Peace-Filled Oneness
In commemoration World Poetry Day – 21 March
Everywhere, every day, the play of life and death
We come across killings with hatred and revenge
We come across disparity between human faiths
These ills do not fade, but still sail with fleeting age.
If we sail on the waves of fruitful humane bond
One can unravel a world; peaceful and pleasing
By virtue of which, one can enrich universal blend
And, pave a way to conquer poverty and suffering.
Fulfilment of one’s selfish desires, promotes egoism
In turn, it turns our successes into startling failures;
With self-imposed goals if one degrades humanism
The consequence plunges us into the vortex of hatred.
It’s the poet, yes, whose poetical themes help in
To fortify the fading hopes and joys in one and all;
Eradicating disparities of race, religion and region
Poetry is a true medium, shrewdly removing all ills.
Like a day taking a serene rebirth, day after day
To enlighten humans from the abysmal darkness,
A poet’s view, remains firm even on any thorny way
To script poems, craving for “Peace-Filled Oneness”.
poem by Dr. T. Ashok Chakravarthy (March 2017)
Submitted by Dr. T. Ashok Chakravarthy
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Related quotes
Poetry and Poet
Poetry is poet's inner world,
Churnings of Self in distinct words;
Poetry is not black and white,
Grey, nuances of diverse hues
In kaleidoscopic word-networks
That capture all formless clouds
In the deep sky of the poet's world.
Poetry is poet's outer world,
His expressions in proper norms;
Bare thoughts, his rogue fights within
Dressed well for the popular nod;
Poet's world, a messy snake-pit,
A burrow of rats, snakes, insects,
Fighting to spring in riotous words,
Filter'd for world in elegant words.
Poetry is never a judgement,
Sheer whispers from heart to heart
Beyond what words do transport;
Words in lilt and dance, poetry,
Links they bond, cadence they ring,
Makes a poetry, a true poetry,
A mirror of poet's inner turmoils,
His hopes and strengths in right words,
Indecisions he suffer, his deeper Self.
Poetry is release from inner cauldron,
Steams from within in guise of words,
Quiet flames of the inner hearth
That flared for long finding a vent;
Poetry, a relief, a joy of sharing,
Sharing the Self with the world outside,
Back to the source from where all came;
Poet is the priest, poetry, his hymns,
Offered to the world for peace and grace.
Poetry sprouts from the morass of soul
And grows out of poet like pipal tree
And outstays him;
Fleeting is poet, but not his poems,
Poetry is the poet universalised;
It sucks his thoughts, sucks his force,
Spreads outwards to enrich the world
And leaves the poet richer and strong
Like fire and good deeds always are,
How much you share, so richer you are.
poem by Praveen Kumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetical Injustice,
Poetical Injustice,
They say poetry is all the feign verses,
It's a lie,
A big lie,
Poetry liers and false prophets,
To write false feigned verses,
Maybe like poetic injustice,
The vices I hate,
Hate poems,
Never knew anything about optimism,
Poetical blasphemies,
The false samaritan,
The Jezebel,
I saw her here,
Telling me,
Poet is the lie,
This is a Blasphemy,
Poet came from the true prophets,
The Saint's of these verses,
Words are life,
To speak Poetry in parables solved the mystery,
Poetry in parables, ?
What was it's meaning, ?
It was written,
All about truths and lies,
Eventually written,
Now I see,
Poetry is the Euphony,
The enigma,
The Spirit of Realism,
Nihilism, all the diction,
Poetical Justice,
Taste's like a web on all hall that never fade or fake,
But increase with depth,
Depth of realness, Poetical analysis,
Lyrical genius,
Poetical liers got to end,
Tell the Stars all about these,
For my message will go everwhere.
poem by Maxim Muyu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poetry Of Confession
THE POETRY OF CONFESSION
The poetry of confession -
The poetry of self- indulgence-
The poetry of the ‘wretch con-centered all in self’-
The poetry of moods and feelings-
Of all ideas only as they relate to the poet himself-
The poetry of desperation-
The poetry of need-
The poetry of urgency -
And serving the poet first-
Not enough of the world
Not enough of others- of other perspectives
Not formal and disciplined enough-
The poetry which is not crafted and polished
The poetry in which the need of the poet
Is more central than the quality of the poetry –
The poetry which may be too selfish to be good-
Whose moral failure makes more prominent its aesthetic flaws-
The poetry which is not so good
And not great
But quite banal and commonplace –
A poet can give his life to his poetry
And that still be nothing at all-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fishing in troubled water
“Fishing in troubled waters” means end of happiness
Infusing hatred and violence where exists oneness
Excuses advanced with malign and hollowness
Waiting for chance to ruin and reduce to nothingness
Human psychology may differ from time to time
Inherent weakness remains through out the same
Either with countries or human beings no difference at all
Need of an hour is to avoid and never give it a call
Human mind and politics are devil’s workshop
Nothing is achieved by pleading from priests or Bishops
No religion, principles or teaching can yield any influence
Inviting only destruction, misery, poverty since
Millions are dying not because of natural curse
No one will lament if that is destiny of course
Who are we to have killings and then no remorse?
No will power but to face helplessly is only force
We talk of peace but work for only pieces
Dividing the spirit to have only fishes
Does this serve the flash only for riches?
No one thinks as it is beyond reaches
Somewhere region imbalance work or fanatics
In reality it is purely human tragedy and politics
Where everybody wants to have sway and power
No concern for plight, misery and deaths of fewer
We may witness upsurge in reckless killings
Nothing will matter except force willing
You may loose your rights and freedom
Nations may buckle under pressure without any wisdom
We have no business to play dirty games
History has witnessed it with only few names
We will still not learn and lessons from the past
Continue to debate and doubts always cast
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Egoism of Poets
We don’t write poetry,
Poetry writes us.
How can we make poetry,
If we are part of poetry.
The world around us is poetry.
Poetry is already defined.
Calling ourselves poets.
Selfishness in every line.
Egoism in every word.
Stealing poetry from the world.
That already exists in every form.
It’s written in every mist,
Every tree, every bliss.
Who are we to write?
Calling ourselves masterminds.
Trapping ourselves in believe
That we are creating something unique
The world at our feet.
Just too full fill our need.
Even this poem is an act
of a selfish deed.
Every letter in ink.
Created through love and sin.
Writing on a paper
But it’s the world’s skin.
Pressing on the surface.
To see blue blood is our purpose.
Thinking poetry is ours.
Poetry devoured
By poets every hour.
Poems all around us.
Turning grey to dust.
Turning brown to rust.
We have captured the most
But there is still so much.
Bleeding away in disaster, poverty
And war.
Ink to us all.
A poet’s only lord.
His only norm, his only home.
His precious and beloved poem.
We should be ashamed.
poem by Nadim Lost Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lenexa Baptist Church = MY FAVORITE POET IS GOD
MY FAVORITE POET IS GOD
My favorite poet is God above
Who gives Earth its rhythm and rhyme.
Not pied pipers of misguided souls
Who promote distrust, hatred and crime.
Poetry is nature serenading in song
The peaceful roar of the oceans waves.
The wind through the trees and over the hills
And the flowers in the fields by the graves.
The sound of rain as it waters the thirsty
The songs of children at play in the park.
The far off rumble of trains or thunder
As they pass through the night in the dark.
The joy of our babies first words and steps
The passion of life with its heroes and clowns.
The on going struggle to survive our sins
As we proliferate in hamlets and towns.
My favorite poet is our Father of love
Who was first to know us before birth.
His poetry prolongs every thing we love
As His deliverance gives life its worth.
POETS ARE THE BELL RINGERS of THE SOUL
Poets as a rule are high on adventure
Like wondering bards or prophets today.
Embracing hearts and minds with wisdom
Casting through verse their visions at play.
Poets have their dreams and their nightmares
Of love, life, death, faith and war.
They feel the pain and tragedy of others
Even those they’ve never met before.
They fan the flames of human compassion
With their stories of the failings of man.
Professing to follow a higher power
As they recruit whomever they can.
Poets are the bell ringers of the soul
As they depict the past, the present and beyond.
They sound their alarm of what lies ahead
As the missteps of man live on.
AMERICAN SOLDIER POEM
It’s not a priest that gives us our freedom of religion
And it’s not a reporter that gives us our freedom of voice.
It’s not any judge, lawyer, politician, or teacher
But the blood of a soldier that has sacrificed by choice.
Our soldiers line up to be remembered
As the best of the best at their job.
They wish to be needed and depended on
To save all we love from the mob.
They risk their life and limb for liberty
Standing firm against evil unwilling to break.
To be part of something greater than themselves
They are willing to sacrifice whatever it will take.
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Definition of Pain
Life so precious yet so easily taken away
happiness what everyone wants yet there filled with pain
People causing pain to others for their amusement
Which causes hatred from their victims in turn it creates their murder
What has life come to hatred, anger, pain, death instead of happiness, joy, love, life
how can I live with life
for if i'm happy others will give me pain
if i'm in pain others will fill me with hatred
which will have me taking their so precious lives
So how can I feel happiness once again
when in order to do so I have to create all those things I despise
So doesn't a victim create their own murder in turn creates the death of the murder
if all of this is true isn't life a cycle of happiness to pain then unto death.
poem by Requiem Night
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet Is Not A Hypocrite
To be a poet, don't bind yourself
With any religion or region.
You must be free for a clear vision
To air your view without prejudice.
Be a mad man, who has no fear,
And who has no fence, nor boundary.
Otherwise, you will be a paid poet.
A poet is not a hypocrite.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leave Me To Mother Nature
I don't want to live for to be frail and old and kept alive by pills
And taking the most unnatural drugs for to combat my many ills
Leave me to Mother Nature my fate she will decide
Since the Reaper will find us all one day from him we cannot hide.
The greatest people we know of their fame was known World wide
They loved life, their achievements great but they grew old and died
The longest human life seems brief in the eternity of time
And time outlives the artist's fame and the great poet's greatest rhyme.
With pills do not prolong my suffering of suffering set me free
Leave me to Mother Nature she knows what's best for me
Human bodily parts like an old car engine with age slowly decay
Leave me to Mother Nature when I've known my better day.
Leave me to Mother Nature of me she will take care
An ageing body as we know is beyond human repair
Us Humans like Nature's Seasons to life we come and go
But Mother Nature lives forever the only God I know.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet and Chivalry
Poet, an industry not of mankind
An era that poet’s in awe to partake a rite
Poetry belongs to the ancient tribe
An era that poet’s dissolute and roaming
Poetry ascribes to nature and wildness
An era that poet a jester praised in comic to entertain the king
Poetry is the plaything of an empire
The era that poet yields to the media, pursuing fame and fortune
Poetry is a consuming product
Poet holds in awe since the heaven and earth are vast
Poet’s degenerated because of his nature
Poet’s comical because ironical the self derision
Poet capitulates because of human’s weakness
Although poet hasn’t always been an industry of mankind
Its luster would shine upon the darkness that poet ever survived
Lighting a light in darkness of history and showing its courage
Lighting a light in darkness of future and proving its foresight
Compromised the life
But allows not to compromise of poetry
The spirit and vitality of a chivalry is the case
Poet, still not an industry of mankind
Today
The chivalry has sealed his sword and pen
The page of poetry gradually stained and spotted yellow
The sharp sword conceals a smoked silver flash
poem by DePen Chang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Is the Center?
You are the center of your world and universe,
What you see in others, it is in you, you cannot reverse.
Each person plays out what goes on in your own mind,
If you don't like it, you have to change yourself, not them, & rewind.
There is no place for hatred, instead of doing the right thing,
Hatred hits back on yourself, if you don't change your going.
That same goes for anger, which means you are not right,
Just want to shut the other down with your oversight.
If you want to revenge anyone, it comes back to you,
How can you revenge if you were the one who attracted it anew.
Whatever your fear is, someone plays it out,
That's why what you cause, always turns about.
Always do to others what you would like to receive,
Respect, kindness, humbleness, forgiveness will not be destructive.
Then you'll find true happiness in this existence,
Nobody will bother you, there is no need for self-defense.
When you learned in your life lessons what you give out returns to you,
You'll be more careful what you think or do.
Your life shall turn into true happiness and health,
When you know you get from life what you need, not what you want,
That will be your completion and wealth.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I believe all suffering is caused by ignorance. People inflict pain on others in the selfish pursuit of their happiness or satisfaction. Yet true happiness comes from a sense of inner peace and
contentment, which in turn must be achieved through the cultivation of altruism, of love and compassion and elimination of ignorance, selfishness and greed. The problems we face today, violent conflicts, destruction of nature, poverty, hunger, and so on, are human-created problems which can be resolved through human effort, understanding and the development of a sense of brotherhood and sisterhood. We need to cultivate a universal responsibility for one another and the planet we share. Although I have found my own Buddhist religion helpful in generating love and compassion, even for those we consider our enemies,
I am convinced that everyone can develop a good heart and a sense of universal responsibility with or without religion.
quote by Dalai Lama
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Blowin' Up the 'Waves
They are blowin' up the 'waves'
With their brand of hatred.
Although fading...
Those radio jocks,
Who mock Barack's efforts...
To mend their ills.
People like them,
Who advertise divisiveness.
With hopes it never ends.
However...
The more they expose,
Their whims to feed upon sins diminishing...
Sheds light upon a way of life,
They would like to be left kept...
Feeding their sickness and those rich!
With beliefs society from this benefits!
And their proving themselves,
To be the followers of the wicked.
For all who hears this hollow show,
Of greed and 'conservative' selfishness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To let out hatred
I exert hatred through abuse and curse.
I leak hatred by sulks and silence.
Gossips and revenge are other outlets.
Hatred explodes in quarrels and slanders
Being jealous also a hatred
To cut jokes too is to expel hatred.
Hatred is faeces inevitable.
Not to constipate, it must be let out
08.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Persecution Complex
Rain is pouring.
Death scoring.
I'm in a car,
and sadness isn't far,
and hatred is in the air,
as They throw me to despair.
Humans may love,
and think themselves doves,
when in reality they are cravens
waiting to be shaven
from their grief.
Swimming in an ocean of madness,
craving all kindness,
whilst people turn their backs and flee
and I learn hatred is everlasting for me.
They seek to get rid of me,
to bind me in darkness and ignore my plea,
for an actual life,
where I am free,
and far from strife.
This life is a prison,
a carcass with no provision,
where death follows the low one,
and shackles await the eager son.
No friends to speak of,
and ever withering is the 'love'.
A family full of jealousy,
deception and idiocy.
Will I ever be released,
as I've ever beseeched,
from my persecution complex?
poem by Soren Valentine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Arguably John Clare
In the English language the greatest poet of Nature is arguably John Clare
Many of his bird and animal and insect poems are gems beyond compare
Yet he died in Northampton mental asylum where he had lived for many years
He penned such marvellous poetry though his life was full of tears.
His Nature poems of the nineteenth century are relevant to today
The Badger and The Landrail, The Fox and Clock a Clay
The Pettichap, The Cuckoo and The Thrush's Nest
When Writing about Nature Clare was at his best.
In death the poor shepherd poet from Helpston has come into his own
His poems poetic classics around the World are known
The greatest Nature poet of England as many would agree
A poet for the ages from a life of poverty.
As a boy amongst Nature in the fields of Helpston he knew of happiness
But sad to think one like him in life did not know of success
With any English Nature poet he favourably does compare
The legendary one of Helpston the reamarkable John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet Writes Of Poems And Poets And Poetry
THE POET WRITES OF POEMS AND POETS AND POETRY
The poet writes of poems and poets and poetry,
And the world goes by
And nothing is done.
And the sky- the sky.
Is it still above?
And Love and Kindness
Are they still deep in us,
Words or not?
Without Poetry the world does not exist for the poet-
But for others,
Dreams have other names,
And Music plays on,
And singing and laughter
Go on as the Beauty of Light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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INSANITY OF MAN...by Talile Ali
YOU KNOW I COULD NEVER REALLY UNDERSTAND
THE INSANITY OF ALMOST EVERY HUMAN
HOW COULD WE EVER SUPPORT ALL THESE WARS
OR SLAVERY FOR THAT FACT
WHAT WAS IT ALL FOR?
AND KILLING COMMUNITIES FOR THEIR SACRED BELIEFS
GENOCIDE AND CONFUSION, HOW COULD ONE FEEL RELIEF
THE PAIN AND SUFFERING, THE MISUSE AS HUMANS
THE SHAMEFUL WAY WE ALLOWED THE ABUSE OF WOMEN
THERE IS SO MUCH THAT SIMPLY ESCAPES ME NOW
WE ARE SUPPOSE TO BE CIVILIZED
I HAVEN'T SEEN HOW
OUR CHILDREN AND MOTHERS ARE OUT ON THEIR EARS
NO ROOF OVER THEIR HEADS AND LIVING IN FEAR'
AND AS FOR THE HEALTHCARE, NOT EVEN A CHANCE
OCCASIONALLY ABANDONED, WITH DEATH AT THE DANCE
NO, PLEASE DON'T DENY THAT FOR ALMOST EVERY YEAR
PROFITEERING CONTINUES
WITH WAR AND SUCH FEAR
WE SEE THE FEAR IN ALL THE NATIONS WE MISPLACED
WE SEE ALL THE REGRET AS WE SMASH IN THE FACE
NOT RESPECT OR REGARD FOR THE TREASURES THEY ARE
JUST CHEAP LOW COST LABOR AND PRODUCTS FOR THE CAR
FOR SHAME WE HAVE ALLOWED THE RAPE OF MAN KIND
BY PROFITEERING BUSINESSES AND A BANKS WITH A PLAN
ENSLAVING ALL OF US THRU LIES AND FALSE DEBT
BECAUSE THEY BRIBED POLITICIANS, WHO RAPED US AS WE WEPT
WE SHOULD NOT PAY TAXES THAT DO NOT REPRESENT
OUR DESIRES AND OUR GOALS, FOR THAT IS GOVERNMENT
NOT A BUNCH OF ADMINISTRATIVE OVER EDUCATED ASSES
WHO SALE OUT OUR DESIRES AS JUST DUMB ASS MASSES
PLEASE LET'S STAND WITH EACH OTHER AND RAISE UP YOUR VOICES
UNITED TOGETHER WE WILL MAKE GOOD CHOICES
CONVICT ALL THE POLITICIANS WHO SOLD US ALL OUT
AND ALL OF THE POLICE WHO USED RACE JUST FOR CLOUT
AND LETS STAND TOGETHER FROM EVERY BACKGROUND
LETS STOP ALL OF THE HATING THAT NEVER WAS SOUND
TOGETHER WE CAN ALL BE WEALTHY AT LAST
AND HAVE THE COMMUNITIES FREE OF CRIMES FROM OUR PAST
BECAUSE ALL OF THE REAL CROOKS WILL ALL BE LOCKED IN JAIL
AS OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS WILL BE VOTING US WELL
REMOVING THE LAWS THAT DIVIDED THRU US THRU OUR SHAME
THAT PLACED ALL THE RACES AGAINST BEING HUMANE
AND BEGIN TO ACT ON THE WILL OF THE STRONG
AND CRATE AND MAKE PEACE TO EXTEND BEYOND SUCH WRONG
PUT AN END TO THE DUMBNESS OF JUST BEING NUMB
LETS FREE UP OUR HATRED AND LIVE TO HAVE FUN
PEACE
poem by Talile Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning Sunshine
This poet is so seductive
This poet is now strange to me
This poet is so bold
This little girl doesn't want to see
The little girl has known this poet
ever since
But the little girl is already
tired of this poet
She just wants to play.
Not any passing minute
She hasn't have
any word of
allegory
metonymy and
simile
Take me away from this poet yet
the little girl must empty first
the words of this poet
Before she is free to play
in the morning sunshine
and go away from this busy poet
Do you think I'm too young to see?
Do you agree?
This poet won't let me
play out in the middle of the rain
This poet won't let me
see the afternoon sway
This poet won't let me
see the morning gay
Let me see the Morning Sunshine
Let me see!
But this poet
Won't let me
I'll just watch t.v
and sing
her poetry
poem by Mary Jesusa Villegas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hatred can never be good. … Here, and in what follows, I mean by hatred only hatred towards men. … Envy, derision, contempt, anger, revenge, and other emotions attributable to hatred, or arising therefrom, are bad … Whatsoever we desire from motives of hatred is base, and in a State unjust.
quote by Baruch Spinoza
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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