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Followers Are Pillars

Pillars carry the roof.
The roof keeps them erect.
Pillars are happy
That they are connected,
Not minding their labour.
Followers are pillars.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The pillars of truth and the pillars of freedom - they are the pillars of society.

quote by Henrik Ibsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thank You For The Distance

i once told you
about the strong house
its pillars
are having distances
to support
the weight of the
roof and the
beams

like us now
our distance shall support
the weight
of dispositions
this house
this acquaintance shall
shelter
what memories we
have kept

the pillars are stable now
the house is not shaky
we leave it that way
we take chances somewhere
under the stars
outside the door

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mutuality....

i do not wish to go to your house
neither shall i wish you
to enter mine,
i never share this temple
to anyone,
in the same manner that you
are too careful with each
soft and tender
structures,
a roof of thoughts,
floors of values,
pillars of strength
windows that are not afraid of the rain
stairs that know what
majesty is there to carry
beams that hold
what we must be
till the end
of summer.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Pillars Of Our Society

see the pillars of our society.
the church, the provincial and municipal halls,
the university, the house of the family,

try to hold these pillars and feel their
strength and width, you think that they are
too strong to protect you

try piercing each pillar with the questions
deep from your heart
ask if they are that strong to make you
strong too
and protect you till the last breath
of your suffering and pain

ask more questions and find out the answers
from all these pillars
lean on them, and touch them and
shoot them with the bullets of your
quizzical looks

listen carefully to the correct answers
and stare at all of them

slowly, these pillars will crumble
and turn to powder for in truth there is no
other pillar stronger than what
they have constructed for you through all these years

except the pillar that your body built
on your legs from the bottom of your feet

it is you ultimately that you can only lean on
you to protect you
till the last breath of you is finally taken away.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Heavy pillars, carved from the rock, bear the roof. Slowly, one's eyes become accustomed to the dim light; then they can make out marvelous representations from Indian mythology carved on the walls.

quote by Rudolf Otto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aurora Borealis

    A crystallization of color spreads from the upper regions of the dark sky towards the trembling nipples of the waves. The feathering fringes of clouds fade behind pillars of green light. Transparent curtains tremble every-where. In the arctic temple, the hidden Samson of light shakes the moon-green pillars of the night.
    Color these crystals with sudden blood; it is dawn, or else the last consumptive saliva of the dying day. Heartless hard light!
    In the crisp light of the frozen tinkling stars, no waters flow. The ice-stars are icebergs in this black ocean. When the green glass cathedrals crash, the light and the pillars of light and the green pillars of moon-green crystallized light are reflected through space and finally settle like sharp blades above the trembling nipples of the waves.
    Samson moves in the glass cathedrals. Samson and the bull and Samson and the sun and the sun is the bull and Samson is the sun and is the bull.
    Let crackling twigs of green-white light weave fantastic tree-patterns on the mirror of the sea. Let the deceptive sky celebrate the fall of its ice-cathedrals and its icebergs and its ice-stars when darkness hardens the black waters into the sullen black ice-pack of night.
    Red Samson the arctic red sun is moving in the groves of green pillars. There is the red tinge of consumptive blood flickering behind the moon-green glass pillars of light. Blood of red Samson, red blood of Samson, the red thief is sprinkling blood on the slanting pillars of the falling sanctuary of light that is doomed to succumb soon to the black ice-pack of night. Then there will be night and, suddenly thrust into dark night, the red sex of the Samson-sun must later rise out of eastern whiteness and destroy the night.
    Then the pillars of the black shattered temple of night glow with a white light and a red light of consumptive blood, but again later comes night then again the same Samson as the temples crash each time when the red thief scatters blood on the pillars of the light or the pillars of the night. And the thief is Samson and the red sun is Samson and Samson is the thief and Samson is the sun.

poem by Edouard Roditi
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Expectedly

houses are strong
and well insulated
in your
hinterland

but mine is on top
of the hill
kissed by the sun

it is open to the
air
they come and go
and come again

this is the house without
doors and stairs
a house deprived of
windows
and peeping holes
and cracks and
slits

this is the house of the
sun
the earth loves it
its body attached
to the grass

it has no pillars
but trees
no roof but clouds
no walls but spaces

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Churches Of This World

since then the churches of the world
have gone mad
undesigned are they
to mangers and sheeps
and no light from any star
gets in
there is no window where
the moon can shine

its roof is a thick as
their self-made tenets
their walls are impenetrable
by the simplicities of our lives
their seats are reserved
for the kinds and
other majesties

there is no crib in there
for the baby to cry
and sleep

its floors in shining marbles
its pillars in gold and silver
that even God
would have second thoughts
coming.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Distance

distance is good sometimes
i remember standing on top of the hill
fog covers me
and yet i still see
the burning house on the plains

remember the two pillars of Khayyam
how they make a house that strong
to hold a world above a roof
of lime and beams?

we keep the reasons
of distances
to make ourselves closer
than the sea to its shore

so from here i am northbound
southbound please write me a letter.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Unbeliever

He sleeps on the top of a mast. - Bunyan

He sleeps on the top of a mast
with his eyes fast closed.
The sails fall away below him
like the sheets of his bed,
leaving out in the air of the night the sleeper's head.

Asleep he was transported there,
asleep he curled
in a gilded ball on the mast's top,
or climbed inside
a gilded bird, or blindly seated himself astride.

"I am founded on marble pillars,"
said a cloud. "I never move.
See the pillars there in the sea?"
Secure in introspection
he peers at the watery pillars of his reflection.

A gull had wings under his
and remarked that the air
was "like marble." He said: "Up here
I tower through the sky
for the marble wings on my tower-top fly."

But he sleeps on the top of his mast
with his eyes closed tight.
The gull inquired into his dream,
which was, "I must not fall.
The spangled sea below wants me to fall.
It is hard as diamonds; it wants to destroy us all."

poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Any Woman

I am the pillars of the house;
The keystone of the arch am I.
Take me away, and roof and wall
Would fall to ruin me utterly.

I am the fire upon the hearth,
I am the light of the good sun,
I am the heat that warms the earth,
Which else were colder than a stone.

At me the children warm their hands;
I am their light of love alive.
Without me cold the hearthstone stands,
Nor could the precious children thrive.

I am the twist that holds together
The children in its sacred ring,
Their knot of love, from whose close tether
No lost child goes a-wandering.

I am the house from floor to roof,
I deck the walls, the board I spread;
I spin the curtains, warp and woof,
And shake the down to be their bed.

I am their wall against all danger,
Their door against the wind and snow,
Thou Whom a woman laid in a manger,
Take me not till the children grow!

poem by Katharine Tynan
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Vagabond

i was too small then
chinky-eyed
my hands still like
buds of roses

i did not remember
thorns only leaves
and roots

the sky was as clear
as cellophane
and the the ceiling
hangs high
on the roof

and i did not remember
that the lizards
kissed the ground
on that sad afternoon

i remember you
as the tower
your hands big bells
your feet like
pillars and your
mouth like a boat
blowing its horn
for the final leaving

what i remember most
was what you left us
before you faded in the
haze far away
on the path towards
a dissolving
horizon

you left only us.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The death of Samson

They wanted to make a mockery
of the man that was once mighty
and the thousands that were there
each one wanted to spit on him, to touch him

and in his blindness they forced him
to dance before them,
to jump away from their blows
but he objected to this and waited,

asked when things became a little calmer
that his helper led him to the central pillars
and he prayed to God, prepared himself,
when he apparently just found a place to rest.

Then the muscles in his body tensed
while he pulled with all of his might
and his arms strained to quivering
while the crowd waited, suddenly were afraid,

before the pillars that held the building up cracked,
broke to smithereens under his power
and for his God he made an end to his enemies,
when that temple, that building came down with a thundering sound

and in the last moments Samson realized
that God was still with him, when his vengeance was on his enemies.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Fragment

Faint white pillars that seem to fade
As you look from here are the first one sees
Of his house where it hides and dies in a shade
Of beeches and oaks and hickory trees.
Now many a man, given woods like these,
And a house like that, and the Briony gold,
Would have said, "There are still some gods to please,
And houses are built without hands, we're told.

There are the pillars, and all gone gray.
Briony's hair went white. You may see
Where the garden was if you come this way.
That sun-dial scared him, he said to me;
"Sooner or later they strike," said he,
But he knew too much for the life he led.

And who knows all knows everything
That a patient ghost at last retrieves;
There's more to be known of his harvesting
When Time the thresher unbinds the sheaves;
And there's more to be heard than a wind that grieves
For Briony now in this ageless oak,
Driving the first of its withered leaves
Over the stones where the fountain broke.

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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The Old House

The red skies engulf the bay under
Whilst silence sweeps the current away
Islands, harbor, creeks, rocks and sholes
Soundings and anchoring
Entice and hypnotize

A distance throw from the jetty
Stray dogs run toward the old house
Its long lost companion and shelter
Five years ago it was filled with plot lines
A best selling wonder, worth a ponder
The old house by the bay
Memories linger on the walls,
Hide in the pillars
Float on the roof
Stray dogs find its way in
They see another alluring chapter
Once, I lived there

poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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Seeing much, suffering much, and studying much, are the three pillars of learning.

quote by Benjamin Disraeli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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jinja
in all the quietness
red pillars

haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Up On The Roof

(gerry goffin / carole king)
When this old world starts getting me down
And people are much too much for me face
I climb way up to the top of the stairs
And all my cares just fade right into space
On the roof
Its peaceful as can be
And there the world below
Cant bother me
Keep a-telling you
Right slap, dab in the middle of town
Ive found a paradise thats trouble-free
Yes, I have now
When this world starts getting you down
Theres room enough for two
Up on the roof
Up on the roof
Everything is all right
Up on the roof
Oh, come on baby
Up on the roof
Oh, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Up on the roof

song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pillars of affection
Will never sink into falsehood
On foundations of true love

haiku by Ken e Hall
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Medicine rests upon four pillars - philosophy, astronomy, alchemy, and ethics.

quote by Paracelsus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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