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 Poetry

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N
The Longterm Poster
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Join date : 2011-05-13

PostSubject: Poetry   20/06/16, 06:58 am

The Guest House, by the Sufi mystic, Rumi. Translated by Coleman Barks. 

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.
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N
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry   20/06/16, 07:14 am

Moving Water
 
When  you do things from your soul, you feel a river
moving in you, a joy.
 
When actions come from another section, the feeling
disappears.  Don't let 


others lead you.  They may be blind or, worse, vultures.
Reach for the rope
 
of God.  And what is that?  Putting aside self-will.
Because of willfulness
 
people sit in jail, the trapped bird's wings are tied,
fish sizzle in the skillet.
 
The anger of police is willfulness.  You've seen a magistrate
inflict visible punishment.  Now 
 
see the invisible.  If you could leave your selfishness, you
would see how you've
 
been torturing your soul.  We are born and live inside black water in a well.
 
How could we know what an open field of sunlight is? Don't
insist on going where
 
you think you want to go.  Ask the way to the spring.  Your
living pieces will form
 
a harmony.  There is a moving palace that floats in the air
with balconies and clear
 
water flowing through, infinity everywhere, yet contained
under a single tent.
by Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks. From http://peacefulrivers.homestead.com/rumipoetry1.html#anchor_13841.
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N
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry   20/06/16, 07:27 am

The very thing I know, 
it weaves just like so
cutting deep a path, through stone it sow.
A power like no other, persistent and slow.
Never stopping for a break, even falling from high to low.
From every river, to every pond, to the ocean and beyond. 
Water flows. 
by N. Legendarystory
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Quilliam
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry   20/06/16, 07:55 am

r we doing poetry again faggot

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N
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PostSubject: Re: Poetry   20/06/16, 08:03 am

At this point in time, 
as I've found in rhyme
there are two dear souls to me. 

One lives far away, 
an ocean and a continent between us
but yet we can still discuss
using transatlantic technology.

The other closer to home,
but a drive away, 
temporally separated by vocation
Animals to research, the sapling sways. 

Two dear souls to me. Two forever in my heart. 
No matter the time, no matter the place, 
if I am near, I'll be by your side,
If I am far, I'll be at your ear.
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