To The Disciples...
he always tells them
you are not just horses that are led to the brook to drink water
to satisfy your thirst,
not just empty glasses where hot water is poured
where some goes into an expected breaking
you are not just shirts and pants to be buttoned and unbuttoned
not just headgears to be worn and displayed in school
not just any knife to be sharpened
or pencils
you are not my things
not the objects but will always be subjects with minds of your own
with destinies already reserved at the end
there is nothing to worry, even if you do not believe it,
everything is written,
there are already maps, and what we do is merely to read them
and find out where those treasures lie
as Socrates once in his short life emphasized
he is just the midwife and you are those pregnant women
you shall bear the children
move them out from your system
hear their first cries
and feed them and see them grow
ah, not to be really like you
i am just the spring and you are the great rivers
i am just the spectator and you are the actors of the show
i am the shadow and you are the bodies
you are all suns, and i shall be the moon that will cast that borrowed light
into that earth.
so long, be good,
take all the chances
till we meet again
adios.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
My Water Fountain
I drank glasses of water,
I drank water from office coolers.
Many people drank from water fountains.
I thought my thirst I could slake,
If I drank water from a cool lake.
Then I would would drink cold water,
From gushing waterfalls.
But much to my surprise,
I thirsted for all of Earth's water.
I couldn't fathom my inner self,
About slaking my thirst insatiable.
I couldn't come to grips about,
The deep waters of my life.
Was it my body? Or was it my soul?
Then I very quickly learned,
That this thirst for water that was burning in me,
Was my unending thirst for love
That everybody yearns for.
And everybody needs.
In quantities of glasses, coolers, waterfalls,
Lakes, oceans and seas.
poem by Vera Sidhwa
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Borrowed
borrowed shirts, borrowed shoes,
borrowed books, borrowed thoughts,
borrowed bed, borrowed lover,
borrowed dreams, borrowed salt.
borrowed children, borrowed mothers,
borrowed study, borrowed lives.
borrowed God, borrowed heaven,
borrowed killers with borrowed knives.
borrowed flags, borrowed lies,
borrowed virtue, borrowed freedom.
borrowed bombs, borrowed bullets,
borrowed puppets, borrowed kingdoms.
borrowed soup bowls, borrowed numbers,
borrowed tents, borrowed bridge.
borrowed hope, borrowed survival,
borrowed till it's sacrilige!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Fish and Water
Me, very fishy, unable to understand water
Move about in search of an answer
They say water, water everywhere
But what is water they don’t say
Where is water, I don’t see, don’t feel
I move all right, so what?
Water, water everywhere
I don’t drink a drop
Let me ask the giant fish
The grand sire, who knows better
And he tells without water
You can live not a moment …
poem by Raveendran N.V.
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Drinking Alone in the Moonlight
Amongst the flowers I
am alone with my pot of wine
drinking by myself; then lifting
my cup I asked the moon
to drink with me, its reflection
and mine in the wine cup, just
the three of us; then I sigh
for the moon cannot drink,
and my shadow goes emptily along
with me never saying a word;
with no other friends here, I can
but use these two for company;
in the time of happiness, I
too must be happy with all
around me; I sit and sing
and it is as if the moon
accompanies me; then if I
dance, it is my shadow that
dances along with me; while
still not drunk, I am glad
to make the moon and my shadow
into friends, but then when
I have drunk too much, we
all part; yet these are
friends I can always count on
these who have no emotion
whatsoever; I hope that one day
we three will meet again,
deep in the Milky Way.
Version 2
Beneath the blossoms with a pot of wine,
No friends at hand, so I poured alone;
I raised my cup to invite the moon,
Turned to my shadow, and we became three.
Now the moon had never learned about drinking,
And my shadow had merely followed my form,
But I quickly made friends with the moon and my shadow;
To find pleasure in life, make the most of the spring.
Whenever I sang, the moon swayed with me;
Whenever I danced, my shadow went wild.
Drinking, we shared our enjoyment together;
Drunk, then each went off on his own.
But forever agreed on dispassionate revels,
We promised to meet in the far Milky Way.
Slave 2 The System
Slave) {repeat in song}
Slave, yeah {x2}
Slave 2 the system here before I was born
Slave 2 the master, workin' me till I'm worn
The only penthouse I can count on's a big black ball and chain
Slave 2 the system, the future's all arranged
Oh, U better fetch that water, boy {x2}
Slave 2 the system
Thompson's my last name, but my daddy's name is Lloyd
The farther back I trace it, the more it becomes null and void
All my life I've struggled just 2 be called a boy
Slave 2 the system, oh what a joy
Oh, U better fetch that water, boy
Hell if I do!
(Oh, U better fetch that water, boy)
Oh, I'm just a slave 2 the system
Here before I was born
Slave 2 the master, workin' me till I'm worn
Slave 2 the system
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Days
Issuing from the Word
The seven days came,
Each in its own place,
Its own name.
And the first long days
A hard and rocky spring,
Inhuman burgeoning,
And nothing there for claw or hand,
Vast loneliness ere loneliness began,
Where the blank seasons in their journeying
Saw water at play with water and sand with sand.
The waters stirred
And from the doors were cast
Wild lights and shadows on the formless face
Of the flood of chaos, vast
Lengthening and dwindling image of earth and heaven.
The forest's green shadow
Softly over the water driven,
As if the earth's green wonder, endless meadow
Floated and sank within its own green light.
In water and night
Sudden appeared the lion's violent head,
Raging and burning in its watery cave.
The stallion's tread
Soundless fell on the flood, and the animals poured
Onward, flowing across the flowing wave.
Then on the waters fell
The shadow of man, and earth and the heavens scrawled
With names, as if each pebble and leaf would tell
The tale untellable. And the Lord called
The seventh day forth and the glory of the Lord.
And now we see in the sun
The mountains standing clear in the third day
(Where they shall always stay)
And thence a river run,
Threading, clear cord of water, all to all:
The wooded hill and the cattle in the meadow,
The tall wave breaking on the high sea-wall,
The people at evening walking,
The crescent shadow
Of the light built bridge, the hunter stalking
The flying quarry, each in a different morning,
The fish in the billow's heart, the man with the net,
The hungry swords crossed in the cross of warning,
The lion set
High on the banner, leaping into the sky,
The seasons playing
Their game of sun and moon and east and west,
The animal watching man and bird go by,
The women praying
For the passing of this fragmentary day
Into the day where all are gathered together,
Things and their names, in the storm's and the lightning's nest,
The seventh great day and the clear eternal weather.
poem by Edwin Muir
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Cool Tubrid Water
The day is warm and dust fly in the breeze
And a forecast high of 35 degrees
And to quench my thirst I would need a cold beer
For no water like cool Tubrid water here.
Near Daylesford there's a spring well I recall
And I drank some water from it in the Fall
Of that clear spring I now could drink my fill
And Tubrid water even better still.
The skylark comes to Tubrid's bubbling spring
To bathe and drink and then fly off to sing
And o'er the bogland in the morning sky
You hear him pipe his heartfelt notes of joy.
I often called to Tubrid seldom though in May
And not to kneel at the grotto to pray
But to drink the water cool and crystal clear
A drink far better for your health than beer.
The water from the tap don't taste so nice
Though it feels cooler with a cube of ice
I have drank far better near Daylesford last Fall
Though Tubrid water still the best of all.
The day is warm and dust fly in the breeze
And a forecast high of 35 degrees
And to quench my thirst I would need a cold beer
For no water like cool Tubrid water here.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Today... 'The Alpha and Omega
The Alpha and Omega is Your great name.
The Beginning and the End, forever the same.
There before the dawning of life upon the earth.
At the end You will also be, at creations new birth.
Written in this book of Revelation for all to see
is a message to the churches telling of what will be.
The Water of life is given that will surely satisfy
for all who thirst and come will never be passed by.
We hear these words from the First and the Last
as time concludes and history fades into the past.
'It is done, behold all things are now made new, '
as the new heaven and earth burst into view.
At the commencement of that great Eternal Day
when the ages of earth have ended and passed away.
Then the One who is the Beginning and the End
will be this poor persons Saviour and Eternal Friend.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Dry Lips
With dry, from the drought, lips
I drink a little water
And it makes my body strong
And the drought goes away
Water from a clean spring
Turns into a river
Which slakes my thirst
And flows on earth-
Wild, dark and withered
And changes it so
That love and light come up
Water from a clean spring
With dry, from the drought, lips
I drink a little water
And it makes my body strong
And the drought goes away
poem by Yavor Kostov
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Those Traces Of Us...
we started as a form of darkness
then light leaked and water was formed
more light entered the system
giving birth to one celled organisms
putting on membranes
multiplying upon itself
moss was born and flagellates
and paramecium
until then the plants that learned to move
like vines and jellyfish and
turtles to chameleons and tarsiers
and civets and deers and lions
and monkeys and gorillas
then us....men and women
what is next in this
evolution? sharpened minds into
spirits
into gods?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet: The Earth is Large
There is land aplenty, where men cannot live!
Ice-covered, swampy, desert, infested;
There’s land so vast which you can people give;
But who is actually interested?
That is water lots that can be shared by states;
Yet, selfishness prevents this sacrifice;
There’s water lots that doesn’t get past sluice-gates!
To quench the thirst of others or grow rice.
There are much things you can give your brethren,
And help him meet his basic needs of life;
The world has still diseased, ill-clad children,
Nations below poverty-line ’midst strife.
Who said the Earth can’t shelter/ feed more men?
Men’s hearts must change to make the Earth Heaven.
5-20-2002 by Dr John Celes
poem by John Celes
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David In The Cave Of Adullam
David and his three captains bold
Kept ambush once within a hold.
It was in Adullam's cave,
Nigh which no water they could have.
Nor spring nor running brook was near
To quench the thirst that parched them there.
Then David king of Israel
Straight bethought him of a well
Which stood beside the city gate
At Bethlem: where, before his state
Of kingly dignity, he had
Oft drunk his fill, a shepherd lad.
But now his fierce Philistian foe
Encamped before it he does know.
Yet ne'er the less with heat opprest,
Those three bold captains he addrest,
And wished that one to him would bring
Some water from his native spring.
His valiant captains instantly
To execute his will did fly.
Those three brave men the ranks broke through
Of armëd foes, and water drew
For David, their belovëd king,
At his own sweet native spring.
Back through their enemies they haste,
With the hard-earned treasure graced.
What with such danger they had sought,
With joy unto their king they brought.
But when the good king David found
What they had done, he on the ground
The water poured, 'Because,' said he,
'That it was at the jeopardy
Of your three lives this thing ye did,
That I should drink it God forbid.'
poem by Charles Lamb
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The Great Grey Water
Now two have met, now two have met,
Who may not meet again—
Two grains of sand, two blades of grass,
Two threads within the skein—
Beside the Great Grey Water.
Two hands to touch, two hearts to touch;
And, here forgathered, we
Will not forget, may not forget,
Where last forgathered three—
Beyond the Great Grey Water.
Two glasses filled, two pipes to fill—
‘To all our fortunes, brother!’
And as they clink—like so—we drink
Fair passage to the other
Across the Great Grey Water.
For three have sailed, and one has sailed,
His sins, like ours, still on him,
God sleep his soul! five oceans roll
Their long weight all upon him.
O God! thy Great Grey Water!
But I am still, and you are still,
And here our chance has flung us;
True comrades we, but…there were three
And one is not among us
Beside the Great Grey Water.
A breathing space, a biding place,
Soft lights and beakers beaded,
Then out again and on again,
Unminded and unheeded,
Across the Great Grey Water.
Now two have met where three have met
With curses or with laughter;
And so our Day shall pass away,
And so our Night come after—
But, ah! the Great Grey Water
poem by Edwin James Brady
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Sonnet: On Research
Don’t teach a Horse to feed on Horse-Radish;
And don’t teach it to munch on Turnips too;
Don’t show a Cat to catch mice and eat fish;
For these things, they so naturally will do.
Don’t force a Horse to drink river-water,
Don’t flog a tired Horse, without an end;
No matter what they feed, Pigs grow fatter,
You don’t have to tell the Willow to bend.
Just give the chances; most men will perform;
Encourage them to come out in their best;
Create right conditions and keep them warm;
Give them some incentives, honour and rest.
Research is done by Scientists if you spend;
There are no short-cuts; Don’t hasten their end.
poem by John Celes
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And because Love battles
And because love battles
not only in its burning agricultures
but also in the mouth of men and women,
I will finish off by taking the path away
to those who between my chest and your fragrance
want to interpose their obscure plant.
About me, nothing worse
they will tell you, my love,
than what I told you.
I lived in the prairies
before I got to know you
and I did not wait love but I was
laying in wait for and I jumped on the rose.
What more can they tell you?
I am neither good nor bad but a man,
and they will then associate the danger
of my life, which you know
and which with your passion you shared.
And good, this danger
is danger of love, of complete love
for all life,
for all lives,
and if this love brings us
the death and the prisons,
I am sure that your big eyes,
as when I kiss them,
will then close with pride,
into double pride, love,
with your pride and my pride.
But to my ears they will come before
to wear down the tour
of the sweet and hard love which binds us,
and they will say: “The one
you love,
is not a woman for you,
Why do you love her? I think
you could find one more beautiful,
more serious, more deep,
more other, you understand me, look how she’s light,
and what a head she has,
and look at how she dresses,
and etcetera and etcetera”.
And I in these lines say:
Like this I want you, love,
love, Like this I love you,
as you dress
and how your hair lifts up
and how your mouth smiles,
light as the water
of the spring upon the pure stones,
Like this I love you, beloved.
To bread I do not ask to teach me
but only not to lack during every day of life.
I don’t know anything about light, from where
it comes nor where it goes,
I only want the light to light up,
I do not ask to the night
explanations,
I wait for it and it envelops me,
And so you, bread and light
And shadow are.
You came to my life
with what you were bringing,
made
of light and bread and shadow I expected you,
and Like this I need you,
Like this I love you,
and to those who want to hear tomorrow
that which I will not tell them, let them read it here,
and let them back off today because it is early
for these arguments.
Tomorrow we will only give them
a leaf of the tree of our love, a leaf
which will fall on the earth
like if it had been made by our lips
like a kiss which falls
from our invincible heights
to show the fire and the tenderness
of a true love.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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I Need Water
Scorching hot summer’s day
Devastation struck on our holiday.
Water, water running out
No more water left about.
Where is water?
What to do?
Stressing, thirsty, hungry too.
Need a shower!
Need a drink!
But there is no time to think.
Running, running to the store
“No more water” written on the door.
I need water, but there’s none,
Definitely not having fun.
Feeling dirty!
Feeling sick!
Needing something so basic.
Water, water I need you
Then I’ll be as good as new.
Water, water always there,
Once it’s gone we’re made aware
Wasting water is not right
Now it’s gone I’ve seen the light.
I need water to survive
I’m lucky to be alive!
poem by Salvatore Mazzeo
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Shadows on the Water
Water stretched out before me. A lake of crystals, filled
with overlapping rocks along the bottom. A few jutted out.
One could only guess what lay beneath them, but I did not worry
about what was below me. I did not worry about the Unknown,
for how could I worry about what I did not know was there?
Instead, I worried about the shadows that I cast,
the picture of me that was not me that covered up the world.
I leaped into the water, but my shadow followed me.
I am never alone.
Anywhere I go, I have my mark with me; the mark of darkness.
The mark that everyone has. Like a signature.
A signature that is always there and can be copied with ease.
The sun set as the moon rose. My shadow became less
prominent, and yet it was always there, following me.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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We all must drink the water of life
Neutrality is the balance
between bad and good
life is water...
a balance between good and bad,
we all must drink the water of life!
Depth from depth
..the pain
length from length
..the struggle
mile to mile
.. the frustration
a bitter taste
a rotten smell
a water we must drink
yet a water needed for survival
Height to height
..the pleasure
reach to reach
..the satisfaction
bredth to bredth
..the joy
a sweet taste
a fresh smell
a water we must drink
a water oh so sweet for survival
Waters of success
sweet to the mouth
a reward to the soul
the waters of life
a journey of thirst
a well of plenty
Waters of failure
bitter to the mouth
a teacher to the listening soul
the river of death
the most bitter water of all
yet a water we must all drink
... to satisfaction
The river runs black and rough
to the uncertain end
but certain finish
where taste is empty
smell is neutral
and realisation is simple,
where all find and embrace,
a moment of peace.
poem by Allen Steble
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On the Seashore
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand, and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl-fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle. The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships are wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of children.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Seashore
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead
and the restless water is boisterous.
On the seashore of endless worlds
the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand
and they play with empty shells.
With withered leaves they weave their boats
and smilingly float them on the vast deep.
Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships,
while children gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter
and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children,
even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with children,
and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
Tempest roams in the pathless sky,
ships get wrecked in the trackless water,
death is abroad and children play.
On the seashore of endless worlds is the
great meeting of children.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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