O' Mother to Whom Shall I Tell The Story
'O' Mother to whom shall I tell the story of my separation's grief.
The fire lit inside me by the teacher smolders and smokes
As I stir the ambers, I see the red Jewel
The pain of separation has driven me mad
Suffering is the bread I eat
Pain is my curry dip, sighs of grief my cooking fire
I roam the jungles and deserts in vain
Says Hussain, the God's fakir:
How happy I will be to find my prince!'
poem by Shah Hussain
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Related quotes
Divine Device
Would it be loss or gain
To hapless human-kind
If we could feel no pain
Of body or of mind?
Would it be for our good
If we were calloused so,
And God in mercy should
End all our woe?
I wonder and I doubt:
It is my bright belief
We should be poor without
The gift of grief.
For suffering may be
A blessing, not a bane,
And though we sorrow we
Should praise for Pain.
Aye, it's my brave belief
That grateful we should be,
Since in the heart of grief
Is love and sympathy,
We do not weep in vain,
So let us kiss the rod,
And see in purging Pain
The Grace of God.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Depth Of Grief
The depth of grief is hard to measure
For the pain inside it that is treasures
Is so much and so bitter and hard
That everone wants it to totally discard
But one thing taht we must keep in mind
Is to always seek ways with others to be kind
No matter what we are going through
We must be honest and sincere too
And always remember these pain and grief
Are only let out and gets a relief
If they are given a chance to drop
From inside painful injured heart's top
And then all life's pain and sigh
Will leave your soul and will say goodbye
And then in your heart all pain and grief
Will not get a place, not even brief.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Please Come Home For Christmas
Album: Country Superstar Christmas [Hip-O] 1997
Track 12
Bells will be ringing the sad, sad news
Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues
My baby is gone, I have no friends
To wish me greetings once again.
Choirs will be singing Silent Night
Oh, Christmas carols by candlelight
Please come home for Christmas
Please come home for Christmas
If not by Christmas then by New Year's night.
Friends and relations send salutations
Sure as the stars shine above
Oh, but it's Christmas, yeah Christmas my dear
This time of year to be with the one that you love
So won't you tell me, you'll never more roam
This Christmas and New Year will find you home
There'll be no more sorrow, no grief or pain
I'll be happy, happy once again.
--- Instrumental ---
Friends and relations send salutations
Sure as the stars shine above
Oh, but it's Christmas, yeah Christmas my dear
This time of year to be with the one that you love
So won't you tell me, you'll never more roam
This Christmas and New Year will find you home
There'll be no more sorrow, no grief or pain
'Cause, I'll be happy, happy once again
There'll be no more sorrow, no grief or pain
'Cause, I'll be happy, yeah, it's Christmas once again...
song performed by by Gary Allan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0245 The Sound of The Flute
Listen to the sound of this reed-flute –
hear what it says. First, it laments
its banishment; its tearing away
from its home, its reed-bed. And
this alone, tears at the yearning heart
of all those whose heart feels far from home.
Listen to it.
Then behind its breathy air
is fire – the fire of love; that sound
which tells every love-story in the world,
of lovers, parted, yearning to be
together once more. This flute first
tells of separation; then of unity.
Listen to it.
Do not listen to this dangerous
flute, unless you wish to hear
the innermost secrets of your heart –
the parting and the separation,
the yearning, yearning, for return –
Dare you listen to this story of pain, of love?
Listen to it.
(freely taken from the Prologue to Book I of the Masnavi I Ma’navi
of Maulana Jalalu’din Muhammad Rumi, the founder Dervish)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Dark Trinity
Said I to Pain: "You would not dare
Do ill to me."
Said Pain: "Poor fool! Why should I care
Whom you may be?
To clown and king alike I bring
My meed of bane;
Why should you shirk my chastening?"
Said Pain.
Said I to Grief: "No tears have I,
Go on your way."
Said Grief: "Why should I pass you by,
While others pay?
All men must know the way of woe,
From saint to thief,
And tears were meant to overflow,"
Said Grief.
Said I to Death: "From ail and fret
Grant me relief."
Said Death: "I know you are beset
By Pain and Grief.
But my good will you must await
Since human breath
To suffering is consecrate,"
Said Death.
Said I to God: "Pale Sister Grief,
Bleak Brother Pain,
Bedevil me beyond belief,
And Death's unfain . . ."
Said God: "Curse not that blessed Three,
Poor human clod!
Have faith! Believe the One with Me,"
Said God.
poem by Robert William Service
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Two poems about separation, different themes
The separation
I put the money in a bucket,
lowered it down to him
taking care that the notes
didn't fly off.
He made a grab for the pail,
clutched it greedily
as he'd once held me
and walked away, grinning.
A bucket load of money
was all he'd ever wanted,
and now, at last,
he was sated.
Separation came as a friend
and though I'm left poorer
I feel as rich as a King
and better for it.
The Separation
I can't put into words,
can't express,
the anxiety,
sadness,
worry
it caused me.
I can't tell you how I cried,
how my stomach hurt,
how I stressed
and fretted
and then ___
I saw you.
You'd lost weight,
you were a shadow,
of your former self,
your eyes were sunken in
you were grief stricken and
you reached for my hand.
We walked, together,
through the emptiness
and somehow
the separation,
the loneliness
had been a transition
mending the rift between us.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Please Come Home For Christmas
Please Come Home For Christmas
Bells will be ringing this sad sad news
Oh what a Christmas to have the blues
My baby's gone I have no friends
To wish me greetings once again
Choirs will be singing Silent Night
Christmas carols by candle light
Please come home for Christmas
Please come home for Christmas
If not for Christmas by New Years night
Friends and relations
Send salutations
Sure as the stars shine above
But this is Christmas
Yeah, it's Christmas my dear
It's the time of year to be with the one you love
So won't you tell me
You'll never more roam
Christmas and New Year
Will find you home
There be no more sorrow
No grief and pain
And I'll be happy, happy, once again
Ooo, there be no more sorrow
No grief and pain
And I'll be happy, Christmas, once again
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tempered by Fire
Fire burning oh so pure
Calm, steady and so secure
Strength tested by the fire
Burning through one heart's desire
As if forming fine steel
All that one knows and feels
Stripped of emotions completely
A cleansing so bitter sweet
Tempered in bright fire
With one heart's desire
To the very depth of one's soul
Beyond to it's fiery core
Trying to escape from the pain
Wanting so much to gain
As if in a deep and dark well
Struggling to remove a painful shell
Running tired from the sorrow
Looking for joy on the morrow
Forced through one's grief
As if shaken by a thief
Consumed with pain and grief
Leaving one so very weak
Tested and tempered by fire
Flames that purified one's desire
poem by Lorie Robertson
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(V - 2004) The Lad who was called Mad
People called him mad.
Many a days
He came to my mother
He would then say
‘There is fire in my stomach’
My mother would then hurry her cooking
Soon she would serve
Rice and curry
Spiced with love and care.
He would eat to his full
And at the very next door
He would again say
‘There is fire in my stomach –
I am hungry still’
And so one day
I looked deep into him
Wondered what his hunger was for
And saw fire in his heart.
Still, he little knew that
He simply said, ‘there is fire in my stomach’
And people called him mad.
He was a sensitive lad
Some had led him astray
So he lost his senses,
Lost his way
And people called him mad.
This hurt him more
Still he had them guide him.
So, finally one day
Into the temple pond
He drowned himself
To quell for ever
The fire in him
And then the people
Who had called him mad
Said with pity, ‘Oh, how sad! ’
Tutorial in grief
A lesson in grief
I struggle to find
Inside my mind
Thoughts that will offer
Some crumb of comfort
Black calligraphy,
Brave, brush strokes
Across the blinding stab of pain
That comes with loss
Ah, but then there is darkness.
Impenetrable, like none you imagined
And you will put every effort
Into figuring the exit route.
Wasted effort.
Sit my friend.
Rest, and in its own time,
It comes.
Grief has its own timescales, agenda
You will wish without ending
For a last day, an hour, a minute.
Yet if you search inside yourself
You will know,
Exactly, to the word,
Everything you would both have said.
It is not for you to deal with grief.
For grief will deal with you
Think twice
Love grows thicker
Whether or not together
Are she and he,
As long as
Each longs for the other.
Separation is not the end
If inspiration lasts till the end.
A neem coated capsule.
Once the longing is gone
And he is out thrown
Separation is the end.
Desperation stays till the end.
A sweet coated venom.
For her, if he is
A hair cut off,
An unwanted one,
The hair leaves
Its life and its pain too.
She is no more
To him, nor any more.
Separation is a thrill
If the love persists.
21.09.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A.Boikov, As often was in childhood... - transl.(rus.)
by Andrei Boikov
As often was in childhood,
That, when I fell to earth,
My mother said: 'You shoudn't, true,
Take care! Only blow! '
And she blew on my wounded knee,
This seemed as a perfect magic,
The pain went out slowly,
And further went we gayly.
The years passed. A lot of grief
They brought, my mother passed...
And life - was kicking, beating me,
No one wished blowing up.
But through the pain I scrawled wayward -
Through frenzy circling days.
And here my son is crying a lot:
'Mother! ' - on his knee's pain.
I take his wounded pawn and blow,
Trying to take off grief!
My son says: 'Thank you, Papa, now! '
And pain goes out of me...
poem by Lyudmila Purgina
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Death Is Not The Mother Of Beauty
Death is not the Mother of Beauty
Death is Pain, Loss, Grief, Suffering-
Sometimes, the end of Pain-
Relief.
Death is not the Mother of Beauty-
Death is not the Mother of anything-
And Beauty, Beauty that is another story entirely.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Separation
How does one define separation?
What does one mean by separation?
Is it when breath is severed from the body?
Is it when the court of law declares 'divorced? '
How many separations come as blows!
How many, pass by silently!
How many separations we live with
And how many more do we contain!
Don't some come as relief too?
Tell me, my friend
Why do we always think of separation as external?
How many of us aren't really separated from our self?
Tell me, can you define separation for me?
20 May 2011
20.09hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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0012 Bereavement
What is it, when we mourn and grieve and cry
for those we loved - and love - now passed away,
that gives our pain such brute totality?
so vital, that we almost love that pain
(our faces sometimes radiant in grief) ,
unwilling to let go pain's absolute,
since there, hides knowledge deeper than belief
of that sole absolute itself, the root
of all our being, oneness that we share
with those with whom we sought our selves to prove?
that pain, which barely differs from a prayer
to know - by suffering deepest hurt of love:
Yes! Let us dive into that holy deep
of total grief and love: then, can self weep?
(2001)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Licia Sonnets 36
Hear how my sighs are echoed of the wind;
See how my tears are pitied by the rain;
Feel what a flame possesséd hath my mind;
Taste but the grief which I possess in vain.
Then if my sighs the blustering winds surpass,
And wat'ry tears the drops of rain exceed,
And if no flame like mine nor is nor was,
Nor grief like that whereon my soul doth feed,
Relent, fair Licia, when my sighs do blow;
Yield at my tears, that flintlike drops consume;
Accept the flame that doth my incense show,
Allow the grief that is my heart's perfume.
Thus sighs and tears, flame, grief shall plead for me;
So shall I pray, and you a goddess be.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Impregnable Darkness
In the womb of deep slumber,
In the arms of unawareness,
Under the blanket of impregnable darkness,
You lie alone like the frozen hopes of a dying man,
Oblivious of the pain and grief doing riot,
Tired and eyes shut to the stabs of grief.
The bond of common pain binds us nearer;
I, on the visible side of the moon,
Find my pains stab in lunar rhythms,
While you, on the invisible side,
Hide from the stabs and wounds of grief
In the slow grind of the loneliness
And run with the time to far horizons.
I know, my cries never reach your ears,
A wall of time stands between us
And deepens our grief and common pain.
poem by Praveen Kumar
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A Wall Of Time
In the womb of deep slumber,
In the arms of unawareness,
Under the blanket of impregnable darkness,
You lie alone like the frozen hopes of a dying man,
Oblivious of the pain and grief doing riot,
Tired and eyes shut to the stabs of grief.
The bond of common pain binds us nearer;
I, on the visible side of the moon,
Find my pains stab in lunar rhythms,
While you, on the invisible side,
Hide from the stabs and wounds of grief
In the slow grind of the loneliness
And run with the time to far horizons.
I know, my cries never reach your ears,
A wall of time stands between us
And deepens our grief and common pain.
poem by Praveen Kumar
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Feelings: Well Worth It
Feeling bad for
chocolate and sweets
and all things
nice, but curry?
not worth pain
for a taste mundane -
you wanted curry
it's not reasonable
to inflict it on me
knowing the sequel; I
can’t eat it, and now
the pills don’t work
I’m stuck in pain,
should you make curry
again, I’ll settle
for a big Chocolate cake
and then when I
die inside,
it will be
Well Worth It!
poem by Margaret Alice
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Headache
Throbbing aching
There is no grief
The never ending pain
I can't bear this any further
The hurt is too vast
The pain destroyer
Isn’t functioning
For the grief is still here
I can’t stand it anymore
My head is throbbing
The horrific annoyance
Will not vanish
I can’t endure anymore
The pain is horrendous
I may possibly
Do the impossible
I’m doing it
I can’t take if much longer
I’m going to rip my hair out
So much pain
No relief
Will it ever go away
Finally the never ending pain
Has discontinue
Now I am happy
at last I can enjoy the rest of the day
Poem Writer,
By: Jackie Thielman
poem by Jackie Thielman
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