You must not lean on a tree on Sabbath, if the tree might be dependent on you for support.
quote by Ovadia Yosef
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)
Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.
Act I
Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.
Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!
Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…
Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!
Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.
Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.
Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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One-Eighty By Summer
Come on just say it,
You need me like a bad habit,
One that leaves you defenseless, dependent, and alone.
Come on just say it (Are you afraid to),
You need me like a bad habit (Say what you want to, tell me you want to),
One that leaves you defenseless, dependent, and alone (Are you afraid to say what you want to, tell me you want to).
Well I hold my tongue use it to assess,
The damage from way back when it mattered,
But nothing seems important anymore,
Were just protecting ourselves from our self,
And I dont think Ill ever come back down (I dont think Ill ever come back down),
I dont think Ill ever come back down (I dont think Ill ever come back down),
I dont think Ill ever come back down (I dont think Ill ever come back),
I dont think Ill ever come back
Are you ashamed to say what you want to tell me you want to.
Are you ashamed to say what you want to tell me you want to.
(Come on just say it) Are you ashamed to (Come on just say it) say what you want to tell me you want to.
(Come on just say it) Are you ashamed to (Come on just say it) say what you want to tell me you want to.
Im making the difference,
It just seems pointless,
Well Ill be obvious,
Thats got out of focus,
Why cant you just be happy,
Why cant you just be happy.
And I dont think Ill ever come back down (I dont think Ill ever come back down),
I dont think Ill ever come back down (I dont think Ill ever come back down),
I dont think Ill ever come back down (I dont think Ill ever come back),
I dont think Ill ever come back...
(Just come back {over and over, about 15 times})
Just come on just say it,
Come on just say it,
Well Ill just say it,
Ill just say it,
I need you defenseless, dependent and alone.
(Just come back {over and over, about 9 times})
She says live up to your first impression,
Well my best side was your worst invention,
In case you live without the intention,
In case you live without the intention.
(Just come back {over and over, about 8 times})
She says live up to your first impression,
Well my best side was your worst invention,
In case you live without the intention,
In case you live without the intention.
She says live up to your first impression (Come on, just say it),
Well my best side was your worst invention (Come on, just say it),
Why cant you live without the intention (I need you defenseless, dependent),
Why cant you love without the intention (alone).
She says live up to your first impression (I just say it),
Well my best side was your worst invention (I just say it),
[...] Read more
song performed by Taking Back Sunday
Added by Lucian Velea
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Diamond In The Back
Gangsta whitewalls, TV antennas in the back (the back, the back...)
[Chorus]
I wanna (diamond in the back)
I wanna (sunroof top)
I wanna (diggin' the scene with a gangsta lean)
I wanna (diamond in the back)
I wanna (sunroof top)
I wanna (diggin' the scene with a gangsta lean)
I wanna (diamond in the back)
I wanna (sunroof top)
I wanna (diggin' the scene with a gangsta lean)
I wanna (diamond in the back)
And I wanna (sunroof top)
I wanna (diggin' the scene with a gangsta lean)
diamond in the, diamond in the, diamond in the...
[Verse 1]
It's hard growin' up lookin' at drug dealers wit' all this paper
Wonderin' how I can get me some
My family's strugglin', I'm buggin', sittin' on my porch
So confused, chewin' on some bubblegum
I was always taught to use my manners with the misses
But please, stay away from the hoes and snithes
And I was always reached for the sky, I dont know why
Ima little bitty kid wit' a whole buncha gangsta wishes
When I grow up, you just wait, Ima be so straight
And everything's gonna be so marvelous
No more borrowin' from the neighbors, no more haters
No more blowin' Nintendo cartridges
Ima have it made in the shade, Ima be so paid
And my fam, get 'em off that payin' them bills
Matta fact Im schemin' my way on up out this hood, I'll be good
When I ditch these trainin' wheels
[Chorus]
Diamond in the back
I wanna (sunroof top)
I wanna (diggin' in the scene with a gangsta lean)
I wanna (diamond in the back)
I wanna (sunroof top)
I wanna (diggin' in the scene with a gangsta lean)
I wanna (diamond in the back)
And I wanna (sunroof top)
I wanna (diggin' in the scene with a gangsta lean)
I wanna (diamond in the back)
I wanna (sunroof top)
I wanna (diggin' in the scene with a gangsta lean)
Diamond in the, diamond in the, diamond in the...
[Verse 2]
I'm sick and tired of ridin' public transportation
Been patient waitin' on my set of wheels
I'm willin' to do what it takes, whatever the stakes
[...] Read more
song performed by Ludacris
Added by Lucian Velea
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Matthew (Chapter 12)
It was the Sabbath day, when Jesus walked,
Through a field of grain with His disciples,
Who being hungry, picked some heads of grain,
And ate them while the Pharisees had watched.
They then remarked to Jesus about them.
On Sabbath day, his disciples had done
An act, unlawful, according to them.
Then Jesus asked them, ‘Haven’t you read
How David and his friends had fed,
When hungry they became one day,
And ate the offered bread that lay,
Inside the House of God which he
Ought not to eat but ones priestly! ’
‘Have you not read the Sabbath Law?
That priests that serve in temples are
Violating, though innocent? ’
‘There’s something more than temple here.
If you had known what was meant by
‘Not sacrifice, I desire mercy,
You would not condemn such things done.
The Son of Man’s, Lord of Sabbath! ’
Then, Jesus went into the synagogue.
There was a man with withered hand;
Is it right curing on Sabbath?
They asked to accuse Him therefore.
Then Jesus asked, ‘If your sheep fell
On Sabbath day, into a pit,
Would you not lift it out at once? ’
‘Is not man’s life more valuable?
’Tis lawful doing good on Sabbath day.’
He told the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’
The man did so and was restored.
The Pharisees then decided
To wait and then, put Him to death.
As Jesus knew their evil plan,
He left that place to another.
And many followed Him with faith
And Jesus cured their illnesses.
He warned them not to publicize.
This was to fulfill what was said
By prophet Isaiah before:
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
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The Boy Out Of Church
As Jesus and his followers
Upon a Sabbath morn
Were walking by a wheat field
They plucked the ears of corn.
They plucked it, they rubbed it,
They blew the husks away,
Which grieved the pious pharisees
Upon the Sabbath day.
And Jesus said, 'A riddle
Answer if you can,
Was man made for the Sabbath
Or Sabbath made for man?'
I do not love the Sabbath,
The soapsuds and the starch,
The troops of solemn people
Who to Salvation march.
I take my book, I take my stick
On the Sabbath day,
In woody nooks and valleys
I hide myself away.
To ponder there in quiet
God's Universal Plan,
Resolved that church and Sabbath
Were never made for man.
poem by Robert Graves
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Lean On You
The firt step to heaven
I will take in my life
I am not afraid when
I can hold you tight
If there must be an answer
Then there must be a prayer
And you must be the angel
When youre standing there
So I lean on you, I lean on you
My life is such a statement
Of my hopes and despairs
But nothing really matters
Just as long as youre there
You love me such honesty,
You love with no gain
You speak to me so tender
And you never explain
So I lean on you, I lean on you
My baby she cares
Its so easy to do
My baby she tells me what to do
She always tells me the truth
My baby she cares
Its so easy to do
My baby knows what Im gonna do
Thats why I lean on you
I dream of an island,
Of a fantasy place
Where I can go to sometimes
And nobody can trace
Well such is the nature,
The nature of love
That when we dream it
Sometimes means that we need love
So I lean on you, I lean on you
My baby she cares
Its so easy to do
My baby she tells me what to do
She always tells me the truth
My baby she cares
Its so easy to do
My baby knows what Im gonna do
Thats why I lean on you
So I lean on you, I lean on you
I lean on you, so I lean on you
(repeat chorus)
song performed by Cliff Richard
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lean On Me
Heavy burden on your shoulder
Lean on me
Heavy burden on your shoulder
Lean on me
Heavy burden on your shoulder
Everyday just a little bit harder
Heavy burden on your shoulder
Lean on me
Down and out without hope
Lean on me
Down and out without hope
Lean on me
Down and out without hope
Im right here, Ill help you cope
Down and out without hope
Lean on me
Grab a rope and pull me in
But lean on me
Everyday, youll have a friend
But lean on me
Grab a rope, pull me in
Everyday youll have a friend
Grab a rope
In the world, ? ?
And if youre looking for a rainy day friend
Well grab a rope, pull me in
Lean on me
Heavy burden cloudy skies
Lean on me
Ill be the ? ? of weeping eyes
But lean on me
If you always feels like rain
All youve got in life is pain
Heavy burden, go away
Oh... , goodbye
Heavy burden, on you shoulder
Lean on me
song performed by Housemartins
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tree Time Warriors Bliss
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree … Tree … Tree Time Warriors
Tree … Tree … Tree Time Warriors
Blissssss ……
Blissssss ……
Sensual
Sensual touch …
Tree Time Warriors
In E flat
Tree Time Warriors
In E flat
Tree Time Warriors
In Spiritual Sensual Touch
Tree Time
Tree time
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree … Tree … Tree … Tree Time
Tree Time Warriors
Tree Time Warriors
And
Bliss.
poem by Stephen Karnaghan
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The Child Of The Islands - Autumn
I.
BROWN Autumn cometh, with her liberal hand
Binding the Harvest in a thousand sheaves:
A yellow glory brightens o'er the land,
Shines on thatched corners and low cottage-eaves,
And gilds with cheerful light the fading leaves:
Beautiful even here, on hill and dale;
More lovely yet where Scotland's soil receives
The varied rays her wooded mountains hail,
With hues to which our faint and soberer tints are pale.
II.
For there the Scarlet Rowan seems to mock
The red sea coral--berries, leaves, and all;
Light swinging from the moist green shining rock
Which beds the foaming torrent's turbid fall;
And there the purple cedar, grandly tall,
Lifts its crowned head and sun-illumined stem;
And larch (soft drooping like a maiden's pall)
Bends o'er the lake, that seems a sapphire gem
Dropt from the hoary hill's gigantic diadem.
III.
And far and wide the glorious heather blooms,
Its regal mantle o'er the mountains spread;
Wooing the bee with honey-sweet perfumes,
By many a viewless wild flower richly shed;
Up-springing 'neath the glad exulting tread
Of eager climbers, light of heart and limb;
Or yielding, soft, a fresh elastic bed,
When evening shadows gather, faint and dim,
And sun-forsaken crags grow old, and gaunt, and grim.
IV.
Oh, Land! first seen when Life lay all unknown,
Like an unvisited country o'er the wave,
Which now my travelled heart looks back upon,
Marking each sunny path, each gloomy cave,
With here a memory, and there a grave:--
Land of romance and beauty; noble land
Of Bruce and Wallace; land where, vainly brave,
Ill-fated Stuart made his final stand,
Ere yet the shivered sword fell hopeless from his hand--
V.
I love you! I remember you! though years
Have fleeted o'er the hills my spirit knew,
Whose wild uncultured heights the plough forbears,
Whose broomy hollows glisten in the dew.
[...] Read more
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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A Rhymed Lesson (Urania)
Yes, dear Enchantress,—Âwandering far and long,
In realms unperfumed by the breath of song,
Where flowers ill-flavored shed their sweets around,
And bitterest roots invade the ungenial ground,
Whose gems are crystals from the Epsom mine,
Whose vineyards flow with antimonial wine,
Whose gates admit no mirthful feature in,
Save one gaunt mocker, the Sardonic grin,
Whose pangs are real, not the woes of rhyme
That blue-eyed misses warble out of time;—Â
Truant, not recreant to thy sacred claim,
Older by reckoning, but in heart the same,
Freed for a moment from the chains of toil,
I tread once more thy consecrated soil;
Here at thy feet my old allegiance own,
Thy subject still, and loyal to thy throne!
My dazzled glance explores the crowded hall;
Alas, how vain to hope the smiles of all!
I know my audience. All the gay and young
Love the light antics of a playful tongue;
And these, remembering some expansive line
My lips let loose among the nuts and wine,
Are all impatience till the opening pun
Proclaims the witty shamfight is begun.
Two fifths at least, if not the total half,
Have come infuriate for an earthquake laugh;
I know full well what alderman has tied
His red bandanna tight about his side;
I see the mother, who, aware that boys
Perform their laughter with superfluous noise,
Beside her kerchief brought an extra one
To stop the explosions of her bursting son;
I know a tailor, once a friend of mine,
Expects great doings in the button line,—Â
For mirth’s concussions rip the outward case,
And plant the stitches in a tenderer place.
I know my audience,—Âthese shall have their due;
A smile awaits them ere my song is through!
I know myself. Not servile for applause,
My Muse permits no deprecating clause;
Modest or vain, she will not be denied
One bold confession due to honest pride;
And well she knows the drooping veil of song
Shall save her boldness from the caviller’s wrong.
Her sweeter voice the Heavenly Maid imparts
To tell the secrets of our aching hearts
For this, a suppliant, captive, prostrate, bound,
She kneels imploring at the feet of sound;
[...] Read more
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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The Holy Sabbath Day
God created the things He thought
Over the six days of the week,
And being pleased with His own work,
The Sabbath Day of rest, He sought!
God made the Sabbath Day for man
So that his body, heart and mind,
From week-days’ drudgery, rest find,
And thereby increase his life’s span!
God made the Sabbath Day holy
So that man could be nearer God,
And keep his soul afilled with grace,
And keep the heaven’s road always!
The Sabbath Day is crucial
For man to keep off diseases
Those afflict him these modern days,
And add more years to life on earth.
The Sabbath is the answer to
The affluent illnesses that
Affect most men including stress,
Avoiding all things of excess!
Man, keep the Sabbath Day holy;
Give rest to body, mind and heart;
Cleanse soul from sins by divine art,
And do your duty for your part.
On this day, think of God much more,
And thank Him for His blessings shown;
Pray fervently from your heart’s core,
And keep off evils known, unknown!
For, holy, holy is the Lord
Of heavens, earth – the most high God;
Whatever He says may look odd;
All will be fine, heeding His Word!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-23-2009
poem by John Celes
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Sabbath, My Love
greet my love with wine and gladsome lay;
Welcome, thrice welcome, joyous Seventh Day!
Six slaves the weekdays are; I share
With them a round of toil and care,
Yet light the burdens seem, I bear
For your sweet sake, Sabbath, my love!
On the First-day to the accustomed task
I go content, nor reward ask,
Save in your smile, at length, to bask --
Day blessed of God, Sabbath, my love!
Is the Second-day dull, the Third-day unbright?
Hide sun and stars from the Fourth-day's sight?
What need I care, who have your light,
Orb of my life, Sabbath, my love!
The Fifth-day, joyful tidings ring:
"The morrow shall your freedom bring!"
At dawn a slave, at eve a king --
God's table waits, Sabbath, my love!
On the Sixth-day does my cup overflow,
What blissful rest the night shall know,
When, in your arms, my toil and woe
Are all forgotten, Sabbath, my love!
Now it's dusk. With sudden light distilled
From one sweet face, the world is filled;
The tumult of my heart is stilled --
For you have arrived, Sabbath, my love!
Bring fruits and wine, and sing a cheerful lay,
Chant: "Come in peace, O blissful Seventh Day!"
poem by Yehudah HaLevi
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The Ballad of the White Horse
DEDICATION
Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?
Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?
In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.
Gored on the Norman gonfalon
The Golden Dragon died:
We shall not wake with ballad strings
The good time of the smaller things,
We shall not see the holy kings
Ride down by Severn side.
Stiff, strange, and quaintly coloured
As the broidery of Bayeux
The England of that dawn remains,
And this of Alfred and the Danes
Seems like the tales a whole tribe feigns
Too English to be true.
Of a good king on an island
That ruled once on a time;
And as he walked by an apple tree
There came green devils out of the sea
With sea-plants trailing heavily
And tracks of opal slime.
Yet Alfred is no fairy tale;
His days as our days ran,
He also looked forth for an hour
On peopled plains and skies that lower,
From those few windows in the tower
That is the head of a man.
But who shall look from Alfred's hood
[...] Read more
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Dead-Maid's-Pool
Oh water, water-water deep and still,
In this hollow of the hill,
Thou helenge well o'er which the long reeds lean,
Here a stream and there a stream,
And thou so still, between,
Thro' thy coloured dream,
Thro' the drownèd face
Of this lone leafy place,
Down, down, so deep and chill,
I see the pebbles gleam!
Ash-tree, ash-tree,
Bending o'er the well,
Why there thou bendest,
Kind hearts can tell.
'Tis that the pool is deep,
'Tis that-a single leap,
And the pool closes:
And in the solitude
Of this wild mountain wood,
None, none, would hear her cry,
From this bank where she stood
To that peak in the sky
Where the cloud dozes.
Ash-tree, ash-tree,
That art so sweet and good,
If any creeping thing
Among the summer games in the wild roses
Fall from its airy swing,
(While all its pigmy kind
Watch from some imminent rose-leaf half uncurled)-
I know thou hast it full in mind
(While yet the drowning minim lives,
And blots the shining water where it strives),
To touch it with a finger soft and kind,
As when the gentle sun, ere day is hot,
Feels for a little shadow in a grot,
And gives it to the shades behind the world.
And oh! if some poor fool
Should seek the fatal pool,
Thine arms-ah, yes! I know
For this thou watchest days, and months, and years,
For this dost bend beside
The lone and lorn well-side,
The guardian angel of the doom below,
[...] Read more
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto First
FROM Bolton's old monastic tower
The bells ring loud with gladsome power;
The sun shines bright; the fields are gay
With people in their best array
Of stole and doublet, hood and scarf,
Along the banks of crystal Wharf,
Through the Vale retired and lowly,
Trooping to that summons holy.
And, up among the moorlands, see
What sprinklings of blithe company!
Of lasses and of shepherd grooms,
That down the steep hills force their way,
Like cattle through the budded brooms;
Path, or no path, what care they?
And thus in joyous mood they hie
To Bolton's mouldering Priory.
What would they there?--Full fifty years
That sumptuous Pile, with all its peers,
Too harshly hath been doomed to taste
The bitterness of wrong and waste:
Its courts are ravaged; but the tower
Is standing with a voice of power,
That ancient voice which wont to call
To mass or some high festival;
And in the shattered fabric's heart
Remaineth one protected part;
A Chapel, like a wild-bird's nest,
Closely embowered and trimly drest;
And thither young and old repair,
This Sabbath-day, for praise and prayer.
Fast the churchyard fills;--anon
Look again, and they all are gone;
The cluster round the porch, and the folk
Who sate in the shade of the Prior's Oak!
And scarcely have they disappeared
Ere the prelusive hymn is heard:--
With one consent the people rejoice,
Filling the church with a lofty voice!
They sing a service which they feel:
For 'tis the sunrise now of zeal;
Of a pure faith the vernal prime--
In great Eliza's golden time.
A moment ends the fervent din,
And all is hushed, without and within;
For though the priest, more tranquilly,
Recites the holy liturgy,
The only voice which you can hear
Is the river murmuring near.
--When soft!--the dusky trees between,
And down the path through the open green,
[...] Read more
poem by William Wordsworth
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 5)
There was a feast for Jews just then;
Went Jesus to Jerusalem;
There was a pool called Bethesda;
In which there lay the ill, blind, lame.
There was a man who had been ill
For years thirty-eight, lying there;
As Jesus knew his long illness,
He asked, ‘Do you want to be well? ’
The sick man answered Him, ‘Oh, Sir,
I haven’t someone to put me there,
In pool of water that’s near-by;
Someone else gets there before me.’
Then Jesus told the man who’s ill,
‘Arise, take up your mat and walk.’
And instantly, the man turned well;
It happened on a Sabbath-day.
Jews told the man who had been cured,
‘On Sabbath, you shouldn’t carry mat.’
He said, ‘The man who made me well
Told me to walk and take my mat.’
They queried him, ‘Who told you so? ’
There was a crowd around the place;
By then, Jesus had slipped away;
The man didn’t know, that Sabbath day.
Next, Jesus found the man again,
And said to him, near the temple,
‘Now well you’re, don’t sin anymore,
So that worse things do not happen.’
The man then left and told the Jews
That Jesus only made him well;
Because on Sabbath, Jesus healed,
To persecute Him, Jews began.
So, Jesus told, ‘My father works
Until now; So, I also work.’
The Jews therefore tried all the more
To kill Jesus who Sabbath broke,
And made himself to God, equal.
So, Jesus answered them and said,
‘Amen, amen, I say to you,
A son can’t do a thing by self;
He sees his father and so does.’
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
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Those Glory Days
Those glory days...
Come to be lived and meant for seekers of adventure.
Those glory days...
Do not support the liniment impotent people.
Those glory days...
Will not be felt that way for those who are in pain.
The ones complaining everyday and that remains the same.
Those glory days...
Come to be lived and meant for seekers of adventure.
Those glory days...
Do not support the liniment impotent people.
Those glory days...
Are for those who reach and seek an energy.
The ones who stand up straight to get up off of their knees.
The ones not looking for someone to convince and please.
The ones who choose to live their lives happily in ease.
Those glory days...
Do not support the liniment impotent people.
Those glory days...
Will not be felt that way for those who are in pain.
The ones complaining everyday and that remains the same.
Those glory days...
Do not support the liniment impotent people.
Those glory days...
Will not be felt that way for those who are in pain.
The ones complaining everyday and that remains the same.
Those glory days...
Are for those who reach and seek an energy.
The ones who stand up straight to get up off of their knees.
The ones not looking for someone to convince and please.
The ones who choose to live their lives happily in ease.
Those glory days...
Do not support the liniment impotent people.
Those glory days...
Do not support the liniment impotent people.
Those glory days...
Do not support the liniment impotent people.
Those glory days...
Will not be felt that way for those who are in pain.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
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poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Banyan Tree
Banyan tree, banyan tree
that century old banyan tree
standing grandeurly for us to see
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Cool breeze passing through
seeking blessings of banyan tree
branches shaking in approval
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Glassy green with majestic trunk
touching the earth, not breaking free
shelter home for different birds
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Yellowish streaks, some with reddish tinge
welcome every season with a glee
symbol of eternal life
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Shedding leaves, like tears falling
a grandfather lamenting on its knees
new plants cuddling around
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Lord Buddha became its buddy
meditation was the only key
peace you get underneath
that is why it is banyan tree.
Banyan tree, banyan tree
wish fullfilling, it is banyan tree
just pray here and let you see
Banyan tree, banyan tree.
A life giver and just for free
Banyan is my national pride
preserve these at any cost
don't commit a homicide?
God blessed us with banyan tree
heat absorbing banyan tree
has healing powers this banyan tree
banyan tree, banyan tree.
---- X -----
copyright/Children of Lost God/Tribhawan Kaul
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poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Paradise Lost: Book 09
No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd,
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast; permitting him the while
Venial discourse unblam'd. I now must change
Those notes to tragick; foul distrust, and breach
Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt,
And disobedience: on the part of Heaven
Now alienated, distance and distaste,
Anger and just rebuke, and judgement given,
That brought into this world a world of woe,
Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery
Death's harbinger: Sad talk!yet argument
Not less but more heroick than the wrath
Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued
Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage
Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous'd;
Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's, that so long
Perplexed the Greek, and Cytherea's son:
If answerable style I can obtain
Of my celestial patroness, who deigns
Her nightly visitation unimplor'd,
And dictates to me slumbering; or inspires
Easy my unpremeditated verse:
Since first this subject for heroick song
Pleas'd me long choosing, and beginning late;
Not sedulous by nature to indite
Wars, hitherto the only argument
Heroick deem'd chief mastery to dissect
With long and tedious havock fabled knights
In battles feign'd; the better fortitude
Of patience and heroick martyrdom
Unsung; or to describe races and games,
Or tilting furniture, imblazon'd shields,
Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds,
Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights
At joust and tournament; then marshall'd feast
Serv'd up in hall with sewers and seneshals;
The skill of artifice or office mean,
Not that which justly gives heroick name
To person, or to poem. Me, of these
Nor skill'd nor studious, higher argument
Remains; sufficient of itself to raise
That name, unless an age too late, or cold
Climate, or years, damp my intended wing
Depress'd; and much they may, if all be mine,
Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear.
The sun was sunk, and after him the star
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring
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poem by John Milton
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