From time to time a poem

Me again. I'm not really a fan of Blake, except for this classic:

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Wrote this sometime last year on a scrap of paper and it's been stuck in my coat for a while since then ha. While cleaning my coat out, thought I'd pop it on here, Maybe it might give someone some idea? Have a nice day anyway

Time moves on.

Transport me from this reality
You whine, you moan and you scream out loud
“It is too much for me to handle”
And all the while you cry, time moves on

A friend tells you a way to forget
“Follow me! He says, “into the glow…”
You have purpose, and finally ‘life’!
And all the while you laugh, time moves on.

However, you can’t stay in the glow
And each time you leave, the feeling grows
A lack of control and emptiness
And all the while you feel, time moves on

A master of one world with passion
A dead walking another
…
Whatever you are and whatever you feel
Time moves on

After some, uh, "garden fun" yesterday I was reminded of this one.

Nettles, by Vernon Scannell

My son aged three fell in the nettle bed.
“Bed” seemed a curious name for those green spears.
That regiment of spite behind the shed:
It was no place for rest. With sobs and tears
The boy came seeking comfort and I saw
White blisters beaded on his tender skin.
We soothed him till his pain was not so raw.
At last he offered us a watery grin, 
And then I took my hook and honed the blade 
And went outside and slashed in fury with it 
Till not a nettle in that fierce parade 
Stood upright any more. Next task: I lit 
A funeral pyre to burn the fallen dead.
But in two weeks the busy sun and rain 
Had called up tall recruits behind the shed:
My son would often feel sharp wounds again.

“A Leader follows

Great Leaders
Follow so completely

They look like followers
Surrendered to the truth of spirit

so completely, that
Others looking to follow

Follow the follower following
Source’s guidance”

Baru

I don't know if this fits in?

Pain is part of life.
No pain no life.

Love is part of life.
No pain no life.

Love is stronger than pain.
Love more.

The Lake
Edgar A. Poe

In spring of youth it was my lot
To haunt of the wide world a spot
The which I could not love the less-
So lovely was the loneliness
Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
And the tall pines that towered around.

But when the Night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot, as upon all,
And the mystic wind went by
Murmuring in melody-
Then- ah then I would awake
To the terror of the lone lake.

Yet that terror was not fright,
But a tremulous delight-
A feeling not the jewelled mine
Could teach or bribe me to define-
Nor Love- although the Love were thine.

Death was in that poisonous wave,
And in its gulf a fitting grave
For him who thence could solace bring
To his lone imagining-
Whose solitary soul could make
An Eden of that dim lake.

As the winds drift by...

(Haiku part stuck in the head, had to get it out somewhere)
Hope that works here.

The Realms



in energy of the realms



the energy of emotion put into

the energy of fear put into

the energy of believe put into

the energy of distort put into

the energy of hope put into

the energy of reaction put into

the energy of energy put into

the energy of illusion put into

the illusion of change put into

the illusion of familiar put into

the illusion of revolution put into

the illusion of progress put into

the energy of dying put into

the energy of death put into

the energy of de-energizing



of parallels

parallels of



the energy of feeling put into

the energy of clarity put into

the energy of think put into

the energy of coherent put into

the energy of prayer put into

the energy of action put into

the energy of energy put into

the energy of reality put into

the reality of energy put into

the reality of creativity put into

the reality of evolution put into

the reality of change put into

the energy of life put into

the energy of living put into

the energy of re-energizing



in the realms of energy


John Trudell

On your dais, breath sincere
Candid, spoken with malicious tear
Echoes and hollowed words in tangle
Silenced now is your Clangor and Jangle

My Forged duty, told it be task
Commission of virtue, seen collapsed
Unbridled reason with unfettered hope
Unchanged seasons to uplift this cloak

From stumble to rise, I will try
To the occasion requiring will
Sense of courage be not blind
For the virtuous heart be not still

leaves

together made, we make
the dividing line indistinct
each nothing adding nothing
leaving only space

each memory plots a course:
a summer day which became a leaf
fated to the autumn, finally
entombed within the snow

we rise ephemeral as smoke
a curved and coiling ring
which turns inward, inward
until there's nothing left.