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Patterns

I walk down the garden-paths,
And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair and jeweled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden-paths.
My dress is richly figured,
And the train
Makes a pink and silver stain
On the gravel, and the thrift
Of the borders.
Just a plate of current fashion,
Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes.
Not a softness anywhere about me,
Only whalebone and brocade.
And I sink on a seat in the shade
Of a lime tree. For my passion

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poem by Amy Lowell
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Paths Of Victory

Trails of troubles,
Roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
I shall walk.
The trail is dusty
And my road it might be rough,
But the better roads are waiting
And boys it aint far off.
Trails of troubles,
Roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
We shall walk.
I walked down by the river,
I turned my head up high.
I saw that silver linin
That was hangin in the sky.
Trails of troubles,
Roads of battles,
Paths of victory,
We shall walk.

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song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Columbiad: Book X

The vision resumed, and extended over the whole earth. Present character of different nations. Future progress of society with respect to commerce; discoveries; inland navigation; philosophical, med and political knowledge. Science of government. Assimilation and final union of all languages. Its effect on education, and on the advancement of physical and moral science. The physical precedes the moral, as Phosphor precedes the Sun. View of a general Congress from all nations, assembled to establish the political harmony of mankind. Conclusion.

Hesper again his heavenly power display'd,
And shook the yielding canopy of shade.
Sudden the stars their trembling fires withdrew.
Returning splendors burst upon the view,
Floods of unfolding light the skies adorn,
And more than midday glories grace the morn.
So shone the earth, as if the sideral train,
Broad as full suns, had sail'd the ethereal plain;
When no distinguisht orb could strike the sight,
But one clear blaze of all-surrounding light
O'erflow'd the vault of heaven. For now in view
Remoter climes and future ages drew;
Whose deeds of happier fame, in long array,
Call'd into vision, fill the newborn day.

Far as seraphic power could lift the eye,
Or earth or ocean bend the yielding sky,

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poem by Joel Barlow
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Paths 2

Some paths lead to dead ends,
some lead to pastures new,
but whatever path you take
it is always up to you.
Some paths are filled with beauty
colourfully decorated on either side.
Some paths are not so cheerful
and gloom hangs from every branch.
Some paths are well worn
where many feet have gone through.
Some paths have not been ventured on
and these always hold something new,
but whatever path you take
it is always up to you.

26 October 2009

poem by David Harris
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The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The First

With what attractive charms this goodly frame
Of nature touches the consenting hearts
Of mortal men; and what the pleasing stores
Which beauteous imitation thence derives
To deck the poet's, or the painter's toil;
My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle powers
Of musical delight! and while i sing
Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain.
Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast,
Indulgent Fancy! from the fruitful banks
Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull
Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf
Where Shakespeare lies, be present: and with thee
Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings
Wafting ten thousand colours through the air,
Which, by the glances of her magic eye,
She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms,
Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre,
Which rules the accents of the moving sphere,
Wilt thou, eternal Harmony! descend

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poem by Mark Akenside
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We Are But Mere Paths

we are but mere paths
where their shoes tread upon us
their umbrella tips their staff
they all touch our surfaces

during the rain
the waters run the drain
and we become not just the paths
of their stamping and running feet
we become their canals

we move through histories of men
we are their paths and their canals
we let their blood flow through us

we remain faithful to this tasks
taking glimpses of the face of God
we face the heavens
we believe in the falling of the stars

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Will The Truth Come Out One Day?

Will the truth come out one day?
Is what has happened wrong?
Our paths crossed in a funny way

To you I have nothing to say
But with you it's our secret all along
Will the truth come out one day?

If caught, a bad mood you'll display
But our concealing is strong
Our paths crossed in a funny way

I feel bad 'cause with you I didn't stay
But we weren't seeing each other for that long
Will the truth come out one day?

I'm glad it was under you I lay
Because my feelings for him have gone
Our paths crossed in a funny way

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poem by Kerry Folkes
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Ballade: Legacy

Within a stalk of fennel hid,
Prometheus took fire for
some poor ancestral hominid,
infuriating Zeus in lore.
Our forbears lived by nature's law
and myth to truth is paradox,
yet when they cooked their food from raw,
they travelled paths unorthodox.

Zeus fashioned clay in counterbid,
first woman, cursed with moral flaw.
Pandora batted sweet eyelid,
Prometheus refused, wherefore
Zeus chained him, while an eagle tore
his liver flayed upon the rocks.
When Titan sought mankind's rapport,
he travelled paths unorthodox.

Zeus gave a jar and then forbid,
Pandora look into it's maw.

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poem by Diane Hine
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The Straying Sheep

How many sheep are straying
Lost from the Savior's fold!
Upon the lonely mountain, They shiver with the cold:
Within the tangled thickets,
Where poison vines do creep,
And over rocky ledges
Still roam the poor lost sheep.

O come, let us go and find them!
In the paths of death they roam.
At the close of the day 'twill be sweet to say:
"I have brought some lost one home."

O who will go to find them?
Who, for the Savior's sake,
Will search with tireless patience
Through brier and through brake
Unheeding thirst or hunger,
Who still from day to day,
Will seek, as for treasure,

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poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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Karma Theory Of Islam

God has written down in brief
Our endless life story
That is being played
On the seven-storied stage of sky!
.
At the same time it’s also true:
We are the architects
Of our own future
Cause we get result of what we do!

However we’ll have the final result
Of our actions on the Day of Resurrection!

God acts according to plans
We should also plan our future
And try to make it happen.

Even God does not know everything
In absolute detail
And He doesn’t need to know it.

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poem by Asif Andalib
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