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Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet XXIII

But, when the church was hushed in the night wind,
And all were gone who might his zeal disclaim,
Or hinder the firm purpose of his mind,
A silent man among the tombs he came,
Stooping to listen if so be some sound
Of living thing with speech or power to breathe
Should issuant be from the dark underground,--
And last to hers. There on that home of death
He kneeled him down and called aloud to her,
``Natalia, O Natalia, my beloved,
Am I not here thy soul's petitioner
Whom thou so lovedst?'' And around him moved
The phantoms of the night. And the wind's sigh
Answered his prayer, ``Beloved, it is I.''

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Natalia's Life

natalia didn't believe
in anything anymore
for her parents abused her
and beat her every day
witch made natalia
wish...
she wasn't alive

natalia was only 6
when her father
tried to rape her
she went crying to her mother
but her mother didn't listen
or seem to care

natalia is 16
about to have a baby
she doesn't want
or need

natalia is 18
tried to kill
her parents
but her father
grabed a hold of her
and killed her instead

by: crystal sonier
age: 16

poem by Natalia Anna Joelie
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Natalia

Im walkin down the street
Im on that midnight beat
Im on a lonely avenue
Baby, wont you walk with me
Baby, wont you talk with me
Oh thats all I want you to do, now
Walk with me
Talk to me
Call your name out
Chorus:
Na na, na na, na na
Na na, na na, na na
Na na, na na, na na, natalia
Here on a summer night
I wanna kiss and hold you tight
Just the way we used to do
Walkin down the same old street
People that we used to meet
Such a long, long time ago, now
Walk with me
Talk to me
And I call out your name
Repeat chorus two times
On a magic night like this
I hunger for your kiss
On a magic night like this
Repeat chorus
Walk with me
Talk with me
Walk with me
Talk with me
Natalia, natalia, natalia
Natalia, natalia, natalia
Fade

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet VII

But where he fared and how, it matters not.
He and his mourning ere a month had run
Were out of mind with all and clean forgot,
Kinsman and friend and foe: save only one,
Only Natalia. She with tightened breath
Heard his name spoken in reproof's vain way
And gave her melancholy soul to death.
Foolish Natalia, who in love's full day
Had spent her grief, had nothing now to give
Of greater woe to her soul's agonies.
Living she yet had hardly dared to live.
She had wept dry the fountains of her eyes,
And never on her sorrow broke a gleam
Of that assuagement tears on others stream.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Hey There Beloved

Hey there beloved why are you walking away from me?
Hey there beloved don't you know all those gifts are from me?
Hey there beloved I carried you through your storms
Hey there beloved come back to me
Hey there beloved don't you know I'm waiting with open arms
Hey there beloved I wish you were not blind but could turn back and see
Hey there beloved don't you notice my art?
Hey there beloved my love for you is in every night sky
Hey there beloved look for my love in the sunset
Hey there beloved, the sun is for you
Hey there beloved the coolness of clouds is for your enjoyment
Hey there beloved I love you
Hey there beloved You can walk away

Hey there beloved it makes me cry when you chase other lovers, but
Hey there beloved I'll let you go because I want you to choose me
Hey there beloved I want you to learn to love me
Hey there beloved don't go to them
Hey there beloved they cannot fill you up
Hey there beloved, I'll never give up on you

Hey there beloved I'm full of tears
Hey there beloved I made you for so much more
Hey there beloved you don't have to dress like that
Hey there beloved they don't really love you
Hey there beloved you're more than just a body
Hey there beloved you don't have to try to be something you're not
Hey there beloved I still love you

Hey there beloved you don't have to earn my love
Hey there beloved those things won't satisfy you
Hey there beloved heed my voice that path will destroy you
Hey there beloved you're broken, but
Hey there beloved my heart breaks for you
Hey there beloved can't you see the brokenness?
Hey there beloved why do you ignore me
Hey there beloved.... I love you with all that I am
Hey there beloved, that's everything there is

Hey there beloved I love you with my entire being
Hey there beloved that's grander than the universe itself
Hey there beloved you've strayed so far away
Hey there beloved I'll always call you back
Hey there beloved I'll always be waiting
Hey there beloved I still love y-
Hey there beloved h--
Hey there be-----
Hey--------
H--------

______ ______________

poem by David Knox
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Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet XXVII

She wakes, she breathes, she rises from her bed,
That bed of death where she has lain so long;
The flowers they set there fall from her fair head
Withered, while she, sweet soul, has known no wrong.
Forth from her grave miraculously white,
And all unstained by the dull earth's decay,
Natalia rises, a last star of night,
Just as the dawn is breaking into day.
Upon the stones they kneeled them down and prayed,
For hearts grow soft with a long danger past,
And both were young and for a while dismayed
At their great joy nor deemed they held it fast;
Then, having kissed and wept, they turned to go
Through the dark church with faltering steps and slow.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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N. Y.

My City, my beloved, my white! Ah, slender,
Listen! Listen to me, and I will breathe into thee a soul.
Delicately upon the reed, attend me!

Now do I know that I am mad,
For here are a million people surly with traffic;
This is no maid.
Neither could I play upon any reed if I had one.

My City, my beloved,
Thou art a maid with no breasts,
Thou art slender as a silver reed.
Listen to me, attend me!
And I will breathe into thee a soul,
And thou shalt live for ever.

poem by Ezra Pound
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Where Perfumed Rivers Flow

Where perfumed rivers flow,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where passing breezes halt,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where dawn arrives on bare toes,
Where night paints henna-beams on feet,
Where fragrance bathes in moonlight,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where rays of light roam nakedly,
In green forests of sandalwood.
Where the flame seeks the lamp,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where sunsets sleep on wide waters,
And the deer leap.
Where tears fall for no reason,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where the farmer sleeps hungry,
Even though the wheat is the color of my beloved,
Where the wealthy ones lie in hiding,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where perfumed rivers flow,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where passing breezes halt,
Is the home of my beloved.

poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
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A Light In The Window

Rain and wind and candlelight
And let us pray a prayer to-night:
For every soul, since life is brief,
Little of trouble and less of grief.
And set a light at the windowpane,
To guide Love home through the night and rain.
Rain and wind and candlelight
And what shall we pray again to-night?
For every life, whose way is dim,
The grace of God and trust in Him.
A word, a song, till the tears be dried,
And Faith and Hope sit down beside.
Rain and wind and candlelight
And one last prayer to pray to-night:
For every heart in the dark and rain
To know its prayer is not in vain:
A door flung wide, and a face aglow
Love come back from the Long-Ago.
Then let the rain and the wind without
Threaten their worst and rave and shout:
For who will care, though the night is black
Love to his own has wandered back.
Has wandered back through the rain and night,
Led home again by her candle's light.

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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~ Prayer ~

Beloved you only pray in times of stress or need.
Forget not to pray for the joy and abundance you already have.

Prayer is but the expansion of your self into the Cosmos.
If it is for your comfort to pour darkness into space,
It should also be your delight to pour out the dawning of your soul.

If you cannot but weep when your soul summons you to prayer,
Trust that after weeping you shall find laughter.

When you pray you rise to meet in the air others who pray.
And you recognize each other in sweet communion.

Know that when you enter prayer with no other purpose than asking,
For the sake of asking you shall not receive.

Be invisible and pray not before men.

Beloved I cannot teach you how to pray with words as,
You have but to allow God to speak through your lips.

If you but listen to the stillness of the night you shall hear;

“Father your will is our will”

We need not ask for anything, because you know our needs before us.
Father you are our only need, for in giving of yourself you gives us everything.

(Inspired by Kahlil Gibran)

ROTMS

View more writings, images and video at;
rotms.blogspot.com

poem by Ray Lucero
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Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet XXX

Thus was Natalia loved and lost and won.
Some say that Adrian, having gained the goal
Of his long hopes, and being of those who run
Too lightly for their constancy of soul,
Or finding maybe that in spite of fate
She he had saved from death was ill at ease,
And halted still in doubt 'twixt this and that,
Grudging her frightened soul its ecstasies,
At a high feast in presence of her kin
Gave back Natalia to her husband's care:
A fair resolve, mayhap, and lesser sin,
If that sin be which love hath made so fair.
Yet do I doubt me all so blindly ended,
Since both from Adam were and Eve descended.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Smile the scented wind

let me be the wind that wash the tiding sea and sudden
the illusion of this day and capture your heart in the endless
beauty of your destiny

thou, the living blue ocean always bring, happiness and
as the trumpeter echo of my call, nothing has come to live in
your bountiful scented smile in the wind, my dear soul rest

oh! my admirable dear desire, my passion shadowed in your
wisdom of love, enduring the holocaust of pain as you walks
amidst my trembling heart, I restore to live beyond today

let me ask a little pardon, the humble beginning of my love,
that leads me to kiss my ignorance of being, that hold me to
push the reason, why forgiveness comes first to your mercy

I come thou, in the brightness of today, blinded that you
Will just a dew to believe the point to accept that all lewd
I to know the zeal that begin the idyllic time with me

may come the sea fished, the water in the dueling night
of the coming ocean blue light of tomorrow, for thou shall
my heart paddle my soul to rejoin; with the time to bring
the memory of you my wind beneath the angler hook of
today ….

tell my beloved One ……

poem by Antonio Liao
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When the Sun Set...

caught me in the dark sky and slave
me not my great light of illusion, where
the eyes had close and vanish in the
oblation of reality, amongst any other
men

wish my spirited soul and tied me up
in the journey without the flesh, for the
sunset nest behind, the glorious sky; as
the wind listens to the hymn of songs
to fly

oh! let the beloved deep sleep cry and
transverse in the melody of our blind
ears; to the rhythm of the notes that beats,
beyond the silent of the night;
you'll be blown by the wind and blind,
as you touch the spirit of the sun set,
you've cried

take the first journey and the songs to cry,
leaves you to capture the great night
of the sky …

poem by Antonio Liao
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A Love Secret

Love has its secrets, joy has its revealings.
How shall I speak of that which love has hid?
If my beloved shall return to greet me,
Deeds shall be done for her none ever did.

My beloved loved me. How shall I reveal it?
We were alone that morning in the street.
She looked down at the ground, and blushed, and trembled.
She stopped me with her eyes when these did meet.

``What wouldst thou, sweet one? What wouldst thou with sorrow,
Thou, the new morning star with me, the night?
What are those flowers thou holdest to thy bosom?
What are the thoughts thou hidest from my sight?''

``Thine are these flowers,'' she said, ``these foolish roses,
And thine the thoughts, if thus it be thy will.
I hold them close for fear that thou shouldst mock me,
I hold them to my heart for fear of ill.''

``Nay, what of ill? 'Tis only age is evil,
Only forgetfulness and grief and pain;
What dost thou know of grief, that thou shouldst fear it?
Mine is the grief who cannot love again.''

She raised her eyes, she looked at me in wonder,
``The ache is here,'' she said, ``by night and day;
I cannot teach my heart to bear its burden,
I cannot turn my silence from its way.''

``Speak to me, child. I am thy wise physician,
A man acquainted with all grief can teach;
There is no sorrow but has joy for sister,
No silence but finds counterpart in speech.''

My beloved laughed. She saw through my dissembling;
She held to me her hand, that I might kiss,
The inside of her hand. 'Twas like a petal
Of her own roses, but more dear than this.

I felt its pulses, like a bird in prison;
``Sweet child,'' I said, ``what wouldst thou I should prove?
I cannot make thee wiser than thy wisdom,
Who knowest all things since thou knowest love.''

How shall I tell it? How shall I reveal it?
I led her by the hand, as thus I said,
Back from the street to where it stood, my dwelling,
And closed the door on where it stood, my bed.

Her laughter stopped. ``Nay, use not thou unkindly.
Thine is the hand to deal or spare the blame;
I dare not be to thee thus uninvited,
Thou dost not know me, hast not learned my name.''

How shall I tell it? How shall I reveal it?
Love in that instant found its latest birth,
``Soul of my soul,'' I cried, ``thy name is Pleasure,
The sweetest thing to love on this sad Earth.''

I held her in my arms, I pressed her fastly.
``Ah, if thou lovedst me indeed,'' she cried.
``I love thee, and I love thee,'' was my answer,
``My sister, my beloved one, my bride!''

Love has its secrets. Joy has its revealings.
I speak of this which love in vain has hid;
If my beloved shall return to greet me,
Deeds shall be done for her none ever did.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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In A Cold Wind

In a cold wind
in a night wind,
under a yellow street-light,
its paleness and the dark night.

Leaves blown past,
down the wind, cast
onto the silent roadway,
or in heaps, on the footway.

The houses that rise
into grey skies,
windows with drawn curtains,
facing onto pale gardens.

Slow in the sky,
the clouds moving by;
on the ground, the shadows blurred,
the whistling wind heard.

And the wind that blows
comes not, nor goes.
In this night, its sound
wraps all around.

Not here alone,
its long low drone,
along endless fences and hedges,
insidiously edges.

Now is the hour,
now is the closing of the flower,
an end to approaching and retreating,
to losing and defeating,

in a cold wind,
in a night wind,
on a corner of a cold street,
where all directions meet.

poem by Rory Hudson
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In Thou dark stormy Night

All alone in the night
All alone with my own fright
A lightning strikes, runs across the dead black sky
I am alone
but I wonder, why?

In Thou dark stormy night
In Thou dark stormy night
I call your name with all my might

All alone hanging in the night
My arms are sore, my soul is light
I hear the thunder, in the cloudy black sky
I am scared
but I don't know, why?

In Thou dark stormy night
in Thou dark stormy night
I call your name with all my might

Inside Your house in the night
Calling Your name with all my might
Father! Father! Why have you forsaken me?
'You must die so my people can be free.'

In Thou dark stormy night
In Thou dark stormy night
Jesus drew his final breath
Saving us all from our own eternal death

poem by Summer Song
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desert Woman

She is born with the
silent language of desert and winds
engraved in her soul and
every night stairing towards the sky
fighting with her own guesses
which she made to catch the star
her beloved was following
to reach his destination
she sends her wishpers
along with tender kisses
placing on the wings of wind
believing the wind would surely
travel far and far away
to transfer her kisses
with her passionate message of
longingness to her beloved
she lives in fire of
endless waiting moments
with flood of stroms in her eyes
and suffers moments of blazing coals
as horrible pain
with a desperate desire to
rest in his strong arms forever
she try's to gather dews of her
evaporating deep breaths
and create imaginary of being
beside him peeping in his eyes
she never know
her wait would end or not
But she know one thing
she is a desert woman
and with flux of stone body
she would be waiting till her last breath....

poem by Seema Gupta
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Dance Then to Everything

Music is everywhere
music is in sound and
music is in silence

Therefore I dance
to silence I dance
to tears I dance
to laughter I dance
to groans and moans

I dance to Rachmaninoff
and Bach, to Beethoven
and Dylan, to Carole King
and Marvin Gay and to everything
composed, harmonious and played

Dance then to birdsong and waterfall,
to the spring scented forest and garden,
to snow and the rain, to river and ocean,
with desert or mountain, I dance

For the dancing mind can dance
forward or backward in time and space also,
indeed to outer and inner dimensions uncommonly known

I dance with my eyes,
I dance with one hand,
I dance clapping,
I dance with one foot
or one shoulder, my hair
dances with wind

I dance to poetry while hearing it,
I dance to poetry while reading it
aloud to the tree for whom I wrote it

As I dance around the lovely thing
with my hand or arm encircling

As Rumi danced his grief
and finally his joy around
the cool, smooth, sacred stone
until he warmed it with longing~

As Rumi danced around the pillar of loss
when his beloved teacher and friend
called Shams, The Sun, had died—

He danced to call back the Light
from the belly of darkness
that had swallowed the sky,
as now the Sufi dance after him

For Dance is the Song of the Body,
and Songs are the Dance of the Voice~
as both Move, Utter, Outer the Soul

I dance to the gospels
I dance to the psalms
I dance to a friend
I dance mostly and always
to God

Don’t let the limitations
of your body deter you,
dance with your mind,
dance with your soul

Feel free to join me
across great distances
of space and time
and dance on your own

Dance all by yourself
so no one will know
but you and the Beloved,
in whatever form you
experience the Beloved,
and let the Beloved
dance with You

This poem is in the book The Frequencies of Sound
by Alla Renée Bozarth, copyright 2011. All rights reserved.

poem by Alla Renee Bozarth
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In the Spirit of Rumi - 15

To My Beloved I said

O My Beloved,
tell me of Yourself;
I yearn to know

My Beloved said

O my dearest one,
tell me, rather, of yourself;
for only in knowing yourself
and knowing what you do not know
may you know Myself

to My Beloved I said

I breathe; and yet
I was never taught to breathe.
I breathe perfectly;
who taught me then, to breathe?

In the light of the Sun,
I see all that may be seen;
who taught my eyes to see?
who taught the Sun to shine?

With my breath,
with my eyes,
I see love, breathe love in my heart;
who put it there?

Every day, I eat,
every day I need to eat;
every day there is some food;
who makes earth into bread?

Every day I make mistakes,
yet every day I live again;
my children I forgive their mistakes;
who will teach me my mistakes,
who will forgive me my mistakes?

Every day I find my world the greater,
every day my powers are greater;
every day the world’s glory is greater;
who made these boundaries to be boundless?

Every day, I think of death;
every day, I am alive;
every day, I seek the truth;
who joins these three, and who divides?

my Beloved said to me

In your questions, love.
In the answer, love.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Life Vs.death

life is power, life is love, life is hate, life is a un-predictable thing of living
on this life subtance that is joined of death. death is that five letter word that was joined to that four lettered word life death is an over powering subtance of life that one person will feel at least a few times in a life-time. life is a dramatic feature of the circle of life

poem by Natalia Stratton
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Life Has A Great Customer!

Life is having one great customer,
The Lord in disguise in every life,

Blessed is the lotus, which blooms in mudfilled lake,
Golden petals lotus, in trifle suffered hearts,
May it be an Einstein,
or may a Gibran,
Such births take place in this pool,
Filled with so many problems!

Yet the love is so great,
I love my beloved more than my life,
This life is his,
This life is for him,
Every moment I die and reborn in him,

Every sound of rustling leaves,
My beloved's call,
With every wind the fragrance of beloved cometh,

Every moving cloud shows,
Different face of my beloved,
With every raise and fall of a wave,
My beloved shows up,
In every golden rays of the Morning Sun is my beloved's procession,
Rooster calling, wake up see the glories procession of beloved,
Birds singing praise of the beloved,
In dewdrops his world shineth,
Everyday if one rooster or bird gone,
It take the rebirth to sing his glory,
Every dew dropp evaporated appear next morning,
So am I to die every moment,
To this world I am dead,
Ever living and sleeping in beloved's heart,
Whenever I want my eyes to fill his glory,
I come out of his heart,
Stand aside, and look at my beloved's beautiful face!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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