Where He Was
Meditation was futile.
He turned his back
from the green prayers.
The state had made a mockery of his love.
The words were not clear
written on the periphery of pain.
He fathered
dust to dust, his light
folded his trembling hands,
lying on jaundiced bed.
Syntax was rising.
He stood alone amidst landmines
malice for none, beast and history.
The stones were falling from sky.
The punished was partaking the blows,
where he was
others were absent.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Dust 2...
If dust could only talk
What would we hear it say?
Before it's brushed aside
Just as it's swept away
It's just the evidence
It's of no consequence
It's only flesh and bone
Why don't you leave it alone?
If dust could only speak
Caught in a falling beam
If dust could only cry
If dust could only scream
For it's the single witness that might testify
Could I spit out the truth?
Or would you rather just swallow a lie?
But dust is always caught behind a coat of pain
Beneath the marble fingernails of kings and saints
And in the theatre curtain where they hang a drape
Or in the ticket pocket where your hands escape
Before they start to wander
Or they start to shrink
You rub your eye a little and appear to blink
And then she caught you staring
She knows what you're thinking
What got into you is not a ghost as such
It was just dust
Here comes the juggernaut
Here come The Poisoners
They choke the life and land
And rob the joy from us
Why do they taste of sugar?
Oh, when they're made of money
Here come the Lamb of God
And the butcher's boy, Sonny
Well, I believe we just
Become a speck of dust
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ashes To Ashes
I am running on empty:
I do not hide from you, my dear- My canine friend-
The one who holds your leash is not a threat-
Listen to the wind blow
Rustling the budding leaves
Upon the maple trees as I start walking-
The sun reaches downward and I am happy-
Shock ran rampant through my brain only two days ago-
A daffodil in full bloom-
Golden as the sun on the horizon-
I threw away my tears- To mix with the snow
That didn't happen last night-
Somebody lied and I am running free- Everyone has died
Those whose blood I shared
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Locked in a crematorium and
Scattered at sea-left me alone and
I have fallen in love with myself-
Fallen trees, my reflection staring at me from a crystalline puddle-
Alone along a wooded trail
I am the queen- no followers, except for you, my canine friend-
I dance alone amidst insanity-
Enjoying every moment and as the wind blows,
I ruminate- ashes to ashes, dust to dust-
The sun is rising for me alone-
Oh, solitude- so safe, so magnificent and
Three billion people- I cannot fathom-
I tuck a blossoming crocus behind my ear-
I have come to the end of the path and
I listen- the voices inside of my mind echo throughout the sky-
I could capture the sun within both of my hands if I could-
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust- my mother?
Gone, and in so many words, so am I and
I stand behind a phantasmal wall:
I am not to be found- running free, and running scared-
But my tears are behind me now and
I am the queen, alone and this world?
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust- it is my dream- except for myself,
Complete solitude, on top of the world, spinning rapidly
Upon a merry-go-round- everyone is dead and
I - don't- care…- ashes to ashes, dust to dust...
poem by Claudia Krizay
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It is true that we are made of dust. And the world is also made of dust. But the dust has motes rising.
quote by Muhammed Iqbal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nightfall In The Rose-Garden
Ashes to ashes,
Meal to roots of roses:
One-way street in petals falling,
Dust to dust.
The lowering sun sucks
From blown blossoms,
Their colours that go
At last to dust.
Death is in the seed
Bud, root and leaf
Which have no choice
But dust.
From death to death,
The cycle onward blindly
Rolls its endless way
From dust to death.
I, in the falling dusk
Go slowly blind to all.
And shall too, eventually,
Be dust.
poem by Roy William Gotaas
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Why and when prayers can't be of help!
If prayers can't develop person,
and purify oneself,
If prayers can't modify the
person,
If prayers can't erase inherent
fear and prejudice, if prayers are unable to transcend
mundane self,
If prayers can't take one to the
oneness of self and God,
If not prayers show the light,
It is not the prayers that are handicapped,
But the mind without love of
eternal is handicapped,
mind that can't walk
straight, how can it leap,
Without longing for beloved, How can the heartless robot can
see the light,
Can a record player get
deliverance,
chanting mantra billion times
mechanically? The failure is in his own mind,
It is his own mind that is opaque,
darkness felt not due to absence
of light,
But due to thickness of dust on
the mirror, When intense longing
promotes, prayer blooming into
absorption,
Meditation becomes every
breath,
Breath felt heavy without feeling beloved,
Then only one finds it,
and feel always independant
eternal,
Unity of all creation,
As creator himself breathing in all creatures!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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What Are We?
WHAT ARE WE?
What are we?
Dust of the earth
Dust of the stars
Thinking dust
Dreaming dust
Loving dust
Dust of Dust
God’s Dust
What are we?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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You Are Unto Dust
You are made from the dust of the earth,
And the Wailing-Wall will be there for you;
For you are unto dust and you shall return unto dust,
And this is just the journey of the spirit.
To the realm of the unknown and to the things we do for love,
And until death put us apart on this side of the planet;
For the flesh goes back to where it belongs to!
Yes, back to the earth.
Death is part of us and we need to learn from others,
For we have to be prepared as well;
For he flesh goes back to where it belongs to;
And out of the dust we were made.
The dust became flesh and today we are human beings,
And from the knowledge of the things to come;
But naked we came and naked we shall return.
Shed no tears on this love,
For death comes for all of us on this earth;
And we need to learn from the facts around us as well,
For it is better to be very righteous than to be buried with evil deeds.
Life is a long road full of sand and,
All that is acquired on this earth is vanity!
Yes, vanity upon vanity! !
For you and i are unto dust and,
Unto dust we shall return at the end of of all things.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 41
A company of vagabonds met a dervish, spoke insulting words to him, struck him and otherwise molested him; whereon he complained to his superior and explained the case. The pir replied: ‘My son, the patched frock of dervishes is the garment of resignation and who, wearing it, cannot bear injuries is a pretender not entitled to the frock.’
A large river will not become turbid from stones.
The Arif who feels aggrieved is shallow water yet.
If he injures thee, bear it
Because pardon will purify thee from sin.
O brother, as the end is dust, be dust before thou art turned into dust.
My prayers
I touched your cold hands
hands that worked the land
caressed your tousled hair
hair that had known flair
kissed your silent lips
lips that sweet secrets keep
My prayers in vain
tears leaving stain
Your words lodged themselves
deep in the crevices and shelves
awaiting the moment of freedom
to shine in the kingdom
I touched her little hands
hands that hold no plan
caressed her soft hair
hair that dances in the air
kissed her sweet lips
lips that smile at the tips
My prayers in pain
soul bare lain
Her laughter clear as bells
chasing away spells
dispersing shadows with her light
casting wrongs putting them right
Your words came flying back
Have faith tho thee lack
it will sustain thee
in life without plea
My prayers in gratitude
love in servitude
Two Worlds
Like a dream, my life has gone past me
Taken so soon but love burns so true
Love never ending that shines like the stars in the sky
And I sing but so few can hear me
Words from the heart to set your souls free
Time has no distance deep in love
Know everything goes
Everyone knows theres something beyond us
There is a light believe me
Time turns into dust
Cry if you must
But love is the answer
Bringing two worlds together
Who can see the secrets that bind us?
Back to the earth til love rings so true
Eyes of compassion and tears of a deepening heart
I have seen the pain of a cruel world
And reached out a hand for suffering to ease
Bringing some comfort to the tears
Know everything goes
Everyone knows theres something beyond us
There is a light believe me
Time turns into dust
Cry if you must
But love is the answer
Bringing two worlds together into one
A mountain of flowers and the perfume
Floating so high
Hush and the stillness in a million minds
Know everything goes
Everyone knows theres something beyond us
There is a light believe me
Time turns into dust
Cry if you must
But love is the answer
Bringing two worlds together into one
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Effrontery
After scarring, the big gap
confronts a mascot.
The caster is telling a lie.
Under shock and anger
you start cursing the renegade truth.
Black windows now perceive the light.
Nobody wants to catch the dust now,
falling from the stars.
War of words comes to disarming of
wailing hands.
I reconcile with the setting sun.
Back and forth, back and forth
the unabashed, moves a bridal moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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Let Us Take Another Road
Let us take another road.
The boundary was not clear
between crime and pardon
between disease and murder.
The cleft in the ravines
had hidden the rifles and landmines
when we were busy in worshipping
the rock face with folded hands
to deliver us from fear and future.
There was no ending, no beginning
of disturbing the beehive
to drink the moon in night,
hear the blues of stars
and swim in dark light.
Where was the heaven?
Enough of nothing was not something?
The cure of curse was not in any hands,
polity of clouds was decaying very fast
they were raining fire on the grass.
poem by Satish Verma
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Why Ash Wednesday?
The tender palm-leaves, light-green, pliable,
That were plucked off the tree last year and blessed,
And turned into crosses of various kinds,
Adorning homes and protecting from harm!
Those very leaves had served their good purpose;
Now old and withered, they are turned to ash,
Reminding mankind’s transient earthy stay:
We came from dust, we go back to that state!
Though man may reach a state like all things else,
He is created in a different way,
With purpose to be holy like the Lord,
Who breathed His life although we’re made from clay!
Make sign of cross with ash upon forehead;
Begin the Lent, God-given to repent;
Ask forgiveness of sins, reconcile, man
With God; let soul be filled with newer grace!
Begin your walk with God in Heaven’s road;
Keep praying, asking Him for help en way;
Control your urges; do more charity;
Like Jesus Christ, we will too rise that day!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-17-2010
poem by John Celes
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Spring MCMXL
London Bridge is falling down, Rome's burnt and Babylon
The Great is now but dust; yet still Spring must
Swing back through Time's continual arc to earth.
Though every land become as a black field
Dunged with the dead, drenched by the dying's blood,
Still must a punctual goddess waken and ascend
The rocky stairs, up into earth's chilled air,
And pass upon her mission through those carrion ranks,
Picking her way among a maze of broken brick
To quicken with her footsteps the short sooty grass between;
While now once more their futile matchwood empires flare and blaze
And through the smoke men gaze with bloodshot eyes
At the translucent apparition, clad in trembling nascent green
Of one they still can recognize, though scarcely understand.
poem by David Gascoyne
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Sappho
The twilight falls; I soften the dusting feathers,
And clean again.
The house has lain and moldered for three days.
The windows smeared with rain, the curtains torn,
The mice come in,
The kitchen blown with cold.
I keep the house, and say no words.
It is true I am as twisted as the cactus
That gnarls and turns beside the milky light,
That cuts the fingers easily and means nothing,
For all the pain that shoots along the hand.
I dust the feathers down the yellow thorns,
I light the stove.
The gas curls round the iron fretwork. the flame
Floats above the lace,
And bounces like a dancer stayed on air.
Fire does not rest on iron, it drifts like a blue blossom
And catches on my breath;
Coiling, spinning, the blue foam of the gas fire
Writhes like a naked girl;
Turns up its face, like her.
She came to me in rain.
I did not know her, I did not know my name
After she left to bed her children down,
To phone her husband they were gone asleep.
And she, lying, a pure fire, in the feathers,
Dancing above the ironwork of her bed,
Roaring, and singeing nothing.
She had not wound her arms about me then,
She had not dared.
I only took her coat, and smiled to hear
How she had left her purse and her umbrella
In the theater, how she was sopping cold
With the fall rain; and mine was the one light
In the neighborhood. She came to my gas fire
And lay before it, sprawled, her pure bare shoulders
Folded in a doze, a clear, cold curve of stone.
I only leaned above the hair,
Turned back the quilt, arranged the feet, the arms,
And kissed the sleeping shoulder, lightly, like the rain;
And when she woke to wear her weathered clothes,
I sent her home.
She floated, a blue blossom, over the street.
And when she came again,
It was not long before she turned to me,
And let her shawl slide down her neck and shoulder,
Let her hair fall.
And when she came again,
It did not rain.
Her husband came to pluck her like an apple,
As the drunken farmer lurches against the tree,
Grips the green globe not long beyond its bloom,
And tears the skin, brutally, out of the bark,
Leaves the whole bough broken,
The orchard torn with many footprints,
The fence swung wide
On a raw hinge.
And now it is said of me
That my love is nothing because I have borne no children,
Or because I have fathered none;
That I twisted the twig in my hands
And cut the blossom free too soon from the seed;
That I lay across the fire,
And snuffed it dead sooner than draft or rain.
But I have turned away, and drawn myself
Upright to walk along the room alone.
Across the dark the spines of cactus plants
Remind me how I go—aloof, obscure,
Indifferent to the words the children chalk
Against my house and down the garden walls.
They cannot tear the garden out of me,
Nor smear my love with names. Love is a cliff,
A clear, cold curve of stone, mottled by stars,
smirched by the morning, carved by the dark sea
Till stars and dawn and waves can slash no more,
Till the rock’s heart is found and shaped again.
I keep the house and say no words, the evening
Falls like a petal down the shawl of trees.
I light the fire and see the blossom dance
On air alone; I will not douse that flame,
That searing flower; I will burn in it.
I will not banish love to empty rain.
For I know that I am asked to hate myself
For their sweet sake
Who sow the world with child.
I am given to burn on the dark fire they make
With their sly voices.
But I have burned already down to bone.
There is a fire that burns beyond the names
Of sludge and filth of which this world is made.
Agony sears the dark flesh of the body,
And lifts me higher than the smoke, to rise
Above the earth, above the sacrifice;
Until my soul flares outward like a blue
Blossom of gas fire dancing in mid-air:
Free of the body’s work of twisted iron.
poem by James Arlington Wright
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Dust In The Wind
Music : Kerry Livgren
Lyrics: Kerry Livgren
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now, Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fragment II
The light of day was fading in the west,
The smoke no more from village chimneys curled,
Nor voice of man, nor bark of dog was heard;
When she, obedient to Love's rendezvous,
Had reached the middle of a plain, than which
No other more bewitching could be found.
The moon on every side her lustre shed,
And all in robes of silver light arrayed
The trees with which the place was garlanded.
The rustling boughs were murmuring to the wind,
And, blending with the plaintive nightingale,
A rivulet poured forth its sweet lament.
The sea shone in the distance, and the fields
And groves; and slowly rising, one by one,
The summits of the mountains were revealed.
In quiet shade the sombre valley lay,
While all the little hills around were clothed
With the soft lustre of the dewy moon.
The maiden kept the silent, lonely path,
And gently passing o'er her face, she felt
The motion of the perfume-laden breeze.
If she were happy, it were vain to ask;
The scene delighted her, and the delight
Her heart was promising, was greater still.
How swift your flight, O lovely hours serene!
No other pleasure here below endures,
Or lingers with us long, save hope alone.
The night began to change, and dark became
The face of heaven, that was so beautiful,
And all her pleasure now was turned to fear.
An angry cloud, precursor of the storm,
Behind the mountains rose, and still increased,
Till moon or star no longer could be seen.
She saw it spreading upon every side,
And by degrees ascending through the air,
And now with its black mantle covering all.
The scanty light more faint and faint became;
The wind, meanwhile, was rising in the grove,
That on the farther side the spot enclosed;
And, every moment, was more boisterous;
Till every bird, awaking in its fright,
Amidst the trembling leaves was fluttering.
The cloud, increasing still, unto the coast
Descended, so that one extremity
The mountains touched, the other touched the sea.
And now from out its black and hollow womb,
The pattering rain-drops, falling fast, were heard,
The sound increasing as the cloud drew near.
And round her now the glancing lightning flashed
In fearful mood, and made her shut her eyes;
The ground was black, the air a mass of flame.
Her trembling knees could scarce her weight sustain;
The thunder roared with a continuous sound,
Like torrent, plunging headlong from the cliff.
At times she paused, the dismal scene to view,
In blank dismay; then on she ran again,
Her hair and clothes all streaming in the wind.
The cruel wind beat hard against her breast,
And rushing fiercely, with its angry breath,
The cold drops dashed, remorseless, in her face.
The thunder, like a beast, assaulted her,
With terrible, unintermitting roar;
And more and more the rain and tempest raged.
And from all sides in wild confusion flew
The dust and leaves, the branches and the stones,
With hideous tumult, inconceivable.
Her weary, blinded eyes now covering,
And folding close her clothes against her breast,
She through the storm her fearful path pursued.
But now the lightning glared so in her face,
That, overcome by fright at last, she went
No farther, and her heart within her sank;
And back she turned. And, even as she turned,
The lightning ceased to flash, the air was dark,
The thunder's voice was hushed, the wind stood still,
And all was silent round, and she,--at rest!
poem by Count Giacomo Leopardi
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Hearts That Love Nature
Hearts that love nature
will be eternaly young,
eternal and immortal
like the nature itself,
which never dies to this
loving, beating heart,
nature that is alive
in the air that we breathe,
in the crowning glory of
the sun rising from
amidst the depths of the horizon;
Nature that is immortal,
the songs of the nightingale
and the cuckoo and the songbird,
will ring out in harmony
for infinite years,
the melody will keep playing
even when dust is created
and destroyed to dust,
hearts that feel nature
will become nature and live on,
amidst the vast sky
of splendour and elegance,
within the deepest corners
of the infinite oceans,
along on the breeze
that blows across this land;
Hearts that love nature
will be eternally young and immortal,
will strive in peace and silence,
the calmness and tranquility,
of merging with mother nature,
born again with
the leaves of new birth,
those fresh blossoms of spring,
whose scent is divine perfume
to this awakening earth,
and our hearts will be one,
playing gently on those meadows
surrounded by diasies that
once intrigued great poets of the past,
and we remain young and
immortal, forever...
poem by Amatulla Mohammadi
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The Compass.
Angels from Light,
Satan from Fire,
Man from Dust,
Man turns Dust!
Light has no pith,
No marrow in Fire,
Dust has a core;
Hot, cool and pure.
Many a Dimensions,
Millions of Hues,
Moods, Thoughts,
Passions and Emotions,
Only dust has it all.
No Origin, No End,
Still has a Mass;
‘Soul' we call the Compass.
poem by Tajudeen Shah
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Curtain Of Desperation
They stood in the curtain of desperation
with cold eyes narrowed on one another.
Their hearts beating quicker as moments ticked by
and the dust that curled around their boots,
where one within would eventually lie.
They stood facing one another
on the lonely dusty street with no heart.
Their hands hovered nervously
over the guns they wore on their hips.
Each waited for the others move,
and slowly the hands moved closer
to the marking of one’s time.
Within seconds, it was over
as two cracks of thunder broke the silence
with smoke mixed with dust concealing momentarily
the lonely dusty street with no heart.
When it cleared, only one was standing,
the other lay in the dust cold and silent.
The curtain of desperation that was ripped apart
in the thunder, smoke and dust.
Now it cleared to the only one
who would walk away to face
the curtain of desperation
again on another day.
1 July 2011
poem by David Harris
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