The Wide Ocean
Ocean, if you were to give, a measure, a ferment, a fruit
of your gifts and destructions, into my hand,
I would choose your far-off repose, your contour of steel,
your vigilant spaces of air and darkness,
and the power of your white tongue,
that shatters and overthrows columns,
breaking them down to your proper purity.
Not the final breaker, heavy with brine,
that thunders onshore, and creates
the silence of sand, that encircles the world,
but the inner spaces of force,
the naked power of the waters,
the immoveable solitude, brimming with lives.
It is Time perhaps, or the vessel filled
with all motion, pure Oneness,
that death cannot touch, the visceral green
of consuming totality.
Only a salt kiss remains of the drowned arm,
that lifts a spray: a humid scent,
of the damp flower, is left,
from the bodies of men. Your energies
form, in a trickle that is not spent,
form, in retreat into silence.
The falling wave,
arch of identity, shattering feathers,
is only spume when it clears,
and returns to its source, unconsumed.
Your whole force heads for its origin.
The husks that your load threshes,
are only the crushed, plundered, deliveries,
that your act of abundance expelled,
all those that take life from your branches.
Your form extends beyond breakers,
vibrant, and rhythmic, like the chest, cloaking
a single being, and its breathings,
that lift into the content of light,
plains raised above waves,
forming the naked surface of earth.
You fill your true self with your substance.
You overflow curve with silence.
The vessel trembles with your salt and sweetness,
the universal cavern of waters,
and nothing is lost from you, as it is
from the desolate crater, or the bay of a hill,
those empty heights, signs, scars,
guarding the wounded air.
Your petals throbbing against the Earth,
trembling your submarine harvests,
your menace thickening the smooth swell,
with pulsations and swarming of schools,
and only the thread of the net raises
the dead lightning of fish-scale,
one wounded millimetre, in the space
of your crystal completeness.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Power
A wave of power rushes past you on a windy day
waving your hair into disarray and tingling your skin
A formless power makes you comfortable in the biting cold
the same power fills you in agony, pain and suffering
when you go straight to possess the heart of that comfortable power
and it is the same power which falls out of the clouds in little drops
and each of these are a single form of power
for the power is in the air
and the power is in the fire and the power is in the water.
A beam of power ricochets into your eyes from something
and you are illuminated with the beauty of the complete world
you see the ugly, you see the amazing, you see the violent,
and you see every solid and pattern
you see darkness behind an object in the form of it
lying in the ground or right beside your arm
and even in the darkness, there are objects and things
which has a power that enables you a touch of it.
All for the reason that the power is in the objects,
and the power is in the light and even the darkness and shadows.
A form of the same power enables you,
to know the presence of your woman near you
the same form of power gives you, the knowledge
of the proximity of your best food.
For the power is in the scent and smell
and the power is even in your nose that smells.
A vibe of power rings in your ear
and you know that something is somewhere near
and your tongue that knows the quality of the food
is all the power that's doing you good
the sound is itself the power
and so is the ear and the tongue
the tongue that so eagerly tastes your favorite food
the food which contains the power in itself too.
All this time you and me are here
and all this time everything else is there,
is for the power is everywhere;
the power pumps inside your body all the time
and even when you are dead and bloodless,
the power is still there in your veins and muscles.
The power is the life, the soul
the touch, the light, the darkness, the sound
the sentiments flowing inside you is the power
the strike you make in anger is the power,
and the power is existence, energy, substance, and motion.
The power was in the place where God was born
the God is Himself the power
and like God Himself,
the power is omnipotent, and it is there where existence is there.
poem by Rajiv Prajapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In My Silence I Am Breaking
i am an empty vessel
why not fill me up a little
with your cool water
it will really matter
i am an empty vessel
for a long time now
wanting to be contained
in your fullness
you may please
fill me up to my brim
if it is possible with you
fill me with your cool waters
let me overflow
with your love
and understanding
in my emptiness
i am howling
in my silence
i am breaking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alphabet Spaces
In my mind rambles
ideas which seek to unscramble
and grant me crystal clear consistency
but the more I try to wrangle
ideas about Physics and Religion
the more they metamorphosize
into same and similar.
The more I learn about anything
the less I know about the whole
of any and all disciplines;
so I succumb to debates about
T's and I's
while forgetting my alphabet.
For example, if I take my own name
and examine it minutely,
space and letter
nano-space by nano-space
I cannot ever
see a whole word or letter.
Therefore, I come away nameless and confused.
So if I wish to learn the whole
of any disciple or subject-area
I have learned
best not to get too smart about
the spaces between the alphabets.
Yet, and this my conundrum, no letter
is ever apparent
unless there are spaces between Alpha and Omega.
So, too, music is a relationship between the sound and the silences-
too much music or sound is ultimately just noise or silence.
So in my mind rambles all these inconsistencies-
what about yours?
So we have the letters of an alphabet, and the spaces in between the letters
which are necessary to understand the words they form and from these empty spaces in between, much like silence and sound form music.
From this relationship we form the words and ultimately sentences, but note sentences alone do not form coherent paragraphs or pages for that matter and ultimately a book.
So what is the moral here? Pay attention to the background as well as the foreground, the seen and unseen since only from these relationships can we glean, true meaning:
too much concentration on the latter, and we miss the meaning embedded in the former.
True creativity means we are versatile in both and it is also the perfect metaphor for the differences and similarities between Science and Religion.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fallen Petals
for one thing i do not know the name
of this sea flower falling from a very lushy
tree whose leaves reach to the sands
as though kissing salt and silence
it is a big flower with pink lines
following the sides
the stamens are long and
scented like a woman with perfume
on her hair
alone in the night she walks
towards a cave
of cascading desire and there
he is waiting naked
the flowers keep on falling
the petals crushed
the night is silent
and well scented
the shadows fuse and then
they were lost in total darkness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market
Among the market greens,
a bullet
from the ocean
depths,
a swimming
projectile,
I saw you,
dead.
All around you
were lettuces,
sea foam
of the earth,
carrots,
grapes,
but
of the ocean
truth,
of the unknown,
of the
unfathomable
shadow, the
depths
of the sea,
the abyss,
only you had survived,
a pitch-black, varnished
witness
to deepest night.
Only you, well-aimed
dark bullet
from the abyss,
mangled
at one tip,
but constantly
reborn,
at anchor in the current,
winged fins
windmilling
in the swift
flight
of
the
marine
shadow,
a mourning arrow,
dart of the sea,
olive, oily fish.
I saw you dead,
a deceased king
of my own ocean,
green
assault, silver
submarine fir,
seed
of seaquakes,
now
only dead remains,
yet
in all the market
yours
was the only
purposeful form
amid
the bewildering rout
of nature;
amid the fragile greens
you were
a solitary ship,
armed
among the vegetables
fin and prow black and oiled,
as if you were still
the vessel of the wind,
the one and only
pure
ocean
machine:
unflawed, navigating
the waters of death.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As I Wait For For You
and then our minds met at a point
of convergence
i waited for you in a room without a number
a place without a name
a space where only us know what & how to fill
i am naked
you want the whole truth and so i am naked
in this room without a number, a place without a name
a space, where only our self-manifested emptiness know how & what to fill
when you arrive do not call my name
be so soft and gentle with your feet
do not even say your name as
i have also left my name somewhere else
and it is only i who knows it
i lose my identity
that is how i want to spend my short moment with you
i am naked
i only have my face, my skin and my flesh my bones my whole body
not my soul
do not knock
just push the door
it is left open throughout the nights of my waiting
i have intended it that way
so when you arrive and i am still asleep with my dreams and desires
of you
do not disturb the silence and sweetness of my sleep
just whisper your desire for love so sweet to my ears
touch the surfaces of my skin and caress with your soft fingers the smooth lines of my face
place your head just beside my tight chest
for there you shall hear the sounds of all my desires
and then my love we begin the sharing of our hidden truths
we shall dance in our nakedness
we shall make love real
we shall open the shutters of this closed window
we let the slits of light from outside the night get inside us and put some
warmth on the empty pores of our skins
we bring light to the darkness of our lives
we put fire to those eyes that refuse to close and die
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode To A Naked Beauty
With chaste heart, and pure
eyes
I celebrate you, my beauty,
restraining my blood
so that the line
surges and follows
your contour,
and you bed yourself in my verse,
as in woodland, or wave-spume:
earth's perfume,
sea's music.
Nakedly beautiful,
whether it is your feet, arching
at a primal touch
of sound or breeze,
or your ears,
tiny spiral shells
from the splendour of America's oceans.
Your breasts also,
of equal fullness, overflowing
with the living light
and, yes,
winged
your eyelids of silken corn
that disclose
or enclose
the deep twin landscapes of your eyes.
The line of your back
separating you
falls away into paler regions
then surges
to the smooth hemispheres
of an apple,
and goes splitting
your loveliness
into two pillars
of burnt gold, pure alabaster,
to be lost in the twin clusters of your feet,
from which, once more, lifts and takes fire
the double tree of your symmetry:
flower of fire, open circle of candles,
swollen fruit raised
over the meeting of earth and ocean.
Your body - from what substances
agate, quartz, ears of wheat,
did it flow, was it gathered,
rising like bread
in the warmth,
and signalling hills
silvered,
valleys of a single petal, sweetnesses
of velvet depth,
until the pure, fine, form of woman
thickened
and rested there?
It is not so much light that falls
over the world
extended by your body
its suffocating snow,
as brightness, pouring itself out of you,
as if you were
burning inside.
Under your skin the moon is alive
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Subterranean for M lady Deana
Cascades of crystal water flow
into the waiting pool below.
The force and power of the descent
Renders the water turbulent.
Although hemmed in by rocky walls,
the pool beneath the water falls
is never known to overflow.
I wonder where the waters go.
Far, far away a river flows.
I have been told by one who knows.
Its source is that same rocky pool
which send its waters clear and cool
By secret streams deep underground
to where an exit can be found
A pathway to the world outside
to form a river deep and wide.
Close by its brink I sit and think
as shy wild creatures come to drink.
His explanation could be true
a train of thought which I pursue.
At last I find I must accept
this rather startling new concept
Which solves for me a mystery
I need no longer wonder why.
That distant pool won’t overflow
it has some outlet down below.
Which sets the pent up waters free
to run swiftly and secretly.
Through passages unknown to men
until it can emerge again.
Into the light where it can be
a broad stream dreaming placidly.
20-Nov-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On Calais Sands
ON Calais Sands the gray began,
Then rosy red above they gray;
The morn with many a scarlet van
Leaped, and the world was glad with May!
The little waves along the bay
Broke white upon the shelving strands;
The sea-mews flitted white as they
On Calais Sands!
On Calais Sands must man with man
Wash honor clean in blood to-day;
On spaces wet from waters wan
How white the flashing rapiers play,—
Parry, riposte! and lunge! The fray
Shifts for a while, then mournful stands
The Victor: life ebbs fast away
On Calais Sands!
On Calais Sands a little space
Of silence, then the plash and spray,
The sound of eager waves that ran
To kiss the perfumed locks astray,
To touch these lips that ne’er said “Nay,”
To dally with the helpless hands,
Till the deep sea in silence lay
On Calais Sands!
Between the lilac and the may
She waits her love from alien lands;
Her love is colder than the clay
On Calais Sands!
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode To Bird Watching
Now
Let's look for birds!
The tall iron branches
in the forest,
The dense
fertility on the ground.
The world
is wet.
A dewdrop or raindrop
shines,
a diminutive star
among the leaves.
The morning time
mother earth
is cool.
The air
is like a river
which shakes
the silence.
It smells of rosemary,
of space
and roots.
Overhead,
a crazy song.
It's a bird.
How
out of its throat
smaller than a finger
can there fall the waters
of its song?
Luminous ease!
Invisible
power
torrent
of music
in the leaves.
Sacred conversations!
Clean and fresh washed
is this
day resounding
like a green dulcimer.
I bury
my shoes
in the mud,
jump over rivulets.
A thorn
bites me and a gust
of air like a crystal
wave
splits up inside my chest.
Where
are the birds?
Maybe it was
that
rustling in the foliage
or that fleeting pellet
of brown velvet
or that displaced
perfume? That
leaf that let loose cinnamon smell
- was that a bird? That dust
from an irritated magnolia
or that fruit
which fell with a thump -
was that a flight?
Oh, invisible little
critters
birds of the devil
with their ringing
with their useless feathers.
I only want
to caress them,
to see them resplendent.
I don't want
to see under glass
the embalmed lightning.
I want to see them living.
I want to touch their gloves
of real hide,
which they never forget in
the branches
and to converse with
them
sitting on my shoulders
although they may leave
me like certain statues
undeservedly whitewashed.
Impossible.
You can't touch them.
You can hear them
like a heavenly
rustle or movement.
They converse
with precision.
They repeat
their observations.
They brag
of how much they do.
They comment
on everything that exists.
They learn
certain sciences
like hydrography.
and by a sure science
they know
where there are harvests
of grain
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dreams to Nightmares
I stare at the wall and close my eyes
I started to dream about parts of the world
Beaches to oceans to schools of fish
My dreams turn to nightmares after awhile
The cool, damp beach where sand comes to rest
The emptiness in the pastel blue sky
The sand placed perfectly in place
The smell of salt water against the shore
The crystal clear ocean calm as can be
The current not even moving sea life
Fish eating at the bottom by the sand
The sound of calm waves hitting the shore
The colorful fish ranging from green to blue
Fish from all different sizes
The sound of fish jumping out of the ocean
They swim without a government to follow
The beaches turn to cemeteries
The oceans turn dark gray, and fish floating dead
The sky black as can be with flashes of light
You wake up realizing life is so much different
poem by Kasondra Sytnik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Suddenly Separate Spider Sentry
STILLNESS is
the space between movements
the crack in the universe
the gloved hand
with the art
to pull apart
two thin life stitches
and let a stab of nothing in.
An eye
with sky behind
for mind,
a face blind,
a sunflower petal falling
stamen to earth;
or bird-song-bird calling
either side of the path.
No eye to meet your eye.
FACES are petals falling
(bird-song-bird) ,
tongue shapes are
spaces to be heard.
Behind lip and fall
nothing at all.
Only this petal or that
to choose
to lose
to stare at.
FORGIVE a pronoun's entry
along a spine,
a suddenly separate spider sentry
wanting to define
his continent of cells,
wanting another
a more than mother brother.
Like whispering shells
sharing a spark
the sun let fall into their dark.
NOTHING will keep nothing warm,
Form alone contents with Form.
And so put out the need
for the note scrawled on the music page,
the cricket in the icicle.
THE FRUIT is in the stone
already grown.
The cells
group to fill already forming shells
to keep out out.
This is where lion lies down with lamb:
in dried skin
dried blood
powdered edges
broken flame
particles on particles the same,
and again
in the bone clutch of the brain,
groupings, twitchings, pullings, tame.
Slippings and slidings on a wet palette.
LEAVE the child to his darkness.
poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dark Side of the Coin
“‘Space, the bound of a solid’: Silence, then, the form of a melody.” - Alice Meynell
I surrender Myself to the dark.
Disappearing in the consummate blackness,
I send up a non-thought to Absolute Silence,
All spaces and the in-between –
To unfathomable frontiers.
I fall down on my knees before the
Celestial sculptors of Reality:
Space, Silence and the in-between;
Their punctuation of Experience
Makes a dwelling place for Dreams
Just as Silence composes a symphony,
Shapes the course of its melody –
Praise nihility!
poem by Danielle Moffat
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dark Side of the Coin
“‘Space, the bound of a solid’: Silence, then, the form of a melody.” - Alice Meynell
I surrender Myself to the dark.
Disappearing in the consummate blackness,
I send up a non-thought to Absolute Silence,
All spaces and the in-between –
To unfathomable frontiers.
I fall down on my knees before the
Celestial sculptors of Reality:
Space, Silence and the in-between;
Their punctuation of Experience
Makes a dwelling place for Dreams
Just as Silence composes a symphony,
Shapes the course of its melody –
Praise nihility!
poem by Danielle Moffat
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode to Salt
This salt
in the salt cellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you won't
believe me
but
it sings
salt sings, the skin
of the salt mines
sings
with a mouth smothered
by the earth.
I shivered in those
solitudes
when I heard
the voice
of
the salt
in the desert.
Near Antofagasta
the nitrous
pampa
resounds:
a
broken
v oice,
a mournful
song.
In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.
And then on every table
in the world,
salt,
we see your piquant
powder
sprinkling
vital light
upon
our food.
Preserver
of the ancient
holds of ships,
discoverer
on
the high seas,
earliest
sailor
of the unknown, shifting
byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste finitude.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Aurobindo 127 Savitri Book 9
An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Nine: The Book of Eternal Night
Canto One: Towards the Black Void
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's
'So was she left alone in the huge wood,
Surrounded by a dim unthinking world,
Her husband's corpse on her forsaken breast.'
'Over the body she loved her soul leaned out
In a great stillness without stir or voice,
As if her mind had died with Satyavan.'
Oh, the union divine wished the most
Seemed lost was not to be lost however...
'Then suddenly there came on her the change
Which in tremendous moments of our lives
Can overtake sometimes the human soul
And hold it up towards its luminous source.'
'Only the spirit sees and all is known.'
'A new sight comes, new voices in us form
A body of the music of the Gods.'
'This in a moment's depths was born in her.'
'As in a choric robe of unheard sounds
A Force descended trailing endless lights; '
'Linking Time's seconds to infinity,
Illimitably it girt the earth and her:
It sank into her soul and she was changed.'
'Then like a thought fulfilled by some great word
That mightiness assumed a symbol form: '
She sowed her faith to reap the fruit...
'Her being's spaces quivered with its touch,
It covered her as with immortal wings;
On its lips the curve of the unuttered Truth,
A halo of Wisdom's lightnings for its crown,
It entered the mystic lotus in her head,
A thousand-petalled home of power and light.'...
............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Me And The Sea
do not expect me to wear
a G-string when i decide to take my swim
i always go naked.
I like always to feel the sea
all over my body
i plunge myself
and feel the nakedness of the sea
too
it's water all over me
all around me
naked sea to my naked body
you know how it feels
it feels like the way we do it
you are the sea
and i am a body
you are a body
and i am the sea
so simple and yet
what a bliss
naked, deep, blue, watery
wet, slippery, salty,
sweat mixed with the salt of the sea
two naked bodies
feeling
salt, earth, sand, fire
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Landscape 28 Meniscus
The molecules of water are held together
By weak electrical forces
That extend in all directions.
At the water surface, the upward forces,
Having nowhere watery to go,
Lie along the surface
To form a thin skin, called a meniscus.
This is the skin that holds water drops,
Supports water striders,
Even skips stones.
I came once to an Adirondack Lake
On a still moonlit night.
The lake seemed full of fireflies,
Flashes of light in the water
As far as the eye could see.
I finally discovered the source of the light,
The sudden movements of water striders
Riding the meniscus
Bent the water surface
Into a curved mirror
That reflected glimmers of moonlight.
The Japanese make a flower arrangement
In a vessel with a perfectly level rim.
The vessel is filled with water
To a level above the rim
The water is held from overflowing
By a curved meniscus
That bends light like a lens.
In the center of the water
Floats a single perfect flower
That sends tiny ripples across the water surface
And crinkles the meniscus
When the vessel is vibrated.
poem by Stewart McKenzie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Force Behind The Power
(stevie wonder)
Since the beginning of all lifes beginnings
Right at the very dawning of the sun
Any and everyone had cause and reason
For in good all good is done
Now down in every heart there are two forces
One is for the wrong, ones for the right
But never do you have to fear with this as armor
For good always wins the fight
Whats that force behind the power that wakes you each day
Whats that force behind the power that chases eavil away
Whats that force behind the power that puts a smile on your face
It is love, pure love, it is love
In every book of truth it has been written
That we are measured by the things we do
If for the good of all is what you like doing
Then all that good will come to you
That doesnt mean you have to be a rich man
You could be a person living on the street
But if you give but only words to lift someone higher
Then a heart of gold is what you will be
Whats that force behind the power that wakes you each day
Whats that force behind the power that chases eavil away
Whats that force behind the power that puts a smile on your face
It is love, pure love, it is love
Whats that force behind the power that makes you willing to share
Whats that force behind the power that for a lost soul youre there
Whats that force behind the power thats not to busy to care
It is love, pure love, it is love
Not trying to preach about it, but no one can do without it
Whats that force behind the power that will lend a hand
Whats that force behind the power when others cant yes you can
Whats that force behind the power its greater than any man
It is love, gods love, it is love
Whats that force behind the power that tears walls down of hate
Whats that force behind the power that is never too late
Whats that force behind the power that forever will wait
It is love, gods love, it is love
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Falling Through Time
I can't answer the questions you ask me,
I don't know what to say.
The answers are somewhere lost in the stars
when the night has turned to day.
But I know if the silence of night could be here,
It would drift through my soul and calm all my fear
And I could reach out and draw you so near to me
Touch me and warm me and I will lie still.
And all that you ask me to give you I will
One living moment we'll have for our own.
A brief flash of time that we spent unalone.
But you ask me for nothing and give what you can
And we're wrapped in a pillow of sleep once again
And my memory drifts through the universe when we are one
Closely we're falling through time
And the earth will turn in the silence of space,
always in motion yet always in place
And all things will change yet remain what they are.
And far will be near and near will be far
And the ages will darken and blend into time
And all that is poetry will no longer rhyme
But our moment together is forever sublime
For the time has arrived when we must understand
That we're lost in a void on this sad speck of sand
And nobody knows where we are, no one cares
And the tears that we shed in the dark no one cares
And the madmen who plunder this world for their fame
Have forgotten that no one remembers their name
But time and the universe are always the same
Closely we're falling through time
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!