The Dignified
They are the dignified who being elevated,
Speak among the folk low, low and very low;
Like the laden loaded limbs of a tree of fruit,
To the ground with the wind bend and bow.
Their hands distribute the treasures of God,
To seek His pleasure they respect mankind,
They do not chase wealth to quench appetite,
They give their eyes, their sight to the blind.
They are who share others woe and worries,
They sacrifice the dainty delicious delights,
The kind hearts breathe the air of divine fear,
They always soar to gain marvelous heights.
Their eyes are open, they are not curtained,
With the thick black blinding layers of pride,
They match their consent with Almighty Will,
Submitting themselves throwing Satan aside.
They are happy when humanity is pleased,
They are depressed when the fellows pass,
Through the vile valley of pains and pangs,
Through scratching thorns, balding grass.
They are the iron-wall in font of oppressors,
They care least for their belongings and life,
Fortitude, patience are their sharp weapons,
For the Right they pick up the sword or knife.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Tree Of Life
tree of life
tree of love
tree from god up above
this tree was implanted in our hearts at birth
to enjoy life and all its worth.
this tree posses all the love we hold
and controls our very soul.
the tree branches spread wide
to touch all of mankind
filling your bodies from hunger and quenching
the thirst within your soul
a wonderous beauty to behold.
the tree of life
gods sight
gods might
i give you my love
you give me your prayers
eternal life we will share
you in me-and me in you
this is what we have to do.
spreading the fruits of the tree
to all mankind, and of love divine.
poem by Louis Rams
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Not knowing you is respect
I ask your name, what you do, what you are,
You said
I do not have to know you
You are nobody
You have no name
You do nothing
You are not what you are
I am not knowing
I do not know you
We call each other as friends
Blind friends
Two blind friends touching a big elephant
And we shall say different things
You are nobody and I am nobody too
That is identity enough
Respect for nobody to nobody
Blindness is now dignity
We feel the heart
Because we have no eyes
We do not touch
We have no hands
We only speak
Because what we have are only
Two hearts. No eyes. No hands.
A mouth a nose. We are breathers in space.
We are incomplete. That is complete
Respect for humanity.
We are simply breathers. Nobody touching nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bats In Sunshine
Well, Mr. Kemble, you are called, I think,
A great divine, and I'm a great profane.
You as a Congregationalist blink
Some certain truths that I esteem a gain,
And dropp them in the coffers of my brain,
Pleased with the pretty music of their chink.
Perhaps your spiritual wealth is such
A golden truth or two don't count for much.
You say that you've no patience with such stuff
As by Renan is writ, and when you read
(Why _do_ you read?) have hardly strength enough
To hold your hand from flinging the vile screed
Into the fire. That were a wasteful deed
Which you'd repent in sackcloth extra rough;
For books cost money, and I'm told you care
To lay up treasures Here as well as There.
I fear, good, pious soul, that you mistake
Your thrift for toleration. Never mind:
Renan in any case would hardly break
His great, strong, charitable heart to find
The bats and owls of your myopic kind
Pained by the light that his ideas make.
'Tis Truth's best purpose to shine in at holes
Where cower the Kembles, to confound their souls!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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On The Tree
The cool benevolent,
Shadowy branches,
Thick and dark,
Extended all sides around,
Shelter the travelers,
Treat them as guests,
When they are sweating,
And out of breath.
Give them soothing solace
And ease as the parents,
Over-shadow the child,
In hot sun, wind and weather,
And expose themselves to the calamities,
And blazing wind of sufferings
O Man!
Be not heedless and blind.
Do as does the tree,
To the mankind.
Be forgiving, kind and loving,
To the suffering fellows,
In their plight,
Painful, poignant and grave,
And expect not,
A reward in return.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Give Me The Night
(craig safan)
Theme from the picture corvette summer
Simple dreams and crazy schemes
All cant come true
Hear what Im saying
My love is with you
This fire between us
If only you might
Give me the night tonight
Give me the night
My hearts on ice
Come to me, care for me
Sing to me, share with me
Give me the night tonight
Oh, boulevards of broken dreams
Now, dont be depressed, oh
Now were together
And were riding the crest
Im full of your passion
And you know the rest
So give me the night tonight
Give me the night
My hearts on ice
Come to me, care for me
Sing to me, share with me
Give me the night tonight
Ooh, night, yes night, is better
Oh, having you than having night
Oh, our life, our life together
Oh, it fills me with joy that wont stop
(give me the night)
My hearts on ice
Come to me, care for me
Sing to me, share with me
Give me the night tonight
Ooh, hoo, my hearts on ice
Oh, come to me, care for me
Sing to me, share with me
Give me the night tonight
Ooh, hoo, my hearts on ice
Ah, come to me, care for me
Ooh, ah, ha
Give me the night tonight
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song
Who hath his fancy pleased
With fruits of happy sight,
Let here his eyes be raised
On Nature's sweetest light;
A light which doth dissever
And yet unite the eyes,
A light which, dying never,
Is cause the looker dies.
She never dies, but lasteth
In life of lover's heart;
He ever dies that wasteth
In love his chiefest part:
Thus is her life still guarded
In never-dying faith;
Thus is his death rewarded,
Since she lives in his death.
Look then, and die! The pleasure
Doth answer well the pain:
Small loss of mortal treasure,
Who may immortal gain!
Immortal be her graces,
Immortal is her mind;
They, fit for heavenly places--
This, heaven in it doth bind.
But eyes these beauties see not,
Nor sense that grace descries;
Yet eyes deprived be not
From sight of her fair eyes--
Which, as of inward glory
They are the outward seal,
So may they live still sorry,
Which die not in that weal.
But who hath fancies pleased
With fruits of happy sight,
Let here his eyes be raised
On Nature's sweetest light!
poem by Philip Sidney
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Given To Those They See Fit
People take from others...
And tell them what is theirs,
And what is not!
Promote fear they do,
In the hearts of descendents of crooks.
Who have been taught to receive,
And protect their ill gains with weapons.
But those 'deities' unseen,
Aren't pleased by the demeaning!
This thief of treasures all belong to them.
Given to those they see fit.
Those loyal in their 'faith'...
And yet victims of this greed that exists.
Unknown to us but 'they' are all knowing.
Those 'souls' invisible observing this!
From dimensions about to blend...
To end actions of misfits!
We are now in the midst...
Of a shift in consciousness.
And those with eyes open wide,
Will have nothing to decide.
Or divide between them.
Or pride to recapture waning myths...
On failed foundations splitting to bits.
This will be witnessed,
In unique transitions!
To seal lips of falsified claims.
And a ceasing comes...
To dismiss oppositions!
There will be no exchange,
Of medals to award to those of valor,
Or standing ovations...
Applauding those of shame with fame!
A crushing of values,
Maintained on shaking ground...
Comes!
And will not sustain those exposed,
Holding onto worthless treasures they prize.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Upon The Barren Fig-Tree In God's Vineyard
What, barren here! in this so good a soil?
The sight of this doth make God's heart recoil
From giving thee his blessing; barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Art thou not planted by the water-side?
Know'st not thy Lord by fruit is glorified?
The sentence is, Cut down the barren tree:
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
Hast thou been digg'd about and dunged too,
Will neither patience nor yet dressing do?
The executioner is come, O tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
He that about thy roots takes pains to dig,
Would, if on thee were found but one good fig,
Preserve thee from the axe: but, barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thy end will cursed be!
The utmost end of patience is at hand,
'Tis much if thou much longer here doth stand.
O cumber-ground, thou art a barren tree.
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Thy standing nor they name will help at all;
When fruitful trees are spared, thou must fall.
The axe is laid unto thy roots, O tree!
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
poem by John Bunyan
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I Do Not Fear To Own Me Kin
I DO not fear to own me kin
To the glad clods in which spring flowers begin;
Or to my brothers, the great trees,
That speak with pleasant voices in the breeze,
Loud talkers with the winds that pass;
Or to my sister, the deep grass.
Of such I am, of such my body is,
That thrills to reach its lips to kiss.
That gives and takes with wind and sun and rain
And feels keen pleasure to the point of pain.
Of such are these,
The brotherhood of stalwart trees,
The humble family of flowers,
That make a light of shadowy bowers
Or star the edges of the bent:
They give and take sweet colour and sweet scent;
They joy to shed themselves abroad;
And tree and flower and grass and sod
Thrill and leap and live and sing
With silent voices in the Spring.
Hence I not fear to yield my breath,
Since all is still unchanged by death;
Since in some pleasant valley I may be,
Clod beside clod, or tree by tree,
Long ages hence, with her I love this hour;
And feel a lively joy to share
With her the sun and rain and air,
To taste her quiet neighbourhood
As the dumb things of field and wood,
The clod, the tree, and starry flower,
Alone of all things have the power.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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A Wall
O the old wall here! How I could pass
Life in a long midsummer day,
My feet confined to a plot of grass,
My eyes from a wall not once away!
And lush and lithe do the creepers clothe
Yon wall I watch, with a wealth of green:
Its bald red bricks draped, nothing loath,
In lappets of tangle they laugh between.
Now, what is it makes pulsate the robe?
Why tremble the sprays? What life o'erbrims
The body,--the house no eye can probe,--
Divined, as beneath a robe, the limbs?
And there again! But my heart may guess
Who tripped behind; and she sang, perhaps:
So the old wall throbbed, and its life's excess
Died out and away in the leafy wraps.
Wall upon wall are between us: life
And song should away from heart to heart!
I--prison-bird, with a ruddy strife
At breast, and a lip whence storm-notes start--
Hold on, hope hard in the subtle thing
That's spirit: tho' cloistered fast, soar free;
Account as wood, brick, stone, this ring
Of the rueful neighbours, and--forth to thee!
poem by Robert Browning
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Prologue to Pacchiarotto
I
O the old wall here! How I could pass
Life in a long Midsummer day,
My feet confined to a plot of grass,
My eyes from a wall not once away!
II
And lush and lithe, do the creepers clothe
Yon wall I watch, with a wealth of green:
Its bald red bricks draped, nothing loth,
In lappets of tangle they laugh between.
III
Now, what is it makes pulsate the robe?
Why tremble the sprays? What life o'er brims
The body,—the house, no eye can probe,—
Divined as, beneath a robe, the limbs?
IV
And there again! But my heart may guess
Who tripped behind; and she sang perhaps:
So, the old wall throbbed, and its life's excess
Died out and away in the leafy wraps.
V
Wall upon wall are between us: life
And song should away from heart to heart.
I—prison-bird, with a ruddy strife
At breast, and a lip whence storm-notes start—
VI
Hold on, hope hard in the subtle thing
That's spirit: though cloistered fast, soar free;
Account as wood, brick, stone, this ring
Of the rueful neighbors, and—forth to thee!
poem by Robert Browning from Pacchiarotto (1876)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Blind Is One, Who Said Love Is Blind!
Love is such great,
They say love is blind,
One who believe this,
is a blind for sure
As Love sees something,
Which mortal eyes fail to see!
Love can see great things,
Where even wise fail to find,
Love is eternal and is infinite,
And it is boon from infinite,
Love knows to give smile,
and not to take, great is that love which sacrifice,
Even Love for love's sake!
Love says,
' go my love, here you suffer,
Can't see your face dried by gloom,
Go somewhere,
where you can bloom,
or else I go somewhere to save our love '!
Love is that great, always grateful to love,
Great to be loved,
Even The Almighty,
bow before that love,
Which can flow as pure as mountain ice melt!
Great poet sang,
'With the Beloved's water of life,
no illness remains
In the Beloved's rose garden of
union, no thorn remains.
They say there is a window
from one heart to another
How can there be a window
where no wall remains? '
And inspired heart sings,
No water required,
As nothing can dry,
The roses of love,
And love is the bed of rose,
To that pair two bodies,
one in love, one wipes the pain of another!
Souls union makes everything possible,
it may look like
perfume bed of roses,
even if full of thorns
Rose is that heart,
Which even swallows pains,
When two souls become one,
All walls fall, all pains fail,
Fair their heart feel,
When two pair of hands wipe tears of one another!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Speak Gently
Speak gently! -- It is better far
To rule by love, than fear --
Speak gently -- let not harsh words mar
The good we might do here!
Speak gently! -- Love doth whisper low
The vows that true hearts bind;
And gently Friendship's accents flow;
Affection's voice is kind.
Speak gently to the little child!
Its love be sure to gain;
Teach it in accents soft and mild: --
It may not long remain.
Speak gently to the young, for they
Will have enough to bear --
Pass through this life as best they may,
'T is full of anxious care!
Speak gently to the aged one,
Grieve not the care-worn heart;
The sands of life are nearly run,
Let such in peace depart!
Speak gently, kindly, to the poor;
Let no harsh tone be heard;
They have enough they must endure,
Without an unkind word!
Speak gently to the erring -- know,
They may have toiled in vain;
Perchance unkindness made them so;
Oh, win them back again!
Speak gently! -- He who gave his life
To bend man's stubborn will,
When elements were in fierce strife,
Said to them, 'Peace, be still.'
Speak gently! -- 't is a little thing
Dropped in the heart's deep well;
The good, the joy, which it may bring,
Eternity shall tell.
poem by David Bates
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The Pan Within
Come with me
On a journey beneath the skin
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
We will look together
For the pan within
Close your eyes
Breathe slow well begin
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
For the pan within
Swing your hips
Loose your head, and let it spin
Swing your hips
Loose you head, and let it spin
And we will look together
For the pan within
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
For the pan within
Put your face in my window
Breathe a night full of treasures
The wind is delicious
Sweet and wild with the promise of pleasure
The stars are alive
And nights like these
Were born to be
Sanctified by you and me
Lovers, thieves, fools and pretenders
And all we gotta do is surrender
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
And we will look together
For the pan within
When to be with you
Is not a sin
When to be with you, oh just to be with you
Is not a sin
We will look together
For the pan within
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pan Within
Come with me
On a journey beneath the skin
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
We will look together
For the pan within
Close your eyes
Breathe slow well begin
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
For the pan within
Swing your hips
Loose your head, and let it spin
Swing your hips
Loose you head, and let it spin
And we will look together
For the pan within
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
For the pan within
Put your face in my window
Breathe a night full of treasures
The wind is delicious
Sweet and wild with the promise of pleasure
The stars are alive
And nights like these
Were born to be
Sanctified by you and me
Lovers, thieves, fools and pretenders
And all we gotta do is surrender
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
And we will look together
For the pan within
When to be with you
Is not a sin
When to be with you, oh just to be with you
Is not a sin
We will look together
For the pan within
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nonpareil
Let others from the Town retire,
And in the fields seek new delight;
My Phillis does such joys inspire,
No other objects please my sight.
In her alone I find whate'er
Beauties a country landscape grace;
No shade so lovely as her hair,
Nor plain so sweet as is her face.
Lilies and roses there combine,
More beauteous than in flowery field;
Transparent is her skin so fine,
To this each crystal stream must yield.
Her voice more sweet than warbling sound,
Though sung by nightingale or lark;
Her eyes such lustre dart around,
Compared to them the sun is dark.
Both light and vital heat they give,
Cherish'd by them my love takes root;
From her kind looks does life receive,
Grows a fair plant, bears flowers and fruit.
Such fruit I ween did once deceive
The common parent of mankind,
And made transgress our mother Eve,
Poison its core, though fair its rind.
Yet so delicious is its taste,
I cannot from the bait abstain,
But to th' enchanting pleasure haste,
Though I were sure 'twould end in pain.
poem by Matthew Prior
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In The Harbour: Prelude
As treasures that men seek,
Deep buried in sea-sands,
Vanish if they but speak,
And elude their eager hands,
So ye escape and slip,
O songs, and fade away,
When the word is on my lip
To interpret what ye say.
Were it not better, then,
To let the treasures rest
Hid from the eyes of men,
Locked in their iron chest?
I have but marked the place,
But half the secret told,
That, following this slight trace,
Others may find the gold.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Awake Arise & See
Is God a man a man may fool?
Finite as all we see
Could Satan fashion such a tool
To thwart The King to be
Was this the reason of the tree?
The ruse he’d use to win
Or Jesus’ means to victory
To rid the world of sin
Is not The King of Heaven real?
The Lord almighty true
Is not His powerful arm to feel?
And still today to view!
The fool will say there is no God
The blind deceived will doubt
By faith we see and feel His rod
His strong right arm so stout
By faith alone mankind will live
By faith alone we see
We trust what Heaven has to give
And hope for that to be
By faith alone we understand
By faith alone we feel
Trusting in God’s almighty hand
The Lord will all reveal
Right here and now this can be done
Witnessed by all mankind
When trusting in The Father’s Son
A child’s no longer blind
Awake and see The Truth of Him
That wisdom can’t deny
Arise with eyes no longer dim
And trust The Lord on high
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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Eyes
Eyes are blue
Eyes are green
Eyes are true
Eyes are mean
Eyes are bright
Give the light
Eyes are black
Like the night
Eyes are cold
Eyes are warm
Eyes are angry
Like a storm
Eyes are kind
Eyes are blind
Eyes are evil
Eyes of devil
Eyes are hungry
Eyes of walls
Eyes are empty
Eyes of dolls
Eyes are loving
Eyes are charming
Eyes are lying
Truth denying
Eyes are haughty
Eyes are naughty
Eyes are naïve
To all they believe
Eyes are strained
A fear remained
Eyes without hope
Ready for the rope
Eyes are vulnerable
Eyes that gamble
Eyes are sensitive
Eyes are attentive
Eyes are stubborn
Eyes are submissive
Eyes of a new born
Eyes are pensive
Loving eyes are true
Black, brown or blue
My eyes are green
A lot they have seen
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
January 11th,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Eyes Without Tears
Eyes without tears sullen and alone
I listened to the bitter wind
Every rustling breeze
Only compassion feels beauty
Prancing pride accumulates time
Withered notions of life
We only have our eternal hearts
We own nothing except what’s inside
Every mask only leaves us empty
Images of the fallen swirl
Success becomes a hollow soul
Empathy reaches for the tree of life
Your island of pleasure is desolate
Only love grows a garden
Thorns and thistles in a maze
Tenderness rebukes all idols
Eyes without tears are shallow mirrors
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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