All The Pilgrims
All those married shall cheer and stride
Like the marchers of religion and gain.
Silent worshippers are like pilgrims of the night,
They never whisper or stride wrongfully
And objectionably, merely they strive.
No mind is against the pilgrims of the night
Who are not beggars of the light,
Who are some of us as well,
Who let pilgrimage be like a journey of choice
That man suffers for woman and child.
Anything in the light of the book of God
Shall be with pilgrims of choice,
Their minds are set upon life of the world beyond.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Pilgrims of the soul
Pilgrims of the soul
Poets' journey through body to soul,
It has no scope for a double role;
A common platform PH provides,
All colors and creeds in One confide.
All of us are on a pilgrimage,
Different countries, variant age;
We all come here with our tales,
One another with bliss regale.
We are the pilgrims of the soul,
In One Soul our bodies roll.
* A rejoinder to Meggie Gultiano’s MY POETIC JOURNEY.
poem by C.P. Sharma
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We're all pilgrims on the same journey - but some pilgrims have better road maps.
quote by Nelson DeMille
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Road Of Life
As pilgrims on the road of life,
We journey on with hope,
Through the joy, and through the strife,
Our own kaleidoscope.
Seeking harmony and seeking peace,
Striving to find our way,
Wishing that, all wars may cease,
And trying hard to pray.
As pilgrims on the road of life,
We travel on with desire,
Through the joy, and through the strife,
Our destiny to acquire.
Seeking calm and seeking rest,
Striving to find a place,
Wishing that we could be blest,
With His pure heavenly grace.
As pilgrims on the road of life,
We traverse on with love,
Through the joy, and through the strife,
To our Creator, up above.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Self-Emancipation
Pilgrims believe themselves on track
for some earth splitting revelation,
the journey to more than path back
encourages self-elevation,
yet part and parcel seems some lack
of black and white imagination,
yet nuances themselves attack
blind certitude's self-preservation.
Non-violence, here, must take flack,
as choice per choice anticipation
affords minds tidal flow to crack
stone monoliths at their foundation
while taking stands implies the knack
preparing self-emancipation.
(30 March 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Days And Nights Go By (by R.b.)
days and nights go by
like friends and lovers
merely passing by us
not stopping not staying
know by now, life is
like that, too, merely
passing by, not staying,
pilgrims, yes, days
and nights are pilgrims,
always passing by,
not staying,
night not blacking out
day, not exploding
yes, just passing by
like poems that you
read, that you pass
by, and then we
begin again, we pass
again, not stopping
not staying, sometimes
not even glancing.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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O Pulchritudo
O Saint whose thousand shrines our feet have trod
And our eyes loved thy lamp's eternal beam,
Dim earthly radiance of the Unknown God,
Hope of the darkness, light of them that dream,
Far off, far off and faint, O glimmer on
Till we thy pilgrims from the road are gone.
O Word whose meaning every sense hath sought,
Voice of the teeming field and grassy mound,
Deep-whispering fountain of the wells of thought,
Will of the wind and soul of all sweet sound,
Far off, far off and faint, O murmur on
Till we thy pilgrims from the road are gone.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Your Holy Book or Mine?
`
So what if I've gone to Scripture
maybe just to have a look?
So what if it spoke to me so loud
with brilliant flashes of cutting blades?
So what if all my thoughts are laid bare
stripped of any guile or disguise?
We all are pilgrims in this journey,
We all seek for what we know
We do not have yet could not name;
We all of us are on a quest toward
What we know eternity must hold....
So what if in my searching I find
whims and wandering thoughts reigned
within the cosmic finiteness of this mind?
Then there must have been some use
undusting and poring through that Tome.
`
A challenge to do your own pilgrimage and make your own conclusions.
It is always best to travel, first hand. Then the journey is trully your own.
poem by Frederick Kesner
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All My Trials
I had a little book
Was give to me
And every page
Spoke of liberty
All my trials
Will soon be over
There is a tree
In paradise
The pilgrims call it
The tree of life
All my trials
Will soon be over
But its too late, my friend
Too late
But never mind
All my trials
Will soon be over
If religion were a thing
That money could buy
Then the rich would live
And the poor would die
All my trials
Will soon be over
All my trials
Will soon be over
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Religion of a Child
It is religion that you speak your life for,
With a voice of angels, with certain talk.
Your mother is very great at living with God,
And she is becoming thin, unhappy, and glum.
The search is for a time, the search is mine,
For the God who loves my mother,
And I speak almost continuously over the doctrines.
His attributes are his names and knowledge,
My wisdom is my mother’s,
So I pray like my mother like my father,
And feel hope for the religion to speak to me
About why you die in a job called life
After earning the sunset and sunrise.
I can not cooperate further,
For my childhood is small and it is gone.
Pilgrims do speak like my soul,
And the pilgrimage is not with my parents now.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Wolf Song
Not the night call for his mate
Nor the full moon instinct howl
This wolf song sings forlorn fate
A lonesome breed on singular prowl
Alone in their wild forest home
Guardians of woodland mystery
High upon timbered mountain tops
They roam deep shadows ranging free
Only the whisper of their silent paw prints
Swift across valley and meadow home
Ancient witness to continental journey
Wildlife pilgrims under starry dome
Darklight Monarchs in silken fur
Royal sanction of Red, Grey and White
World renown majestic and noble
From Alaska to Arabia an awesome sight
poem by Granville Holt
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Whisper In The Night
Whisper in the night
Over silent evening air
Angels gown shines white
All at once youre glad shes there
Daughter of your dream shine a guiding light for me
For Ill be here till light
Whisper in the night
Till she has forgiven me
Night turns into gold
So the tide may turn today
Though God gave the world
Its not mine to throw away
Daughter of your dream shine a guiding light for me
For Ill be here till light
Whisper in the night
Till she has forgiven me
La da da -- da
Whisper in the night
Till she has forgiven me
Help to face what the day may bring
Angels sing
You were sent to make the night be kind
What will I find
Snowflake bird she came
Taking grey clouds from your door
Face the midnight sun
You have something to live for
Daughter of your dream shine a guiding light for me
For Ill be here till light
Whisper in the night
Till she has forgiven me
La da da -- da
Whisper in the night
Till she has forgiven me
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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St. Helens
This volcanic mountain stands in great majesty
Pregnant with knowledge o'er time
Upon the threshold of birthing baskests of lava filled knowledge
Todays Pilgrims take on its steep climb;
Longing for answers of its history
Of this planet and perhaps e'en beyond
At the base of this most gand mountain
The Pilgrims kneel in awe of what has been found;
Cavernous caves formed o'er the years
Tiny echos of the pilgrims voices are heard
Nearby-birds in a nest-make for the best
Flying 'neath the mountain are the Bluebirds;
In the space surrounding this mountain
Multiple eulogies are played in the thin air
But with nary a casket only knowledge filled lava baskets
Words of knowledge of the mountain now lay bare;
Mount Saint Helens
In Remembrance of Her Eruption in 1980
And how many of my aunts and uncles
Had to move further away because of the
Volcanic ash and debris in the air.
poem by Theodora Onken
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Darklight Monarchs
Not the night call for his mate
Nor the full moon instinct howl
This wolf song sings forlorn fate
A lonesome breed on singular prowl
Alone in their wild forest home
Guardians of woodland mystery
High upon timbered mountain tops
They roam deep shadows ranging free
Only the whisper of their silent paw prints
Swift across valley and meadow home
Ancient witness to continental journey
Wildlife pilgrims under starry dome
Darklight Monarchs in silken fur
Royal sanction of Red, Grey and White
World renown majestic and noble
From Alaska to Arabia an awesome sight
(co-written between jinx and granville holt)
poem by Jinx Natta
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Life Is Fog Bound
Life is a mystery, a fog shrouded puzzle
With images and characters
All fuzzy round the edges.
We are uncomfortable with mystery
It denies our certainties our black and whites.
Our logic fails to work, is inconsequential.
Our faith journey is only clear when looking back
The now and the future remain fog bound.
For those who seek a certain path
Crystal clear and straight and narrow
Will find their way encumbered, misted over
In the reality of our being pilgrims led by him
Who is the way, the light in a puzzling world
poem by James Tipp
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Our Lady of Health, Vailankanni (Lourdes of the east)
Devotees walk upon their knees,
On sandy paths that's burning hot,
Unmindful of the scorching sun,
To see the Mother miraculous.
They show their faith and gratitude,
Through arduous journey from their homes;
And have a glorious glimpse of her -
The Virgin Mary, Christ's mother.
Throughout the year, millions throng here,
To see the one, who calmed the sea,
for sailors who had prayed for help,
and built a chapel, thanking her!
The shrine has turned Basilica,
Attracting pilgrims world-over;
Promising miracles to those,
Who put their trust on Mother dear.
Many come here to tonsure heads,
Or bore ear-lobes of their children;
As part of pilgrimage of towns,
To cope better life's ups and downs!
Many come here for inner peace
Of heart and mind, eluding long;
And purify their soul by grace,
By Mary's intercession fast.
Some come to spend their holidays,
To take some rest, and watch the sea!
The mystifying place has ways
To tread road to eternity!
Masses are said so frequently;
The church choir sings good melodies;
The lights and décor - feast to eyes,
that feel on earth, heavenly scene!
With gifts and offerings galore,
The pilgrims share testimonies
Of miracles that Mary wrought,
Healing the sick, diseased, infirm!
Candles are lit throughout the day;
Flowers are offered by pilgrims;
Prayers and hymns resound always;
Incense ascends heaven's stair-ways!
The Mother with her baby boy
Smiles heavenly to one and all,
And promises miracles, joy,
To those who pray, heeding her call!
The Indian Lourdes of the east!
Is spreading bliss and piety,
As Jesus lovingly obeys
His Mother's wishes, and requests!
Oh, what a way to get things done,
from Jesus Lord, Mary's own son!
The Queen of heaven and of earth,
God-blessed remains for Christ Lord's birth!
The tsunami that hit the coast
just stopped, short of the Church's steps!
Nature could not profane the place
of sanctity of Christ's Mother!
The place is much better these days,
As tall buildings afill landscape;
More pilgrims pray with piety
To Blessed Mary Ev'r Virgin,
Reciting rosaries to get
through Mary, favours from Jesus;
Purifying heart, mind and soul,
To enter God's abode - Heaven.
poem by John Celes
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Heaven & Hell
The clock on the turret countryside
pale blue hands will never move.
short one indicates the hell
and long one indicates the heaven.
nobody wants to repair it.
the old haunted building you can guess
will be a holy place.
The pilgrims of disables confess the dumb preacher
stone deaf the bell-ringer.
Beyond the churchyard
there is a poultry farm
and a rattle-snake creeps to the yard
birds made a big noise.
The preacher explains silently to the innocent pilgrims
who are kneeling on the floor,
the noise that comes from the hell.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Children of Light
Our fathers wrung their bread from stocks and stones
And fenced their gardens with the Redmen's bones;
Embarking from the Nether Land of Holland,
Pilgrims unhouseled by Geneva's night,
They planted here the Serpent's seeds of light;
And here the pivoting searchlights probe to shock
The riotous glass houses built on rock,
And candles gutter by an empty altar,
And light is where the landless blood of Cain
Is burning, burning the unburied grain.
poem by Robert Lowell
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Silent Night...
Silent night, our discovery night
When concentration was limited to our world
The passion was embraced by the night
And we spoke our minds without a spoken word.
Silent night, our wanton night
A night of sneaky, invisible touches
Your touch illuminated an emotional light
Especially your sweet, silent smooches.
Silent night, when we had our sweet fight
How could I forget that sweet harassment?
When your kisses took me to a greater height
And your embrace gave me a life imprisonment.
Silent night, a night so long
We interacted with just our hands
Your full-lips tickled my searching tongue
With your smooches, love confirmed my plans.
Silent night, our special night
It wasn’t by money, but by might
Crying in silence, we were drowned in delight
With silent kisses, we maximized our silent night.
poem by Vyktor Ekott
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The rocks shout Amen [Stâncile strigă Amin]
Lean and tormented, old, bent to the ground,
Like pilgrims scoured Beda all around.
And passed through many countries, many lands,
To spread religion and the God's commands.
But being blind, he couldn't make his way,
That's why a child would lead him every day.
And once he guided him along a brook
Where there were many rocks with stately look.
The old man paused to breathe and take a rest,
The toddler turned to him and spoke in jest:
"O, father, it is wrong to linger here
When crowds are waiting for you to appear
And give the sermon". So, the poor old man
Got up, took out his text and soon began
To read it and explain it with such grace,
That tears of joy did flood his wrinkled face.
The laughter of the child shook all his bones
Seeing the saint was preaching to the stones
And all his words got lost into thin air;
The old man stopped and with the greatest care
He crossed himself and suddenly above
A whisper rose from forests, full of love,
And thousands voices in that vale said then:
"So be it, father, all the time, Amen!"
The child got frightened, fell upon the ground
Revealed to the old saint his sin profound,
Shed tears, repented, cursed his silly choice,
And Beda heard and said with humble voice:
"You didn't read the Scripture, child unique,
When humankind keeps silent, rocks can speak
Take note of this and don't forget, be smart:
Into a stone may change the human heart
As in their turn the hearts may all become
Like stones and rocks when they are getting numb".
poem by George Coşbuc, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by Octavian Cocoş
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Destiny's Breath!
the face of my god is dark,
her eyes coal more precious than diamonds.
she whispers to fallen petals,
and mountains and rivers speak forth.
her lips call crows and name them eagles,
her hands are filled with bowls.
she names the darkness morning,
and from the light she weaves the night.
she bathes the human spirit,
in the sweat of tribulation.
she nurses the unwanted child,
and places flowers on unmarked graves.
she gives lost lovers candles,
builds bridges for weary pilgrims.
she forges doubt into the journey,
and plants dignity in fields gone fallow.
she walks with poets in intimate silence,
from grieving she harvests prayer.
from prayer she forms bodies,
filled with destiny's breath!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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