sitting here, not speaking, The composition
Fixed, the road turning suddenly dark, the air
Going cool, here and there the rocks shining and glittering-
It's this stillness we both love.
The love of form is a love of endings.
poem by Louise Gluck
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mi Spliff
Chorus
You can't de'pon mi spliff because mi spliff dep already
You can't de'pon mi spliff mi have the hash-ish leb and sensi
Yes people smoke the herb yeah all over the world
some bway name Peter and girl name Pearl (repeat)
All the weed ina the world belongs to you and me
It isn't man made it is here naturally (repeat)
Chorus
A man a fix him price so then a man a loose him life
A man loose him life because a man a fix him price
A man fix his price so then a man a loose him life
The police will say no it is pure pappy show
well their the best inna the business so they should know
Chorus
For centuries and centuries man has used the herb for leisure
For pleasure do not disturb (repeat)
Various parts of the world it is called by many names such as
Pot
song performed by by UB40 from Baggariddim
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pages in the Book
in the midnite hour 'neath the street lamp shadows,
where lifetimes come and go, and salvation follows.
and the heart stripped bare has no need to lie...
the taste of your lips, the tears that i cant cry.
with beaten hands and swords into plows;
giving all that i am, more than i can do without.
i'd trade eternity for one moment by your side...
with your hand in mine and nothing left to hide.
making love in the dirt by the cementary stones,
the yip of the dogs while the wind howls and moans.
your fingers dig into my back, i dive into your soul...
where fire was discovered, spinning out of control.
you close the book, turn the page, walk out the door,
call it all a lie, say you dont love me anymore.
the scars of passion in the shadows 'neath your eyes...
hymns of hope and redemption where the sparrow flies.
pour me a drink, light a smoke, my hat and my heart,
looking for your image in the hunger of the dark.
truth and freedom and justice dissolve into dust...
struck blind and deaf, my soul turned to rust.
down the road past the house where nobody lives.
where love looks in a mirror, repents and forgives.
every moment wasted, every word unspoken turns...
the heart beats faster, but the fire slowly burns.
kiss my lips and bury me down by the willow tree.
take this weight from my heart, set my spirit free.
in the eyes of God and time you are my destiny...
i'm nothing but a river that flows into your sea.
say no prayers, now the time of praying is past.
what's last is now first, what's first is now last...
the song of the poet dies with a fatal look...
all that we are now... pages in the book.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Long, long ago there were two people [2]
Long, long ago there were two people (just you and me)
and to my remorse my life was empty without you
and I couldn’t get you out of my heart.
I visited you and Shaun
and he was dressed
in a yellow jersey and dark green pants
and we married and was then divorced
and it was my wish to embrace you again.
Long, long ago there were two people (just you and me)
and I was trapped like an animal in a corner
not aware that you loved me still
and he was dressed
as if for a visit from me
and to me his eyes were bright blue
and I couldn’t get you out of my heart
and to me your life were only based on pleasure
still you are the one that looks into my deepest soul
and I did not know that you loved me still
and it looked as if you still wanted to be free from me
and did not know that you still liked me.
Long, long ago there were two people (just you and me)
and nobody I can compare to you,
with you that really understand me
still you are the one that looks into my deepest soul
with whom I wanted take life on,
the one around whom my feelings doesn’t fade
and I couldn’t get you out of my heart,
but then my life went on without direction
and you astounded me,
with you that really understand me,
I drove thousands of miles from you,
believed that your loved had forever withered away.
Long, long ago there were two people (just you and me)
and I couldn’t get you out of my heart
and our lives did touch each other’s.
I visited you and Shaun
and you astounded me,
in a yellow jersey and dark green pants.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leaving an old ancestral house...
i always remember someone leaving the house with a heavy heart. I sympathize. My heart is also heavy.
It is dark and someone carries a bag and begins to step away.
The steps become fainter.
I like to help. I suggest he stays. But Papa is vehement
and decisive.
Many years ago, five or ten people already left this house.
I stayed. I keep on staying.
The house is empty now.
I have decided not to listen anymore about the sound of emptiness.
The house of Gregorio must fall.
Everyone here dies.
I want to live. And so i must go somewhere else.
Where there are no hands that will choke me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In England
In England, there are wrongs no doubt,
Which should be righted; so men say,
Who seek to weed earth's garden out,
And give the roses right of way;
Yes, right of way, to fruit and rose,
Where now but poison ivy grows.
In England, there is wide unrest,
They tell me who should know; and yet
I saw but hedges, gayly dressed,
And eyes where love and kindness met;
Yes, love and kindness, met and made
Soft sunshine even in the shade.
In England, there are haunting things
Which follow one to other lands;
Like some pervading scent that clings
To laces touched by vanished hands;
Yes, touched by vanished hands, which made
A fragrance that defies the grave.
In England, centuries of art
Give common things a mellow tone;
And wake old memories in the heart
Of other lives the soul has known;
Yes, other lives in some past age
Start forth from canvas, and from page.
In England, there are simple joys,
The modern world has left all sweet;
In London's heart, are nooks where noise
Has entered but with slippered feet;
Yes, entered softly. Friend, believe,
To part from England is to grieve.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everyday Hero
He takes the train into the city
To him its more than just a working day
Cause he knows he can change the world in his ordinary way
Shes got a job, she has a family
She tries to keep them both together
Shes barely getting by, saving everything she makes
Day by day it seems its getting harder to win
How much longer, ready for their ship to come in
These are the times of the everyday hero
This is the battlefield of the working man
Trying to survive, staying alive, giving it all that he can
With a fire in his soul that keeps burning
And a dream in her heart that wont die
Living day to day, theres no easy way in this everyday life
They started out as high school sweethearts
He promised her a life of luxury
And though they dont have riches they have everything they need
The eyes of her child are her diamonds
The gift of his love are her pearls
Together they plan, taking a stand to make this a better world
But never breaking, knowing that their dreams will begin
Getting stronger in each others arms
These are the times of the everyday hero
This is the battlefield of the modern world
Theres a spirit inside that keeps us alive, giving it all that we can
With a fire in our soul that keeps burning
And a dream in our hearts that wont die
Living day to day, theres no easy way in this everyday life
Everybody has a special reason
Theres a chosen road to follow
Just remember nothing good comes easy
Dont surrender till you you find your rainbow
These are the times of the everyday hero
This is the battlefield of the working man
Trying to survive, staying alive, giving it all that he can
With a fire in his soul that keeps burning
And a dream in her heart that wont die
Living day to day, theres no easy way in this everyday life
These are the times of the everyday hero
This is the battlefield of the modern world
Theres a spirit inside that keeps us alive, giving it all that we can
With a fire in our soul that keeps burning
And a dream in our hearts that wont die
Living day to day, theres no easy way in this everyday life
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johnny Everyman [2]
In George uncle P.W. Botha are staying in his house
and at seventeen Johnny is too young to get a car
when his call up instructions indicates Johnny to a camp
and life is really terrible,
Johnny is taught about his holy rifle
and he notices how people really loose their heads
and in Johnny’s life nothing happens by accident
and he is old enough to ride a troop train.
In George uncle P.W. Botha are staying in his house
and however Johnny tries
time ticks off too slowly,
Johnny is taught about his holy rifle
must cross the camp from side to side
and if he doesn’t want to he has to serve a jail sentence of three years.
When his call up instructions indicate Johnny to a camp
Johnny has to face Ovambo’s, Cubans and Russians,
he is far away from his home and his people
time ticks off too slowly,
and are delivered to enemy soldiers, vicious animals and every kind of tick
while uncle Botha and his cabinet are free to make a living.
In George uncle P.W. Botha are staying in his house,
a new jet is bought for him
and Johnny and everybody with him is bomb happy
he is far away from his home and his people
out of the veins of some comrades there are blood foaming red
and of enemy rifle shots nobody is free.
When his call up instructions indicate Johnny to a camp
lies are being told to most of the country,
the army is nice and madder than nuts
and Johnny and everybody with him is bomb happy
constantly in the field and out of doors
and only a number without any respect
In George uncle P.W. Botha are staying in his house
when his call up instructions indicate Johnny to a camp,
enemy shots resounds right around him
and life is really terrible,
the army is nice and madder than nuts
and he notices how people really loose their heads.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Swing Of Things
(pal waaktaar)
They say the worlds an eventful place
You give me news
I dont want to know
You say that I should care
That I should speak my mind
Oh, but how can I speak of the world
Pushing by
With a lump in my throat
And tears in my eyes
Have we come to the point of no turning back
Or is it still time to get into
The swing of things
Let us walk through this windless city
Ill go on til the winter gets me
Sleep... you wrote sleep, my dear
In a letter somewhere
Oh, but how can I sleep with your voice in my head
And and ocean between us
And room in my bed
Have I come to the point where Im loosing the grip
Or is it still time to get into
The swing of things
When she glows in the dark
And Im weak by the sight
Of this breathtaking beauty
In which I can hide
There is a worldful out there
Of people I fear
But given time Ill get into
The swing of things
Yes, when se glows in the dark and Im struck by the sight
I know that Ill need this for the rest of my life
What have I done
What lies I have told
Ive played games with the ones that rescued my soul
Have I come to the point where Im losing the grip
Or is it still time to get into
The swing of things
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ah My Sweet Sweet Heart
Wherever you are please stay like you always were
Ah that beauty smile may always shines throughout your world
As long as your memories are here ill never want more
Those lovely eyes will always guide my roads to God's roads
Ah my beloved I would never blame you yet if I could give you my eyes I won't say no
may the distances nor the time make you forget about my love
As long as I have even a little bit place there in your heart
As long as the memories of your and mine
When you and I were crazy in love
As long as those memories are respected
As long as my memories are there
There in your sweet sweet heart that I still adore
I can survive all the difficulties of life.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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