The Voice
Atoms as old as stars,
Mutation on mutation,
Millions and millions of cells
Dividing yet still the same,
From air and changing earth,
From ancient Eastern rivers,
From turquoise tropic seas,
Unto myself I came.
My spirit like my flesh
Sprang from a thousand sources,
From cave-man, hunter and shepherd,
From Karnak, Cyprus, Rome;
The living thoughts in me
Spring from dead men and women,
Forgotten time out of mind
And many as bubbles of foam.
Here for a moment's space
Into the light out of darkness,
I come and they come with me
Finding words with my breath;
From the wisdom of many life-times
Seek for Beauty, she only
Fights with man against Death!"
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Related quotes
Millions of water drops
drops of water
millions of drops
Falling down the rocks
Millions of water drops
Glittering in the sun
Shining like pearls
Millions of water drops
Ending as a river
Finding way to ocean
Millions of water drops
Creating childrens happiness
Laughter and joyfullness
Millions of water drops
Soon will tide reach
White long shores
Millions of water drops
Animating Waves
into forming caves
Millions of water drops
splittering from above
till reaching top of the hill
Millions of water drops
Without them no sound
No whispers of the living
Millions of water drops
Watch the clearness
From crest to earth
Millions of water drops
For tribe’s best
Beware of waste
Millions of water drops
Treasured should they be
As belonging to all humanity
(march 2008, Switzerland)
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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Goin' Under
left home with a friend of mine
gone two years and i don't know why
now i'm happy all the time
i can't think and i'm feelin' fine
girl put me in a situation
going through soft core mutation
think you heard this all before
now you're gonna hear some more
i know a place where dreams get crushed
hopes are smashed but that ain't much
voluntary experimentation
going through soft core mutation
i'm going under
down under where the lights are low
to a place where all the mutants go
doing things i never did before
inside out and coming back for more
little girls with the four red lips
never knew it could be like this
you put me in a situation
goin' through soft core mutation
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Have Been Millions And Millions Of Years
THERE HAVE BEEN MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF YEARS
There have been millions and millions of years
And there will be millions and millions more
And I have had only less than seventy-
There is so much to see and be and know
I could understand far more than I do now
I have so much beauty and hope and love in me
Why do I have to die?
It does not seem fair or wise
So much waste and loss in my dying
Worlds in me that will never be known.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Death XXVII
Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Going Under
Left home with a friend of mine
Gone two years and I dont know why
Now Im happy all the time
I cant think and Im feelin fine
Girl put me in a situation
Going through soft core mutation
Think you heard this all before
Now youre gonna hear some more
I know a place where dreams get crushed
Hopes are smashed but that aint much
Voluntary experimentation
Going through soft core mutation
Im going under
Down under where the lights are low
To a place where all the mutants go
Doing things I never did before
Inside out and coming back for more
Little girls with the four red lips
Never knew it could be like this
You put me in a situation
Goin through soft core mutation
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eve- the rape of the divine
Eve -the rape of the divine
Hundred of miles and more is between us
Sweet –deadly love
and loving seemed, is an endless night;
thousand of years and more to come
the rise and fall of season but cannot be home
from the distant past bathe in blood and tears;
millions of word has been spoken of you
beauty –the unveiled truth
holy in man's flesh –the spirit malice's fruit:
-the son of his kind destined to live to unearth death;
-the daughter of his flesh designed to die
to bring the hundreds and thousands to breath.
Life is in a weighing scale, between us
Lullaby of the heavens and the hymn of hell.
poem by Jordan Legaspi
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For the Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old,
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
poem by Laurence Binyon from The Times
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To A Godson
(With an album containing portraits of all those who at the time of
his birth were leaders in the intellectual and political world.)
Here hast thou before thee that constellation
Whereunder was born thy light;
These stars in the vault of high thoughts' mutation
Will fashion thy life with might.
Their prophecy, little one, we cannot know,
They light up the way that, unknown, thou shalt go
And kindle the thoughts that within shall glow.
Thou first shalt them gather,
Then choose thine own,-
So canst thou the rather
Grope on alone.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Where Spring, the lord of the seasons
Where Spring, the lord of the seasons, reigneth,
there the Unstruck Music sounds of itself,
There the streams of light flow in all directions;
Few are the men who can cross to that shore!
There, where millions of Krishnas stand with hands folded,
Where millions of Vishnus bow their heads,
Where millions of Brahmas are reading the Vedas,
Where millions of Shivas are lost in contemplation,
Where millions of Indras dwell in the sky,
Where the demi-gods and the munis are unnumbered,
Where millions of Saraswatis, Goddess of Music, play on the veena
There is my Lord self-revealed:
and the scent of sandal and flowers dwells in those deeps.
The Land Before God
Land of pink sky and blue sun,
green bed of swamps and marsh.
Monsters from another age
roam and dispel their wrath,
tyrannosaurus, brontosaurus, Woolly Mammoth.
Heat and flying things,
wing their way in an endless spring.
Land of grotesque and monstrous mould,
ever changing shapes behold.
Paradise with promise of future things,
filled with bellowing monstrous song,
teem with life, land and sea.
The stench of death hangs over thee.
Night’s darkness brings another day.
Land of cold and wintry white
moves southward slowly day and night.
Places hot, now white and cold,
creatures frozen in monstrous mould.
Land, pale, shadow of death,
now hangs over all.
None will escape deaths paw.
Marks on a sandy beach,
small with explicit air,
life begins again from there.
Life minute of crystal form,
changing by night and daily storm.
Life, small and microscopic,
crawls on beaches north and tropic.
Circle of form begins again,
from tiny and invisible germs.
Life on land and sea again teem.
Millions upon millions breeding frame.
World of blue and grass green hill.
The land before god
is teeming still.
poem by David Harris
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Immortals Of The Silver Screen - James Stewart
There are a lot of names
who’ve appeared on the silver screen.
Some just fade away and are forgotten,
others have a star that shines bright
even long after they have passed on.
James Stewart is one of those few.
His characters are as fresh today
as the day they were filmed.
We can all give a roll call
of our favourites James Stewart films
Several stand out in my mind from the rest.
They can be viewed time and time again
without ever getting boring.
Two that spring to my mind
are its A Wonderful Life
and the immortal Harvey.
Both have brought pleasure
to millions and millions,
as have all his films.
This is my tribute
to one of Hollywood’s very find actors
and a much-loved man.
27 December 2007
poem by David Harris
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Death bequeaths a million trillion years to the Dead
what happens in death?
it is as happening as life
the light, earth, water, metal
and energies which have
raised you up as nature's
alter ego and personification
now seek divergent paths
a thousand personalities
bouncing towards space
and as the cells of your mind
close one by one, they give
you that halcyon feel as
every scene you have
held dear at heart rebounds
to make you the central character
one by one they come to claim you
till the last 10 minutes of demise
feel like a million trillion years
a dream you would die to vouch for its
authenticity, its bllssful nirvanalike feel
a dream you would have no one wake you
up from even when you are festering with worms
rewritten from:
what happens in death?
it is as happening as life
the light, earth, water, metal
and energies which have
raised you up as nature's
primary metaphor now
seek divergent paths
a thousand personalities
bouncing towards space
and as the cells of your mind
close one by one, they give
you that halcyon feel as
every scene you have
held dear at heart rebounds
to make you the central character
one by one they come
to claim you till the last 10 minutes
of demise feel like a million trillion years
a dream you would die to vouch for its reality
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Never
Suddenly, desperately
I thought, "No, never
In millions of minutes
Can I for one second
Calm-leaving my own self
Like clothes on a chair-back
And quietly opening
The door of one house
(No, not one of all millions)
Of blood, flesh and brain,
Climb the nerve-stair and look
From the tower, from the windows
Of eyes not my own: ...
No, never, no, never!"
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Death
Then Almitra spoke, saying, 'We would ask now of Death.'
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Transdermal Celebration
Transdermal celebration
Caused a slight mutation
In the rift
It toppled down a nation
And left the people running for the hills
But the mutants that I see
Shine their beauty unto me
I wish you could see them
Tectonic tribulation
Formed a crust of green beyond the reef
Waves fell in formation
Cause the plants to bend with spi-ked leaves
I'm growing with the land
Time has taken my hands and let me touch them
Hey, hey,
A billion miles to Mark A
Lay on the lawn, he's already home
When the morning ray hits his face
Transdermal celebration
Jets flew in formation
I could see them
Dropping the crustaceans
Leaving trails of flames in their wake
But where is the mutation
Who once told me it was safe, I can't find him
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spirit
‘I died early, ’ said the Spirit,
‘So I didn’t have the chance to learn,
And though I don’t exactly burn
With envy for your thirty years,
It’s such a pity dying young,
The pleasures of a youth, unsung…
For all I left behind of me
Were memories of my mother’s pain
In birth and death,
Though such a breath of time it took,
It’s hard to judge that I had been,
That any could remain.
But for my father’s constant hurt,
His burden through a lonely life
Was such to crush the living breath
Right out of him, but could I see,
And crush the death right out of me.’
‘I hunger then, for knowledge
Of the seven wonders of the world
And nature’s secrets, all unfurled
As life unfolds before a man;
Of seas and skies, and mountains high,
The visions of an inner eye,
And colours I have ever longed for,
Colours I have never seen,
Though I have dreamed,
(Poor substitute it is for truth) :
I need the miracle of sight,
The senses in-between,
Which add your touch and taste and smell
To that of thought, which now I am,
A lonely thought communicating in itself
Its loneliness,
Your knowledge is an untold wealth.’
‘I envy you, ’ I then replied,
‘For ignorance of man’s affairs
Is rarely found,
And one who cares is better off
To never know.
But since you must insist to hear
The seven wonders are but fear
Of War, that selfish slaughter leaving
Millions dead and millions maimed,
And poverty, when countless numbers
Starve to death,
Diseases raging through a stricken land
To our undying shame
And apathy to suffering,
The depths of immorality,
And crime and violence in the streets
That holds a sway on everyone,
Commercial greed is God today.’
The Spirit sighed a troubled sigh;
‘An answer such as this unwanted
Tale of human misery and suffering
I’d not prepared for,
Makes me care for man no less, but
Takes me back and leaves me low.
A thousand years of meditation
On these things may mend my wound,
But now I cry, and go to find
A quiet place…
My innocence will not repair,
Not now or even soon.’
And so he sadly turned away,
In seconds then was lost to view,
I shouted that I meant to say
We still have hope…
But he was gone.
If we have time, I’ll never know!
January 1969
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Candle of Hope
Candle of Hope
Lost within space and time,
I am running, as I am
Following the stars before me-
Inside of my mind,
All I can see are moments of madness.
My hair, blowing in the wind, behind me, as I
Dash away from all that I fear,
My thoughts are far away from
Every moment in time,
As I am searching for a ray of hope to hold onto as
None of my dreams have ever
Come true-
If I could light a candle,
Perhaps its flame would guide me towards a miracle-
A miracle of my most promising fantasies becoming reality-
Where the darkness of night
Would transform to the levity of daybreak at sunrise-
I am lost in space and time, where
My world continues to darken-
Life has always been a bizarre journey for me where
Hope has yet to be found-
It is the stars that have given me an increment of light,
Illuminating a pathway before me, to give me
Some small hope that I would awaken
In some other world where
Love, fortune and peace of mind would
Overshadow mistrust and sadness-
I whisper in thought, somewhere in the back of my mind-
Light me a candle with a flame so bright,
That will break through dark clouds of doubt-
Whereby I would be running forward in time,
Finding wealth, joy, and hope never ending
As the flame on that candle
Would burn for an eternity
Only to guide me forward, not backward,
Leaving that life of misfortune behind me-
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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A Hundred Times Over
A hundred times over words have flowed through my fingers to the keys
A hundred times over I have released the freedom that is in my mind,
A hundred times over I have become one with my inter most longing,
A hundred times over I have taken a journey to show you my own world.
A hundred times over I have written of pain and life, of sorrow and joy,
A hundred times over I have used my art to show you what's in my mind
A hundred times over again I will show you.
A hundred times over I have cried for those, whose names are untold,
A hundred times over I have showed you their pain.
A hundred times over I have become their connection to you,
A hundred times over I have showed you the beauty of our world,
A hundred times over I have taken you somewhere you may never see,
A hundred times over my words have screamed the horror of darkness,
A hundred times over I have sung to you the beauty of light,
A hundred times over I have taken your hand to lead you to a new place
A hundred time over I have written for those who have no words to write
A hundred times over I have tried to show truth in a world of lies,
A hundred times over I have have tried to show the world's beauty,
A hundred times over again I will lead down these paths,
A hundred times over and over again I will show you reality,
A hundred times over and over again I shall show you my world,
A hundred times over and over again until you have memorised truth,
A hundred times over again until you can repeat what I have told,
A hundred times over again shall I create an art of words, time, of life.
A hundred times over again I shall do this,
A hundred times over again.
A hundred times over.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Winter Heavens
Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive
Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
It is a night to make the heavens our home
More than the nest whereto apace we strive.
Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive,
In swarms outrushing from the golden comb.
They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam:
The living throb in me, the dead revive.
Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath,
Life glistens on the river of the death.
It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt,
Or never knelt, or eyed as kine the springs
Of radiance, the radiance enrings:
And this is the soul's haven to have felt.
poem by George Meredith
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When Earth Quaked
Earth uncovered
Two hundred thousand dead
A woman groaned
Stone slabs crushed her head
These are the times
When God weeps
When the earth quaked
I heard His steps
In my pain
I am filled with anger
My blood curls
As I ponder
How many lives slip
In this quake's blunder
This is how earth rage
I am thankful
For the hands He sent
The press
People from every corner
Friends I never knew
This is how you know
He never sleeps
Many dead
But many spared
So I am not mad
New lives conceived
Still lives to be lived
Two hundred thousand dead
But millions breathe
poem by Buxton Shippy
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