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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Decision Of Silence
Those who savour do know well the taste,
The rest may form but the images abstract;
Unsubstantial eyes penetrate deep into realities,
But the carnal look with superficial glance.
Spent I time pondering over the baffling puzzle,
Whom He created the Master Scheme for?
One morn, at last at the hour of dawn,
The curtains were raised, the gallery swung,
The door opened wide to show the reality.
Ah! What incredible I did find to see,
Since then my mind burns, my heart smoulders,
To capture the fleeting vision again.
The nourishing celestial taste of experience,
My mind, my eyes my heart did undergo,
The organs of wisdom can not explain.
The words symbols suffice not to impart,
The festive taste relished by the inner being.
A huge mirror of brilliance hanging down,
In vacancy, extended from the south to the west,
I viewed glistening with stillness of dazzling glare,
Brighter than hundreds of moons if gathered;
Emerged then slowly in the shining surface,
Half portrait of the Masterpiece, the Beautiful,
With magnificence adequate to the starved eyes,
But thousands of times more prominent,
Than the brightening ground of exhibition.
Beheld I the Redeemer, the Pivot of creation,
Wearing turban green with no end lurking on the sides,
Trimmed beard, neither too long nor too short,
Seemed as if the vanished hands laboured hard,
To adorn the Matchless with the regal splendour.
Cold flashes emitting out from the countenance,
Dazzled the force of frail seeing eyes;
The spectrum seemed a true manifestation,
Of the Being who from far behind reflected,
In the enormous screen stretched in front.
The mystery was revealed, but I should keep silence,
For when “Yes” and “No” both are the ruinous extremes,
Silence is the moderate route to survive.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXXVIII
I saw one sitting on a kingly throne,
A man of age, whom Time had touched with white;
White were his brows, and white his vestment shone,
And white the childhood of his lips with light,
Only his eyes gleamed masterful and bright,
Holding the secrets shut of worlds unknown,
And in his hand the sceptre lay of might,
To bind and loose all souls beneath the sun.
Where is the manhood, where the Godhood here?
The weak things of the world confound the wise.
Here is all weakness, let us cast out fear.
Here is all strength. Ah, screen me from those eyes,
The terrible eyes of Him who sees unseen
The thing that is, and shall be, and has been.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Snow White Transparent
“Mirror… Mirror…”
Snow White stops
Looks down at
Her hand
Perfectly pale
Unblemished
Young and
Innocent
But damned
So damned
The wicked
Woman knew
Smiled and knew
“This is what you want”
Hands her the
Apple, poisoned
And red
No one knew
That Snow White
Knew, knew
The Truth
No one
Suspects her
Not Snow White
Pure, perfect
Snow White
“Mirror… Mirror…”
A brush bristles
Through her hair
Snow White looks
At her reflection
In the Mirror
Her mirror
The Wicked
Woman’s mirror
Snow White’s
Image smiles
Sadly at her
No hope left
“On the wall…”
He comes in
Princely in
His ways
Snow White does
Not look at
Him, not at him
Oh no
She cannot
She resents him
It is not apples
That are poisoned
But lips
“Snow…? ”
Without words
She undresses
Revealing glorious
Pale body
His to touch
Snow White
Watches his hands
Lower and closes
Her eyes
This is not love
Love is not—
Love is
“Seven little men…”
She falls into the
Dark corners of
Her mind
Where poison
Still chokes her
And there is
Nothing but
Death and silence
Oh, for the silence
Snow White turns
To look at The Mirror
And asks:
“Who is fairest of them all? ”
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Grand Scheme of Things
How important I feel, invincible!
Then, I read they found a nebula; a white illuminate;
An interfuse of gaseous light, hung from the galatic ceiling.
Deep within the deepest dark of darkest night is the forming
Of a new star, seven thousand light years away,
Its gas-cloud formation towering six trillion miles.
I, with an average weight of one-hundred-seventy-five pounds;
Standing five feet ten and one-half inches tall; a life span of
Approximatly seventy-five year, have suddenly been struck
With the realization of how supercilious I am in the grand scheme
of things.
(Free Verse)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lily In A Crystal
You have beheld a smiling rose
When virgins' hands have drawn
O'er it a cobweb-lawn:
And here, you see, this lily shows,
Tomb'd in a crystal stone,
More fair in this transparent case
Than when it grew alone,
And had but single grace.
You see how cream but naked is,
Nor dances in the eye
Without a strawberry;
Or some fine tincture, like to this,
Which draws the sight thereto,
More by that wantoning with it,
Than when the paler hue
No mixture did admit.
You see how amber through the streams
More gently strokes the sight,
With some conceal'd delight,
Than when he darts his radiant beams
Into the boundless air;
Where either too much light his worth
Doth all at once impair,
Or set it little forth.
Put purple grapes or cherries in-
To glass, and they will send
More beauty to commend
Them, from that clean and subtle skin,
Than if they naked stood,
And had no other pride at all,
But their own flesh and blood,
And tinctures natural.
Thus lily, rose, grape, cherry, cream,
And strawberry do stir
More love, when they transfer
A weak, a soft, a broken beam;
Than if they should discover
At full their proper excellence,
Without some scene cast over,
To juggle with the sense.
Thus let this crystall'd lily be
A rule, how far to teach
Your nakedness must reach;
And that no further than we see
Those glaring colours laid
By art's wise hand, but to this end
They should obey a shade,
Lest they too far extend.
--So though you're white as swan or snow,
And have the power to move
A world of men to love;
Yet, when your lawns and silks shall flow,
And that white cloud divide
Into a doubtful twilight;--then,
Then will your hidden pride
Raise greater fires in men.
-----------------------------5830 36235:140744581963716986
Content-Disposition: form-data; name="poemfile"; filename=""
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Snow-White (Part 4)
While the queen's dogs were howling into the broken night to throw away
The forces, the queen was preparing the poison for the Snow White's birthday.
The poison was melted into blood and dew by that queen with innocent eyes.
Her beggars jumped over the moon for a ritual dance of a princess, who dies.
Her crows were flying in the wind being so proud of what they have done,
Her dress could hide the truth so well, with her mask she enjoyed the fun.
''I'm having bodice laces for sale, '' she said knocking on the dwarfs' door.
Then, she pulled the laces so tight that Snow-White fell down on the floor.
The sun hid behind the sea of clouds not to see the Snow White's death,
The dwarfs came home and found her on the floor without having breath.
They cut the bodice laces in two and Snow White could come back to life,
''She will give you poison to drink in sips and you will die without any strife.''
‘'Mirror, on the wall, who in this land is fairest of all? '' Queen wanted to know.
‘'You, my queen, are fair; it is true, '' replied the bad mirror through its glow.
''But beyond the seven mountains, in the dwarfs' house, Little Snow-White
Is a thousand times fairer than you, moreover, her future is extremely bright! '
She poisoned a comb and went out to knock again on the Snow White's door,
When she stuck the comb into the girl's hair, the girl fell down on the floor.
When the seven dwarfs returned home, they drowned in their own despair,
But she opened her eyes, when Liar pulled the poisoned comb from her hair.
‘'Mirror, on the wall, who in this land is fairest of all? '' Queen wanted to know.
‘'You, my queen, are fair; it is true, '' replied the bad mirror through its glow.
''But beyond the seven mountains, in the dwarfs' house, Little Snow-White
Is a thousand times fairer than you, moreover, her future is extremely bright! '
Everything was grey, while the queen was saying her mystic words aloud,
Inside her dark castle's granite walls, even the signs of time were not allowed.
Only lonesome birds and souls were flying there above a big fragile shroud,
Only craggy faces and weary eyes could be seen there in a demonic crowd.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Innocent Child
In the eyes of an innocent child, you see all, you know all.
In the eyes of an innocent child, you know why the sky is blue and the
leaves fall.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is no peace and there is no
war.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is only peaceful co-existance.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is only here and now and
nothing in the distance.
In the eyes of an innocent child, there are the colours of the rainbow,
black and white.
In the eyes of an innocent child, Grey areas are not right.
We look at things in grey, black and white, but not like a rainbow.
Some say we even look through rose coloured glasses.
It would be nice if we could look at the world through the eyes of an
innocent child.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Black Tie White Noise
Getting my facts from a benneton ad
Im lookin thru african eyes
Lit by the glare of an l.a. fire
Black tie white noise
Ive got a face, not just my race, bang bang Ive got you babe
Putting on the black tie
Crankin up the white noise
Sun comes up and the man goes down
And the woman comes again
Just an hour or so to be safe from fear
Black tie white noise
Then we jump thru hoops, were divisable now, just disappear
Putting on the black tie
Crankin up the white noise
We reach out over race and hold each others hands
Then die in the flames singing we shall overcome
Whoa! whats going on?
Therell be some blood no doubt about it
But well come thru dont doubt it
I look into your eyes and I know you wont kill me
I look into your eyes and I know you wont kill me
You wont kill me
You wont kill me no
But I look into your eyes
And I wonder sometimes
Putting on the black tie
Crankin up the white noise
Oh lord, just let him see me
Lord, lord just let him hear me
Let him call me brother
Let him put his arms around me
Let him put his hands together.
Reach out over race and hold each others hands
Walk thru the nite thinking we are the world
Whoa! whats going on?
There will be some blood no doubt about it
But well come thru dont doubt it
I look into your eyes and I know you wont kill me
And I turn my back for I know you wont kill me
You wont kill me
You wont kill me no
But I wonder why
Yes, I wonder why sometimes
Putting on the black tie
Crankin up the white noise
Theyll show us how to break the rules
But never how to make the rules
Reduce us down to witless punks
Black tie white noise
Facist cries both black and white, whos got the blood, whos got the gun.
Putting on the black tie, cranking out the white noise
Oh yeah
Cranking out
Cranking out
Cranking out white noise
Black tie white noise
Cranking out
Cranking out
Putting on the black tie
Cranking up the white noise
Cranking out
Cranking out
Cranking out white noise
Black tie white noise
Cranking out
Cranking out
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Prayers
The rocking hands swayed me back,
The centuries full four and ten behind;
Placed me on the cold wet sandy bank,
At the time of dawn, half light, half night.
Behind I saw stretched sandy plains,
In front calm sea with small ridges
Moving when gentle air moved.
Far away I beheld a ship coming
Ashore from the remote distant land,
Anchored instantly after the voyage long.
I beheld then the men four riding on
The steeds, galloping along splashing waters;
Fully armoured,
Equipped with sharp shining swords;
And captured they the descending voyager,
From the shoulders who cast at me,
A resigned patient look.
Ah! I can recall the heavy rough brows,
Long nose, thick lips, complexion black,
Perforated ear with a silvery ringlet,
Long dress and loose sleeves.
Turned then he to the centre,
Bended knees, sat to offer the prayers,
Under the lurking long curved blades.
Then the same rocking hands brought me back,
To sign a bond, to make a new turn,
And rectify direction of the derailed gait,
Eyes I found watering full flowing,
Drenching cheeks and the whiskers all.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lola She Liked A Look Through The Window
Into a colour lit night
Her dresses white hands transparent
A through thought penetrate glitter of the glass
Her colours were made of the white washed walls
She echoed a raven ebony tied hair
She echoed a raven a raven and a woman
Both fragile thin bird like thinning lines
Of a double sword beak singing the mask of light
Did she see the masts the sails or the ships
Did she spill the white cloud dress down her hips
Did she seal the colours long dead fading on her lips
Or simply tied everything within the clasp of her hands
Resting nestling in the calm white lap
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Memoriam
“He asked life of thee, and thou gavest him a long life, even for ever and ever.”
Life—length of days—the time to work and strive
In his Lord's vineyard; to bring heavenly light
Into the drear, dark places of the earth,
And make them fair and fruitful in His sight.
Life—it seem'd all so bright and beautiful once!
It lay spread out before his kindling eyes,
A land of sunny hills, in white mist veil'd,
Of sweet green valleys under summer skies.
Such tender light and tender shadows there!
No dazzling blaze, no savage blots of gloom,
No keen-cut outline of the barren cliff,
No glaring waste,—but all one gentle bloom
Of happy, innocent hope,—a morning tint
Of pearly grey and gold, with just a shade
Of bright cloud-colour, giving life to it,—
He saw not then the havoc death had made.
But soon the white mist melted in the heat
Of noonday, and the wasted fields lay bare—
Vineyard of Eden—like a bright face, scarred
With sin and shame and weariness and care.
And his vague aspiration took a shape.
“Grant me, dear Lord, if it seem good to Thee,
To labour here, with manhood's utter strength,—
O Lord, good Lord, intrust this work to me!
“Let me have time to toil—a long, long day—
To dig and delve and root out wasteful weeds,
To cut down briars and thorns, and help to plough
Furrows where angels may sow heavenly seeds.
“Give me to foster, with my faith and love,
Frail, early flowers, that fear to droop and fade!
Father, I will not shrink for bleeding hands,
For heat nor cold—I do not feel afraid!”
His voice was heard—his will accepted. God
Gave deep and true fulfilment to his prayer,—
Life—life eternal, which should nevermore
The taint of death, or sin, or sorrow bear!
Oh pray, ye blind ones, as the beggar pray'd
When He of Nazareth pass'd by! Oh pray
With simple faith and worship,—fear ye not
God's gracious ear will deafly turn away.
Ye know He bids us to tell out our wants,
Knowing them all; give up to Him your will,
And trust Him—trust Him. In his wondrous love
He deigns the lowliest longing to fulfil.
Ay, and with that fulfilment which we ne'er
Shall grasp or fathom—till we come to see
Our strange, mysterious human life unveil'd
In the clear daylight of eternity.
The beggar ask'd for sight—Christ answer'd him,
For his faith's sake, and gave him sight indeed.
Just so his silent hands and darken'd eyes
Were lifted once, for grace of “life” to plead.
And God fulfilled his prayer as utterly!
He gave him life—the life of saints above,
Beyond all earthly dreaming sweet and glad—
An endless life in His eternal love!
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To The Other World
try standing naked by this mirror
see yourself to every detail
look closer to your eyes
count the waves of your eyelashes
open your mouth and see how many teeth you have
all white, pure white lining up on your pink gums
feel your lips with your fingertips
feel the pulp the flesh of the lower lip
to the upper lip
touch your hair
do not imagine them all black
closely they are not at all
move a little bit closer and see your body
this beautiful human body
flesh, contours, curves, some muscles
the whole of your skin wrapping
everything in your body holding them all
nothing falls, on this erect body, this
god before you, standing steel-like with dignity
in front of the mirror
do not claim you have seen your soul with your eyes
do not lie
be honest to yourself now,
alone, you are alone, do not imagine
any god, any soul, any spirit,
just be honest,
touch your body with your hands
feel the joy of having this body
your body, pinch a part of it to feel
not pain, but just to feel that you are alive,
do you ever ask what made these parts stay as one?
look again at the mirror of this stature
your body, it is you, touching your body
take a hammer, and destroy the mirror
shatter everything to pieces
this is the world without a mirror
there is nothing to reflect you now
nothing to imagine, it is you, the real you
do you ever ask now, where is that other world?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Beautiful Land Of Nod
Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear,
Your head like the golden-rod,
And we will go sailing away from here
To the beautiful land of Nod.
Away from life’s hurry, and flurry, and worry,
Away from earth’s shadows and gloom,
To a world of fair weather we’ll float off together
Where the roses are always in bloom.
Just shut up your eyes, and fold your hands,
Your hands like the leaves of a rose,
And we will go sailing to those fair lands
That an atlas never shows.
On the North and the West they are bounded by rest,
On the South and the East by dreams;
‘Tis the country ideal, where nothing is real,
But everything only seems.
Just dropp down the curtains of your dear eyes,
Those eyes like a bright blue-bell,
And we will sail out under starlit skies
To the land where the fairies dwell.
Down the river of sleep our barque shall sweep,
Till it reaches the mystical isle
Which no man has seen, but where all have been,
And there we will pause for awhile.
I will croon you a song as we float along,
To that shore that is blessed of God,
Then ho! for that fair land, we’re off for that rare land,
That beautiful Land of Nod.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Coloured Hours
GRAY hours have cities,
Green hours have rhymes
Of hearts grown loving
In old summertimes,
But the white hours have only
A cloud in the sky
And a star, bright and lonely,
To remember them by.
Gold hours have laughter,
Red hours have song
Drawn from lost fountains
Of beauty and wrong.
But the white hours,–O, tender
As rose-flakes they lie,
With youth's fallen splendour
To remember them by.
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beacon
Hope dims when we are parted,
removed from the source of its brilliance.
That lurking predator, Doubt,
creeps closer with the dimming of its light.
Quiet darkness, feed my mind.
Give me words where once were none.
Allow the opening of my soul,
that its essence might spill from my fingertips.
Let me bleed love's essence on to paper,
pen the dragonfly, the raven's flight;
pen my song, that it may reach his ears
and he may see himself as I do:
Shining in the twilight,
a raven shoving a thorn into the seagull's foot
and thereby bringing light
to a world accustomed to darkness.
His brilliance pains my eyes
yet he lurks in hidden places,
fearing his beacon will falter
at the word, 'Nay.'
Doubt not, Sir Raven.
poem by Lydia Thacker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Eyes Wide Shut
There are those with open eyes
Whose hearts are closed
What do they see?
A Material world
But someone whose love is aware
Even with eyes that sleep
He or she shall wake up thousands of others
If you are not one of those light-filled lovers
Restrain your body’s intense desires
Limit how much you eat
Sleep not from laziness
If awake in your casket
Sleep long and soundly
Your spirit is out roaming and working
To the highest levels
Your eyes may rest but love needs no rest
You have a Higher Self inside
That listens for what delights the Soul
ROTMS
(Inspired by the brilliance of Rumi)
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love and Sleep
Love and Sleep
Lying asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,
Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said -
I wist not what, saving one word - Delight.
And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to mine eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Is There
i see some bamboo poles
lining up
on the shallow sea
she is there
watching some fishes without fins
without scales
she is there on some exclamations
this cannot be!
this cannot be!
the fish i know have fins!
the fish i know have scales all over their elongated bodies!
the fish i know can swim!
why are these fishes dying?
why are these fishes swimless in the sea where they belong?
yes my dear, the fishes and the sea, you do not belong there
the fishes are not yours and you do not belong to them
they have their own salty, slimy, scaly world,
they have gills and fins and round eyes
that do not blink
so you cannot tell them what to do, what to become.
in fact, you are neither fish nor fowl
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!