God
The Boundless Ocean of Brilliance
That lends the stars dazzling light
Whom obey flakes of the watery clouds,
Riding on the back of moving wind.
The Secret Hand that wrings them,
Pouring down waters on the soil.
That brings forth vitality all around,
Incarnates life from the objects lifeless.
Being that gurgles out the fountains,
From the womb of the Earth to quench,
Thirst of the parched dry throats.
Chief Host who treats all creatures,
Huge, small and very small,
With what they need to be sustained.
He who fills the petals delicate,
With, sap, colours and fragrance.
Infuses eagerness into flies and moths,
That hover around with ecstatic sway,
Over the overflowing Enchanting Beauty.
He whose Skillful Prudence,
And dynamic waves of thoughts,
Assume instant shapes, is God.
An absolute Reality and Truth
That needs no argument to be proved.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Related quotes
Be1ieve
I look up at the sun, yellow streaks of light dancing - twirling with the red and orange beams
Golden and glorious high up in the sky, but to your beauty it does not compare
So I look higher where stars and supernovas clash into colours one's mind cannot even imagine
But still to your beauty it does not compare
This time I have to look down into the clear crystal waters of the Atlantic Ocean
Thousands of colours melting into one another - combined by corrals and creatures of the water
Again to your beauty it does not compare
Now I have no choice but to look deeper - deeper into the earth's secrets
In to the heart of our planet where every molecule meet its one and only match
Only to find the most extraordinary things
- Better than the sun and all its radians
- Better than the stars and the supernova
- Better than the colours in the ocean
- Even better than the tiny crystals of the ocean waters
- And yet I have found that to your beauty it just does not compare
So alas I turn to one side and look in the mirror - the beauty compares
You are beautiful - just believe ;)
poem by Renee Maritz
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I Feel Like The Sea-Gull
I feel like the sea-gull
That wanders the ocean-waves calm or tossed
With tempests in mid-Ocean or sea-shore:
I am the sea-gull
That with parched throat
Cries his piercing cry across the landscape
Where sea and sky are only and they meet
In my lone call:
I am the sea-gull that protests
And speaks injustice and its pains
And that is why
My throat is parched – yet I am free
Free in my flight across the air
Flipping around my wings; moving
Flying miles and kilometers moving
Flying near to land as much as can I
For I must bespeak – people must hear me.
My call I know will pierce
And the hearts
That lie now frozen by unjust hands
Will feel the warmth of summer in their innocence
Their throats no longer will be parched
Nor will they thirst
But by the springs of paradise will slake their thirst:
And they will have justice.
And the earth will flower again, no longer groan
Under its burdens
And I
And I, the lonely sea-gull of the ocean-winds
Will cry my eerie cry no more
My deed done my heart can break
And I
The lonely sea-gull will float
Float speechless on the Ocean’s bosom to the skies.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Life[2]
I
A sailor on a yacht
upon the wide ocean
sets the sails,
trims the ropes
and watches the wind,
the sky, sun, waves and sea
and stars at night
and sets the course
and instruments give signs
of location and direction
to final destiny
and temperature and strength
of waves and wind
indicate whether waters calm or storm appears.
II
Cause and effect
changes the way
that life goes
and destiny blows the winds,
sets the sky,
to be clear
or for catastrophe
causes the waves
to be small or crushing huge
effects the way that life goes
and in reality there’s no way
at times to read the signs
to be able to know
to where to set the course.
III
l’Envoi
People live and die,
are glad and cry,
experience joy and pain,
are totally empty and fulfilled
and life comes in patches
like stains etched on glass
while the pulse of time keeps beating on
and some wish for a new tomorrow,
others want to have more,
some are forever poor,
others born rich
and most of us are conditioned
to accept second best
as the only possibility.
poem by Gert Strydom
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None See The Beauty Of The Other
A thirsty oarsman
Took a gulp of sea water
And spit it on the ocean's face.
The ocean was irritated
And quizzed: what are you doing!
The oarsman quipped:
Why you are roaring
And keep on earth worthless
As being tasting salt
Not worth to drink
To quench a thirsty!
It was the rivers
Running to me in tears
Worried about their parting
With the ravines they loved
That made me bitter with salt!
The ocean quivered and spelt.
The oarsman found
A lot of fauna moving
Up to surface and moving
Down to the heart of ocean.
He retreated with no word
In reply to challenge ocean!
At night, the stars
Talked to the ocean
Of their beauty of shining eyes,
They told the ocean
That they look bright
Of their celestial charisma
While looking on the ocean
The ocean with Moorish eyes
That wide open in surprise
Tell the stars that she
Never had seen the beauty
Of the stars that look down
But her beauty alone
In the deep eyes of the stars!
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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The Seventy Two
The secret hands removed the lids,
Curtains between the vision and the eyes,
And made a show of eternal reality.
The rectangular cloud-like substance,
Extended from the East to the North,
Stretched in the sky in thousands of acres,
Incredibly white, and glaring bright,
The most appealing to the parched hearts,
Cast celestial delight, pleasing to recall.
Though thousands of miles was far away,
Yet beheld I the spectacle vividly,
The phenomenon hidden to the eyes carnal.
I saw the Seventy Two clad,
In the bright gaily dresses, radiant costumes,
Riding on the white swift flying horses,
In cheerfulness unknown to the temporal world,
In the glaring brilliance the seemed merged,
Like a reflection in the huge mirror,
Or as the enchanting fishes with coloured fins,
Swim into the most transparent still waters.
A saint standing with white long beard,
Whispered, “They are no doubt the Seventy Two,
Who stepped beyond, in the love of God,
By quenching thirst of the Sandy Land,
With the reserved blood of the innocent,
To prove faith in Him at the hours,
When conceived satanic devices came out,
To desecrate, confound the fair scheme,
And in reward He endeared wrapping them all,
In brilliance of His own where woeful,
Pangs would never trouble Them again.”
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Answers
I kept my answers small and kept them near;
Big questions bruised my mind but still I let
Small answers be a bullwark to my fear.
The huge abstractions I kept from the light;
Small things I handled and caressed and loved.
I let the stars assume the whole of night.
But the big answers clamoured to be moved Into my life. Their great audacity
Shouted to be acknowledged and believed.
Even when all small answers build up to
Protection of my spirit, still I hear
Big answers striving for their overthrow.
And all the great conclusions coming near.
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
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Where The Land Meets The Ocean
The great white waves of the Pacific how loudly they do roar
And crash against the volcanic rocks that guard the ocean shore
The silver gulls above the beach are calling as they fly
And the terns dive in shallow waters for small sea things from the sky,
The feeling is so refreshing on your skin saltwater spray
'Tis nice to be by the ocean on a breezy Autumn day
In a place far off of the highway and far from the noisy street
A place where Nature reign Supreme where the land and ocean meet
The huge surf waves are rolling foamy and white as snow
At the awesome power of Nature my wonder only grow
Though not a seafaring person from land I love to watch the big waves roll
It has been a watery grave for many an ocean out of control
Where the land meets the ocean on a March evening in the Fall
A memory for to cherish and in the future to recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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One Small Step
So many people
Need to go so many miles
How do we move them
To where the answer lies
Reach out to the ocean
Beyond the stars that shine
Weve got to take one small step in time
If we are the dreamers
Then the world must be the dream
Driven to question
All the things weve never seen
We search the horizon
Looking for a sign
Weve got to take one small step in time
One step beyond
All our hopes and our passion
There is the light of the universe flashin
All that it takes is one leap of faith
One small step, (one small step)
One small step in time
Deep in the darkness
(deep in the blackness)
Theres a wind that never dies
(theres a wind that never dies)
Out in the vastness
(out in the vastness)
Theres a road across the sky
(a road across the sky)
Out there is the reason
That we were meant to find
Weve got to take one small step in time
Weve got to take one small step in time
(one small step, one small step)
One small step in time
(one small step, one small step)
One small step in time
(one small step, one small step)
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nature is Game for Life
Nature is game for life
no matter how small it is
how trivial each is.
it soon raises dust
to a creature, infuses its own thoughts
so that it livens up life.
look at the clouds in the sky,
sooner or later, the winds blow
them into shapes of birds, rabbits
and doggies....nature is game for life..
no matter how trivial they ar
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ride on time
Oh, bird of beauty,
why do you change
your colour when you
cross the border?
The same truth should
sing here as it sing
there, why reality is
bitter to one and sweet
to another! Oh, truth
seeker, I am tired of it!
Do not insist, nothing is
absolute! The image you
got based on the seen
objects! Better exchange,
not the mind but with the
objects, the wind, the water
, and pain are the same still
we differ, time is better
than truth, ride on it and
come to me to forget the
conflict to connect soul
to soul the same love bird
will sing for you and me
and for all …
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Diamond In The Dark
diamonds in the dark,
lacks all the worth that they inhert have,
a matchstick in ones hand,
priceless commodity to i trapped out there in the cold,
diamonds in the dark,
is what we have become if we have no one in our heart,
we are all full if love,
but what is it if we cant share it out,
a matchstick is at hand,
a slight light from it makes the diamond come to life,
sometimes what we need is a spark,
a small neglected action that makes everything worth,
the diamond when at hand,
in the dark you cant see the beauty that it has,
with a flash of a match,
we see its spendor and its beauty is spread out,
we need the matchstick when we are out,
brings warmth to a lifeless body to cope,
priceless in our hand,
a life giver a worth giver we always tend to ignore,
diamonds in the dark,
a loud cry for help in a room of dumbs,
diamonds in the dark,
fine painting to a class of blind,
what we want in life,
the small things that gives life its worth
poem by Kennedy Musyoka
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Ocean of Purity Vavroovahana Patra
Beautiful Mahanadee flows with gaiety;
In all creatures plays waves of delight.
The vast river mingles in the Ocean;
She magnifies the beauty of creation.
All creatures quench thirst drinking water;
Bathing in the river derive purity, pleasure.
The river smiles in the lap of Nature;
Attracts all creatures, pure for ever.
Hindus, Muslims, Christians bathe in the same water;
All are sisters and brothers.
She penetrates rays of purity in all people of Earth;
The lovely river is an Ocean of mirth.
Sun beam kisses the river, magnifies her beauty;
Her lap is a perennial brook of delight.
Lovers enjoy on the cosy sandy lap of rivers;
Solitude, peace, love reigns for ever.
Poets depict poems, derive inspiration;
She is a fairy, Beauty of God’s creation.
Weary travellers rest a while for peace and pleasure.
The lovely bride contents their desire.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Blessings
I should be grateful
For the colours God paints his sky.
For the twinkle in my lovers eye
Even when she told me goodbye.
Grateful
For the kiss of the breeze
Moving bliss through the trees
With a perfume to seize
That dawning first light.
Such colours are these
That are swept in its flight.
Who afforded this dewdropp scent? .
Rainclouds applauded
Magnificent! .
We should be grateful
For lifes' plateful.
Stealing moonlit walks
Healing midnight talks.
Rain goes
Then rainbows.
Sunsets kiss the ocean
Painted with such devotion
With some heavenly notion.
Grateful
For fragrance
Early morning lends
And your sexy smile
Secret lover
As our evening ends.
No wish to recover
When blue moonbeam descends.
poem by Kevin East
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Who Created This Beautiful World?
Who created this beautiful world?
What a harmony and perfection!
Who thought this beauty, who brought it out?
Who is he that perfected it?
What matching patterns spawn the wonder?
What concinnous rhythms create this charm?
What is that grand invisible hand
That weaves this beauty with rhythms and patterns
That makes beauty, beauty; a divine music?
What a match of place, time and form
That makes this world a joyous feeling!
Beauty infuses life to the world,
Beauty makes the world to speak and sing,
To awaken soul to the creator’s skills
Who gave his rare gifts in abundance.
What brings those hues to youthful glows,
What brings those shapes to enchanting slopes,
What brings gentleness to graceful love,
What brings those grace to ripening age,
What brings brooding beauty to day-break’s freshness,
What brings that beauty to the width of the sky,
To the height of hills and depth of seas,
To the shapes of clouds, to the moods of men
In liquid ease and endless abundance
That no more the world is what it is made of,
But a celestial charm of unknown depth.
A subtle music in joyous rhythms,
A pregnant pattern in brilliant colours,
In human forms, in nature’s moods,
In fast changing life’s variegated hues,
In tides of sea, in tides of life,
Surface to those inner ears and eyes
That keep itself wide open always;
A living rhythm is at work in womb
In hide and seek of light and shadow,
In fall and rise of hills and vales,
In love and hate, in war and peace;
The twinkles of eyes, the gentle smiles,
The blue of the sky, the warm sunshine,
Each is a rich work of a master craftsman.
Day is beauty, night is beauty;
Youth is beauty, old age is beauty;
Desire is beauty, contentment, beauty;
Heart-break is beauty, fulfilment, beauty;
Perfection is beauty, ugliness, beauty;
All are beautiful deep ’neath bones
Like sunrise and sunset or sunshine or rain,
In the magical hands of the master craftsman.
Is this world his own image,
A reflection of his model perfection
Like the pleasures of pleasure and the pleasures of pain
Make the world a divine charm;
Work and leisure, pain and pleasure,
Penury and wealth, life and death
Hand in hand bring harmony to the world;
Mongoose kills snakes; snake, rats,
In living rhythms of life and death;
Beauty, the world breathes, is beyond cause,
Beyond source, beyond course,
That surfaces itself to the joy of all
On the will of the great divine artist.
A speck of dirt, dark spots on the moon
Have the same charm and perfect rhythms;
Tears of pain and tears of pleasure
Have the same simple grace hidden in them;
Like silk-worms that weave soft sheath around,
He builds the world with his own inner charm,
It be a mole or a mountain;
And this we have,
The wonderous world of perfect beauty;
Beauty within and beauty outside,
Beauty between and beauty a’where,
In gentle flesh and youthful forms,
In fall and rise, in rage and patience,
In nature’s arts and man’s crafts,
In old and new or foul garbage;
For, the creator sits in all of them
And builds a bridge to all hearts and souls.
poem by Praveen Kumar
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Sometimes Its As If My Childhood Days Come Back
Sometimes it's as if my childhood days come back
and it's as if the colour and texture catches me
when I am astounded by the sheer beauty of things,
by the smell of flowers hanging in the air,
where I see clouds as flakes,
and it's as if the colour and texture catches me
that is spread over the bright blue in small pieces
that brings me back to another time and place
where I see clouds as flakes,
and I am again full of joy and happiness
and the whole sky is full with specks between the blue and white
that brings me back to another time and place,
to the memories of my childhood days
when I see the summer sun rising golden
and the whole sky is full with specks between the blue and white
and the birds and insects are of the loveliness some proof.
Sometimes it's as if my childhood days come back
when I see the summer sun rising golden,
when I am astounded by the sheer beauty of things.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Speech For Psyche In The Golden Book Of Apuleius
All night, and as the wind lieth among
The cypress trees, he lay,
Nor held me save as air that brusheth by one
Close, and as the petals of flowers in falling
Waver and seem not drawn to earth, so he
Seemed over me to hover light as leaves
And closer me than air,
And music flowing through me seemed to open
Mine eyes upon new colours.
O winds, what wind can match the weight of him!
poem by Ezra Pound
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Early Works - The Night
I lay on my bed on a sleepless night
gaze out my window at the stars bright.
The moon now and then gets hazy
as across the sky clouds drift lazily.
The night is cooled by a gentle breeze
that seems to whisper as if ruffles the leaves
and all creatures large and small
into sleep tenderly fall.
The night is peaceful as sounds subside
and stars now and then behind clouds hide.
The wise old owl perches high at night
gazing down to see if everything is all right.
As along paths trodden many times before
descend the cooing lovers once more
to their own private paradise
rich in tranquillity.
The flowers that in the breeze did bend
close their petals to the night again
and the little birds that flew in the morn
nestle in their nest warm.
Sleep endures all
no matter whether large or small
and so must I do this night
until I’m called by the morning light.
Date unknown.
poem by David Harris
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Bless Me With Those Eyes!
'A thing of beauty is a joy for ever'
Words of Keats one can forget never
What is beauty - beauty is where
One can enjoy here and there, every where!
Grecian urn a beautiful piece
Niagara falls a beautiful place
Silver streaks of water brings us peace
Hills and dales sure nature's grace!
Does beauty lie in the objects seen
Or lie in the eyes of the seer keen?
Beauty seen in the scorching Sun
Beauty felt in the biting cold
Beauty heard in the melody of birds
Beauty smelt in the fragrance of rose
Beauty tasted in the bitterness of neem
Beauty found sure in every mean(s) !
'Beauty is truth and truth beauty
That is all what ye know on earth
And what all ye need to know'
Words of Wisdom
From votary of beauty
And a devotee of Almighty!
Creator of noble beauty
Harbinger of peace and piety
Bless me with those eyes and mind
Beauty in ugliness that they can find!
Beauty of the mind and beauty of the soul
Sure makes one the wholesome whole!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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Mighty River
From deep underground I start unseen
Cool spring water fresh and clean
My only life not visible to the eye
I start to flow, as if the earth did cry
Small and feint I start to trickle
As I flow the land I tickle
As in life we may start as little springs
But soon we grow and do big things
Down the mountains I start to flow
As my intensity starts to grow
My banks are now so far apart
So much wider that at the start
I twist and turn, will I ever stop
I`ve been winding forever right from the top
From a tint trickle to a steady stream
To reach the ocean is my only dream
My veins alive with creatures big and small
Within my belly I carry them all
Life within me does explode
No matter how much I can take the load
Over rocks and boulders I do roar
While above me the fish eagle`s soar
Swollen now I my banks do burst
Hungry lands I feed, they so do thirst
I fill the valley and form a lake
To try and stop me would be a mistake
I push on forward one goal in mind
To reach the ocean, sealed and signed
I`ve cut a groove across this land
But now a lap the ocean sand
Right at the end I reached my goal
Now the ocean waves a feed my soul
poem by Vaughn Bekker
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A Rose With A Tinted Past
A wind from the north country.
Blows through the tapestry of my mind.
Like flowers in the wind.
I sway like a silver birch.
Winging high I soar though the sky.
A bird of tell tale feather below.
Ah, a rose with a tinted past.
A tear of dew on each new petal.
Shadow of sky I see.
A big yellow eye that warns me.
Spring has fallen by the way side.
Summer warms each small bed.
Sleep eluded the dreamers head.
Days hark of summer sandwich paste.
Eaten down in gulps of haste.
Gone are the winter winds.
Replaced by summers warm rays.
Ah, our rose with a tinted past.
Born out of a refuse tip.
Born with buds pointing skyward high.
To catch the sun through a cloudy sky.
Born with a majestic air.
The dark clouds of heaven see you there.
Rain dances on your petals blight.
Sky thunder roars.
Storm of shadows pass overhead.
Wind of tears, tears and shreds,
the petals from our roses head.
Sky of blue, no clouds of night.
Looks down at the sorry sight.
Head limp, beauty gone.
Sadness of glory light.
No longer see the sunlight.
Petals sweet, insect head.
Food for natures bed.
Earth dust shower still.
Life is short to fulfil
Day - night passes a solemn breath.
For our tinted roses death.
13 June 1978
poem by David Harris
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