Interwoven Changes
from spiritual sphere
vibrating perfection
heightened plane
radiating enlightenment
come skilled weavers
cultivating choice workmanship
surrogate forefathers weave
substitute artisan transition
come weavers who
sanction chosen
pious path divining
difficult diffuse
deifying interwoven
soul shaping changes
guardians investing
cerebellum corporeal beauty
redusting
waning world
with stardust
breathing
resonant life
back into
dead works
made manifest
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Indian Weavers
WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.
Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . .
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.
Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . .
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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The Purple Thread
'The priests distributed various coloured silken threads to weave for the veil of the sanctuary; and it fell to Mary's lot to weave purple.'
—The Book of the Bee, ch. XXXIV.
I
THE chosen maidens, Weavers of the Veil,
Kneeling in crescent, from the High Priest took
Their wisps of silk in slender hands that shook
Lifting the colors to their lips rose-pale
With holy passion, —colors like the frail
Spring flowers of Carmel, blue as that glad look
Of dancing iris, scarlet as a nook
Of wild anemones, or gold as sail
Seen from its summit 'neath the Syrian moon.
But Mary caught her breath in one swift sob
Of pain uncomprehended ere it fled,
Leaving her heart with some strange fear a-throb,
For the wise priest, as one conferring boon,
Had meted out to her a purple thread.
II
O mothers of the race, ye blessèd ones
Who weave with cherubim the veil before
The Holy Place of God, the mystic door
Of life, proud mothers of belovèd sons,
To-day you send them forth to front the guns,
Waving your boys farewell with smiles that pour
Strength into their young souls. Your prayers implore
The Mercy Seat; your love, an angel, runs
Before them with wild, shielding arms outspread.
O Weavers of the Veil, however varies
The silk assigned, exceeding great reward
Is yours, for you —O you, most sacred Maries,
To whom is given grief's royal, purple thread —
Make beautiful the temple of the Lord.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Breathing Life Into Each Personality Potential
I am constant
in love attention
I bequeath to my children.
Thus they remain
strong as individuals
continue to develop
their unique abilities
their prime growth ability
to access universal energy.
We develop our destinies
together by breathing life
into each potential person
we encounter as we focus
loving energy into cultivating
their unique dormant beauty
by projecting energy
into their awakening
stirring deeper glory
as we appreciate
their innate nature
desire to make
a positive difference
in heartbeat heartthrob world
with their hidden talents.
We all bare a portion
of universal truth
locked alluring within
each present moment.
Meditate focus upon
choice purpose present
where manifest change
is enacted energy point
focus energy staged on
those moved to speech
when interacting within
group soul with purity
of clear vibrant
non-controlling
drama energy.
Energy is sent
with love
each person
has a portion
of universal
truth to impact
at differing times
as we seek attain
enlightenment
in an orderly
self fusion
cosmic fashion
through compassion
a sharper intuition
of shared visions.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Great and Little Weavers
The great and the little weavers,
They neither rest nor sleep.
They work in the height and the glory,
They toil in the dark and the deep.
The rainbow melts with the shower,
The white-thorn falls in the gust,
The cloud-rose dies into shadow,
The earth-rose dies into dust.
But they have not faded forever,
They have not flowered in vain,
For the great and the little weavers
Are weaving under the rain.
Recede the drums of the thunder
When the Titan chorus tires,
And the bird-song piercing the sunset
Faints with the sunset fires,
But the trump of the storm shall fail not,
Nor the flute-cry fail of the thrush,
For the great and the little weavers
Are weaving under the hush.
The comet flares into darkness,
The flame dissolves into death,
The power of the star and the dew
They glow and are gone like a breath,
But ere the old wonder is done
Is the new-old wonder begun,
For the great and the little weavers
Are weaving under the sun.
The domes of an empire crumble,
A child's hope dies in tears;
Time rolls them away forgotten
In the silt of the flooding years;
The creed for which men died smiling
Decays to a beldame's curse;
The love that made lips immortal
Drags by in a tattered hearse.
But not till the search of the moon
Sees the last white face uplift,
And over the bones of the kindreds
The bare sands dredge and drift,
Shall Love forget to return
And lift the unused latch,
(In his eyes the look of the traveller,
On his lips the foreign catch),
Nor the mad song leave men cold,
Nor the high dream summon in vain, --
For the great and the little weavers
Are weaving in heart and brain.
poem by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
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Life Principle
Everything that is
is inseparately alive.
All life
unique made manifest
is encoded
intricately interconnected.
All life is one life
all lusting to
live.
I communicate with
all existence I see
all life inherent
is not apart from me.
Creativity is
immaterial nature
made manifest
idealism more ennobled
than realized
contemporary reality.
An ecosystem
like planet earth evolving
is a closed system
vibrating indomitably aware.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Gyros
Our journey
shall not be measured
by distances
traversed upon celestial sphere.
Nor by wealth
honouring attained possession.
Individuals clothe
segregate themselves within.
But by moral integrity.
Acknowledging chosen directions
we communally embark upon.
Heightened by vibrating harmony sought.
Intensely purifying convoluted struggle.
Our earth globe itself sentience evolving
is but pivotal biological gyroscope
purposefully or experimentally set in motion?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Couple...
she is weaving
she has an intricate design inside her mind
and for now
i do not see it
she is secretive and
does not want to be asked
just like me
in my own privacy
i am also weaving
stories of my own
and the plot is complicated
in the manner of
whodunnit.
we are the weavers
inside this room and it is not
so well lighted by the
moon
we seldom discuss
what is missing
we decide not to talk about
what mess we are in
tomorrow morning
we shall weave again
under the heat of the sun
we are never burned
never charred
tonight we shall be in this room
again
we shall weave again
the designs in our minds
our fingers entwine
on matters sanguine.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Dont Need to Understand
The problems of this world are large,
lifes trials are so demanding.
I need a God beyond my ken,
beyond my understanding.
I've not the means to know each thread
within life’s knitted veil,
but He that works the Weavers wheel,
knows every strand so well.
So I lift my prayer to He who knows,
in He that loves His own.
I know full well He hears, He helps...
and to whom my prayers are flown.
I leave the details to my God
and trust that in His grace,
He will keep me close within His arms,
in His healing... warm embrace..
-Perry Biggerstaff
poem by Perry Biggerstaff
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An Expostulation to Lord King
How can you, my Lord, thus delight to torment all
The Peers of realm about cheapening their corn,
When you know, if one hasn't a very high rental,
'Tis hardly worth while being very high born?
Why bore them so rudely, each night of your life,
On a question, my Lord, there's so much to abhor in?
A question - like asking one, "How is your wife?" --
At once so confounded domestic and foreign.
As to weavers, no matter how poorly they feast;
But Peers, and such animals, fed up for show,
(Like the well-physick'd elephant, lately deceas'd,)
Take wonderful quantum of cramming, you know.
You might see, my dear Baron, how bor'd and distrest
Were their high noble hearts by your merciless tale,
When the force of the agony wrung even a jest
From the frugal Scotch wit of my Lord L-d-d-le!
Bright Peer! to whom Nature and Berwickshire gave
A humour, endow'd with effects so provoking,
That, when the whole House looks unusually grave,
You may always conclude that Lord L-d-d-le's joking!
And then, those unfortunate weavers of Perth -
Not to know the vast difference Providence dooms
Between weavers of Perth and Peers of high birth,
'Twixt those who have heir-looms, and those who've but looms!
"To talk now of starving!" - as great Ath-l said --
(and nobles all cheer'd, and the bishops all wonder'd,)
"When, some years ago, he and others had fed
Of these same hungry devils about fifteen hundred!"
It follows from hence - and the Duke's very words
Should be publish'd wherever poor rogues of this craft are --
That weavers,once rescued from starving by Lords,
Are bound to be starved by said Lords ever after.
When Rome was uproarious, her knowing patricians
Made "Bread and the Circus" a cure for each row;
But not so the plan of our noble physicians,
"No Bread and the Tread-mill" 's the regimen now.
So cease, my dear Baron of Ockham, your prose,
As I shall my poetry -- neither convinces;
And all we have spoken and written but show,
When you tread on a nobleman's corn, how he winces.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Our Forefathers
Our forefathers,
Following the ways of the Scriptures;
But an error came for the multitude,
As salvation is now accredited to the narrow path.
Profit and loss,
But only few people will be saved!
For just as the body without the spirit is dead,
So is the Faith without works is dead also! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Lords Path
there is a choice that i must make
of which path that i should take.
i was shown the path that leads
to my death and destruction.
but! i must teach my fellow man
the life of a new construction.
the life of following the LORDS word
so it can be taught and heard.
seeing the path which ahead lies.
do i continue and give it a try?
is my faith strong enough
for this path is mighty tough.
so here i stand with choice in hand.
do i help my fellow man?
do i give up my life so that the
world could be free and follow this destiny?
or do i forget my fellow mans needs
of which my LORD had planted this seed.
this is the choice that HE has given to me.
to follow him so that other men could lead.
to lead mankind to the path of light
and be able to see all the LORDS might.
and now this question i propose to you
if you was me what would you do?
(we all know the choice he made, for our salvation)
poem by Louis Rams
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Becoming The I
orchestrate avalanches to manifest tragedy
arouse destruction to manifest creation
reap the rivers to manifest drowning
drown the infant to manifest breathing
tip the hourglass, spill time coagulation
unleashing the tower collapse beneath below
as above bruised anticipation consumes
subconscious equilibrium dissection
raw ascension beyond corridors of golden dawn
tearing into emotional disconnection
grueling vertebrae entanglement
reassemble interrupted soul division
will breathing from suffocation
will suffocation from birth
will birth from repulsion
will repulsion from attraction
will attraction from decay
will decay from death
will death from breathing
Transcended Existence Quests
without soul-torn
suffering purity cannot
remain on contagious
earth escapements
without imperfection
within inspired distant
journeying destined hides
spirit healing remoteness
with soul enlightenment
desires passions extinct
human perfection attains
spiritual peace mind states
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Beautiful World Life!
Creation of beauty is for attracting each and everyone;
Appreciation of beauty develops love between hearts!
Outer and inner beauty reflects real personality of one;
Mutual attraction of beauty leads to procreation ever.
Beauty, love and life are unique aspects of man’s world;
Those are not detected in other planets of the Universe.
Colourful beauty of life thriving on love is a wonder here
Depends on the preservation of Nature and culture ever!
Beauty lies in thinking, speaking and working in the world;
Doing things to perfection makes beauty and brings joy!
Intellectual thinking, gentle doing and spiritual meditation
Are all adding beauty to man’s nature to divine nature!
Nature is the mother of Earth fostering beauty and love
To enrich life with joy and pleasure leading to divine bliss!
poem by Ramesh T A
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The Maze of Life
Onward through the maze of life
Each day forward we trek
Choosing which turn to take
Choices made, through the maze of life
Onward through the maze of life
Enduring our life in pleasures we seek
Engulfed in our own, private world
Slicing a way through the maze of life
Onward through the maze of life
Choices made, yet with little thought
The impact on others, without inclination
No compassion, through the maze of life
Onward through the maze of life
Grasping for all we can gather
Clawing to enhance our fortunes
Monetary wealth, through the maze of life
Onward through the maze of life
Each soul, a world of one
Each world, a kingdom of its own
Wasted soul, through the maze of life
Onward through the maze of life
No thoughts for the future,
Enjoying life, only for today,
, Future ignored, through the maze of life
Onward through the maze of life
Picking the apples, devouring the fruit
Filling our bellies today
Living for today, through the maze of life
Onward through the maze of death
A choice not chosen, a choice not ours
To late for changes, no more choices
Souls in default, through the maze of death!
poem by B.J. Ayers
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Valley Of The Ghouls
Energized with a sacrifice,
To remain devoted to purpose...
And a disciplined life.
Is a lonely proposition...
For those walking on a path,
That breaks away from traditions.
And pre-conditions as if accepted missions.
Achieving with dignity and a motivation to fulfill...
At times can promote discouragement.
And attention from those mean spirited...
Out to kill goodwill!
And this they will...
As if skilled.
It is difficult to maintain in the valley of the ghouls.
Those who rush to confirm the dead through obituaries.
Those who nourish upon others' despair.
Those who delight in ruling over their blight!
As if this ignites their wicked moods with added fuel.
It is difficult to maintain in the valley of the ghouls.
Those rushing from repast to repast...
To sip and dine to leave.
These are the people holding their breaths...
With a more interest in death,
Than to living lives invested...
In a happiness to manifest.
It is difficult,
To maintain...
In the valley of the ghouls.
When people express,
How good someone looks...
Dressed!
And appearing...
To be at peace in a restful death!
It is difficult,
To maintain...
In the valley of the ghouls.
When people express,
How good someone looks...
Dressed!
And appearing...
To be at peace in a restful death.
Oh yes...
It is difficult,
To maintain...
In the valley of the ghouls.
When people express,
How good someone looks...
Dressed!
And appearing...
To be at peace in a restful death.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Images-Perfection Ever Flames, An Endless Supply of Moths
As I am,
I'm perceived Perfection
upon my ivory pedestal
in brilliant light
crystalline.
But these are my prison walls
Uniques Glow
is Perfection's Pall
which exiles me from that outer world
of reality.
I cannot mingle there.
My existence is constrained.
As bright as my Radiant Glow,
upon approach
to your world
I would dim
and be destroyed.
We can talk you and I
in Perfection's Harmony
but the moment you gain
my speaking voice,
my thoughts,
all is taken from Perfection's Shelf
and another less perfect me appears.
Nothing will compare
to me as I was.
Should I
in coming to you
destroy that Perfection which is now so dear?
Conundrum.
Corporeal life
is Kryptonite
yet mental isolation is too numbing.
I am Beauty in the light
but unavailable;
forever Uncoming.
Sometimes
Beauty is torture
we ourselves inflict
to escape our worldly life.
But since its shape
is mental most
it cannot ever be.
Pity the person
whose countenance
is corporeal beauty
realized;
they will have the sterner test
of not living up to hearts image most.
Each prince
whom we have constructed
alas, can only live with us
til that moment first,
the single word;
then the dream slips.
Honeymoons and marriages
might last longer I think
if we did not first wed
our Perfect Prince beforehand.
Is it not truth plain
that love itself is only grown
when 1st Prince Born
is laid to rest
and Prince Now
is allowed to live?
How better ground is it
to love the flower in the garden now
than those ones first grown
in Furrows of Gold
in Dream World
where Perfection's Hoe
was Loves Seeder
and Instigator
of the visions
we now hold
of what ought to be?
How can we in flesh and blood
compete with perfect diamond visions
which never fade or rust?
Whose hand is warmer still
than the Princely hand held in our dreams?
Who is sadder than
those who loved us;
yet whose faces are shadowed
by cold, Perfection's Glow?
How to dream
our destiny
yet still
love those
'round us;
remembering these ones
are the ones who will
when we, in time, tomorrow
are no longer our Own Prince
or Princess Image;
no longer Perfection's Darling.
Rest you better in Human Arms;
while they grow old and leather
they'll not in the end
take your pride and sell it away
to Dream Land Barons
and Rock Star Princes
who all live in Hollywood.
What to do?
abandon Vision
goals and Prince;
leave aside Destiny?
No, we must grapple with
this conundrum sent:
wrapped up
Perfection and Beauty;
living along side
uneasily,
with what is merely Human,
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Associated with the Weaving
It becomes difficult to witness,
Someone struggling to untangle...
From a web they did weave strategically.
With an acknowledgement they had spent,
Time in trying to convince,
Their actions and deeds...
Were done with the utmost sincerity.
And to one who has warned...
Through use of observation that connects,
It becomes hard to protect one's integrity.
When standing firm with beliefs.
While others perceive this stance as weak.
It becomes difficult to witness,
Someone struggling to untangle...
From a web they did weave strategically.
Since those now stuck,
In that web that has been woven...
Find themselves equally embarrassed,
Following along as if deaf, dumb and blind...
Because of the 'appearance' of deceit,
A culprit for them has chosen to undermind.
It becomes difficult to witness,
Someone struggling to untangle...
From a web they did weave strategically.
And those following who rejected what had been said...
From past experiences hoped to prevent this,
Find they have become associated with the weaving.
And even though they may be innocent...
A speaking to anyone not paying attention,
Any empathy expressed still will not be heard.
It may be difficult to see as witnessed,
But...
Unbearable to leave as seen,
It is not.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Spiritual City
Spiritual thought
Spiritual life
Spiritual city
Spiritual wife
Spiritual work
Spiritual war
Spiritual people
Spiritual law
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Spiritual call
Spiritual tie
Spiritual seeker
Spiritual high
Spiritual need
Spiritual thirst
Spiritual beauty
Spiritual birth
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Spiritual child
Spiritual man
Spiritual power
Spiritual land
Spiritual love
Spiritual rage
Spiritual vision
Spiritual age
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Gonna see you rise higher in time
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Gonna see you rise higher in time
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Gonna see you rise higher in time
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Open your eyes and let em shine !
Everybodys born to do a certain thing
And if youre dead jammy you find it.
And if youre good at it just keep doing it
Until youre fed up then do something else.
Youre here to make babies and look after the place.
You know ? (billy connolly)
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the fabric of the universe becomes unknown, it is the duty of the university to produce weavers.
quote by Gordon Gee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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