Divine Spark
Genius
emanation of divinity?
No.
Fatal gift of heaven. So
pleasing to observer?
Ruinous to possessor?
Questions answered
stew passage of seasons
straining successive generations.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Mystic Meanings Cosmic Revelation
mystic meanings cosmic revelation
inspiration of an inspired moment
counted in sunlight grains of sand
inspiration in split instant moment
pierces third eye in beams of light
pierces blue sky in genius of ages
shines on set sun dial of creativity
butterfly metamorphosis a nativity
starlight birth witnessed by angels
ascendant incense prayers answered
upon wings of prayers descendant
upon answered prayers generations
awaited generations to thrill delight
where are words to praise this night
to describe a miracle born birth light
angelic voices in symphony myriads
sing praise God’s gift this holy night
God so loved his world in blessings
gift perfect soul ransom price paid
ransom of love was freely bestowed
wages of sin conquered by a perfect
soul given in love all heard the word
gospels writ inspired in Holy Spirit
would across all earth spread light
preached to an entire world in light
lost restored in a single Holy Night
any may embrace blessed divine light
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The changing wisdom of successive generations discards ideas, questions facts, demolishes theories. But the artist appeals to that part of our being which is not dependent on wisdom: to that in us which is a gift and not an acquisition — and, therefore, more permanently enduring. He speaks to our capacity for delight and wonder, to the sense of mystery surrounding our lives; to our sense of pity, and beauty, and pain; to the latent feeling of fellowship with all creation — and to the subtle but invincible, conviction of solidarity that knits together the loneliness of innumerable hearts: to the solidarity in dreams, in joy, in sorrow, in aspirations, in illusions, in hope, in fear, which binds men to each other, which binds together all humanity — the dead to the living and the living to the unborn.
quote by Joseph Conrad
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Test My Appetite
Some prefer and choose perfection,
To convey ideals...
Promoted to instill.
With a showing of a knowledge...
In a hope that this appeals.
And then there are those,
Who have chosen to be real.
Grounded and solid of sound minds.
To find they are critiqued...
By those of the pretentious kind.
'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'
~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!
In these times,
I will nourish first...
Before rehearsing any refinement,
I've learned from the past.
But today does not work.~
'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'
~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!
Go ahead!
Test my appetite!
I dare you.
Leave that stew.
And I'll show you what can be done with it.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Passage way
The passage way to my heaven is not life years away nor is there a gate in the way, no password that is needed to be said it is quite easy yet for most of us we make it so hard to do.
The passage way to my heaven is only through his son, keep a clean heart live by his word and live an eternal life in heaven, I thought you knew what to do.
poem by Kimbaline Navas
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My Choice, Will Heaven Complain?
If heaven will complain
I don't know,
Endowed so much i am.
My many talents and outfits
Passions me in confusion
Stirring me to see as destiny.
But talent i know is not destiny
Talent, gift of nature nurtured by environ
Destiny, gift of nature nurtured by divinity.
Hands can thwart talent, but
The tick tack of clock even stop
Can't thwart destiny
No matter the weather.
It is inborn, you, yourself, yoursoul.
I don't care if family complain
For my choice,
But i don't know
If heaven will complain.
poem by Mcanthony C. Nwatu
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A Blister of Fate
All is but the name
You keep it for fame
Am an observer!
But it's nice to be
For the great it does to me
Am a victim!
I curse you my stew
I found you hard to chew
Am a patient!
Oh, here we join
To explore the groin
Call us AN EXPERT!
Love is a blister of fate
When it hurt then you hate
So am a poet!
poem by Buyunde Acura Sylivester
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But the history of the changes produced by a universal idea is not a history of changes in the individual, but of changes brought about by the successive efforts of millions of individuals in the course of many generations.
quote by Lafcadio Hearn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Curiosity! ! !
Curiously always on my mind as
I'm always wanting to know things
from the inside out.
Like when Jesus Christ will come back from another
Coming?
Is there really a god who created this world?
Or science was the purpose of all this?
Are human really civilized
or are we murders for the wars,
massacres, the holocaust, and genocides.
If god exists is it a man or women
or a whole another species or
better yet a spirit or a ghost?
If heaven is real will it is paradise
of what we really believe or
will we just rot in our caskets?
Curiously is not always good to be in your mind.
It just that many beliefs and miracles
leave a lot of questions in one’s mind,
but since the beliefs and miracles
are sometimes real and blissful to us
that we don’t ask questions.
Why we die?
Why do we cheat?
Why do we steal?
And why do we kill one another?
Now you see curiously can kill a man sometimes
I only wished that these questions would be answered!
poem by Compton Wright
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Heaven Only Knows
Who knows what tomorrow brings
And heaven only knows what's on the other side of the rainbow
All I know is what the seasons bring
And even with the seasons come uncertainty
[Chorus]
Who knows
Do you know
I don't know
Heaven only knows what the future holds
Heaven only knows what's over the rainbow
Just imagine all the possibilities
Heaven only knows what the future holds
[Verse 2:]
God gave me a conscious heart
And my responsibility is to teach my people
Tryin to make them understand
Your will
song performed by by Faith Evans from Faithfully
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is Regularity a Gift?
Asking me if I like to write...
Is like inviting someone to define,
The art of excrement done.
It is something one does.
From a 'Divine' assignment given.
Like the naturalness of breathing.
Is that regarded as a talent?
Could one decide upon another hobby?
To choose to hop on one leg?
Finding that walking on two,
Has bored!
Is regularity a gift?
And to sustain it with a prolificness.
Would this still be a question asked?
Would humans become closer...
If we were all praised,
For the passing of gas?
And how long would the praise of that done,
Last?
That's the question I would want answered.
If I was curious enough to ask.
Asking me if I like to write...
Is like inviting someone to define,
The art of excrement done.
Or if I find the craft of it satisfying!
And sometimes I am lost...
For which appropriate words to toss.
IF I am experiencing a constipation of thought.
And 'everyone' has had those 'Why-Me-God' moments.
Is regularity a gift?
Well,
I can only express it like this...
I have yet to be blown away by my own talents.
Sometimes they are there unconsiously.
And at other times I find I am straining,
For an easier release...
That does not arrive with such profound blockage.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Brother And Sister
"SISTER, sister, go to bed!
Go and rest your weary head."
Thus the prudent brother said.
"Do you want a battered hide,
Or scratches to your face applied?"
Thus his sister calm replied.
"Sister, do not raise my wrath.
I'd make you into mutton broth
As easily as kill a moth"
The sister raised her beaming eye
And looked on him indignantly
And sternly answered, "Only try!"
Off to the cook he quickly ran.
"Dear Cook, please lend a frying-pan
To me as quickly as you can."
And wherefore should I lend it you?"
"The reason, Cook, is plain to view.
I wish to make an Irish stew."
"What meat is in that stew to go?"
"My sister'll be the contents!"
"Oh"
"You'll lend the pan to me, Cook?"
"No!"
Moral: Never stew your sister.
poem by Lewis Carroll
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The real questions are the ones that obtrude upon your consciousness whether you like it or not, the ones that make your mind start vibrating like a jackhammer, the ones that you "come to terms with" only to discover that they are still there. The real questions refuse to be placated. They barge into your life at the times when it seems most important for them to stay away. They are the questions asked most frequently and answered most inadequately, the ones that reveal their true natures slowly, reluctantly, most often against your will.
quote by Ingrid Bengis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thin Line
I thought the time was passed when I could
Find beauty in a birds
I set the stage and the scenery
Rehearsing every word
Yeah but when I tried to make it more
Well it was always less
And its a thin line between pleasing yourself
And pleasing somebody else
Oh yeah
Oh yeah
All right
With my confidence on fire
I set to fixin up my roles
My separation of desires
Just left me deeper down in the hole
Yeah when I tried to make it more
Well it was always less
And its a thin line between pleasing yourself
And pleasing somebody else
Yeah and when I tried to make it more
Well it was always less
Its a thin line between pleasing yourself
And pleasing somebody else
Now Im tryin to get back
To what I know that I should be
Hoping to God that I was just
A temporary absentee
Yeah when I tried to make it more
Well it was always less
Its a thin line between pleasing yourself
And pleasing somebody else
Yeah when I tried to make it more
Well it was always less
And its a thin line between pleasing yourself
And pleasing somebody else
Somebody else oh yeah
Oh yeah
All right
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This is a gift. This is a gift from God. It's really like the old Biblical passage that talks about your body being a temple. That's not to say that I've never done anything but I've never abused myself. Never gone over the top for a long period of time.
quote by Teena Marie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reiterating Arsie
there are questions
that are not meant to be answered
you know that
there are answers that do not answer
the questions
you must know that
there are those that need only the affection of the hands
the sympathetic gaze
the tap on the shoulder
the way you say hello for no reason at all
when you ask
not about what time it is
but when
the plane leaves and when it touches down
to finally
reach home.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Knowledge is what we get when an observer, preferably a scientifically trained observer, provides us with a copy of reality that we can all recognize.
quote by Christopher Lasch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Gift From Heaven
A gift from heaven
I prayed from above
That one day i will find my own true love
A flower so beautiful
Your one of a kind
A love so pure most
Will never find
A gift from heaven
You are to me
Someone to love
And to make happy
A gift from heaven
I pray to you
That my love for you
Will always be
poem by Gambei Merc
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After Three Generations
No man can be relevant
After three generations.
A few might be relevant
After two generations.
Most of men are forgotten
Within their generations.
If at all a name exists
After three generations
It is as good as irrelevant
As his progeny would branch
Out beyond the traceability.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Sphinx
Close-mouthed you sat five thousand years and never let out a whisper.
Processions came by, marchers, asking questions you answered with grey eyes never blinking, shut lips never talking.
Not one croak of anything you know has come from your cat crouch of ages.
I am one of those who know all you know and I keep my questions: I know the answers you hold.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Questions
I don't remember my first question asked
Might have been to my mother while in my crib I basked
Or maybe it was to my father when he kissed me goodnight
Then he said a prayer for me and then he turned off the light.
Many questions I have asked since the day I was born
Many questions I have answered and many I did mourn
Some of them were the truth, but them I had masked
I don't remember why, but I remember they were asked.
Questions are needed to understand our life
Answers are needed so we too might avoid strife
Life is full of questions and are as many as drops of rain
And like rain drops not two questions are really the same.
Questions will be a part of us until that day we die
We will come across them daily with who, what, where or why
I dread not the future, but I do dread the past
I also dread the day, not knowing which question of mine will be last.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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