Many births mean many burials.
Kenya proverbs
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Related quotes
Six Six Six Revealed (repeating cycle) (Jul 7th,2004)
(one)
Love brings war
Love breeds hate
Love births peace
Love begats death
Love blossoms life
(two)
Life blossoms love
Life begats death
Life breeds hate
Life brings war
life births peace
(three)
Peace births life
Peace brings war
Peace begats death
Peace blossoms love
Peace breeds hate
(four)
Hate breeds peace
Hate brings love
Hate births war
Hate blossoms life
Hate begats death
(five)
Death begats hate
Death breeds life
Death blossoms love
Death brings peace
Death births war
(six)
War births death
War begats peace
War blossoms life
War breeds hate
War brings love
Misconstrued
never ending or beginning
One last bringing of war
Begatting death of the cycle
Blossoming life as it is meant to be
Bringing cataclysmic profound love
Birthing true peace and tranquility
poem by Nicholas McDonough
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Births to illegal immigrants now account for nearly one out of every ten births in the United States.
quote by Nathan Deal
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As the births of living creatures are at first ill-shapen, so are all innovations, which are the births of time.
quote by Francis Bacon
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Something is Missing
I went to the fun-fair
To have some fun
Had a lot to see
Then went shopping
Bought some goodies
With ‘him’ and ‘them’.
Came back home
With snacks and sweets
Served them all
And savoured it too
Had a nice evening stroll
In the park and streets.
I enjoyed every bit of it
With ‘him’ and ‘them’
And yet I think
And I did feel that
Something was missing…
So now I write
And I ponder too
What is it
That bothers me
And makes me miss
On all such occasions
When I go out and have fun
With ‘him’ and ‘them’.
It was just not today
But almost every day
On all such outings
And “at home” evenings
I do feel that
Something is missing.
And so I delved deeper in me
And thought of that something
Which never misses me
Nor needs me in its life.
Yes – I know it is a living being
And it is so far away
I cannot make it mine
And yet so close
I always feel it is mine.
That very Being so very far
And yet so close
It always makes me feel
Yes – Something is Missing.
So I kept probing further
[...] Read more
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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On the sight of swans in Kensington Gardens
Queen-bird, that sittest on thy shining nest
And thy young cygnets without sorrow hatchest,
And thou, thou other royal bird, that watchest
Lest the white mother wandering feet molest:
Shrined are your offspring in a crystal cradle,
Brighter than Helen's ere she yet had burst
Her shelly prison. They shall be born at first
Strong, active, graceful, perfect, swan-like, able
To tread the land or waters with security,
Unlike poor human births, conceived in sin,
In grief brought forth, both outwardly and in
Confessing weakness, error, and impurity.
Did heavenly creatures own succession's line,
The births of heaven like to yours would shine.
poem by Charles Lamb
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As I write
So many sleepless nights and no answer
No specific answer why clouds shower?
Why do they come in time and spread over the land?
Why nature has special attachment with trend?
I want to ink those special moments
They are really occasioned with blessed events
Some where hidden with emotional linking
No clues whatsoever and eyes star blinking
Look at the sky when it illuminates
When sun rises with bright rays from east gates!
Find the whole day with hectic activities
Later on to show with moon’s niceties
Even stars in the sky don’t lag behind
They twinkle but show nothing worthwhile to find
I find their role very sober and limited
The urge for more secrets is really ignited
I am aware of human sentiments
To be taken into consideration for many comments
Cry and tears, joy and happiness present different mood
I have known them all and thoroughly understood
I find the life not less enterprising
It may certainly need some promising
I might pray and ask for blessings
Think over the lapses which had gone missing
I shall not dwell on short comings
But narrate on happy welcoming
Specifically mention about the role of jealousies
Long neglected human values and miseries
I think of daily deaths and new births
Disproportionate to births over deaths
Boom for population but gloom for humanity
As not enough means to sustain economy
I shall write only those things
Which may reflect ordinary but highlight specific things?
I may certainly pen down happy child days
Give them prominence and importance to stay
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Heart of a Beggar
Beggarliness contrives hearts to ponder on poverty-
A barrenness of attitude is wavering on the sick and property.
Births are to be controlled according to blindness,
Puberty is a stage once called unkindness.
To extravagance my religion strays, and joins
Like multiple births, innocent as coins.
Why do you beg so crookedly in the face of jeopardy?
Where are your deeds in the ocean so wordy?
I cast doubt on the philosophy so narrow and dull;
We actually exhibit changes of blood when external.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Birth complex plagues.
With low birth, one is conscious
Of one’s birth when with high births
In spite of one’s elevated growth.
With high birth, one is conscious
Of one’s birth when with low births,
In spite of one’s pecuniary status.
04.07.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Aurobindo 118 Savitri Book 7
An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Seven: The Book of Yoga
Canto Six: Nirvana and the Discovery of the All-Negating Absolute
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's
'But most her gaze pursued the birth of thought.'
'Affranchised from the look of surface mind
She paused not to survey the official case,
The issue of forms from the office of the brain,
Its factory of thought-sounds and soundless words
And voices stored within unheard by men,
Its mint and treasury of shining coin.
These were but counters in mind's symbol game, '
'In our unseen subtle body thought is born
Or there it enters from the cosmic field.
Oft from her soul stepped out a naked thought
Luminous with mysteried lips and wonderful eyes; '
'A seeing will pondered between the brows; '
Thoughts, glistening Angels, stood behind the brain
In flashing armour, folding hands of prayer,
And poured heaven's rays into the earthly form.'
'Impenetrable, withheld from mortal sense,
The inner chambers of the spirit's house
Disclosed to her their happenings and their guests; '
'A sight opened upon the invisible
And sensed the shapes that mortal eyes see not,
The sounds that mortal listening cannot hear,
The blissful sweetness of the intangible's touch; '
So spiritual sense differs from mortal sense..
'She felt the movements crossing unknown minds;
The past's events occurred before her eyes.
The great world's thoughts were part of her own thought, '
'The unseen grew visible and audible: '
'So she beheld the many births of thought,
If births can be of what eternal is; '......
............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Psalm 58
Warning to magistrates.
Judges, who rule the world by laws,
Will ye despise the righteous cause,
When th' injured poor before you stands?
Dare ye condemn the righteous poor,
And let rich sinners 'scape secure,
While gold and greatness bribe your hands?
Have ye forgot, or never knew,
That God will judge the judges too?
High in the heav'ns his justice reigns;
Yet you invade the rights of God,
And send your bold decrees abroad,
To bind the conscience in your chains.
A poisoned arrow is your tongue,
The arrow sharp, the poison strong,
And death attends where'er it wounds:
You hear no counsels, cries, or tears;
So the deaf adder stops her ears
Against the power of charming sounds.
Break out their teeth, eternal God,
Those teeth of lions dyed in blood;
And crush the serpents in the dust:
As empty chaff when whirlwinds rise
Before the sweeping tempest flies,
So let their hopes and names be lost.
Th' Almighty thunders from the sky,
Their grandeur melts, their titles die,
As hills of snow dissolve and run,
Or snails that perish in their slime,
Or births that come before their time,
Vain births, that never see the sun.
Thus shall the vengeance of the Lord
Safety and joy to saints afford;
And all that hear shall join and say,
"Sure there's a God that rules on high,
A God that hears his children cry,
And will their suff'rings well repay."
poem by Isaac Watts
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Molded Goals
Give me my right to have a life of variety.
With a choice I decide in my mind,
Who and what I will be as I define.
People live to breathe in sequels.
And leeching to squeeze,
From an opportunistic vision.
But too afraid to plant their own footsteps,
If others are not pleased.
People are not free,
Or encouraged to be themselves.
And directed from their births,
To seek acceptance...
From others who have molded goals,
And know what is perfectness.
Give me my right to have a life of variety.
With a choice I decide in my mind,
Who and what I will be as I define.
People are not free,
Or encouraged to be themselves.
And directed from their births,
To seek acceptance...
From others who have molded goals,
And know what is perfectness.
Molded goals grow old to corrode.
And find a staleness solid...
Rusted with rot and dropped forgotten.
People live and breathe in sequels.
Too afraid to make fresh steps.
People live to please other people,
And get upset when nothing is correct!
Molded goals.
Molded goals.
Rusted with rot,
And soon dropped forgotten.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stars in your eyes
Oh! It's really amazed me and a surprise too.
My fellow poet friend Max.Reif visited me on the 23 rd of Nov.'07
Early in the morning.(Both of us wished a happy thanksgiving!)
We had coffee and few doughnuts in a small restaurant in Anaheim.
I wanted to tell him that I have seen him before.
Yes my dear friend, I recount my previous births and I am sure that we have met in several occasions in different places.
This good practice goes forever and all of a sudden we met in the U.S.A.
You brought your precious guitar and a tiny mouth-organ
And you sang 'Stars in your eyes' in your deep clear voice.
That's your own golden lyrics.
Yes my dearest, I saw thousands of twinkling stars in your transparent blue eyes and I hear the sweetest melody that comes with your dark shadow
Wherever I go in this fruitless journey.
* Dedication to my friend Max!
In this cycle of births and deaths we meet in different names?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Death is a relief.
No birth is welcome; the world is heavy.
Each death is welcome; the world gets relief.
With a birth, as its food, many births perish.
With a death, many births would get relief.
29.09.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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From Our Heads Like Gods We Give Birth To Others
they view us
as the impotents, those with only words to give to the world
we, phenomenal spectators
artists, onlookers, sensitive eyes, unblinking, blood rushing
to eyeballs, noting every thread of reality
in the fabric of this world
unfolding
we notice colors that they cannot see
we smell more than dogs
we see more than what eagles stare
we can be silent, and so enduring
surviving what they accuse us of
crimes that we cannot commit
we are patient and we endure what pain
is there, reserved for us like empty plates
on poisoned food and yet
we still eat them
caring less, on our emaciated bodies
too willing to offer
and if need be, die our earlier deaths
leaving them guilty in the process
we give no births in maternity beds
we do not really populate like they do
but look on our heads
we give births to other like us
in pain in joy in awakenings
and then we have become so many
ultimately winning
this game of posterity, this final battle of survival
in wit in freedom we have won this war
our swords are more sensitive
to make a kill and we devour what they vomit
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nature births haiku
But dear lover, love for you
Births sweet senryu
senryu by Leslie Alexis
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I have found my Valentine
Both of us by love chord bound,
End to end eternity surround(s) ,
In all births I have Him found,
Howsoever strange, it may sound.
Meeting of lips,
Love nectar sips,
All doubts clips,
In Oneness dips.
Since several births I am in His heart,
From birth to birth we never part,
In each birth new role we start,
But the truth is, we are One heart.
Waiting and yearning love waves generate,
Kisses and embraces its rhythm create,
Sense of duality in us eliminate,
Thus, we go on from date to date.
Dear, we are One, we shall ever be One,
None can ever break our union.
I have found my Valentine,
All His fragrance is now mine.
My Valentine has so big heart,
You also can be His sweet-heart.
Ambrosial feast my Valentine will host,
You are welcome to present Him a toast.
He will bless all those who come,
Patiala peg of bliss will be your rum.
poem by C.P. Sharma
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In Brazil
Look at what is occuring in Brazil,
Nature brought down heavy rainfall and the mud rashes out in flood!
With many already dead while others are still missing;
Coffins everywhere ready for burials,
But who can stop the heavy hands of nature? ! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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This Little Place
The eyes of a dying man,
The eyes of sorrow to share with many;
the eyes of a dying woman,
The eyes of sadness to leave for many;
With the blinking of the eyes i do write my mind.
In homely places,
To fill the hungering hearts of men;
In weary of love,
To fill the hungering hearts of women;
Of old times from the sea of love to,
The burials of the dead gone by!
Like the flames of a fire to build up your love.
I have spoken,
I have written,
I have read;
Of the dreams and visions that grow plain to share.
How should i dine when no one buys?
How should i mourn when no one dies?
Hoe should i dig when no one plants?
How should i burry when no one dies?
Clear to all men's eyes,
This little place in me is left alone.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Landmarks
I.
THROUGH the streets of Marblehead
Fast the red-winged terror sped;
Blasting, withering, on it came,
With its hundred tongues of flame,
Where St. Michael's on its way
Stood like chained Andromeda,
Waiting on the rock, like her,
Swift doom or deliverer!
Church that, after sea-moss grew
Over walls no longer new,
Counted generations five,
Four entombed and one alive;
Heard the martial thousand tread
Battleward from Marblehead;
Saw within the rock-walled bay
Treville's liked pennons play,
And the fisher's dory met
By the barge of Lafayette,
Telling good news in advance
Of the coming fleet of France!
Church to reverend memories, dear,
Quaint in desk and chandelier;
Bell, whose century-rusted tongue
Burials tolled and bridals rung;
Loft, whose tiny organ kept
Keys that Snetzler's hand had swept;
Altar, o'er whose tablet old
Sinai's law its thunders rolled!
Suddenly the sharp cry came
'Look! St. Michael's is aflame!'
Round the low tower wall the fire
Snake-like wound its coil of ire.
Sacred in its gray respect
[...] Read more
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Swan Flies Over The Lace Corals Of The Trees
The swan flies over the lace corals of the trees.
Albireo in Cygnus homing west.
The boa of the moon unfeathered
by the brittle eclipse of broken shale
that shatters its vase upon the waters
like a high note cracks an hour glass
or a snapping turtle rises
from the bottom of a lake
to pull the full moon down by the leg.
My path is strewn
by lunar peony petals,
by the twilight of a blue rose,
by the silk parachutes of the milkweed pods
by the ghosts of the medicine men
among the wild poppies
shaking their dry rattles at the moon
long after the fire's gone out
at a ghost dance for rain.
And I'm sad like smoke
for reasons I can't discern.
A peaceful sorrow among
the bells in my blood as if
we all mourned for the same thing.
Tears falling from the departing wing
of a waterbird rising out of the shadows
like a startling revelation of things to come.
Late autumn and the work
of fulfilment and loss is done.
The winged samara of the maples
lie all over the ground
in a no fly zone of cancelled flight plans.
And there's a silence
that isn't the afterlife of sound
deeper than the night
that's closing in upon me
and there's the skull of a snake
like a crown without jewels
on the top of a ladder of ribs
laid out on a rock like wampum
it wants to trade for my eyes.
And looking up at the stars
who can say the word eternity
even to themselves
without making the world
and everything in it feel like a smaller place?
And who can say the word love
even as a master of metaphors
and not feel they're apprenticed
to a work in progress
like Great Barrier Reefs
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
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