My favourite poem

We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee;
we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.

We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat:
our victory and defeat is from thee, O thou whose qualities are comely!

Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls,
that we should remain in being beside thee?

We and our existences are really non-existence;
thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable.

We all are lions, but lions on a banner:
because of the wind they are rushing onward from moment to moment.

Their onward rush is visible, and the wind is unseen:
may that which is unseen not fail from us!

Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift;
our whole existence is from thy bringing into being.


Masnavi Book I, 599-607
Rumi

A wonderful perons who treads
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Re: My favourite poem



I like it. Puts me in mind of Marat/Sade.

Re: A wonderful perons who treads


Rama, please post the author's name. I know what it is, but do others?

Re: A wonderful perons who treads


Yeah. Some of us may not be past the sixth grade.

Tegret and appologize
It was written by a world famous American( born in San Fransco--Robert Lee Frost. )
I typed at the bottom of the above quote
but somehow the mistake occurred for which i regret.

I suggest we keep one thread for posting Favorite poems to make it easy for readers.

Matter for Gratitude

"ESPECIALLY should we be thankful for having escaped
the ravages of the yellow scourge by which our neighbors
have been so sorely afflicted."

--Governor Stoneman's Thanksgiving Proclamation

Be pleased, O Lord, to take a people's thanks
That Thine avenging sword has spared our ranks--
That Thou hast parted from our lips the cup
And forced our neighbors' lips to drink it up.
Father of Mercies, with a heart contrite
We thank Thee that Thou goest south to smite,
And sparest San Francisco's loins, to crack
Thy lash on Hermosillo's bleeding back--
That o'er our homes Thine awful angel spread
His wings in vain, and Guaymas weeps instead.

We praise Thee, God, that Yellow Fever here
His horrid banner has not dared to rear,
Consumption's jurisdiction to contest,
Her dagger deep in every second breast!
Catarrh and Asthma and Congestive Chill
Attest Thy bounty and perform Thy will.
These native messengers obey Thy call--
They summon singly, but they summon all.
Not, as in Mexico's impested clime,
Can Yellow Jack commit recurring crime.
We thank Thee that Thou killest all the time.

Thy tender mercies, Father, never end:
Upon all heads Thy blessings still descend,
Though their forms vary. Here the sown seeds yield
Abundant grain that whitens all the field--
There the smit corn stands barren on the plain,
Thrift reaps the straw and Famine gleans in vain.
Here the fat priest to the contented king
Points out the contrast and the people sing--
There mothers eat their offspring. Well, at least
Thou hast provided offspring for the feast.
An earthquake here rolls harmless through the land,
And Thou art good because the chimneys stand--
There templed cities sink into the sea,
And damp survivors, howling as they flee,
Skip to the hills and hold a celebration
In honor of Thy wise discrimination.

O God, forgive them all, from Stoneman down,
Thy smile who construe and expound Thy frown,
And fall with saintly grace upon their knees
To render thanks when Thou dost only sneeze.

Ambrose Bierce

Weaponized Freedom


Wholesale democracy sold as retail
Freedom is incapacitated locked in jail
Liberty in the layaway without bail
War is the prostitute on the campaign trail

Democracy for sale-Democracy for sale
Weaponized free-enterprise, impeached democratized
Imperialism to no avail
Bi-partisan politicians pimping people’s entrails
Democracy for sale-Democracy for sale

Terrorism merchandised to the highest bidder
Political policy a bi-partisan stripper
Free-trade gets paid to get laid
Open door policy is the capitalist’s charade

Civil-War ain’t civil, just barbaric
Collateral casualties are esoteric
Crimes against humanity all so generic

Warmongers copulate war but never bemoan
They pledged alliance to the scull and bones

Democracy for sale—Democracy for sale
Weaponized free-enterprise, impeached democratized
Imperialism to no avail
Bi-partisan politicians pimping people’s entrails

Josephine DixonBanks

Danbury, Connecticut

From earthly Jail to heaven…


Freedom at last in the winds of triumphantly bountiful heaven; where there prevailed not the tiniest iota of blasphemous lies and treachery; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to heal every inexplicable wound- in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the landscapes of brilliantly enlightening heaven; where every conceivable route only led to eternally fructifying happiness; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to wholesomely banish every sin of a countless past lives—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the mists of unconquerably empowering heaven; where there existed only the religion of immortally bonding humanity; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to annihilate each dastardly prejudice of the soul—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the arms of fearlessly miraculous heaven; where the most fathomless sums of money were treated like feckless shit; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to inundate each tyrannized persona with boundless love—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the footsteps of immeasurably wondrous heaven; where there existed no pain; no misery; no imperceptible suffering; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to uplift each ingredient of your blood towards the ultimate destination of your life—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the cradle of mellifluously invincible heaven; where there forever ruled only the principles of ubiquitous equality; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to magically vanquish the parasite—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the waves of sensuously emancipating heaven; where even the most wildest of unfinished fantasies were royally replenished; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to scrap the very ruthless definition of monotony—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the whispers of magnetically charismatic heaven; where even the most inconsolably traumatized of tears were metamorphosed into priceless pearls; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to impregnably fortify each dying aspect of existence—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the walls of insuperably fragrant heaven; where every bit of truth which was unflinchingly spoken was given the highest respect; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to perennially terminate all lies—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the corridors of ecstatically undefeated heaven; where grotesque cowardice completely dissolved to sow the seeds of unparalleled Samaritan bravery; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to inexhaustibly inspire one and all alike—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the horizons of everlastingly sacrosanct heaven; where there palpitated inimitable purity in each heart; soul and bounteous conscience; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to pave a way through the most flagrant of storms—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the eyes of unbelievably passionate heaven; where a cloudburst of sensuality reigned supreme in even the most oblivious of leaf; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to proliferate each stagnating body into an infinite—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the cisterns of endlessly mesmerizing heaven; where maiming hopelessness and haplessness were never born; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to lead each benign heart to victory—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the tunes of euphorically infallible heaven; where the melody of unlimited natural creation was the ultimate mantra and panacea of each instant; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to end all devastating war—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the aisles of fantastically ameliorating heaven; where even the most unbearably excruciating of pain dissolved into the wands of love; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to timelessly lead towards unshakable prosperity—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the wings of indefatigably romantic heaven; where every true lover perpetually became one with its endearing partner; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to forever protect against all evil—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the clouds of blissfully altruistic heaven; where every perceivable greed and satanic desire was forever quelled by the songs of divinely contentment; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to behead every rapacious devil—in blessed abundance everywhere,

Freedom at last in the canvas of astoundingly sensitive heaven; where there torrentially rained nothing else but beautifully ravishing poetry; with the Omnipotent light of the Creator to forever befriend each emaciated soul—in blessed abundance everywhere,

But unfortunately, Jail and salaciously penalizing jail till the end of destined life; as I got up with a jolt of lightening from my nocturnal sleep; wishing and only wishing for veritable death; to transit me from this earthly jail to Omniscient heaven; once again….

©®copyright by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.

Nikhil Parekh

Drinking my own anger


I couldn’t hit the earth in my bouts of anger; as it
was the one which grew the food necessary for my
survival,

I couldn’t hit the wall in my bouts of anger; as it
was the one which sequestered my scalp against
tumultuous storm and rain; it was the one which constituted and
fortified my dwelling,

I couldn't hit the tree in my bouts of anger; as it
was laden with the fruits I nibbled in my times of
relish; imparted me with velvety breeze in the
sweltering night,

I couldn’t hit the mirror in my bouts of anger; as it
magnificently portrayed to me my pellucid and candid
reflection; and doing so I knew would exacerbate the
situation further; would make my own hand bleed,

I couldn’t hit mothers stomach in my bouts of anger;
for it was the singular pouch which had bore me for 9
months unrelentingly; the very sacred sac which was
responsible for my existence today,

I couldn’t hit the snake in my bouts of anger; for it
guarded my treasury of wealth unflinchingly all night
and day; and would viciously retort back the instant I
raised my fingers to strike,

I couldn’t hit the Sun in my bouts of anger; for it
was the sole source of light which maneuvered me in
the day; lit up my every morning with an enchanting
smile,
I couldn’t hit the child in my bouts of anger; for it
was all the energy I possessed; was the sweetest
little form of God running gleefully on this earth,

I couldn’t hit the waters in my bouts of anger; for
they were the ones who pacified my thirst several
times a day; blended my life with loads of mesmerizing
cool and shade,

I couldn’t hit the silver plate in my bouts of anger;
for it was the one in which I actually consumed my
food three times in a day; and insulting it could
probably result in not getting food even three times a
year,

I couldn’t hit the car in my bouts of anger; for it
was the one which transported me marathon distances;
saw to it that I my feet rested in luxury; as I
reached the summit at whirlwind speeds,

I couldn’t hit my beloved in my bouts of anger; as she
was the one who transpired me to live every second;
she was the one who took upon herself every affliction
to save me from the tiniest of wound today,

I couldn’t hit my sister in my bouts of anger; as she
was the one whom I played with irrespective of my
augmenting age; with whom I shared all my secrets of
life; sometimes woke her even in the middle of the
night,

I couldn’t hit my pet dog in my bouts of anger; as he
was the one who was the first to welcome me at
ethereal dawn; wag his tail incessantly until the time
I took him in my arms,

I couldn’t hit my eye in my bouts of anger; for it was
the only instrument whom I relied upon to sight this
world; and also it would incorrigibly shut tight; as I
tried and approached it with my fist,
I couldn’t hit the century old boat in my bouts of
anger; as it was the one on which my ancestors sailed;
the one where my rudimentary roots lay profoundly
embedded,

I couldn’t hit the cow in my bouts of anger; as it was
the only animal which gave me sacrosanct milk;
impregnated my bones with Herculean strength to take
on the mantle of this entire world,

I couldn’t hit the idol of God in my bouts of anger;
as it was the one who had evolved me and my kin in the
first place; would
burn me to inconspicuous ash the moment I irritably
hurled my fingers towards his Omnipotent form,

And I couldn’t hit a single thing on this earth; for
whatever I hit was something sacred or something which
was intimately dear; something which I possessed or
something which had possessed me for infinite years,

That’s when I decided to wholesomely DRINK MY OWN
ANGER; whenever I was infuriated and my body
reverberated beyond the point of no control; rather
than unnecessarily victimizing somebody, taking it out
on the innocent world…




(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.

Nikhil Parekh

More Frost


The rain to the wind said
"You push and I'll pelt"
Together they smote the garden bed
'Til the flowers actually knelt
And lay lodged, though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.

I SO LIKED SPRING by Charlotte Mew

I so liked Spring last year
Because you were here; --
The thrushes too --
Because it was these you so liked to hear --
I so liked you.

This year's a different thing, --
I'll not think of you.
But I'll like Spring because it is simply Spring
As the thrushes do.