On the Sea
I.
My God, break not the breakers of the sea,
Nor command to the deep, 'Become dry'.
Until I thank Your mercies, and I thank
The waves of the sea and the wind of the west;
Let them propel me to the place of the yoke of Your love,
And bear far from me the Arab yoke.
And how shall my desires not find fulfillment,
Seeing as I trust in You, and You are pledged to me?
II.
Has the flood come again and made the world a waste
So that one cannot see the face of the dry land,
And no man is there and no beast and no bird?
Have they all come to an end and lain down in sorrow?
To see even a mountain or a marsh would be a rest for me,
And the desert itself would be sweet.
But I look on every side and there is nothing
But water and sky and ark,
And Leviathan causing the abyss to boil,
So that one considers the deep to be hoary,
And the heart of the sea conceals the ship
As though she were a stolen thing in the sea's hand.
As the sea rages, my soul is jubilant -
For my ship draws near to the sanctuary of her God.
III.
To You my soul turns in trust or fear,
It is to you that she always gives thanks and worship;
In You I rejoice on the day I wander forth and flee,
And You I thank in every flight and wandering. -
Indeed, when the ship, to bear me over, spreads out wings like the wings of a stork,
And when the deep groans and roars beneath me,
As though it had learned from my own entrails,
And makes the abyss to boil like a pot,
Indeed, turns the sea into a pot of burning ointment;
And when the ship from Kittim comes to the sea of the Philistines
And the Hittites come down to the stronghold;
And when creatures press upon the ship
And sea-monsters watch for food,
And there is a time of trouble as of one that brings forth her first child,
When children have approached their birth
But there is no strength to bring them forth.
And though I should lack for food and drink,
I take the sweetness of Your name into my mouth for sustenance;
And I have no care for worldly goods,
Nor for treasures nor for any perishables -
Even so far that I can leave behind [in Spain] her that went forth of my loins,
Sister of my soul - and she my only daughter -
And I can forget her son, though it pierces my heart,
And I have nothing left but his memory for a symbol -
Fruit of my loins, child of my delight -
Ah! How should Yehudah forget [my grandson] Yehudah?
But this is a light thing compared to Your love,
Since I may enter Your gates with thanksgiving,
And sojourn there, and count my heart
A burnt offering bound upon Your altar;
And may make my grave in Your land,
So that it be there a witness for me.
IV.
This is your wind, O perfumed west,
With spikenard and apple in his wings!
You come forth of the treasures of the spice traders -
You are not of the treasures of the wind.
You propel me on swallow's wings, and proclaim liberty for me;
Like pure myrrh from the bundle of spices you have selected.
How men must long for you, which for your sake
Ride over the crest of the sea on the back of a plank!
Stay not your hand from the ship
Either when day abides or in the cool breath of the night;
But beat out the deep, and tear the heart of the seas
And touch the holy mountains, and there will you rest.
Reprimand the east wind which tosses the sea into tempest
Until he makes its heart like a seething pot.
What shall the captive do, in the hand of God,
One moment held back, and one moment sent forth free?
Truly the secret of my quest is in the hand of the Highest,
Who formed the mountain heights and created the wind.
V.
My desire for the living God has constrained me
To seek the place of the throne of my annointed -
Even so that it has not suffered me to kiss
The children of my house, my friends, and my brethren;
And that I do not weep for the orchard which I planted and watered,
Nor for my green shoots that prospered;
And that I abandoned Yehudah and Azariel,
My two beautiful choice flowers;
And Yitzhak, whom I counted as my child,
Fruit of the sun, best of the growth of my moons;
And that I have all but forgotten the house of prayer
In whose place of learning was my rest,
And that I forget the delights of my Sabbaths,
The beauty of my festivals, the glory of my Passovers,
And have given my glory unto others,
And renounced my praise unto graven images.
I have exchanged my abode for a shadow of shrubs,
And for a hedge in the thicket my strong bars;
My soul is satisfied with the chief spices,
And the scent of the thornbush I use now for perfume;
And I have ceased to walk with my face bending to the ground [in forced servility to other men]
But have set my paths in the heart of the seas -
With the ultimate goal that I may find the footstool of my God,
And be able to pour out my soul with my thoughts,
And stand at the threshold of His holy mount and set open
Towards the doors of Heaven's gates, my doors,
And suffer my spikenard to flower by the waters of the Jordan,
And put forth my shoots by Siloah.
The Lord is with me, how shall I fear or dread,
Since the angel of His mercy bears my weapons?
I shall praise His name while I still am alive,
And thank Him for eternity.
VI.
I say in the heart of the seas to the quaking heart,
Fearing greatly because they lift up their waves;
If you believe in God who made the sea,
And whose Name stands for eternity,
The sea shall not frighten you when its waves rise up,
For with you is One who has set a bound to the sea.
VII.
I cry out to God with a melting heart and knees that strike against each other,
While anguish is in all loins,
On a day when the oarsmen are astounded at the deep,
When even the pilots find not their hands.
How shall I be otherwise, since I, on a ship's deck,
Suspended between the waters and the heavens,
Am dancing and tossed about?
But this is merely a light thing,
If I may eventually hold a joyous dance in the midst of you, O Jerusalem!
VIII.
Call greeting unto daughters and relatives,
Peace to brothers and to sisters,
From the captive of hope who is possessed by the sea,
And has placed his spirit in the hand of the winds,
Thrust by the hand of the west into the hand of the east:
This one passes to lead on, and that one to thrust back.
Between him and death is but a step,
Yes, between them is merely the thickness of a plank;
Buried alive in a coffin of wood,
Upon no floor, with no four cubits of earth,
Nor even with less.
He sits - he cannot stand upon his feet,
He lies down - he cannot stretch them forth;
Sick and afraid because of the heathen
And because of the marauders and the winds.
The pilot and the mariner, and all their rabble -
They are the rulers and captains there.
Fame is not to the wise, nor yet favor to skilled men,
Save only to those that have skill to swim.
My face is troubled at this for a moment
(How should the innermost heart rejoice?),
Until I pour out my soul into the bosom of God,
Before the place of the Ark and the altars,
And bestow upon God, who bestows good things upon the unworthy,
The goodness of songs and praise.
translated by Nina Salaman
poem by Yehudah HaLevi
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The Wind And The Sea
I STOOD by the shore at the death of day,
As the sun sank flaming red;
And the face of the waters that spread away
Was as gray as the face of the dead.
And I heard the cry of the wanton sea
And the moan of the wailing wind;
For love's sweet pain in his heart had he,
But the gray old sea had sinned.
The wind was young and the sea was old,
But their cries went up together;
The wind was warm and the sea was cold,
For age makes wintry weather.
So they cried aloud and they wept amain,
Till the sky grew dark to hear it;
And out of its folds crept the misty rain,
In its shroud, like a troubled spirit.
For the wind was wild with a hopeless love,
And the sea was sad at heart
At many a crime that he wot of,
Wherein he had played his part.
He thought of the gallant ships gone down
By the will of his wicked waves;
And he thought how the churchyard in the town
Held the sea-made widows' graves.
The wild wind thought of the love he had left
Afar in an Eastern land,
And he longed, as long the much bereft,
For the touch of her perfumed hand.
In his winding wail and his deep-heaved sigh
His aching grief found vent;
While the sea looked up at the bending sky
And murmured: 'I repent.'
But e'en as he spoke, a ship came by,
That bravely ploughed the main,
And a light came into the sea's green eye,
And his heart grew hard again.
Then he spoke to the wind: 'Friend, seest thou not
Yon vessel is eastward bound?
Pray speed with it to the happy spot
Where thy loved one may be found.'
And the wind rose up in a dear delight,
And after the good ship sped;
But the crafty sea by his wicked might
Kept the vessel ever ahead.
Till the wind grew fierce in his despair,
And white on the brow and lip.
He tore his garments and tore his hair,
And fell on the flying ship.
And the ship went down, for a rock was there,
And the sailless sea loomed black;
While burdened again with dole and care,
The wind came moaning back.
And still he moans from his bosom hot
Where his raging grief lies pent,
And ever when the ships come not,
The sea says: 'I repent,'
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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A New Year's Message To Joseph Mazzini
Send the stars light, but send not love to me.
Shelley.
I
Out of the dawning heavens that hear
Young wings and feet of the new year
Move through their twilight, and shed round
Soft showers of sound,
Soothing the season with sweet rain,
If greeting come to make me fain,
What is it I can send again?
2
I know not if the year shall send
Tidings to usward as a friend,
And salutation, and such things
Bear on his wings
As the soul turns and thirsts unto
With hungering eyes and lips that sue
For that sweet food which makes all new.
3
I know not if his light shall be
Darkness, or else light verily:
I know but that it will not part
Heart's faith from heart,
Truth from the trust in truth, nor hope
From sight of days unscaled that ope
Beyond one poor year's horoscope.
4
That faith in love which love's self gives,
O master of my spirit, lives,
Having in presence unremoved
Thine head beloved,
The shadow of thee, the semitone
Of thy voice heard at heart and known,
The light of thee not set nor flown.
5
Seas, lands, and hours, can these divide
Love from love's service, side from side,
Though no sound pass nor breath be heard
Of one good word?
To send back words of trust to thee
Were to send wings to love, when he
With his own strong wings covers me.
6
Who shall teach singing to the spheres,
Or motion to the flight of years?
Let soul with soul keep hand in hand
And understand,
As in one same abiding-place
We keep one watch for one same face
To rise in some short sacred space.
7
And all space midway is but nought
To keep true heart from faithful thought,
As under twilight stars we wait
By Time's shut gate
Till the slow soundless hinges turn,
And through the depth of years that yearn
The face of the Republic burn.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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My Heart Is Resting, O My Lord
My heart is resting, O my God—
I will give thanks and sing;
My heart is at the secret source
Of every precious thing.
Now the frail vessel Thou hast made
No hand but Thine shall fill—
For the waters of the Earth have failed,
And I am thirsty still.
I thirst for springs of heavenly life,
And here all day they rise—
I seek the treasure of Thy love,
And close at hand it lies.
And a new song is in my mouth
To long loved music set—
Glory to Thee for all the grace
I have not tasted yet.
Glory to Thee for strength withheld,
For want and weakness known—
And the fear that sends me to Thy breast
For what is most my own.
I have a heritage of joy
That yet I must not see;
But the hand that bled to make it mine
Is keeping it for me.
There is a certainty of love
That sets my heart at rest—
A calm assurance for today
That to be poor is best—
A prayer reposing on His truth
Who hath made all things mine,
That draws my captive will to Him,
And makes it one with Thine.
I will give thanks for suffering now,
For want and toil and loss—
For the death that sin makes hard and slow,
Upon my Savior’s cross—
Thanks for the little spring of love
That gives me strength to say,
If they will leave me part in Him,
Let all things pass away.
Sometimes I long for promised bliss,
But it will not come too late—
And the songs of patient spirits rise
From the place wherein I wait;
While in the faith that makes no haste
My soul has time to see
A kneeling host of Thy redeemed,
In fellowship with me.
There is a multitude around
Responsive to my prayer;
I hear the voice of my desire
Resounding everywhere.
But the earnest of eternal joy,
In every prayer I trace;
I see the glory of the Lord:
On every chastened face.
How oft, in still communion known,
Those spirits have been sent
To share the travail of my soul,
Or show me what it meant!
And I long to do some work of love
No spoiling hand could touch,
For the poor and suffering of Thy flock
Who comfort me so much.
But the yearning thought is mingled now
With the thankful song I sing;
For Thy people know the secret source
Of every precious thing.
The heart that ministers for Thee
In Thy own work will rest;
And the subject spirit of a child
Can serve Thy children best.
Mine be the reverent, listening love,
That waits all day on Thee,
With the service of a watchful heart
Which no one else can see—
The faith that, in a hidden way
No other eye may know,
Finds all its daily work prepared,
And loves to have it so.
My heart is resting, O my God,
My heart is in Thy care—
I hear the voice of joy and health
Resounding everywhere.
“Thou art my portion,” saith my soul,
Ten thousand voices say,
And the music of their glad Amen,
Will never die away.
poem by Anna Laetitia Waring
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I Am Your Higher Ground
The tears of my heart are falling
And each dropp is a part of me
My heart is thoroughly broken
Oh my Father in heaven can't you see
My heart lays wet on my pillow
I am wounded and broken inside
I try to hang on to what I have
Yet the floodgates are opened wide
The cry of my soul is to heaven
Yet the flood of my heart rises still
Who will heal my heart of this rupture
I have swallowed a most bitter pill
In the midst of this flood that is rising
I am overwhelmed by what I can see
I shut my eyes and cast them to heaven
And the Lord says ' keep your eyes upon me.'
Be still my child and trust in me yet
I have captured each tear in my hand
I see your afflictions and troubled heart
Upon I alone you must stand
For when the enemy comes in like a flood
And there's no hiding place to be found
I am your refuge and strong high tower
I am your higher ground
Come away with me in the midst of this storm
Will you place your heart in my hand
Trust in me oh child of mine
And together, you shall surely stand
poem by Frank McEleny
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My Heart Is In The East
My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west—
How can I find savour in food? How shall it be sweet to me?
How shall I render my vows and my bonds, while yet
Zion lieth beneath the fetter of Edom, and I in Arab chains?
A light thing would it seem to me to leave all the good things of Spain—
Seeing how precious in mine eyes to behold the dust of the desolate sanctuary.
Translated by Nina Salaman
poem by Yehudah HaLevi
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We – Not We
My joy and your joy don’t go together,
My thoughts and your thoughts touch slightly.
My hand, your hand – they will meet never,
My dreams want to kiss your dreams lightly.
Your words bloom in my heart like flowers,
I’d like to pick them and not to suffer any longer.
There is my heart and yours in the scattered showers,
My love and my hope - I have to smother them.
My island is so lonely; my flag waves on the pole.
You should have it at heart and come to comfort.
But I had a look around and didn’t see a soul.
Your ship can’t still find the inaccessible port.
My joy and your joy don’t go together,
My thoughts and your thoughts touch slightly.
My hand, your hand – they will meet never,
My dreams want to kiss your dreams lightly.
poem by Jolanta Gradowicz
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Philippians In Poetry
Whether I live or whether I die
May Christ be magnified in me
Whether I go to my Father on high
Let Christ be all that they see
I am not afraid to die
I long to be away from this place
I'll take my wings, to His glory I'll fly
That I may behold His face
To live is Christ and to die is gain
For the Kingdom dwells in my heart
No matter what I suffer, no matter the pain
From my Jesus I am never apart
So let men do what ere they may
For I shall suffer for His sake
I will raise my hands to God and pray
For my soul is His and His to take
So let us stand together as one
In the gospel of Christ our Lord
And we shall stand till the day is done
With the Lamb and the Blood and the Sword
Stand fast my brothers and do not yield
When the enemy comes in like a flood
We shall live or die on the battle-field
For we are covered by Emmanuel's Blood
He took on the form of a bondservant
And came in the likeness of man
Glory stepped down into darkness
And the fulfillment of God's holy plan
And He humbled Himself and was obedient
And was willing to suffer the loss
Of His glory and majesty of heaven above
And die, even the death of the cross
Therefore God has highly exalted Him
With the name which is above every name
And forever the name of Jesus
The angels will sing of its fame
And every knee in heaven and earth
Shall bow to Christ the King
And every tongue will confess His name
And all their praises they will sing
So walk with the Lord and do His will
And seek only heavenly treasure
And He will do a work in you
That's His will and for His good pleasure
Children of God, walk without fault
In the midst of a crooked generation
Let your light so shine before men
That they too may find salvation
Rejoice in the Lord always
And lift His holy name
Rejoice in the Lord, the God of all
Who never leaves us the same
You can grow up in the church
And go through the motions
You can sing the hymns
And read the devotions
You can do all of that
And do it with zeal
But if you dont't know the Lord
Then what's the deal?
But just one moment
In His glorious presence
To know who He is
Just know His essence
will render all religion
Perfectly meaningless
As we kneel at His throne
In the beauty of Holiness
Now everything before
We count as lost
As we embrace the throne
As we embrace the cross
This knowledge of our God
To be found in Him
Makes the things of the world
Grow strangly dim
His inpenatrable light
Is what makes this world dim
All that now counts
Is that I know Him
Not that I am perfect
But I press on in
To grow closer to God
To grow further from sin
And now I forget
Those things left behind
I now look forward
For I'm no longer blind
And with those eyes
He has given to me
I look to the Lord
To be all that I see
He fills up my vision
With His glory above
He fills this new heart
With His glorious love
Even though I must suffer
The loss of all things
My heart could care less
To my Saviour it clings
So avoid at all cost
I tell you with weeping
The enemies of the cross
Who would keep you all sleeping
For their end is destruction
And they seek only gold
They will wither and die
As God's judgments unfold
Be anxious for nothing
And stand by His side
Lift your prayers to the Lord
Do not run, do not hide
And everything in prayer
And by supplication
You must fall to you knees
In humble adoration
And with a thankfull heart
He fills you with peace
Lift your hands to the King
May your worship never cease
And this peace that surpasses
All understanding
Will guard your heart through Jesus
With a peace that's outstanding
For whatever things are noble
And whatever things are true
Meditate on these
That's what you must do
Think about virtue
And what's worthy of praise
Whatever things are lovely
Dwell on these all your days
And learn to be content
And walk without need
For the Lord is our resource
He's our provider indeed
And whether we are hungry
Or whether we're full
We will tell the whole world
He reigns and rules
For I can do all things
For Christ strengthens me
He's the King of all Kings
He has set me free
According to His riches
He'll supply every need
He's the giver of life
He's the sower of seed
poem by Frank McEleny
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Deep in my heart
as the waves conquer, the ocean floor, and the water kisses
the river stream, the joy that lingers in my twinkling heart, makes
my whispering soul, to rejoice in your soul
you who lived with me amidst of a miserable world, wins my heart,
to go where it takes, live where it ends and conquer where i stand,
waves all the struggle that echo in a distance land, for my dream,
would never be the same
leave me not, for my life will lives only with you, believe what i see
not in every wilderness you find light, not even memories to
remember that life we live is but a dream to forget, just hold on
in my shadow for i will make you live
iam not a god nor you a little god, where every angels live, yet! the
wisdom of time, reveals the essence of life, that holding me is to live
with you, its a space between space that will make you survive to
where your life live
time as time past bye, every moment lift is our to share, it is a
parting good bye, that in darkness of the sky, the firefly illuminate
the infinite shadow of what meant to love you, leaving the pangs
of death
my heart believes the pristine breath that you give, a heart that
creates something that only you can give, a revealing you, where
everything comes into being, an incense of eternity begins
hold me close, and i will take you there, to the yell of hearts, to the
dream of reality, a joy that last forever, to the afterlife where we
begin and always trust my heart that beneath the wings, we will
pass the dawning rays of joy..... thank you and i love you
poem by Antonio Liao
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The Ship of Death
I
Now it is autumn and the falling fruit
and the long journey towards oblivion.
The apples falling like great drops of dew
to bruise themselves an exit from themselves.
And it is time to go, to bid farewell
to one's own self, and find an exit
from the fallen self.
II
Have you built your ship of death, O have you?
O build your ship of death, for you will need it.
The grim frost is at hand, when the apples will fall
thick, almost thundrous, on the hardened earth.
And death is on the air like a smell of ashes!
Ah! can't you smell it?
And in the bruised body, the frightened soul
finds itself shrinking, wincing from the cold
that blows upon it through the orifices.
III
And can a man his own quietus make
with a bare bodkin?
With daggers, bodkins, bullets, man can make
a bruise or break of exit for his life;
but is that a quietus, O tell me, is it quietus?
Surely not so! for how could murder, even self-murder
ever a quietus make?
IV
O let us talk of quiet that we know,
that we can know, the deep and lovely quiet
of a strong heart at peace!
How can we this, our own quietus, make?
V
Build then the ship of death, for you must take
the longest journey, to oblivion.
And die the death, the long and painful death
that lies between the old self and the new.
Already our bodies are fallen, bruised, badly bruised,
already our souls are oozing through the exit
of the cruel bruise.
Already the dark and endless ocean of the end
is washing in through the breaches of our wounds,
Already the flood is upon us.
Oh build your ship of death, your little ark
and furnish it with food, with little cakes, and wine
for the dark flight down oblivion.
VI
Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul
has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.
We are dying, we are dying, we are all of us dying
and nothing will stay the death-flood rising within us
and soon it will rise on the world, on the outside world.
We are dying, we are dying, piecemeal our bodies are dying
and our strength leaves us,
and our soul cowers naked in the dark rain over the flood,
cowering in the last branches of the tree of our life.
VII
We are dying, we are dying, so all we can do
is now to be willing to die, and to build the ship
of death to carry the soul on the longest journey.
A little ship, with oars and food
and little dishes, and all accoutrements
fitting and ready for the departing soul.
Now launch the small ship, now as the body dies
and life departs, launch out, the fragile soul
in the fragile ship of courage, the ark of faith
with its store of food and little cooking pans
and change of clothes,
upon the flood's black waste
upon the waters of the end
upon the sea of death, where still we sail
darkly, for we cannot steer, and have no port.
There is no port, there is nowhere to go
only the deepening blackness darkening still
blacker upon the soundless, ungurgling flood
darkness at one with darkness, up and down
and sideways utterly dark, so there is no direction any more
and the little ship is there; yet she is gone.
She is not seen, for there is nothing to see her by.
She is gone! gone! and yet
somewhere she is there.
Nowhere!
VIII
And everything is gone, the body is gone
completely under, gone, entirely gone.
The upper darkness is heavy as the lower,
between them the little ship
is gone
It is the end, it is oblivion.
IX
And yet out of eternity a thread
separates itself on the blackness,
a horizontal thread
that fumes a little with pallor upon the dark.
Is it illusion? or does the pallor fume
A little higher?
Ah wait, wait, for there's the dawn
the cruel dawn of coming back to life
out of oblivion
Wait, wait, the little ship
drifting, beneath the deathly ashy grey
of a flood-dawn.
Wait, wait! even so, a flush of yellow
and strangely, O chilled wan soul, a flush of rose.
A flush of rose, and the whole thing starts again.
X
The flood subsides, and the body, like a worn sea-shell
emerges strange and lovely.
And the little ship wings home, faltering and lapsing
on the pink flood,
and the frail soul steps out, into the house again
filling the heart with peace.
Swings the heart renewed with peace
even of oblivion.
Oh build your ship of death. Oh build it!
for you will need it.
For the voyage of oblivion awaits you.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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A Wind That Has No Name
there is a wind that has no name,
that comes from within afar;
a song that wears a human face,
dust from a distant star.
a river that flows from heart to heart,
a fire that feeds itself.
a ship unmanned on stormy seas,
the hand that rings the bell.
a child is born, a friend has died,
and so the circle goes on.
the memories of the outstretched hand,
lives in the stillness before dawn.
i cannot hold or form with words
that which begins and ends.
so i'll fly to you with a robin's wings,
your lover, and your friend.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Man Sails The Deep Awhile
MAN sails the deep awhile;
Loud runs the roaring tide;
The seas are wild and wide;
O'er many a salt, o'er many a desert mile,
The unchained breakers ride,
The quivering stars beguile.
Hope bears the sole command;
Hope, with unshaken eyes,
Sees flaw and storm arise;
Hope, the good steersman, with unwearying hand,
Steers, under changing skies,
Unchanged toward the land.
O wind that bravely blows!
O hope that sails with all
Where stars and voices call!
O ship undaunted that forever goes
Where God, her admiral,
His battle signal shows!
What though the seas and wind
Far on the deep should whelm
Colours and sails and helm?
There, too, you touch that port that you designed -
There, in the mid-seas' realm,
Shall you that haven find.
Well hast thou sailed: now die,
To die is not to sleep.
Still your true course you keep,
O sailor soul, still sailing for the sky;
And fifty fathom deep
Your colours still shall fly.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Psalm 122
I will worship you in Spirit and Truth
My delight is to come to this place
The place where you dwell in your sanctuary
Where we lift up our eyes to thy Face
And together with my brothers and sisters
I shall come before thy throne
You're the bright morning star, the Son of God
You're the Christ, the chief cornerstone
This place that I find you is Spirit and Truth
It dwells in the heart of men
The New Jerusalem, the heart of God
Of its glory I shall write with my pen
And the house of David lives on forever
And we dwell in the holy of holies
We dwell in the midst of your burning heart
In this place our spirits are free
poem by Frank McEleny
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On The Wings Of A Dream
On the wings of a dream
Yesterday I had a dream about dying, about laying to
Rest and then flying,
How the moment at hand is the only
Thing we really own.
And I lay in my bed and I wondered, after all has been
Said and is done for,
Why is it thus we are here and so
Soon we are gone?
Is this life just a path to the place that
We all have come from?
Does the heart know the way and if not,
Can it ever be found
In a smile or a tear or a prayer
Or a sigh or a song?
And if so, then I sing for my father, and in truth, you
Must know I would rather
He were here by my side, we could fly on the
Wings of a dream.
To a place where the spirit would find us and the joy and
Surrender would bind us.
We are one anyway, anyway we are more
Than we seem.
There are those who will lead us, protect us
Each step of the way.
From beginning to end, for each moment,
Forever, each day.
Such a gift has been given, it can
Never be taken away.
Though the body in passing must leave us, there is one who
Remains to receive us.
There are those in this life who are friends
From our heavenly home.
So I listen to the voices inside me, for I know they
Are there just to guide me.
And my faith will proclaim it is so,
We are never alone.
From the life to the light, from the dark of
The night to the dawn,
He is so in my heart, he is here, he
Could never be gone.
Though the singer is silent, there still is the
Truth of the song, in the song.
Yesterday I had a dream about dying, about laying to
Rest and then flying,
How the moment at hand is the only
Thing we really own.
And I lay in my bed and I wondered, after all has been
Said and is done for,
Why is it thus we are here and so
Soon we are gone?
Oh, why is it thus we are here and so
Soon we are gone?
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Italian Girl's Hymn To The Virgin
In the deep hour of dreams,
Through the dark woods, and past the moaning sea,
And by the star-light gleams,
Mother of sorrows! lo, I come to thee!
Unto thy shrine I bear
Night-blowing flowers, like my own heart, to lie
All, all unfolded there,
Beneath the meekness of thy pitying eye.
For thou, that once didst move,
In thy still beauty, through an early home,
Thou knowest the grief, the love,
The fear of woman's soul; - to thee I come!
Many, and sad, and deep,
Were the thoughts folded in thy silent breast;
Thou, too, couldst watch and weep -
Hear, gentlest mother! hear a heart oppressed!
There is a wandering bark
Bearing one from me o'er the restless wave:
Oh! let thy soft eye mark
His course; - be with him, holiest, guide and save!
My soul is on that way;
My thoughts are travellers o'er the waters dim;
Through the long weary day
I walk, o'ershadowed by vain dreams of him.
Aid him - and me, too, aid!
Oh! 'tis not well, this earthly love's excess!
On thy weak child is laid
The burden of too deep a tenderness.
Too much o'er
him
is poured
My being's hope - scarce leaving Heaven a part;
Too faithfully adored,
Oh! make not him the chastener of my heart!
I tremble with a sense
Of grief to be; - I hear a warming low
Sweet mother! call me hence!
This wild idolatry must end in woe.
The troubled joy of life,
Love's lightning happiness, my soul hath known
And, worn with feverish strife,
Would fold its wings; take back, take back thine own.
Hark! how the wind swept by!
The tempest's voice comes rolling o'er the wave -
Hope of the sailor's eye,
And maiden's heart, blest mother, guide and save!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Lonely Tear
I close my eyes and you are there
As you stand in front of me
I reach out my hand to hold you
As you have set my soul and mind free
You then give me a smile and then a kiss
And now my heart and soul is on fire
I tremble and shake with thoughts only of you
My heart is full of want and your desire.
You then close your eyes and walk towards me
We then kiss with both passion and need
You gave me what I want I gave you what you have
To each other our passions we will feed.
You then step away to show me who you are
I ravish you with my hands and eyes
I then caress your breasts and touch your lips
Once again I am a man deep inside.
You turn around just one more time
To prove to me that your the woman for me
I take a deep breath it explodes in my soul
My soul and mind of all other women is free.
You take me by the hand and lead me to our bed
We lay down together with you at my side
Your head is on my chest and my hands in your hair
My passion for you for this night I will not hide.
You then make me a man I can barely stand
I look at you as you are covered with silk and lace
We then kiss again you’re my lover and friend
As I can see the pleasure upon your face.
I open my eyes and now you are gone
And sadly it was a dream you are no longer here
I now forget the passion and the words I had spoke
Now I walk away alone, with one lonely tear.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Landlubbers
I nigh drops dead (the bo'sun said)
When the gist of things I grip
In the land by these 'ere Southern seas
As I seen on my long last trip.
They seems a joke, them curious folk
Wot bides at the blue sea's lip,
Whose wealth is made in a world-wide trade -
Landlubbers all wot seems afraid,
For they ain't got a deep-sea ship.
No, they ain't got a deep-sea ship, they ain't,
For their 'earts ain't with the blue,
Tho' they claims the seed of the tough sea breed,
Like Drake, an' me an' you.
On their isle sea-girt they farms the dirt
Of a fertile coastal strip;
But they seems afraid of a sea-borne trade
An' the hauls their British fathers made,
For they ain't got a deep-sea ship.
Sea born an' bred (the bo'sun said)
As man an' boy I been
Nigh every place on earth's broad face,
An' all the seas atween;
But I ne'er 'ave spoke such curious folk
As I seen on this 'ere trip,
Who seeks for marts in furrin parts,
Yet for blue water have no hearts;
For they ain't got a deep-sea ship.
No, they ain't got a deep-sea ship, they ain't;
An' it don't seem like they care,
For they 'ands the job to any ole yob
Wot makes a landfall there.
In tramp an' tub they ships their grub -
Aw, it fair gives me the pip!
They've wool an' wine, an' corn an' kine,
An' the carryin' trade would suit 'em, fine,
But they ain't got a deep-sea ship!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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A Ship Without A Sail
I dont know what day it is
Or if its dark or fair
Somehow, thats just the way it is
And I dont really care
I go to this or that place
I seem alive and well
My head is just a hat place
My breast an empty shell
And Ive a faded dream to sell
All alone, all at sea
Why does nobody care for me?
When theres no love to hold my love
Why is my heart so frail?
Like a ship without a sail.
Out on the ocean,
Sailors can use a chart
Im on the ocean
Guided by just a lonely heart
Still alone, still at sea
Still theres no one to care for me
When theres no hand to hold my hand
Life is a loveless tale
For a ship without a sail
(bridge)
Still alone, still at sea
Still theres no one to care for me
When theres no hand to hold my hand
Life is a loveless tale
For a ship without a sail
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Hymn
While thee I seek, protecting Power!
Be my vain wishes still'd;
And may this consecrated hour
With better hopes be fill'd.
Thy love the powers of thought bestow'd,
To thee my thoughts would soar;
Thy mercy o'er my life has flow'd-
That mercy I adore.
In each event of life, how clear,
Thy ruling hand I see;
Each blessing to my soul more dear,
Because conferr'd by thee.
In every joy that crowns my days,
In every pain I bear,
My heart shall find delight in praise,
Or seek relief in prayer.
When gladness wings my favour'd hour,
Thy love my thoughts shall fill:
Resign'd, when storms of sorrow lower,
My soul shall meet thy will.
My lifted eye without a tear
The lowring storm shall see;
My stedfast heart shall know no fear-
That heart will rest on Thee!
poem by Helen Maria Williams
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Haloes angels without wings
as man transform in its unique formation, the soul illuminate
his spirit creating a halo of sanctity of wings in his humanoid
form
our navel, made us to believe that man, is created out of nothing
but, a breath that ends and begins our life to see and witness, the
living God
thus making, every human being different from other, forms of
living organism, in this changing world, a purpose that ends, to
a simple dust of where it started
in every action of touch we made, gives us the credits of thanking
the source of who's the giver of everything, the sole and the
heart that exist, before the concept of existence comes to being
let not your heart and eyes see, the halo of sacredness engulf your
self, be a philanthropist of heart and soul to our brethren, for the
wings of sanctity molded you towards life everlasting
in every season of your heart, giving and sharing is the paramount
of an endless eruption of denuding yourself for the kingdom of
God is at hand
every moment is a moment of passion to live, in the heart of every
man, regardless of creed and race, it is a faith that satisfy not
only your soul, but to the whole universe
it is now the right time to hold on, and to fly on the wings of eternity,
the wings that you have made is the wings that leads you to the way
to reach your destination
let our heart, sober your achievement, let our wisdom surf with you
in your journey, for everything you do, lifted us to see, the haloes in
our hearts
'we too, are human, a great chance to be an angel without wings '
poem by Antonio Liao
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Complaint Of The Absence Of Her Lover Being Upon The Sea.
O HAPPY dames that may embrace
The fruit of your delight ;
Help to bewail the woful case,
And eke the heavy plight,
Of me, that wonted to rejoice
The fortune of my pleasant choice :
Good ladies ! help to fill my mourning voice.
In ship freight with rememberance
Of thoughts and pleasures past,
He sails that hath in governance
My life while it will last ;
With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,
Furthering his hope, that is his sail,
Toward me, the sweet port of his avail.
Alas ! how oft in dreams I see
Those eyes that were my food ;
Which sometime so delighted me,
That yet they do me good :
Wherewith I wake with his return,
Whose absent flame did make me burn :
But when I find the lack, Lord ! how I mourn.
When other lovers in arms across,
Rejoice their chief delight ;
Drowned in tears, to mourn my loss,
I stand the bitter night
In my window, where I may see
Before the winds how the clouds flee :
Lo ! what a mariner love hath made of me.
And in green waves when the salt flood
Doth rise by rage of wind ;
A thousand fancies in that mood
Assail my restless mind.
Alas ! now drencheth1 my sweet foe,
That with the spoil of my heart did go,
And left me ; but, alas ! why did he so ?
And when the seas wax calm again,
To chase from me annoy,
My doubtful hope doth cause me plain ;
So dread cuts off my joy.
Thus is my wealth mingled with woe :
And of each thought a doubt doth grow ;
Now he comes ! will he come ? alas ! no, no!
poem by Henry Howard
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