great idea Gosh 

let me see it is a difficult decision  so many great poems 

here is one :

"He who binds himself to joy 

Does the winged lie destroy,

He who kisses the joy as it flies,

lives in Eternity's sunrise"

                   William Blake 

trying really hard 

and the following line 

" If the doors of perception were cleansed

Everything would appear ...as it is  infinite"

                      william Blake 

and that line in Rilke's letters to a young poet where he says to learn to love the questions

Wow! Very very succintly put by T.S. Eliot. This is so true depending where "home" is in that case. "Home" being a metaphor here. Thanks for sharing.

George Gray

I have studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me-
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its
disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in ones life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire-
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

From the Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters

Thanks for sharing. 

" If the doors of perception were cleansed

Everything would appear ...as it is  infinite" william Blake's lines are just amazing, very thought provoking.

I love the t. S. eliot and the whole idea of this thread Gosh 

Here is one more 

some things from the east:

"The nature o everything is illusionary and ephemeral,

Those with dualistic perdecption regard suffering as happiness,

Like they who lick the honey from the razer's edge.

Hoe pitiful they who cling strongly to concrete reality 

Turn your attention within , my heart's friends"

                                                      Nyoshul Khen Rinopoche

and this 

"Autobiography in five chapters"

1) I walk down the street .

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk$

I fall in 

I am lost ..i am hopeless.

It isn't my fault.

It takes forever to find a way out.

2) I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don't see it.

I fall in again.

I can't believe I'm in the same place.

But it isn't my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

3) I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I see it is there.

I still fall in ..it's a habit.

My eyes are open

I know where i am

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

4) I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

i walk around it.

5) I walk down another street  

Our Deepest Fear
by Marianne Williamson

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

heres one of mine :-)

You can’t catch a rainbow and you can’t kill a cloud
You can’t keep the sun from shining on the ground
You can’t leash the heart of a storm and chain it to a tree
These are things that can’t be forced and are meant to be .

You can tell her you love her

And you can tell her you care

You can tell her you need her

And that you’ll always be there

But you cannot make her love you

And you cannot make her care

You cannot leash her heart to yours

For like the storms above you

She will always be free

And if she says she loves you

And tells you that she cares

Then hold her tightly to you

And love will bind you free,

And though your rainbow finds you in the middle of a storm

Shining brightly on you as though you’ve been reborn

Remember storms blow over and love will set you free

The love you find together

The clouds they soon blow over and leave you naked in the sun

Its gentle warmth blowing on you

The golden sound of love stays after the clouds are good and gone

And your naked skin feels the gentle warmth of the sun

You will only know that your dream and aspirations have been reached,

When your heart feels the caress of a loving Storm Unleashed

Since a song qualifies as a poem too, only difference being it is a poem set to music. Peter Cincotti's "Rainbow Connection".

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise ;

If you can dream and not make dreams your master,
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same,
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken,
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools ;
 
If you can make one heap of all your winnings,
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss,
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you,
Except the Will which says to them : "Hold on!",

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute,
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And, which is more, you'll be a man, my son.

RUDYARD KIPLING

This poem will be in the bedroom of my son..

"Time may change me but i cant change time "

                                              changes 

                                                        David Bowie

The star man 

is  this star's favorite these days ...

also two poems i translated recently from Hebrew

It is still a draft but here you go :

please tell me if it came through  

Two  untitled poems by Avaham Chalfi :

*

"A man leaves his home at night 

walking walking as if escaping his hour of his death 

Where will the body fall like a stone 

or will the man continue to walk and to walk 

till the very end of the universe?

The writer o the poem

who do you ask?"

*

"We will part from those whom we find hard to leave

not with a loud voice 

we will tell them only 

that we can not bring back that which we can not bring back

we will only remind them 

(or better yet not remind them )

a line from a poem 

And if we will meet the fire of their  hearts

we will put it out 

we will cool the warmth of their hands

we will leave them by themselves "

                  Avraham Chalfi 

An Israeli poet i love to try to translate 

but like T.S. Eliot says

poetry is what we can not translate and yet i try 

sometimes i try 

Thanks - to remember every day!!

Thanks! I really like Blake's poems. This one is on the top of my list:

Thanks for this poem. Especially the last 4 lines are superb.

Interesting. Thanks for sharing. Maybe you should come for the Geneva Poets Corner activity everymonth and share your poems with us.

More Rilke:

Die Liebende

Das ist mein Fenster. Eben
bin ich so sanft erwacht.
Ich dachte, ich würde schweben.
Bis wohin reicht mein Leben,
und wo beginnt die Nacht?

Ich könnte meinen, alles
wäre noch Ich ringsum;
durchsichtig wie eines Kristalles
Tiefe, verdunkelt, stumm.

Ich könnte auch noch die Sterne
fassen in mir; so groß
scheint mir mein Herz; so gerne
ließ es ihn wieder los

den ich vielleicht zu lieben,
vielleicht zu halten begann.
Fremd, wie niebeschrieben
sieht mich mein Schiksal an.

Was bin ich unter diese
Unendlichkeit gelegt,
duftend wie eine Wiese,
hin und her bewegt,

rufend zugleich und bange,
daß einer den Ruf vernimmt,
und zum Untergange
in einem Andern bestimmt.








A Woman in Love

That is my window. I
just awoke so gently.
I thought, I'm floating.
How far does my life reach,
and where does the night begin?

I could think that everything
around me is me;
like the transparent depth of a crystal,
darkened and mute.

I think I could bring the stars
inside of me, so large
does my heart seem; so very much
does it want to let go of him

whom I have perhaps begun
to love, perhaps to hold.
So strange, so uncharted
does my fate appear.

Who am I who lies here
under this endless sky,
as the sweet scent of a meadow,
moving back and forth,

at once calling out and anxious,
that someone might hear my call,
destined to vanish
in another

Another that brings back childhood memories: Tagore's "Hero"

text as follows:

Mother, let us imagine we are travelling, and passing through a
strange and dangerous country.
You are riding in a palanquin and I am trotting by you on a
red horse.
It is evening and the sun goes down. The waste of Joradighi
lies wan and grey before us. The land is desolate and barren.
You are frightened and thinking-"I know not where we have come
to."
I say to you, "Mother, do not be afraid."
The meadow is prickly with spiky grass, and through it runs
a narrow broken path.
There are no cattle to be seen in the wide field; they have
gone to their village stalls.
It grows dark and dim on the land and sky, and we cannot tell
where we are going.
Suddenly you call me and ask me in a whisper, "What light is
that near the bank?"
Just then there bursts out a fearful yell, and figures come
running towards us.
You sit crouched in your palanquin and repeat the names of the
gods in prayer.
The bearers, shaking in terror, hide themselves in the thorny
bush.
I shout to you, "Don't be afraid, mother. I am here."
With long sticks in their hands and hair all wild about their
heads, they come nearer and nearer.
I shout, "Have a care, you villains! One step more and you are
dead men."
They give another terrible yell and rush forward.
You clutch my hand and say, "Dear boy, for heaven's sake, keep
away from them."
I say, "Mother, just you watch me."
Then I spur my horse for a wild gallop, and my sword and
buckler clash against each other.
The fight becomes so fearful, mother, that it would give you
a cold shudder could you see it from your palanquin.
Many of them fly, and a great number are cut to pieces.
I know you are thinking, sitting all by yourself, that your
boy must be dead by this time.
But I come to you all stained with blood, and say,"Mother, the
fight is over now."
You come out and kiss me, pressing me to your heart, and you
say to yourself,
"I don't know what I should do if I hadn't my boy to escort
me."
A thousand useless things happen day after day, and why
couldn't such a thing come true by chance?
It would be like a story in a book.
My brother would say, "Is it possible? I always thought he was
so delicate!"
Our village people would all say in amazement, "Was it not
lucky that the boy was with his mother?" 

Rabindranath Tagore recites the poem himself in the Youtube video. Brings out the innocence of a little boy traveling in a palanquin with his mother as in the olden days in India. How he was the youngest and so it is about how he imagines if he were a little older he would save his mother from the dacoits and everybody would be proud of him. This is a famous poem in Bengali.

Another beautiful poem that touched me deeply, a friend at our GPC meeting shared this poem and ever since I love reading it: Rimbaud's "L'eternite"

text as follows:

Elle est retrouvée.
Quoi ? - L'Eternité.
C'est la mer allée
Avec le soleil.

Ame sentinelle,
Murmurons l'aveu
De la nuit si nulle
Et du jour en feu.

Des humains suffrages,
Des communs élans
Là tu te dégages
Et voles selon.

Puisque de vous seules,
Braises de satin,
Le Devoir s'exhale
Sans qu'on dise : enfin.

Là pas d'espérance,
Nul orietur.
Science avec patience,
Le supplice est sûr.

Elle est retrouvée.
Quoi ? - L'Eternité.
C'est la mer allée
Avec le soleil.

One of Pablo Neruda's best:

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. 
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Thanks for sharing. After having read it years ago, someone just shared it last Sunday at the Geneva Poets Corner activity meeting and I read it again here. I had almost forgotten about this poem, thanks for putting it up. Well, something similar in thought by Chilean poet Gabriela Mistral:

This is an example of her poetry which expresses her awareness of the delicacy of nature.

"No maguellers a la tierra / no aprietes a la olorosa, / Por el amor de ella abájate, / huéla y dale la boca." 
(Do not trample the earth, do not crush the sweet-smelling fruit. 
For love of it, bend down, smell it and give it your mouth.) 

My Spanish is very bad, I don't know nothing,so please excuse me,hence the English version.

Poetry is something very personal and something very close to our heart. It is almost as if when you share you are opening your heart out to someone. In this case total strangers. It can be intimidating for some people since they are sharing something that touches their soul. I read someone saying this from previous poetry forums on Glocals, that was started by someone earlier. It is like sharing something very intimate,almost as if exposing yoursef. Since you study psychoanalysis, it would be interesting to know ,what do you feel about that? 

I absolutely love this one, for how positive and inspiring it is.. It is from Pablo Neruda - It's called 'Ode to the happy day'

let me be happy
nothing has happened to anybody
I am nowhere special
I am only happy
through the four chambers
of my heart, I am strolling,
sleeping, or writing.
What can I do? I'm happy.
I am more uncountable
than the meadow grass
I touch the skin of a wrinkled tree,
and the water below ,
and the birds above,
and the sea, like a ring
around my waist.
The Earth is made of bread and stone.
The air sings like a guitar.
You, by my side in the sand,
you are the sand.
You sing, and you are song.
Today the world
is my soul,
song and sand;
today, the world
is your mouth.
Let me be happy
on the sand, touching your mouth.
Let me be happy
to be be happy, because yes, because I am breathing,
and because you are breathing,
happy, because I am touching
your knee,
and it is as though
I am touching the blue skin of heaven
and its pristine air.
Today let me be happy
with everybody – or without them,
with the deep green meadow,
and the sand,
with the air and earth,
happy.

Hope u like it! Gabriella

www.strangerinastrangeland2011.blogspot.com

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Henley

One of my favorite, Edgar Allan Poe by Jeff Buckley ...

I've loved reading all of your previous posts!

Here is a very old and simple poem:

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond. 

What are your thoughts about "Love is so short, forgetting long"? I think this statement is very true only that Neruda has put it very aptly and poetically which creates this effect. 

Thanks for sharing. This has a haunting rhythm to it. Something like it takes you into another world

One of Kahlil Gibran's most notable lines of poetry in the English-speaking world is from "Sand and Foam" (1926), which reads : “Half of what I say is meaningless, but I say it so that the other half may reach you”.

Hi all,

thanks for the inspiring quotations. Let me contribute with some of my favourite ones, coming from eastern philosophies and very soothing for western lifestyle. Very spirit-inspiring and thought + heart provoking.They are all by Sri Chinmoy, a teacher of integral yoga coming from West Bengal (now India).

Forgive, you will have happiness.

Forget, you will have satisfaction.

Forgive and forget,

You will have everlasting peace within and without.

We do not need Heaven-born saints

But just earth-born seekers who believe in peace

And want to live in peace.

If you do the right thing,

Eventually wou will inspire others to do the right thing.

Do not blame the world.

Better it.

How?

By bettering yourself at every moment.

My ego talks,

My humility acts.

The beauty and fragrance of faith

Can lead us to any destination we want.

On a similar vein, I am reminded of another spiritual Guru, freedom fighter and poet Sri Aurobindo Ghosh,also from Bengal. One of his poems" Who", text as follows:

WHO

In the blue of the sky, in the green of the forest,
Whose is the hand that has painted the glow?
When the winds were asleep in the womb of the ether,
Who was it roused them and bade them to blow?

He is lost in the heart, in the cavern of Nature,
He is found in the brain where He builds up the thought:
In the pattern and bloom of the flowers He is woven,
In the luminous net of the stars He is caught.

In the strength of a man, in the beauty of woman,
In the laugh of a boy, in the blush of a girl;
The hand that sent Jupiter spinning through heaven,
Spends all its cunning to fashion a curl.

There are His works and His veils and His shadows;
But where is He then? by what name is He known?
Is He Brahma or Vishnu? a man or a woman?
Bodies or bodiless? twin or alone?

We have love for a boy who is dark and resplendent,
A woman is lord of us, naked and fierce.
We have seen Him a-muse on the snow of the mountains,
We have watched Him at work in the heart of the spheres.

We will tell the whole world of His ways and His cunning;
He has rapture of torture and passion and pain;
He delights in our sorrow and drives us to weeping,
Then lures with His joy and His beauty again.

All music is only the sound of His laughter,
All beauty the smile of His passionate bliss;
Our lives are His heart-beats, our rapture the bridal
Of Radha and Krishna, our love is their kiss.

He is strength that is loud in the blare of the trumpets,
And He rides in the car and He strikes in the spears;
He slays without stint and is full of compassion;
He wars for the world and its ultimate years.

In the sweep of the worlds, in the surge of the ages,
Ineffable, mighty, majestic and pure,
Beyond the last pinnacle seized by the thinker
He is throned in His seats that for ever endure.

The Master of man and his infinite Lover,
He is close to our hearts, had we vision to see;
We are blind with our pride and the pomp of our passions,
We are bound in our thoughts where we hold ourselves free.

It is He in the sun who is ageless and deathless,
And into the midnight His shadow is thrown;
When darkness was blind and engulfed within darkness,
He was seated within it immense and alone.

John Denver's "Annie's Song" You fill up my senses and Don Mc Clean 's song "Starry Starry Night" about Vincent Van Gogh are both like poetry and I have always been deeply moved by both:

hope is the thing with the feather 

                    Emily Dickinson 

inspires me daily every time i see a bird i think of the lines of that poem and realize that birds however delicate are still flying in the sky ignoring danger and doing their own thing 

I really like these lines"

"Love at first sight
It may sound trite
But it's true, you know
I could list the detail
Of everything you ever wore or said
Or how you stood the day
As we spent the last night
On Maudlin Street
"Goodbye house, forever!"
I never stole a happy hour
Around here"

and the photograph too 

Don't  know if it inspires me (brother and brother-in-law died in April two years apart) so maybe April is the cruelest month.

http://www.bartleby.com/201/1.html

I wrote this poem, while I was traveling in Kenya on a Kenyan safari and it was late at night and the African sky was just beautiful. I have yet to capture it on canvas but it was beautiful almost the blue shades of Van Gogh and I kept starring at the stars in the raw ink blue sky:

An African Night Sky

The lonely wilderness bathed by moonlight

The star studded sky like a magical blanket

The glowing insects

The mosquitoes buzzing away

In the heart of darkness

My soul is enamoured

The illuminated stars shinning above

And the glow worms incantation

Bees drones

In the wild, free and limitless

The infinite sky beckons

It inspires the artist in me

Like a painter

Had adorned the sky

Like a canvas with million brush strokes

Myriad feelings this beauty in me evokes

The African Sky in all its glory

With this magnificent splendour

I’ve never seen such beauty

I am bewildered

The stars seemed like an entourage of noble men

Set sail on a journey

The ink blue sky kept shedding jewels

Throughout the night

I just wanted to hold the moment, tight

At the crack of dawn

The magical spell had broken and left us forlorn

The beauty of the African sky from us torn

This filled me with awe

Strange is nature’s law

These lines are also in my new book "My Soul on a Platter", so I have the copy right over these lines kindly do not copy or use elsewhere without my knowledge and or permission. The thoughts are so beautiful that I could not help but share. It was just a beautiful night. 

The Beatles have written some wonderful lyrics but none as great as 

"All you need is love " 

"There's nothing you can do that can't be done

it's easy

all you need is love"

yes, 

Love you 

Ghosh 

for this wonderful thread good energy and the labor of love 

above

wonderful 

Here are two simple yet powerful ones, that inspired me a lot.

And a hidden gem from poet Laxmi Prasad Devkota from Nepal.

The Lunatic, is one of his master pieces. In this poem he satires them who had called him crazy and were planning to send to mental hospitals those days.

The Lunatic

1.

Oh yes, friend! I'm crazy-

that's just the way I am.

2.

I see sounds,

I hear sights,

I taste smells,

I touch not heaven but things from the underworld,

things people do not believe exist,

whose shapes the world does not suspect.

Stones I see as flowers

lying water-smoothed by the water's edge,

rocks of tender forms

in the moonlight

when the heavenly sorceress smiles at me,

putting out leaves, softening, glistening,

throbbing, they rise up like mute maniacs,

like flowers, a kind of moon-bird's flowers.

I talk to them the way they talk to me,

a language, friend,

that can't be written or printed or spoken,

can't be understood, can't be heard.

Their language comes in ripples to the moonlit Ganges banks,

ripple by ripple-

oh yes, friend! I'm crazy-

that's just the way I am.

3.

You're clever, quick with words,

your exact equations are right forever and ever.

But in my arithmetic, take one from one-

and there's still one left.

You get along with five senses,

I with a sixth.

You have a brain, friend,

I have a heart.

A rose is just a rose to you-

to me it's Helen and Padmini.

You are forceful prose

I liquid verse.

When you freeze I melt,

When you're clear I get muddled

and then it works the other way around.

Your world is solid,

mine vapor,

yours coarse, mine subtle.

You think a stone reality;

harsh cruelty is real for you.

I try to catch a dream,

the way you grasp the rounded truth of cold, sweet coin.

I have the sharpness of the thorn,

you of gold and diamonds.

You think the hills are mute-

I call them eloquent.

Oh yes, friend!

I'm free in my inebriation-

that's just the way I am.

4.

In the cold of the month of winter

I sat

warming to the first white heat of the star.

the world called me drifty.

When they saw me staring blankly for seven days

after I came back from the burning ghats

they said I was a spook.

When I saw the first marks of the snows of time

in a beautiful woman's hair

I wept for three days.

When the Buddha touched my soul

they said I was raving.

They called me a lunatic because I danced

when I heard the first spring cuckoo.

One dead-quite moon night

breathless I leapt to my feet,

filled with the pain of destruction.

On that occasion the fools

put me in the stocks,

One day I sang with the storm-

the wise men

sent me off to Ranchi.

Realizing that same day I myself would die

I stretched out on my bed.

A friend came along and pinched me hard

and said, Hey, madman,

your flesh isn't dead yet!

For years these things went on.

I'm crazy, friend-

that's just the way I am.

5. I called the Navab's wine blood,

the painted whore a corpse,

and the king a pauper.

I attacked Alexander with insults,

and denounced the so-called great souls.

The lowly I have raised on the bridge of praise

to the seventh heaven.

Your learned pandit is my great fool,

your heaven my hell,

your gold my iron,

friend! Your piety my sin.

Where you see yourself as brilliant

I find you a dolt.

Your rise, friend-my decline.

That's the way our values are mixed up,

friend!

Your whole world is a hair to me.

Oh yes, friend, I'm moonstruck through and through-

moonstruck!

That's just the way I am.

6. I see the blind man as the people's guide,

the ascetic in his cave a deserter;

those who act in the theater of lies

I see as dark buffoons.

Those who fail I find successful,

and progress only backsliding.

am I squint-eyed,

Or just crazy?

Friend, I'm crazy.

Look at the withered tongues of shameless leaders,

The dance of the whores

At breaking the backbone on the people's rights.

When the sparrow-headed newsprint spreads its black lies

In a web of falsehood

To challenge Reason-the hero in myself-

My cheeks turn red, friend,

red as molten coal.

When simple people drink dark poison with their ears

Thinking it nectar-

and right before my eyes, friend!-

then every hair on my body stands up stiff

as the Gorgon's serpent hair-

every hair on me maddened!

When I see the tiger daring to eat the deer, friend,

or the big fish the little,

then into my rotten bones there comes

the terrible strength of the soul of Dadhichi

and tries to speak, friend,

like the stormy day crashing down from heaven with the lightning.

When man regards a man

as not a man, friend,

then my teeth grind together, all thirty-two,

top and bottom jaws,

like the teeth of Bhimasena.

And then

red with rage my eyeballs rool

round and round, with one sweep

like a lashing flame

taking in this inhuman human world.

My organs leap out of theirs frames-

uproar! Uproar!

my breathing becomes a storm,

my face distorted, my brain on fire, friend!

with a fire like those that burn beneath the sea,

like the fire that devours the forests,

frenzied, friend!

as one who would swallow the wide world raw.

Oh yes, my friend,

the beautiful chakora am I,

destroyer of the ugly,

both tender and cruel,

the bird that steals the heaven's fire,

child of the tempest,

spew of the insane volcano,

terror incarnate.

Oh yes, friend,

my brain is whirling, whirling-

that's just the way I am.

Being a tree hugging hippy I've always loved Kilmer's 'Trees'

And appreciate Ogden Nash's humoruous verse

And being a biased and proud parent one of my favorites was written by my 13 year old son about 3 years back.  I mix the original Flemish (Dutch) with my meager interpretation to English where the rhyming of the original Flemish is lost.

Schilderen  (Painting) 

Ik schilder alle dingen, rood groen of blauw

(I paint all things, red green or blue)

Alles wat ik zie, waar ik van hou

(Everything I see, what I love)

Alles wat me inspireert

(Everything that inspires me)

Geen kleur is verkeerd

(No colour is wrong)

Wat ik schilder maakt niet uit

(It doesn’t matter what I paint)

Ik schilder bomen, auto’s en ook fruit

(I paint trees, cars en also fruit)

Warme kleuren, koude kleuren, geen verschil

(Warm colours, cold colours, there’s no difference)

Wat ik leuk vind, is wat ik wil

(What I find pleasant is what I desire)

Een vrouw die zit

(A woman who sits)

In zwart en wit

(In black and white)

Een kind dat lacht

(A child that laughs)

Pastel, zo zaacht

(Pastel, so soft)

Olieverf en penseel

(Oil paint and charcoal)

Ik schilder heel, heel veel

(I paint very, very much)

Alles wat ik schilder heeft een verhaal

(Everything I paint has a story)

Alles wat ik schilder spreekt mijn taal

(Everything I paint speaks my language) 

Since music and Bowie have made it into this Forum, I remind those of you old enough to remember (and those too young as well) of the amusingly cute 'Kooks'

From Winthrop Mackworth Praed....called Second Love

How shall he woo her?—Let him gaze
In sad and silent trance
On those blue eyes, whose liquid rays
Look love in every glance:
And let him tell her, eyes more bright,
Though bright her own may beam,
Will fling a deeper spell to-night
Upon him in his dream.

Away, away! the chords are mute,
The bond is rent in twain;
You cannot wake that silent lute,
Nor clasp those links again;
Love's toil, I know, is little cost,
Love's perjury is light sin;
But souls that lose what his hath lost,—
Oh what have they to win?

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

speak your truth quietly and clearly and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant ; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, 

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your acheivements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble, it is a real 

possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive

for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism .

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection .

Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity 

and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things 

of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe no less than the trees  and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding 

as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you coceive him to be.

And whatever your labors and inspirations, in the noisy confusion of life,

keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

strive to be happy"

               Max Ehrmann

The Desiderata of love

I have this in my living room and as i wrote the words down to share i was thinking, wow, i really dont apply these words in my life enough but it is not too late...

Abbie Nathan, was a peace activisit, he had a boat called "the voice of peace" which was in international water and broadcast to the middle east

he always had this read out , he was an amazing man , a pilot who landed

one day in Egypt, tried to move peace along , got arrested etc

but i remember his voice reading these words

i think i am going to read this every single day and apply from now on

Thank you I am glad you like this thread contribute often to it.

Thank you Star for all the wonderful poems

Very different from what I usually read, but this is something new. Thanks for introducing me to this.

Again my fatherly pride obliges me to post another of my son's poems in Dutch with my attempt at translation where unfortunately the rhyming gets lost.

Inspiratieloos (Without Inspiration)

Geen inspiratie, ‘inspiratieloos’

(No inspiration, without inspiration)

Geen gedicht dat ik als beste verkoos

(No poem that as the best I could choose)

Geen lamp die gaat branden

(No lamp that will shine)

Geen woord dat kan landen

(No words that fall)

Geen licht!

(No light!)

Dat mijn schrijven verplicht

(That obliges my composing)

Niets in mijn hoofd…

(Nothing in my head…)

De woorden zijn verdoofd.

(The words are benumbed) 

I like this artist her name is SKIN, she sings in Skank Anansie group, she wrote this song...

Skunk Anansie You Can't Find Peace Lyrics:
I sit and wait 
While you fight this smell
You taste when kissing me
I use this time
To pace through our days 
Before our life begins
Then you see that I'm your god
Corrupt your soul
And let the blood flow

You can't find peace
Without my persistence
I break the resistance 
I see in you
there's no release
[ Find more Lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.org/tUD8 ]
Without my incredible resilience
To your will to grieve

Believe in me
I won't crush your beauty
I'll just lick it clean
don't try to fall
'Cause I'll crumble with you
Harder than I'll show
Devastation I will hide
Dreaming life right by your side

You can't find peace
Without my persistence
I'll break the resistance
I see in you
there's no release
Without my incredible resilience
To your will to grieve
[

Thanks for sharing the poems. I would like to read some more, but of course in English. Well if you and your son are interested then you could join us at the Geneva Poets Corner Group meetings. We meet once a month on a Sunday afternoon at The Garage, 2 rue de Faucille from 4:30 p.m. onwards and read poems, discuss about poets. Many people share their own writing as well. It is a very interesting and dynamic group sharing poems and songs from all over the world. It is informal and there is no structure in particular but so that everyone can participate in the discussion an English translation of the work is always better. Please see details about "Geneva Poets Group" on Glocals. Best, Sreyashi.

interesting and some parts are nice. thanks for sharing.

This beautiful poem "EVER WITH THEE", by Virginia Eliza Clemm Poe (1822-1847)

Note:
She wrote the poem/song on 14 February 1846 for her husband and poet Edgar Allan Poe, eleven months before her death on 30 January 1847. 

Ever with thee I wish to roam —
Dearest my life is thine.
Give me a cottage for my home
And a rich old cypress vine,
Removed from the world with its sin and care
And the tattling of many tongues.
Love alone shall guide us when we are there —
Love shall heal my weakened lungs;
And Oh, the tranquil hours we'll spend,
Never wishing that others may see!
Perfect ease we'll enjoy, without thinking to lend
Ourselves to the world and its glee —
Ever peaceful and blissful we'll be

I found it very beautiful and you will see when you read it again and again, it seeps into you. 

Thanks for sharing. It is a poem I read a long time back and the last lines:

"Next night I laboured late, alone, 
To cut her name upon the stone."

are the most beautiful. Almost as if saying that in pain we are alone. 

Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift,
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream