Poetry: The language of the Divine
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Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
Sighclone,
I love the poem by Mary Frye...I wrote one in 1974 to my best friend who used to lovingly listen to my woes without judgement. It still applies to me now and then but I am able to withdraw myself from those bad dreams and get back to the moment.
Pity Party
I had a "Pity Party"
So glad you could attend
For it's the kind of party
Where you really need a friend
I "pitied" me for failing
I "pitied" me for sin
I "pitied" me for all I've lost
And for what I've never been
\
The purpose of this party
Is still not very clear
I only know how good it felt
To know that you were near
And if sometime you feel the need
To have a party too
Remember I am always here
To help you "pity" you
I love the poem by Mary Frye...I wrote one in 1974 to my best friend who used to lovingly listen to my woes without judgement. It still applies to me now and then but I am able to withdraw myself from those bad dreams and get back to the moment.
Pity Party
I had a "Pity Party"
So glad you could attend
For it's the kind of party
Where you really need a friend
I "pitied" me for failing
I "pitied" me for sin
I "pitied" me for all I've lost
And for what I've never been
\
The purpose of this party
Is still not very clear
I only know how good it felt
To know that you were near
And if sometime you feel the need
To have a party too
Remember I am always here
To help you "pity" you
-
- Posts: 1954
- Joined: Sat Mar 06, 2010 11:56 pm
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
catchy Star.
in sorrow we do recognize
the beauty of chimera
that which changes that which moves
is what tugs poignantly on the sleeve of forever
in sorrow we do recognize
the beauty of chimera
that which changes that which moves
is what tugs poignantly on the sleeve of forever
Stop talking. Hear every sound as background. Look straight ahead and focus. Take one deep breath. This is you. This is Now.
-
- Posts: 1954
- Joined: Sat Mar 06, 2010 11:56 pm
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
she slips through your defenses
like smoke around the edges of a doorway
she calls to you as you lie hungover
like a dolorous noonday whistle on a sunny monday
she is the siren that you hear
constantly
beckoning
Who is she?
don't try to name her
to name her is to blame her
to catch her is to die
Free of attachment to the surly earth
you both roam the perimeter
where we are all stoned
where the ignorance of our true nature
and the knowledge of good and evil
both point in the same direction
like smoke around the edges of a doorway
she calls to you as you lie hungover
like a dolorous noonday whistle on a sunny monday
she is the siren that you hear
constantly
beckoning
Who is she?
don't try to name her
to name her is to blame her
to catch her is to die
Free of attachment to the surly earth
you both roam the perimeter
where we are all stoned
where the ignorance of our true nature
and the knowledge of good and evil
both point in the same direction
Stop talking. Hear every sound as background. Look straight ahead and focus. Take one deep breath. This is you. This is Now.
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
Dear Snowheight
Loved the poems!
Great truths and insight...
Sincerely,
Star
Loved the poems!
Great truths and insight...
Sincerely,
Star
-
- Posts: 1954
- Joined: Sat Mar 06, 2010 11:56 pm
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
Thanks for the kind words. 

Stop talking. Hear every sound as background. Look straight ahead and focus. Take one deep breath. This is you. This is Now.
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
Rumi
Boil Nicely Now
Look at the chickpea in the pot,
how it leaps up when it feels the fire.
While boiling, it continuously rises to the top
and cries, "Why are you setting this fire under me?
Did you buy me for this tumbling and torture?"
The housewife keeps hitting it with the ladle.
"No!" she says, "boil nicely now,
and don't leap away from the one who makes the fire.
It's not because you are hateful to me that I boil you,
but so that you might gain flavor,
and become nutritious and mingle with essential spirit.
This affliction is not because you are despised.
When you were green and fresh,
you were watered in the garden;
that water-drinking was for the sake of this fire.
-Mathnawi III, 4159-65
Boil Nicely Now
Look at the chickpea in the pot,
how it leaps up when it feels the fire.
While boiling, it continuously rises to the top
and cries, "Why are you setting this fire under me?
Did you buy me for this tumbling and torture?"
The housewife keeps hitting it with the ladle.
"No!" she says, "boil nicely now,
and don't leap away from the one who makes the fire.
It's not because you are hateful to me that I boil you,
but so that you might gain flavor,
and become nutritious and mingle with essential spirit.
This affliction is not because you are despised.
When you were green and fresh,
you were watered in the garden;
that water-drinking was for the sake of this fire.
-Mathnawi III, 4159-65
Do the yellow-rose petals
tremble and fall
at the rapid's roar?
- Basho
tremble and fall
at the rapid's roar?
- Basho
-
- Posts: 1902
- Joined: Wed May 15, 2013 10:51 pm
- Location: New York
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
Poem I wrote this morning for my blog:
Longing for Fire
All I Am held down inside
All I Am was hidden
The echoing fear of what I'd find
if all would be forgiven
Thoughts arising of what they'd think
If this child's shell would break
An explosive Love so on the brink
A Love to soothe all aches
My skin so crawling with desire
My outsides wearing thin
The appearance just a mere attire
of a Light that burns within
So pale and cold, I wandered through
So destitute of Love
When oh when would I break on through
to the truth I am Above?
I wandered through this plastic wasteland
a comfort zone of pride
A plethora of changing masks
to hide all that I was inside
This burning Love I long to show
to all I within my stride
Oh how oh how could they ever know?
if I'm hidden by my pride
I search and search to only fail
I'm bounded by my mind
This fire burns to no avail
oh Heaven where do I find?
Suddenly, the light appears
all appears so Bright
this Love I Am shines oh so clear
all held within this Light
The walls of fear come falling down
The walls that held me back
All the chains that kept me bound
That all expressed such Lack
This Burning flows so mightily
I Am here for all to see
All that's left is authenticity
I finally found the key
I want to shout it from the rooftops
I want to shout it in the streets
I AM the light shining oh so bright
From my head down to my feet
All of me, I share with you
This fire expressed within
to be all I AM all the way through
Love is where it all Begins.
Longing for Fire
All I Am held down inside
All I Am was hidden
The echoing fear of what I'd find
if all would be forgiven
Thoughts arising of what they'd think
If this child's shell would break
An explosive Love so on the brink
A Love to soothe all aches
My skin so crawling with desire
My outsides wearing thin
The appearance just a mere attire
of a Light that burns within
So pale and cold, I wandered through
So destitute of Love
When oh when would I break on through
to the truth I am Above?
I wandered through this plastic wasteland
a comfort zone of pride
A plethora of changing masks
to hide all that I was inside
This burning Love I long to show
to all I within my stride
Oh how oh how could they ever know?
if I'm hidden by my pride
I search and search to only fail
I'm bounded by my mind
This fire burns to no avail
oh Heaven where do I find?
Suddenly, the light appears
all appears so Bright
this Love I Am shines oh so clear
all held within this Light
The walls of fear come falling down
The walls that held me back
All the chains that kept me bound
That all expressed such Lack
This Burning flows so mightily
I Am here for all to see
All that's left is authenticity
I finally found the key
I want to shout it from the rooftops
I want to shout it in the streets
I AM the light shining oh so bright
From my head down to my feet
All of me, I share with you
This fire expressed within
to be all I AM all the way through
Love is where it all Begins.
-
- Posts: 1954
- Joined: Sat Mar 06, 2010 11:56 pm
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
find no shelter as you look
have no fear by hook or crook
ain't no team to help you hear
for the mellow, shed no tear
in the silence you can glean
a vision that is oh so clean
a motion that flows on and on
after not you is long gone
let the roof get blown away
don't rest in that old cage today
all those lights that you were shown
blink out and now here all alone
with no fight, you can see
that here, you are, always free
a trick it was of otherwise
distractions of imagined ties
with no deceit a different song
with no resistance, it's all gone
the grasping that would turn around
a dance spun on a circles sound
move now with the greatest ease
blown high by the gentle breeze
spring is here, now is the time
embrace the world, it's oh so fine
have no fear by hook or crook
ain't no team to help you hear
for the mellow, shed no tear
in the silence you can glean
a vision that is oh so clean
a motion that flows on and on
after not you is long gone
let the roof get blown away
don't rest in that old cage today
all those lights that you were shown
blink out and now here all alone
with no fight, you can see
that here, you are, always free
a trick it was of otherwise
distractions of imagined ties
with no deceit a different song
with no resistance, it's all gone
the grasping that would turn around
a dance spun on a circles sound
move now with the greatest ease
blown high by the gentle breeze
spring is here, now is the time
embrace the world, it's oh so fine
Stop talking. Hear every sound as background. Look straight ahead and focus. Take one deep breath. This is you. This is Now.
-
- Posts: 1954
- Joined: Sat Mar 06, 2010 11:56 pm
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
a tap on your left shoulder
weaves right, and as you look
a half forgotten reason
falls from an open book
a melody with no name
carried by a breeze
to parts unknown and unexplored
that noone can believe
it's home without the roof and walls
out on the endless road
no signs, no maps, no limits
the trucks all free of load
perpetual deja vu it was
the word on tip of tongue
that all your friends were hanging on
back then when you were young
eternity it welcomes you
in a casual embrace
telling rumor of perfection
never out of place
so subtle quiet and demure
so ordinary, true
how could the open sky have been
other than just you?
weaves right, and as you look
a half forgotten reason
falls from an open book
a melody with no name
carried by a breeze
to parts unknown and unexplored
that noone can believe
it's home without the roof and walls
out on the endless road
no signs, no maps, no limits
the trucks all free of load
perpetual deja vu it was
the word on tip of tongue
that all your friends were hanging on
back then when you were young
eternity it welcomes you
in a casual embrace
telling rumor of perfection
never out of place
so subtle quiet and demure
so ordinary, true
how could the open sky have been
other than just you?
Stop talking. Hear every sound as background. Look straight ahead and focus. Take one deep breath. This is you. This is Now.
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
how indeed? Great poem, snowy!
Andy
Andy
A person is not a thing or a process, but an opening through which the universe manifests. - Martin Heidegger
There is not past, no future; everything flows in an eternal present. - James Joyce
There is not past, no future; everything flows in an eternal present. - James Joyce
-
- Posts: 1954
- Joined: Sat Mar 06, 2010 11:56 pm
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine

sing without a parachute
on top out where the air is thin
nothing holds you to this place, all ties that bind have been erased
the glide it still goes up and down
it's just that now you hear no sound
other than the starlit call
that can't be stopped by any wall
dance without a safety belt
out here on the eternal ledge
no cracks in stone to trip your feet on this shiny diamond street
the steps they seem familiar, how?
didn't you just learn them, now?
each second life does recreate
each moment it does die to fate
be as though there is no cost
out here where you are always lost
no signs are found on lineless roads that no forever ever sold
the way, you know, was always clear
no tolls between your place and here
a pathless track did gently yield
out onto this boundless field
stand with strength that knows no bound
on this place that has no ground
there is no force that matters here no shaking doubt or leaden fear
home it now is every where
there are no strangers left to stare
there never was one pair of eyes
ever could true tell you lies
Stop talking. Hear every sound as background. Look straight ahead and focus. Take one deep breath. This is you. This is Now.
-
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- Joined: Wed Feb 10, 2010 12:33 am
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
So lovely, Snowy. Thanks for a great read. Hope you are well.
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
Full Circle
Left alone in stillness I dissolve,
No I to be, no me, no thee, no we.
Unborn wonder, ahum with sparkling sands
Of time and space: the womb, the place, the home
To ten thousand yet to be or see
A simple leaf, a cloud; the majesty
Of all the stuff of stars, the universe
That burst at first and slowly fell
Upon itself to manifest the endless
Mix we label now as bricks or snow.
Or human life which appears to be a
Roll of dice that left the bits of Mom
And Dad to grow until that special day
A mirror did reveal or so it seemed
A face, a self, a me to charge along
The reckless tour of time, until the deep
Memory arose of simple grace
Alive in every place, in every face.
And after that the rest began to fall
Away (at least the stress) revealing more
The beauty that was always crying out
From inside the mental model’s form.
Until today when now I know that all
The effervescent static all around
Also echoes primal Source and begs
Another pause to find a quiet place
To sit again in stillness and to hear
The magic music so I disappear.
Andy
Left alone in stillness I dissolve,
No I to be, no me, no thee, no we.
Unborn wonder, ahum with sparkling sands
Of time and space: the womb, the place, the home
To ten thousand yet to be or see
A simple leaf, a cloud; the majesty
Of all the stuff of stars, the universe
That burst at first and slowly fell
Upon itself to manifest the endless
Mix we label now as bricks or snow.
Or human life which appears to be a
Roll of dice that left the bits of Mom
And Dad to grow until that special day
A mirror did reveal or so it seemed
A face, a self, a me to charge along
The reckless tour of time, until the deep
Memory arose of simple grace
Alive in every place, in every face.
And after that the rest began to fall
Away (at least the stress) revealing more
The beauty that was always crying out
From inside the mental model’s form.
Until today when now I know that all
The effervescent static all around
Also echoes primal Source and begs
Another pause to find a quiet place
To sit again in stillness and to hear
The magic music so I disappear.
Andy
A person is not a thing or a process, but an opening through which the universe manifests. - Martin Heidegger
There is not past, no future; everything flows in an eternal present. - James Joyce
There is not past, no future; everything flows in an eternal present. - James Joyce
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
Wayfarer (by the author of this post)
One tempestuous night, driven perforce
the wayfarer, intrepid, sets upon his course
Leaving behind many treasures unseen
from all Earthly lusts, he hath weaned
Sparing thought for neither yester nor morrow
his heart leaveth room for neither angst nor sorrow
At one with the unruly sea that grows
with unending patience, the wayfarer rows
When the haze finally rises, revealing a distant shore
the world shall need to know him nevermore
One tempestuous night, driven perforce
the wayfarer, intrepid, sets upon his course
Leaving behind many treasures unseen
from all Earthly lusts, he hath weaned
Sparing thought for neither yester nor morrow
his heart leaveth room for neither angst nor sorrow
At one with the unruly sea that grows
with unending patience, the wayfarer rows
When the haze finally rises, revealing a distant shore
the world shall need to know him nevermore
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- Joined: Thu Dec 28, 2017 1:47 am
Re: Poetry: The language of the Divine
Finish Me Off
by Chris McCombs
Finish me off!
This going back and forth
Across the threshold
Is driving me crazy
Empty and delicious
Then full of thought
Now inside... as "That"
Now distinguishing again
Where is the chopping block?
My neck is drawn
Like lovers
To the Union
Beloved Self
Be merciful to what's left of me
Finish the job you started
With one beautiful swinging arc of the blade
There... now rolling to the ground
A severed head
And its dreamer
What is left?
Just this...
The sun shining through
An empty mind
by Chris McCombs
Finish me off!
This going back and forth
Across the threshold
Is driving me crazy
Empty and delicious
Then full of thought
Now inside... as "That"
Now distinguishing again
Where is the chopping block?
My neck is drawn
Like lovers
To the Union
Beloved Self
Be merciful to what's left of me
Finish the job you started
With one beautiful swinging arc of the blade
There... now rolling to the ground
A severed head
And its dreamer
What is left?
Just this...
The sun shining through
An empty mind