"devotional" poems
To love Jesus is to long with Him
But that longing is not enough
There is a need
*To structure our lives *
Around spending time with Him.
To desire also means to be disciplined
And then, we found ourselves
Delighting in the Lord.
It captures the essence
Of what it takes
To develop a consistent devotional life.
You can be motivated with great desire,
But without discipline
You will never get there
Discipline positions us
To receive grace;
Discipline is not grace
It is the submission of our heart
To encounter the grace of God.
It is not about whether God loves us —
His love is sure
Whether we are disciplined or not —
But it is our wholehearted response
To Him that allows us to find Him.
One must delight in the Lord
And shear every misfitting
And earthly delights.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of “Mother,”
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you—
You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you,
In setting my Virginia’s spirit free.
My mother—my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
By that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.
11.8k
Your insecurities have a hold on you
You've been rotten. You know it's true.
Whispers in your ear, voices in your head
Tell you always: you're doomed, you're dead
Cheating on that test, lying to your best friend
What were you thinking when you pushed send?
Too dumb, too fat, a face only a mother could love
You'll never be good enough to ever rise above
Invisible hands are choking, spirit chains will bind
When the light is fading fast, remember it's only in your mind
The past is gone, you can't go back and try once more
Now to remember not dwell and to look forward
Learn and grow
Your insecurities have no real control
They have no power
In God's love and mercy you are showered
Pray and give them all to the cross
Goodness and joy take the place of what is lost
For He knows your heart and He knows your worth
A beautiful working creation fashioned by God before birth
So never forget how beautiful, special, and loved you are
And shine brightly for the world. You are a STAR!
Lord God, we stumble and fall so often and are prone to sin. Many times, we become discouraged and listen to the voices in our hearts and heads that mock us, tell us we are no good and feed us negativity. We acknowledge that we fail. Please remind us that you always have and always will love and forgive us no matter what. We are your precious treasure and worth more than anything in the world in your eyes. Help us not to listen or give in to our many insecurities, and help us instead to rest in the security and knowledge that we do not have to live in the past, that the future is in your hands, and to live fully for you today. Remind us Lord that you have made us just the way we are, beautiful, special, and loved by the creator and ruler of everything! Thank you! Amen.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
I fathom fatherhood
His invincible feats
When that magnanimous shadow danced
Bowing his head lowly
And my cryptic looks
Staring that pugnacious shadow
To what he's been unearthing for
A little later in the twilight of dusk
My drooling curiosity burnt in persistence
As I observed a twinkling toddler
Following the lead of his father
With merry- go rounds and exciting swings
As docile as a lamb
He embraced his daddy
Cause that was his world's best swing
And then blew his index finger in air
Spinning around everywhere
The father introduced the whole world
Without shutting him up
The next half hour passed away
And there temple bells rang
And wind blew
Everything became grave
A reverberation echoed
Together with temple bells
Rung the devotional clap
Of a son
And his father...
Worshipping..
Never ever can I fathom
The unconditional fatherly love..
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
Prescient, her essence
Casts a demure persuasion,
Endowed with verve and vision;
Concept to consummation,
The serenely possessed,
Creator, originator,
Allusion to the eternal azure,
Logos of abstraction,
Word and image collision.
Tonal palette of faith infused reason
Beauty and sublimity,
Serve to season
Verse, canvas and film,
Mediating aesthetic, seminal senses blossom,
Lyrical each permutation,
Seeds of vibrant chroma diffusing the mystical.
Visage and hair, her figure haunted
With perfection - a work of Art
Nurtured and lived invocation,
The canon of taste;
Crystal for the *****
Devotional fragrance ,
Holistic ethos, melodic invention,
Animated, pure -
The embodiment of redemption.
Transcending form, parenthetically
(Merely) the decorative,
Allure, artistry and symmetry
Superlative complexity,
Her erudition satiates, supplanting
Winds of constructive banality.
Purveyor of an uncommon savor,
She collaborates in the peculiar
Pursuit and reward,
Encounter with depth, explored,
Human and divine, prosaic meets sublime
Igniting within an Eros
Passion for truth, being and Telos.
Visionary of grace and peace
Transforming our earthbound dissonance;
Our caprice,
Hope and abundance, the myth of scarcity,
She narrates the Good.
Pen, lens, color and stage
Vulnerable, unrepressed, effusive
Romantic articulation,
The reservoir deep,
Innately primed conduit of Love.
Beyond plebeian, cosmetic, the trite
Woman of substance, pulchritude
And delight.
Effervescent - her smile exquisite,
Eclipsing suffering,
Wordless expression, understood language.
I am transported, my imagination replete,
Sonya Rose -
Art personified; unabridged, complete.
©2008 & 2013 W.S . Warner
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
She cuckoos & swags across the heart
for stealing the breath off its beat,
I enjoy listening to her voices
whispering from somewhere outta Georgia street
*William Shakespeare did speak,
***"In delay there lies no plenty,----
Then come kiss me, sweety-n-twenty"***
So I do write,
***"Her devotional love makes the oceans restive,---
Even a breath of her ice crystals muse makes my heart festive"***
And, winds blow
Her love arrives to my way,
Waves starting to flow
in one-direction where there's no sun-ray*
With some caramel hues of her nocturnal love,
I inhale her throughout the night
Melancholy clouds burst out, though No Mistreat,
The echoes of rain start whispering around me,
&, along such a mist, she cuckoos & swags across the heart with naked feet.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC
If the heart is just an *****
Pumping blood for life
Why when I miss you
Does it cut me like a knife?
How can something functional
Become so emotional?
Turning from the physical
Into the devotional?
How can those ventricals
Seduced by psychology,
Override evolution
Defying biology?
The pain in my chest
Brings tears to my eyes
It appears cardiology
Is dependent on guys.
Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 8:29 PM UTC
She is one of the angel who is sent from above,
She has the biggest heart in every terms of love.
That's why she's rare, not like any other
There's none so devotional as that of 'Mother',
Her love is something that no one can explain,
It is made of endless love, sacrifice and pain.
Her power is super, how can she do it all?
She has all solutions for my problems - big or small.
She will be the one who will stand everywhere,
In every situation, when no one else will be there.
She makes me feel so good, safe and sound,
When she is there with me around.
She is the reason everyday I smile,
For me, she can run for a mile.
She's so pretty and versatile,
For doing everything she has her own style.
It's so difficult to understand what she thinks,
Her heart is soft as pink.
Words are less to describe her behavior,
She's my world, she's my savior.
Thank you God for this precious gift,
I Promise that I will always uplift.
May 8, 2021
May 8, 2021 at 2:57 PM UTC
Why not envision a new eco-poetics grounded in a heritage thousands of years old which upholds that everything in the universe is sacred?
Francisco X. Alarcón
Space, time and Borges now are leaving me …
J L Borges
The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of the personality.
T S Eliot
One does not often think of the tripartite goddess who gave her blessed name to Ireland - Éire, Banba, Fódla - not to mention other goddesses who have left their trace on the landscape, Danu of the Paps of Danu for instance.
Devotional poetry in India goes by the name of bhakti. In the heel of the hunt, a bhakta does not really adore or pine for any god or goddess; as with Mirabai’s love affair with Krishna, or Muktabai singing her own glistening Self; what is sought and what is praised is the brightness of eternal brightness, our shared Self, knowing neither birth nor death.
Some words in this poem sequence are ‘shaded’ to allow for another reading of a line, or a faint echo, a game much cherished by the Celtic poets of yore. Thus, the reader sees the word as the world when written as world and encounters bhakti invocations such as ma (mother) hidden in the word mad!
2.7k
I can acomplish anything
in my dreams I forgive you
have slept with one woman
and two older ladies later
surprisingly sweet
charming
you had me for the dessert
after the same aged chest
dune planet was innocent
awry, happy,
subliminal
not occuring
our sensory receptors
need
to be more open
accepting
Nomens as lucid Omens
stars in your eyes and a bright
mass within waves of the mind
germinatrix
sensual aroused awareness
honey. . . your tower seems
like a marvel of a slick bridge
growing inside me
well gourded fortress
silent for many ages,
here, archaic oak doors stand,
imposant, aged by
translucent rains
horsmen, ladies, light
steps, the perfume of ever
crying branches thrown
to the winds of time
even heaven's allured
by this wildest dreams,
oak entering yearns for
a sweet melody,
sound sang by the
horseshoe shaped
~
aum
~~
knock
tock tock
tomp tomp
thump thump
thump thump
we are rare devotional flowers
growing toward the Sun's love
our curved green bodies are coloured
little skirts, our petal veils listen to every
raindrop's fall. Feel every one
of them heavy light
unbearable
beauty
within awe stricken garden's architecture
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
It is in Hindu mythology
Shiva is the god of immortality
Today is Mahashivratri
Marking it as marriage anniversary
of lord shiva and goddess Parvati
Day is celebrated with
worship of Lord Shiva
by fasting ,meditation
and performing yoga
Night is spent keeping awake
and singing devotional songs
to receive great compassions
What a nice ritual of
detoxification in India
With so much fun fair
and scientific idea.
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 5:07 AM UTC
I use ‘oh, my god’ as an expression
not of faith, but surprise,
of wonder at beauty untouched
by ideology or dogma
as if caught, and pulled, from a dream.
I exclaim ‘oh, my god’ when stunned
not by holy ghosts, but the living,
who do kindness as though it were nothing
unmindful of securing safe passage
into heaven, or paradise.
‘Oh, my god’, I cry, when words fall idle
or are muted to quiet reverence.
Where twisted skeins of empiric memory,
rush in crashing surf
of reminiscence and nostalgia.
I am godless, but not without reason
‘oh, my god’ being a slip of historical,
idiomatic vernacular.
Even as curiosity drives me to understand
your own ritualistic, devotional motivations.
Raise the cup, my friend
it gives us both what we need.
For you, transubstantiation
for me a divine and luscious tableaux.
For Saint Teresa in her ecstasy no doubt exclaimed
‘Oh, my god’!
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
Jesus you asked your disciples: who do people say that I am? There were many different answers. You asked your disciples: who do YOU say that I am? Peter replied "You are Jesus the Christ. The savior." A good answer, but then when you talk about your death and what you must suffer and Peter rebuked you for saying such outrageous things, you scolded him for thinking as we humans do, not as God thinks. Then you said that to lose your your life for Christ and the gospel, you would gain eternal life in heaven, but those who love their lives would lose them. That in order to follow you we must deny ourselves and take up our cross. You said what profit is there to gain the whole world but lose our lives? For what can we give in exchange for the value of our lives?
Jesus, who do we say you are? Who are you to us? Forgive us, like Peter, when we get upset with you when bad things happen because we think not as God thinks but as humans think. We don't always see the bigger picture and purpose. When you said "Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me" you were saying that we must cast off our old self, old habits and ways. We must carry our burdens (our cross) which create a way to connect to each other and to you. "For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it." We must learn how to live selflessly and we must be willing to die to ourselves. If we lose or give up our old life for the sake of replacing it with a life for Jesus and the good news we will have eternal life. You remind us and warn us that the things of this life, their value could never come close to the value of our souls. You remind us not to fall victim to loving the riches of this earthly life more than we ought to love you and being with you forever one day. Finally, you tell us to be unashamed of Christ and the message and to share it with all we meet in a gentle and loving manner. We should not be worried about what others will do or say because it matters not as long as we are doing it with a right heart for you and the gospel. Thank you Lord for being our Savior, help us to die to the old ways that we might truly live with you. Give us the strength and courage to be unashamed of the gospel message and you so that we might bring another heart to you. Amen.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
God visited our house last Sunday
a bright papaya orange butterfly
welcomed Him,
fluttering in loops like a kite
as He stepped out of His car
Embracing our dear friend Jon from
New Jersey
He entered our pagoda
indeed, not as a guest but
as an embodiment of God
The early afternoon was garlanded
in loving, intimate, animated conversation
and a delectable lunch was served to our
beloved brother
This was topped off with nectar sweet
chocolate coconut prasadam
Everything from matters of the spirit
to soul stirring S.R.F. devotional songs
chanting sublimely
suffused our heavenly day
Even the backyard birds turned out
in large numbers
their cocky red, brown and
sky blue heads
peeking curiously through
the patio door
craned to catch a glimpse
of our divine companion
Jon, His mellow, prayerful eyes
blessing all His gaze fell upon
leaned back comfortably in
the recliner chair
like a long lost friend
returning home ~
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 10:51 PM UTC
The Great Niagra Falls
Spilling over like my love
loose and reckless
alive and fruitful
And having found a source
an outlet for this outpouring love
this deep inborn desire to say 'yes'
with all of me; my life
This thick lust for life
and for love
and this perfect intuition
to give it all away
I am proud to be alive.
And to have the capacity
in my bones and in my flesh
to say 'yes' with all of me
So small and so fragile
yet having existed forever.
Nonetheless, impermanent, I am.
Here to make a permanent mark
with this pen and this paper
and this racing heart
so uniquely my own
and so beautifully similar to the rest.
All here through the great devotional
journey of our ancestors
so gladly outpouring life,
like the great Niagra Falls
Into the present moment,
into our hands
And so,
I pick up this pen
and I write.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
A huge crowd thronged the temple premises
Its vicinity, already bursting in color
With people in hundreds streaming in
The young and the old clad in festal attire
With fire in their hearts n' festive sheen in their eyes
Not driven by piety, mostly to enjoy the fanfare
Festoons decorated trees that lined the compound
Colorful lamps blinked everywhere
Sacred bells, chiming intermittent
At the auspicious hour, as devotional songs rent the air
The chief deity was brought out of the shrine
And was placed on the caparisoned elephant
Accompanied by pulsating percussion ensemble
The devotees cheered witnessing the majestic entourage
Within them the fervid spring of joy swelled
Colorful umbrellas were unfurled
Drawing synchronized patterns in the air
Under the glare and noise, the heat and sweat
Amid the tumultuous beat of trumpets
And the rhythmic sounding of cymbals
The crowd swayed in psychedelic lassitude
An army of hawkers had already set up shops
Each made it a time to earn some bucks
Selling knickknacks and goodies to tempt children
From ice creams to popcorn and colorful balloons
Children ran around licking cotton candies
Some enjoyed blowing up soap bubbles
And iridescent orbs landing softly on their hair and dress
With dusk fall, the ceremonious fire work began
The crowd stood aghast at the pyrotechnic display
Scintillating colors and confetti of sparks painted the sky
Shooting spears rose high and fluorescent rainbow colors
Came dancing down, fire wheels swiveled on the ground
Deadening roar of crackers and thunderous blast of *****
Tore the sky announcing the sleepy world;
‘It was once again festival time for the people to rejoice
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
Good Shepherd
The Lord is my Shepherd… I need nothing more
He is my rock, my guide, my friend whom I adore
He binds the wounded and heals the sick
He is there for his sheep through thin and thick
The Lord is my Shepherd… I need not fear
To You Lord all the flock is very dear
No one more important all loved just the same
He knows all His sheep by name
The Lord is my Shepherd… In whom I find rest
He calls us all to our own spiritual quest
His love is forever, unconditional, and unending
I fall down in awe before The King
The Lord is my Shepherd… He knows his own
The sheep know His voice and tone
The Lord makes sure each one is safe and sound
He will bring them back to safe lush ground
The Lord is my Shepherd… He protects us from danger
Protecting us from any stranger
You separate the sheep from the goats
Guarding us from satan (the crafty wolf in sheep’s coats)
The Lord is my Shepherd… I know He will always provide
Even through the darkest night He is at our side
Delivering me from my biggest foes
When we are overwhelmed and scared He takes the blows
The Lord is my Shepherd… Forgiving and open
Taking in and loving us as we are: ****** and broken
As sheep we are so prone to wander and stray
But whatever we do we cannot get away
The Lord is my Shepherd… And I am in good hands
I rest in His wondrous presence; safe from shifting sands
‘Neath His wings I find a peace comparable to none
I bask in the power and warmth of The Son
Lord, thank you for being our good shepherd! Thank you for keeping us safe, providing for us, and bringing us back home when we go astray. Please be the shepherd of our minds, our hearts, and our tongues as we try to follow the sound of your voice and to go where you lead us. As you are a good shepherd to us, your children, I pray that we too may be shepherds to all people here on earth. Just as you told Peter "feed my sheep" "tend my sheep" "feed my lambs" if he really loved you, so are we called to do the same to our brothers and sisters all around the world. For it is by taking care of the least of these and being a neighbor to everyone that we in turn do the same for you! Amen.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 12:24 PM UTC
It is ever the Holy Spirit’s work to turn our eyes away from self to Jesus; but Satan’s work is just the opposite of this, for he is constantly trying to make us regard ourselves instead of Christ. He insinuates, “Your sins are too great for pardon; you have no faith; you do not repent enough; you will never be able to continue to the end; you have not the joy of his children; you have such a wavering hold of Jesus.” All these are thoughts about self, and we shall never find comfort or assurance by looking within. But the Holy Spirit turns our eyes entirely away from self: he tells us that we are nothing, but that “Christ is all in all.” Remember, therefore, it is not thy hold of Christ that saves thee—it is Christ; it is not thy joy in Christ that saves thee—it is Christ; it is not even faith in Christ, though that be the instrument—it is Christ’s blood and merits; therefore, look not so much to thy hand with which thou art grasping Christ, as to Christ; look not to thy hope, but to Jesus, the source of thy hope; look not to thy faith, but to Jesus, the author and finisher of thy faith. We shall never find happiness by looking at our prayers, our doings, or our feelings; it is what Jesus is, not what we are, that gives rest to the soul. If we would at once overcome Satan and have peace with God, it must be by “looking unto Jesus.” Keep thine eye simply on him; let his death, his sufferings, his merits, his glories, his intercession, be fresh upon thy mind; when thou wakest in the morning look to him; when thou liest down at night look to him. Oh! let not thy hopes or fears come between thee and Jesus; follow hard after him, and he will never fail thee.
“My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness:
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.”
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC
*
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Unless you have allowed
Someone to LOVE you unconditionally
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Unless you have
LOVED someone unconditionally
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Without being creative
When in LOVE
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Without transforming a consciousness
Of a soul in LOVE
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Without enlightening a human
With your devotional LOVE
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Without trusting the
Existence of your BELOVED
Who made your LOVE possible
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Without being a source of inspiration
For those who believe in LOVE
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Without planting, seeding & nourishing
Qualities of LOVE in fellow humans
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Without breaking monopolies
Of Religions, constitutions, laws, rules
That curb flowering of LOVE
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Without celebrating LOVE,
Without rejoicing your LOVE
With child-like eyes
Even in the embrace of "LOVE-Death"
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Without showing people
Their mirror of your TRUE LOVE
Through your LOVE towards them
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Unless you've made someone
SMILE with your tender LOVE
Remember
YOU should not leave this earth
Unless you've made a soul
Feel so beautiful with
Your adoration of LOVE's beauty
*
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
It's Sunday again for you cloistered patricians
aloof from the madness, the magic and myth;
who trust in your wisdom, investments, physicians
unready to answer forthwith:
"Why bother with worship—in church or the zoo—
why weaken the links with a dull set of tools ?"
you ask yourself over your high-end Tarrazu,
bemused at the fables of fools.
You've bartered salvation for New York Times articles,
sipping on bitterness (shade-grown organic).
You settle for molecules, atoms and particles
unfairly-traded, satanic—
while you celebrate emptiness, general futility
musing on nothingness, sure of specifics
ensconced in your kitchen of pampered gentility
flirting with atheist physics.
Those simple plebeians: you'd love to enlighten them
help them, like you, to become a free-thinker
but you remain tasteful, for boldness might frighten them
reeling in fairy tales: hook, line and sinker.
Yet somebody, somewhere has uttered your sentence
(though you abhor judgement, let's read it again).
Sheba and Nineveh, versed in repentance
await you—not whether but when.
The darkness is brewing unholy filtration;
the wine of the harlot approaches the rim;
your guilt is augmenting in slow percolation;
you shrug it all off on a whim.
The souls of Assyria rise from your paper
they watch in amazement, prepare your abyss.
Your coffee now brims a more sulfurous vapor;
oh sinner—there's something amiss:
The crypts of Marib and the tombs of the Axumites
shudder and groan while you're reading the Times...
(immune to the words that some Christarded poet writes
mixing psychosis with rhymes.)
Royal Sheba will chastise your erudite unbelief,
smug self-importance and cynical squawk.
Then she'll sigh with immense Ethiopian grief
and her Highness Queen Bilqis will talk.
It is Sunday in Babylon. What if your sunlight ends...
why are there mobs in the streets of the nation?
Shall you have breakfast—or calculate dividends...
what would you pay for salvation?
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
So, I’m drawn to your religion
On the basis of aesthetic.
I want to feel the way that
Golden, plump, laughing Buddha
Feels without having to read the stories.
I want to embrace the wu wei--
Whatever that means--
I want to sit criss-crossed
In the long, naples yellow grass
With no ticks.
In the orange afternoon sun
With no nighttime.
I want to worship at a smoky altar
And feel the arms of
My Goddess wrap around me.
Hear her voice: slow, smooth, but stern.
“Thank you,” for the sacrifice.
I want to be divine--God
Gaze down from the Heavens
And take pride in my light
Like I am your son;
I want to be free of the burden
Of my humanness,
Lifted,
Cleansed,
Purified.
I wish to be free of desire
And so it is the desire which ails me.
And I curse nothing more
Than I curse my hungry heart
And my faulty mind.
Lifted,
Cleansed,
Purified.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC
A Life of Humble Humility
The creator and ruler of the entire universe so powerful and so great, wanted a relationship with his people and loved them so much that he would leave heaven to be with them. He was concieved by a very ordinary ****** girl no older than 13 or 14, was born in a stable with pigs, oxen, and donkeys where it was cold, dark, and smelled very bad. Throughout his 20's, he ate and dined and held the company of prostitutes, tax collectors, uneducated fishermen, bad men, and unclean people. He did things that few could believe and none could explain and often did not take credit for these things. He took time to pray, ask for help and to rest, but was always ready to help those in need. He lived a life of service, of love, compassion, prayer and healing. When he rode into Jerusalem at the age of 33 on a Sunday, the king and ruler of everything came in on a donkey; a pack animal and lowly beast of burden of peasants rather than a horse or camel more fitting of his royalty and status. A week later, he was falsely accused and, though found not guilty, was condemned to be flayed till he was near death and then forced to carry a heavy piece of wood through town, beaten, mocked, spit upon and publicly humiliated to be nailed by his hands and feet to die in the most painful, brutal way imaginable. He was obedient to his father's plan and will to the very end and gave everything so that he might have a relationship with his beloved children.
Lord, help us please to love as you loved, serve as you served, to live as you lived. In a society that focuses on competition, personal gain and success even at the expense of another; send your Holy Spirit to be with us as we try to live by the example you have set for us: a life of humble humility. Whatever success we have, help us remember that it is from you or you working in and through us. As we strive to serve each other and you in a way that honors you and gives you glory, fill our hearts a with joy and peace that only you can provide! AMEN.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 12:26 PM UTC
Kozarev, you are like a summer's day:
Bright and brilliant; exotic and vibrant.
Smart and gallant; generous and elegant.
Our story is flickering like these smooth bushes
of May; ah, but why I saw thee not today,
I knew not why.
How could I dream of thee not?
Ah, my dreams are bad.
Nature hath probably cursed whom;
whenever they enter into my mind at night.
I hate their promises, and their tongues-
they are forever and ever slandering
my faith-by chanting about thy presence,
their mouths are fraught with lies;
leaning to me like those filthy, ungodly,
savagery; if I was to catch thee not-
why should have they insisted so?
I am jealous of those hidden faces, unknown
Behind thy walls, impatient to grasp thee
with a bite of lustful words, swearing at
thy benevolence, for I canst be more so,
and more generous than thou hath thought.
My blood boileth with sickly temperaments-
whenever I am bound to one thinking
Of thy prudence, and tactfulness
Towards the glamor of insipid dames.
My soul becomes problematic, and forested
in severed distraction and dismay
by averted lips of choking and gasping all day!
Ah, yes, suffrage shall be beneath my eyes,
until no more breath is perhaps to remain,
and only wreaths of crossness
Frantically treading about the paths
of my gouty lungs; wreaking away bit by bit
their brevity, washing off every virulent trace
of devotional identity, and gravity.
This is harassing me-the knowledge of
being unable to see thee once more,
this evening, perhaps-
and I am twisting and glaring at
these painful thoughts like a dream.
And you, you are-as the butterflies start to file
Out of their realms and into our world
You are just like their epic poems;
fruitful and delicious indeed-
but humble as those thorns,
smiling at the sun though wounded;
and laughing by the smallest of whose delight.
Kozarev, you are my man; and as you dance along
the gravel paths by handsome moonlight,
you are even more glittering than which;
and with thy stateliness
You will but own my heart once more,
lifting it up from every dim deprecation
and fruitless laudation it hath hitherto ventured into.
And I love thee and might just love thee more every day;
more than every promise my poems can say,
I adore thee and cannot live without thee
Swift and marvelous is my love,
blessed and ingenious as it shall ever be.
I love thee, Kozarev.
Obicham te.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 7:41 AM UTC
There are three ways to reach the All-Mighty
Knowledge, devotion and disinterested duty
Knowledge is infinite
but Man’s vision is only finite
If man honestly performs his duty
It is undoubtedly a great beauty
But there are many hurdles
Which make him leave the ideals
Only devotion seems to be the easiest
It may be Rama, Allah or Jesus Christ
You need not be a great scholar
And need not be a wonderful performer
You will reach God through a devotional prayer
But you should unveil the illusionary layer
Only philosophy and God seem to the ultimate truth
Although it may not appeal greatly to an atheist and the youth
Mar 28, 2011
Mar 28, 2011 at 9:30 AM UTC
the devil's dominion!....what is that, really-----it is the watered down version----it is the simplistic version------the idea that what you want is "something there" (or "here")-----------
something that you "can be given"--that you can help others "also receive"
-----------------
escape!
into the angelic night
where raggedy children seek
the fullest feeling
of blessedness
---------------
love!--------(the depth of the meditative state)----false prophets teach that you can"skim the surface" and find grace
in blind devotional group worship of master or guru or whatever the name is that is in vogue today--------don't go there!-----stay
within the total dignity of the human race ----the dignity required if you'd find and create----peace
--------------
the devil with the beguiling smile! the devil with the sham wisdom or KNOWLEDGE!....the devil who offers you a free pass thru the world unto a blighted and shameful "eternity!"
-----------
small the child crying and calling
hungry the abused mother and father
wild the mystic warrior
joyous in his pure intentions
FREE!
above all else.....free
flee from the falsity
the fakery
the "easy way!"
write your name soft and true
tell your own story
of MAN
and be home
again
---
thank you
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 2:55 PM UTC