A Will
What is the essence of a will?
Codicil on codicil
on codicil.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Sunshine Shivers 1922
Sunshine shivers, beam dreams trembling,
rays no longer play dissembling
game as aim, attention drawn
elsewhere, prepares destruction's dawn.
Thought coherent tries assembling
last will codicil, remembering
fractal flashback frames, must mourn
rash behaviour, cash withdrawn.
Hope's embers' snuffed, tough luck dismembering,
past's grasp with last gasp sucked Septembering,
disappointments multiform
pointless pages from life torn.
Ambitions rotten, faith forgotten,
tattered scarecrow, shroud of cotton.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Self-Determination
I will spring the closing trap
And jump the disappearing train
Shaking loose the dust of time
And distortions from my brain
I will dip my legs and toes
In rushing tides of history
And in the shallow lakes and pools
That hide the deeper mystery
I will punch a hole of light
With my tightly-wound brave fist
Through the walls that rise into
The hollows of the gathering mist
I will touch the soft damp soil
That once was witness to my birth
And pour the vials of sacred oil
Upon my father's native earth
I will place a smooth round stone
On my late wife's burial mound
And would be more widely known
Before I'm scattered on the ground
I cannot be long constrained
By mere shyness of the will
It is time for me to write
A self-determined codicil
As the sun touches the east
And the storm clouds lift again
I resolve to speak my truth
With a voice and song unchained.
poem by Frank Bana
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Parson Turell’s Legacy
OR, THE PRESIDENT'S OLD ARM-CHAIR
A MATHEMATICAL STORY
FACTS respecting an old arm-chair.
At Cambridge. Is kept in the College there.
Seems but little the worse for wear.
That 's remarkable when I say
It was old in President Holyoke's day.
(One of his boys, perhaps you know,
Died, _at one hundred_, years ago.)
He took lodgings for rain or shine
Under green bed-clothes in '69.
Know old Cambridge? Hope you do.--
Born there? Don't say so! I was, too.
(Born in a house with a gambrel-roof,--
Standing still, if you must have proof.--
'Gambrel?--Gambrel?'--Let me beg
You'll look at a horse's hinder leg,--
First great angle above the hoof,--
That 's the gambrel; hence gambrel-roof.)
Nicest place that ever was seen,--
Colleges red and Common green,
Sidewalks brownish with trees between.
Sweetest spot beneath the skies
When the canker-worms don't rise,--
When the dust, that sometimes flies
Into your mouth and ears and eyes,
In a quiet slumber lies,
_Not_ in the shape of umbaked pies
Such as barefoot children prize.
A kind of harbor it seems to be,
Facing the flow of a boundless sea.
Rows of gray old Tutors stand
Ranged like rocks above the sand;
Rolling beneath them, soft and green,
Breaks the tide of bright sixteen,--
One wave, two waves, three waves, four,--
Sliding up the sparkling floor.
Then it ebbs to flow no more,
Wandering off from shore to shore
With its freight of golden ore!
Pleasant place for boys to play;--
Better keep your girls away;
Hearts get rolled as pebbles do
Which countless fingering waves pursue,
And every classic beach is strown
With heart-shaped pebbles of blood-red stone.
But this is neither here nor there;
I'm talking about an old arm-chair.
You 've heard, no doubt, of PARSON TURELL?
Over at Medford he used to dwell;
Married one of the Mathers' folk;
Got with his wife a chair of oak,--
Funny old chair with seat like wedge,
Sharp behind and broad front edge,--
One of the oddest of human things,
Turned all over with knobs and rings,--
But heavy, and wide, and deep, and grand,--
Fit for the worthies of the land,--
Chief Justice Sewall a cause to try in,
Or Cotton Mather to sit--and lie--in.
Parson Turell bequeathed the same
To a certain student,--SMITH by name;
These were the terms, as we are told:
'Saide Smith saide Chaire to have and holde;
When he doth graduate, then to passe
To ye oldest Youth in ye Senior Classe.
On payment of '--(naming a certain sum)--
'By him to whom ye Chaire shall come;
He to ye oldest Senior next,
And soe forever,'--(thus runs the text,)--
'But one Crown lesse then he gave to claime,
That being his Debte for use of same.'
Smith transferred it to one of the BROWNS,
And took his money,--five silver crowns.
Brown delivered it up to MOORE,
Who paid, it is plain, not five, but four.
Moore made over the chair to LEE,
Who gave him crowns of silver three.
Lee conveyed it unto DREW,
And now the payment, of course, was two.
Drew gave up the chair to DUNN,--
All he got, as you see, was one.
Dunn released the chair to HALL,
And got by the bargain no crown at all.
And now it passed to a second BROWN,
Who took it and likewise claimed a crown.
When Brown conveyed it unto WARE,
Having had one crown, to make it fair,
He paid him two crowns to take the chair;
And Ware, being honest, (as all Wares be,)
He paid one POTTER, who took it, three.
Four got ROBINSON; five got Dix;
JOHNSON primus demanded six;
And so the sum kept gathering still
Till after the battle of Bunker's Hill.
When paper money became so cheap,
Folks would n't count it, but said 'a heap,'
A certain RICHARDS,--the books declare,--
(A. M. in '90? I've looked with care
Through the Triennial,--name not there,)--
This person, Richards, was offered then
Eightscore pounds, but would have ten;
Nine, I think, was the sum he took,--
Not quite certain,--but see the book.
By and by the wars were still,
But nothing had altered the Parson's will.
The old arm-chair was solid yet,
But saddled with such a monstrous debt!
Things grew quite too bad to bear,
Paying such sums to get rid of the chair
But dead men's fingers hold awful tight,
And there was the will in black and white,
Plain enough for a child to spell.
What should be done no man could tell,
For the chair was a kind of nightmare curse,
And every season but made it worse.
As a last resort, to clear the doubt,
They got old GOVERNOR HANCOCK out.
The Governor came with his Lighthorse Troop
And his mounted truckmen, all cock-a-hoop;
Halberds glittered and colors flew,
French horns whinnied and trumpets blew,
The yellow fifes whistled between their teeth,
And the bumble-bee bass-drums boomed beneath;
So he rode with all his band,
Till the President met him, cap in hand.
The Governor 'hefted' the crowns, and said,--
'A will is a will, and the Parson's dead.'
The Governor hefted the crowns. Said he,--
'There is your p'int. And here 's my fee.
'These are the terms you must fulfil,--
On such conditions I BREAK THE WILL!'
The Governor mentioned what these should be.
(Just wait a minute and then you 'll see.)
The President prayed. Then all was still,
And the Governor rose and BROKE THE WILL!
'About those conditions?' Well, now you go
And do as I tell you, and then you'll know.
Once a year, on Commencement day,
If you 'll only take the pains to stay,
You'll see the President in the CHAIR,
Likewise the Governor sitting there.
The President rises; both old and young
May hear his speech in a foreign tongue,
The meaning whereof, as lawyers swear,
Is this: Can I keep this old arm-chair?
And then his Excellency bows,
As much as to say that he allows.
The Vice-Gub. next is called by name;
He bows like t' other, which means the same.
And all the officers round 'em bow,
As much as to say that they allow.
And a lot of parchments about the chair
Are handed to witnesses then and there,
And then the lawyers hold it clear
That the chair is safe for another year.
God bless you, Gentlemen! Learn to give
Money to colleges while you live.
Don't be silly and think you'll try
To bother the colleges, when you die,
With codicil this, and codicil that,
That Knowledge may starve while Law grows fat;
For there never was pitcher that wouldn't spill,
And there's always a flaw in a donkey's will!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Code Eye Still Codicil - 1906
No needle's eye for camel's head
accepts belongings from earth bed,
nor threads decode vain codicil
to concretize departed will.
When weep-sleep sunders living, dead,
there's no more time to look ahead,
no time to reminisce until
the cows come home, for time stands still.
Still, once this mortal clothing's shed,
one doubts if houri banquets spread,
one doubts red devils fear instill
with fire and brimstone overkill.
Eat, drink, be merry, butter bread,
is optimal advice instead
of words whose wisdom can't fulfill
all takers of life's doctored pill.
What may one leave when empty page
bears witness to closed curtain, stage
forever silent, echo dumb,
if not advice by rule of thumb.
But may advice, however sage,
e'er guarantee the living wage,
whatever's said whan all is done,
vain vein, pain, artery, plain numb?
Lie's and or truth to youth or age
subjective arguments engage,
while what's guaged right by old world's sum
is left behind by days to come.
Some lend support where others rage,
some freedoms feel to others cage,
poetic harmony stays mum
when taste is wasted, depth can't plumb.
As things were rarely they'll remain,
can't stay pure gospel free from stain,
as strange change waits upon mankind,
hallowed assumptions soon unwind.
New networks now rewire the brain,
replacing hard left logic's reign,
right brain relationships now mind
steer from traditions misaligned.
What leave which won't deceive or strain
ability to help some gain
an insight in the land of blind
for one-eyed king of any kind?
No easy answer may one train
attention on, win/win unfeigned:
we temporal displacement find
distorts perceptions left behind.
Therefore, when all is said and done,
few diamonds shine at end of run,
for some stay thrifty, others haste,
to substance set on road to waste.
One man's poison's one man's meat,
same tools give victory or defeat,
what one retains in shrine encased,
another treats as coin debased.
One prefers to learn, one feels
experience earned no vice conceals,
another's Janus double-faced
is found with confidence misplaced.
The only counsel sense may seem:
'Unto thyself stay true... and dream! '
(5 September 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex,
For her strength alone can please the mighty hero!
What's the use of this manliness, friend,
When it is of no use to the lord at all?
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex!
A man might attain the ultimate release,
If he sticks to the path of virtue,
But to indulge in the scrumptious joys of pretended anger
And the lord pleading to make up and other such games,
You simply have to be a woman!
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex!
For her strength can please the mighty hero!
Even the gods like Indra and the great sages
Revere the very dust of gopis' feet,
Considering themselves lesser than the gopis
As they find their manhood insipid!
Essence of essence the birth of the weaker sex,
For her strength can please the mighty hero!
Woman, the treasure trove of fortune
Experiences and enjoys all day and night
The very nectar, the Vedas and the Scriptures
Struggle to express!
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex!
Let my dreams come true
My dark one, my lifter of the mountain, life of my life!
For just like the master dragging the meek beast
The leash of love draws Narsinh!
Essence of essence is the birth of the weaker sex,
For her strength can please the mighty hero!
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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Let me go over this again on the reclaiming the civil rights movement. People of faith that believe that you have an equal right to justice - that is the essence. And if it's not the essence, then we've been sold a pack of lies. The essence is everyone deserves a shot - the content of character, not the color of skin.
quote by Glenn Beck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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None
Life is the expression of the desire of the soul to manifest and to share what it uniquely perceives and feels. Columbus's essence is deep in discovery
Buddha is the essence of wisdom, the triumph of wisdom
Christ is the essence of love, the essence of wisdom, the triumph of love, the triumph of love.
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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Essence
Life
Life is the expression of the desire of the soul to manifest and to share what it uniquely perceives and feels. Columbus's essence is deep in discovery
Buddha is the essence of wisdom, the triumph of wisdom
Christ is the essence of love, the essence of wisdom, the triumph of love, the triumph of Wisdom.
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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In Essence
Rapid essence is secret weapon for the rich and famous,
Yet their doing is definite in the eyes of most,
In the rising of guilt and gunnery.
For when bullets are fired in one rapid answer
To the fallen man who resents the very essence,
Then the falling is reason for discontent.
I said the seeing is again done with the futilty,
And the man or woman shall evade all utility,
Will they not destroy their benefits, in essence?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Science sometimes falls short when trying to fathom the depths of our essence - and our inspiration comes from that essence.
quote by Lance Secretan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Essence
Rain from the sky,
Mixes with cloudy emotion,
Lingering behind my eyes-
A foggy recollection is given to ask,
Where before have I seen this day,
From my discordant past-
Perhaps a mountain top, or a canyon floor,
Somehow I feel this day I know,
From somewhere far before-
These mystic memories cryptically contain,
Timeless pictures of hope,
Displayed within eternities ever expanding frame-
Unsettled becomes my heart,
By this essence of thought,
Wondering if in it all am I merely watching, or actually taking part-
Is it now, or is it then,
Am I going,
Or have I already been-
There is an essence of great life so present,
Blended into each moment,
And even every living breath-
It crosses the boundaries of time,
Connecting so many hearts, souls,
And minds-
How can it be found,
Deciphered, decoded,
Understood and known-
A great and wonderful mystery,
Alluring, calling, and saving,
Through all humanity-
Capricious consternations on this, such a dark day,
Glow with the essence of the unexplainable,
Yet, shine a beautiful light to guide, along the way-
Holy is this Essence burning into the heart,
The Essence of eternity spread throughout all time,
Bringing all together at the finish, as it was at the start-
Essence bids: all come,
And find, where you are going,
Is to, where you are truly from.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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I maintain also that substances, whether material or immaterial, cannot be conceived in their bare essence without any activity, activity being of the essence of substance in general.
quote by Gottfried Leibniz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Divine Essence
Love is a flower
spreading beautiful perfume
a divine essence
haiku by Marius Alexandru (March 2020)
Submitted by anonym
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Killing time is perhaps the essence of comedy, just as the essence of tragedy is killing eternity.
quote by Miguel de Unamuno
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Liar, liar...
when the sweet sap of
the sugar cane is gone
when the salt does not
taste salt at all
when the vinegar loses
its prized acidity
the raw mango its sourness
the pork its oil and
the rice its gluten
when essence is gone
when you say that it is this
essence that precedes
existence
then tell me what happens next?
i know what to do.I know.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unless And Until You Have Grasped The Essence Of The Self
Unless and until you have grasped the essence of the Self
Vain are all your efforts and like unseasonal rains,
You have wasted your human birth.
So what if you have taken a holy bath
Or offered twilight prayers and worship?
So what if you have stayed at home and given alms?
So what if you keep matted locks and smear ashes?
So what if you have plucked hair on your head?
Unless and until you have grasped the essence of the Self
Vain are all your efforts and like unseasonal rains,
You have wasted your human birth.
So what if you indulge in recitation, penance or go on a pilgrimage?
So what if you count beads and chant the holy name
So what if you put on at il ak or worship Tulsi?
So what if you drink the water of Ganga?
Unless and until you have grasped the essence of the Self
Vain are all your efforts and like unseasonal rains,
You have wasted your human birth.
So what if you speak of theVedas or grammar?
So what if you enjoy yourself and have a good time?
So what if you have grasped the distinctions
Between the six systems of philosophy?
So what if you have adhered to the distinction of caste?
Unless and until you have grasped the essence of the Self
Vain are all your efforts and like unseasonal rains,
You have wasted your human birth.
All these are worldly pursuits for filling one's belly
Until you have seen the absolutebr ahman.
Says Narsinh, without beholding the Essence
One wastes his birth precious asChi nt amani Jewel.
Unless and until you have grasped the essence of the Self
Vain are all your efforts and like unseasonal rains,
You have wasted your human birth.
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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Being And Nothingness
i am nothing
so i must make something out of
my being nothing
this sense
must make an essence
this watch must tell time
otherwise
it is not a clock at all
this poet
must write the poems
to be this poet
to become
one must make out
his essence
for from nothing
in the actual doing
is this something
i am
not because i am for now
the way you see and touch me
i am because i am becoming
i am because i am being
i die, what am i?
a mist
see, i am not even the air
i am not even what you think you see
now, i am nothing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Alzheimer's Disease
Twice,
There would be goodbyes...
Spoken.
With hearts broken.
And words uncertain,
If heard and understood.
~As an essence known,
Would flow to go.~
Twice,
A familiar light of life...
Would flicker to slowly dim.
As those loved ones and friends,
Stood by to witness...
Without a defense to what commenced.
~As an essence known,
Would flow to go.~
And...
Just once,
In the end...
Alzheimer's Disease,
Would finally win...
This long and emotional battle.
~As an essence known,
Would flow to go...
Away.~
Dedicated To:
Those who knew and suffered through,
The losing of close family members and friends...
To Alzheimer's Disease.
'You are loved and missed,
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar...
By all who knew and loved you too.'
My wonderful Grandmother.
~lsp~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Is All About It
it is all about it: friendship
cliques, categories, groupings,
the habit of having to scratch your back
and you scratching mine too
gone is the merit
and the justification of the thing-in-itself
the essence of essence
the value of value
everything arbitrary
nothing consequential anymore
know me and you go to the top
keep the code of success
we live we die we make things
as a team
odd man out, go, and be infamous.
without the background, you assume no color.
i am tired. I do not want to move.
let me stay here. On this spot, i remain
myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Purple Grapes
Fresh purple grapes,
Dried raisin cakes
I love the seedless kind.
Grape fruit essence
The fruity, tasty kind.
Give it as presents,
I'll tell you I don't mind.
Grape fruit essence
As good as Merlot wine.