Senses
Deliverance is not for me in renunciation.
I feel the embrace of freedom in a thousand bonds of delight.
Thou ever pourest for me the fresh draught of thy wine of various
colours and fragrance, filling this earthen vessel to the brim.
My world will light its hundred different lamps with thy flame
and place them before the altar of thy temple.
No, I will never shut the doors of my senses.
The delights of sight and hearing and touch will bear thy delight.
Yes, all my illusions will burn into illumination of joy,
and all my desires ripen into fruits of love.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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My Tea Cup
O, thou look me as a cup of wine,
As the reflection of my soul shines,
Or a good poem with delicious lines,
What is thy like? But thou surely mine.
Thy every draught gives me pleasure,
As a drunkard finds in drinking hemlock,
And find from the world sometimes I leisure,
And feel so power to clash the rock.
O, thy tender fragrance runs inside of me,
And really gets my sorrows out,
Then I experience so much freshness and gee,
And compose what getting out sorrows shout.
As a parserby seeks relief under a shady tree,
Or a dolphin delights in only sea,
Or a lover enjoys to his beloved to see,
And I gain all happiness in only thee.
I feel proud when to thee in cup I hold,
On taking thee, beyond horizon I behold,
And thou dear to like precious gold,
After having thee, I feel more witty and bold.
poem by Mohammad Muzzammil
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Little Flute
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail
vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in
joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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I
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel
thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits
in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of
mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore from Gitanjali (1912)
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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Whose Freedom?
Freedom, freedom, freedom!
Whose freedom?
My freedom, your freedom, our freedoms;
Like e thousand times of a cry in a land!
Yes, they rule with iron-hand but,
We have to obey always;
A rule with an iron fist but,
We have to be the subjects always;
Whose freedom?
Look around you,
It is full of colours;
My freedom, your freedom, their freedoms!
Freedom, freedom, freedom! ! !
We nedd freedom than these shackles.
Whose freedom?
Free-free-free! Freedom to my people! !
Which people?
My people, your people, our peoples;
Have mercy on them and rule them with care.
We need freedom around us,
Whose freedom?
See the type of governments around you;
The people's freedom with an iron fist!
Tell me if all is well.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Wine (Love Poem)
Wine is for laughing
Wine is for talking all night
Wine is for living life out loud
Wine is for making us beautiful
Wine is for all-night conversations
Wine is for getting together again
Wine is for ‘never again’ tomorrow
Wine is for sleeping like a baby
Wine is for telling the truth
Wine is food for love
Wine is friendship
Wine is fresh
Wine
Can
Be
The
One
Perfe ct
Companion
At the end of a long day
poem by Ian Beckett
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Leave This
Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads!
Whom dost thou worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors all shut?
Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee!
He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground
and where the pathmaker is breaking stones.
He is with them in sun and in shower,
and his garment is covered with dust.
Put off thy holy mantle and even like him come down on the dusty soil!
Deliverance?
Where is this deliverance to be found?
Our master himself has joyfully taken upon him the bonds of creation;
he is bound with us all for ever.
Come out of thy meditations and leave aside thy flowers and incense!
What harm is there if thy clothes become tattered and stained?
Meet him and stand by him in toil and in sweat of thy brow.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The African Dream
The delight to love you is like the colours of the rainboe,
And the delight to kiss you is like the colours of Africa!
But around the block with the straight talk and care;
And it takes the African dream to make me what i am today.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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There is much boasting among the young men about their teams as their horse and carts in Cleveland. Most of the Yorkshire men take as much delight in their ox draught as they used to do in their Horse Draught.
quote by Nathaniel Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XVI. To Earl Stanhope
Not, Stanhope! with the Patriot's doubtful name
I mock thy worth -- Friend of the human race
Since scorning Faction's low and partial aim,
Aloof thou wendest in thy stately pace,
Thyself redeeming from that leprous stain,
Nobility: and aye unterrified,
Pourest thine Abdiel warnings on the train
That sit complotting with rebellious pride
'Gaint her, who from the Almighty's bosom leapt
With whirlwind arm, fierce Minister of Love!
Wherefore, ere Virtue o'er thy tomb hath wept,
Angels shall lead thee to the Throne above:
And thou from forth its clouds shall hear the voice,
Champion of Freedom and her God! rejoice!
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Standing Out Reality
I'm living in a civilized nation
Seeing true colours of cultural chime
Black or blue white too
All around the globe god bless you
Let's come together
We will fight
Our natural colours with delight
Civilized nation insight
Looking bright as we fight
For freedom and the guilt or racism...
Sonnet XLIX: Thou Leaden Brain
Thou leaden brain, which censur'st what I write,
And say'st my lines be dull and do not move,
I marvel not thou feel'st not my delight,
Which never felt'st my fiery touch of love.
But thou, whose pen hath like a pack-horse serv'd,
Whose stomach unto gall hath turn'd thy food,
Whose senses, like poor prisoners, hunger-starv'd,
Whose grief hath parch'd thy body, dried thy blood,
Thou which hast scorned life and hated death,
And in a moment mad, sober, glad, and sorry,
Thou which hast bann'd thy thoughts and curs'd thy breath
With thousand plagues, more than in Purgatory,
Thou thus whose spirit Love in his fire refines,
Come thou, and read, admire, applaud my lines.
poem by Michael Drayton
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Delight
Anytime that you fall asleep
I'm wide awake
Anytime that you leave your house
I'm waiting at the gate
I'm not angry anymore
Come on and show your soul
I'd love to hang it on the wall
Framed for me
Anytime that you smile
I know that's really you
Anytime that you laugh you know that
I'll be laughing too
But it's not funny anymore
Come on now where's your soul
Is that it crumpled on the floor
Is this blame on me
Delight Delight Delight Delight
Delight at least we know its name
Delight Delight Delight
Wouldn't it be nice to feel again
Delight Delight Delight
It's locked outside it won't be coming in
Anytime now you'll talk at least I hope you will
Anytime now you'll speak and you know
I'll be listening still
But we don't say much anymore
Come on tell it from your soul
Delight Delight Delight Delight
Delight at least we know its name
Delight Delight Delight
Wouldn't it be nice to feel again
Delight Delight Delight
It's locked outside it won't be coming in
Won't be coming in
Delight Delight
song performed by by Bic Runga from Drive
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Humanity Always Rises From Slavery
freedom is a choice
some have no choice
some embrace freedom
embrace freedom aspired
to with life risk abandonment
life given on cusp freedom
threshold mind enlightenment
we embrace our true birthright
born separating mind into heart
mind soul demands free spirit
history records tyrant oppression
history records slave rebellion
history teaches freedom liberation
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Toast
See this bowl of purple wine,
Life-blood of the lusty vine!
All the warmth of summer suns
In the vintage liquid runs,
All the glow of winter nights
Plays about its jewel lights,
Thoughts of time when love was young
Lurk its ruby drops among,
And its deepest depths are dyed
With delight of friendship tried.
Worthy offering, I ween,
For a god or for a queen,
Is the draught I pour to thee,--
Comfort of all misery,
Single friend of the forlorn,
Haven of all beings born,
Hope when trouble wakes at night,
And when naught delights, delight.
Holy Death, I drink to thee;
Do not part my friends and me.
Take this gift, which for a night
Puts dull leaden care to flight,
Thou who takest grief away
For a night and for a day.
poem by George Santayana
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O servant where dost thou seek me
O servant, where dost thou seek Me?
O servant, where dost thou seek Me?
Lo! I am beside thee.
I am neither in temple nor in mosque:
I am neither in Kaaba nor in Kailash:
Neither am I in rites and ceremonies,
nor in Yoga and renunciation.
If thou art a true seeker, thou shalt at once see Me:
thou shalt meet Me in a moment of time.
Kabir says, ' O Sadhu! God is the breath of all breath.'
Renunciation
Renunciation -- is a piercing Virtue --
The letting go
A Presence -- for an Expectation --
Not now --
The putting out of Eyes --
Just Sunrise --
Lest Day --
Day's Great Progenitor --
Outvie
Renunciation -- is the Choosing
Against itself --
Itself to justify
Unto itself --
When larger function --
Make that appear --
Smaller -- that Covered Vision -- Here --
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Rollicking Hans
HALLO there! A glass!
Ha! the draught's truly sweet!
If for drink go my shoes,
I shall still have my feet.
A maiden and wine,
With sweet music and song,--
I would they were mine,
All life's journey along!
If I depart from this sad sphere,
And leave a will behind me here,
A suit at law will be preferr'd,
But as for thanks,--the deuce a word!
So ere I die, I squander all,
And that a proper will I call.
HIS COMRADE.
Hallo there! A glass!
Ha! the draught's truly sweet
If thou keepest thy shoes,
Thou wilt then spare thy feet.
A maiden and wine,
With sweet music and song,
On pavement, are thine,
All life's journey along!
-----
THE FREEBOOTER,
No door has my house,
No house has my door;
And in and out ever
I carry my store.
No grate has my kitchen,
No kitchen my grate;
Yet roasts it and boils it
Both early and late.
My bed has no trestles,
My trestles no bed;
Yet merrier moments
No mortal e'er led.
My cellar is lofty,
My barn is full deep,
From top to the bottom,--
There lie I and sleep.
And soon as I waken,
All moves on its race;
My place has no fixture,
My fixture no place.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Divine Lover
I
Me Lord? can’st thou mispend
One word, misplace one look on me?
Call’st me thy Love, thy Friend?
Can this poor soul the object be
Of these love-glances, those life-kindling eyes?
What? I the Centre of thy arms embraces?
Of all thy labour I the prize?
Love never mocks, Truth never lies.
Oh how I quake: Hope fear, fear hope displaces:
I would, but cannot hope: such wondrous love amazes.
II
See, I am black as night,
See I am darkness: dark as hell.
Lord thou more fair than light;
Heav’ns Sun thy Shadow; can Sunns dwell
With Shades? ’twixt light, and darkness what commerce?
True: thou art darkness, I thy Light: my ray
Thy mists, and hellish foggs shall pierce.
With me, black soul, with me converse.
I make the foul December flowry May,
Turn thou thy night to me: I’le turn thy night to day.
III
See Lord, see I am dead:
Tomb’d in my self: my self my grave
A drudge: so born, so bred:
My self even to my self a slave.
Thou Freedom, Life: can Life, and Liberty
Love bondage, death? Thy Freedom I: I tyed
To loose thy bonds: be bound to me:
My Yoke shall ease, my bonds shall free.
Dead soul, thy Spring of life, my dying side:
There dye with me to live: to live in thee I dyed.
poem by Phineas Fletcher
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La Vie en Rose
I am the true love symbol flower
With passion to conceive loves power,
My face has launched a thousand loves
Beauty of no bounds I fly with doves.
My blood is drank by Mademoiselle Chanel
In Venus pools of jealousy doth dwell
She breathes it on the skin of Jezebels
As they steal the hearts to kiss and tell.
Above all this my fragrance grows
From him a single stem and then she knows
Love, colours red white blue and yellow
Endorsing all of woman soft and mellow
I trance the eyes to sheer delight
For fragrant music in the night
As lovers hold me for that pose
I am the one and only
Vie en Rose
poem by Ken e Hall
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65 Years of Freedom
65 years of freedom
of speech of democracy
of truth of non-violence
65 years of freedom
of births of deaths
of gains of debts
65 years of freedom
of bonds of relations
of boundaries of neighbors
65 years of freedom
of terrors and frights
of attacks and fights
65 years of freedom
still a slave still in chains.
poem by Prita Srini
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