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What is Life?

Schrodingers thinking
Lingering still
In the recess of Mitchell’s mind.
Where proton pumping
And electron streams
Released the energy
That powered the dreams
Of Crick and Watson’s thinking.
Exculting the coils
That toss and dance
To the chance of whimsical nature.
The random acts of random doings
Not knowing,
Mr Darwin explained
As better the dance
The better the themes
That evolve from primeval electron streams.


What quantum edge has uncertainty given
To Darwin’s original thinking?
Is the particle here
Or is it there
Where starry light, twinkling
Prompts the notion
That the galactic ocean

………………….to be completed

Copyright David Applin May 2015
Unfinished....a work in progress
With half the world ablaze
And the other half under water
                 I gaze at a beautiful sunset
                 And wonder why I am so lucky.

With half of the world now starving
And the other half made newly homeless
                 I sit in my comfy two-story
                 And wonder why I should deserve it.

With half the world hating each other
And the other half crying for peace
                 I sit with my pen and blank paper
                 Hoping somehow to fix it with verse.

I’ll write for the fires to burn themselves out.
I’ll write for the floods to abate.
                I’ll write for the hungry a banquet.
                Write refugees a new home.

I must write an end to the hatred.
  I must write a way to find peace.
   I must write to solve all the problems
    That bleed endless ink to my pen.

It wants to compose lines of beauty
  Not pity for those so abused.
    It wants to paint scenes of agreement
      Outlining tallies of evil.

It wants to share themes that enrich us
  Written in Poetry’s creative blood.
    Will this moment arrive in my lifetime -
      My subscription to miracles sadly expired
                    ljm
Will this show up the way I posted it or be rearranged againNope - it lined them all up to the left.Had to redo it all. Why does it do this. Evil Evil Evil !!
preservationman May 2021
In the corner collecting dust all alone
This violin has seen fame being entertaining and full blown
The violin has played Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall
It even has seen all over the world by all
The violin even played solo behind various themes
A violin voice of melody of its own
But years of neglect into the dust years
There is no preserver
The violin’s time has come an sad end
Sits with no purpose
A violin that enthused the world
Now forgotten strings
The violin had the spotlight doing its thing
Alone now, but the violin proved without a doubt
It showed what music was all about.
Nina Jan 2015
you're my favorite book
pages worn and tear-stained
special moments dog-eared
quotes traced in bright yellow highlighter
notes scribbled in margins
spine torn and aging
cover bent and creased
stains and wrinkles spread throughout
you're my favorite book
I've read you at least one hundred times
I recommend you to my friends over coffee
but only to those who'd appreciate you
only a certain type of mind can appreciate you
understand all your themes and moods
understand the author's ideas and plans
and laugh at all the right moments
you're my favorite book
I carry you in my messenger bag everywhere I go
and I love the way you smell like nostalgia
and that page 46 still has a hot chocolate stain from that one camping trip
where I read you by lantern light under a heavy sleeping bag
and I love the way you feel in my hands
you're my favorite book
but that doesn't mean I don't read others sometimes I'll read another to find it's awful
other times quite fantastic
with battles that make you sweat
and deaths that make you cry
but none of them are you
you're my favorite book
and I suppose you always will be
Did you know when you posed for that photo
That it would represent my sincerest dreams?
Did you know, posing, letting yourself go
That you would represent all of love's themes?

There's a picture I can't look away from
With simplicity of your innocence.
There's a picture of what love can become
With simplicity, strength and elegance.

Your lines and curves and perfection of shape
Transport my soul and take hold of my gaze.
Your lines of your chest o'er shoulder and nape
Transport my soul to see beauty and praise.

You are the picture I paint in my head
Of beauty that only exists in thought.
You are the picture I dream of in bed.
Of beauty that I have forever thought.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
But then that Bronze you would Commercialise
Out of those Hands which reimbursed your Win
Need not be Displayed; For Humble concise
The Best Blown Victory embraces your Skin
Like that Gold-Dresser his Scriptures resume
Though unexpected Prime Tarriff despite
Saw this Next Call for Excitement subsume
For the Corvocado Christ he'll incite
And as for you, to Teeny-Bopps you relate
And Promote your Sport as a Pop-Ear's Rage
With Some at-risk, masturbed and hate
The Artist's Garden stolen for corsage.
There are certain Themes which need no Reform
That if we do, such Gremlins we Transform.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
poetryaccident Aug 2018
I spent my life as a ghost
drifting lost through the halls
knocking on the closed doors
immaterial against their charm

a mere shadow by life’s gauge
with a past the most can’t see
while I dread the future times
existing longer than I dare

in response I mark my time
exploring themes most avoid
by this measure I am lost
a phantom seeking what most avoid

moaning poems to be heard
these enchantments from the muse
delivered a mantra daily shared
asking a world to bear witness

the themes of life are countable
on one hand or maybe two
knowing others also struggle
also shades to my form

only a spectre, nothing more
I’ll end my time with a verse
asking for an equal ear
to listen through the keyhole’s width.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180807
The poem “Keyhole’s Width” is about the apparent isolation of individuals, and the power of the written word to build brides, even if the portal is as small as a keyhole.
when our mind is full of great ideas
we want to write them down
yet there are times when we  discover
that there is no connection from our brain
to all the instruments we use
to transcribe our flighty thoughts
    to give them shape on paper, screen, or in the sand

sometimes it helps to pause a bit and reconsider
what we do really want to say  
    focus and concentrate
    articulate precisely yet suggestively
our indomitable urge to formulate
    the turmoil of emotions we may harbor
    our wild ideas of revolution
    the overbearing pain of loss and separation
    grey landscapes of depression
    attractions of dramatic suicide
also the joy and pleasures of deep love
    of unexpected friendships found
        where even angels fear to tread
    the happiness of our children
    the love we recognize
        often too late
    our parents have bestowed on us

et cetera  et cetera

the catalogue of our themes
expands through our lives
so do the challenges
of how to tell the tale

it helps to aim for clarity
we have to  let our instruments of writing know
which of our turbulently swirling thoughts
should earn the privilege
to become words
    and be communicated
to people who
    before they read our verse
have no idea at all
    that we exist
With Happiness within and within alone
A thoughtful school Basic Letters declare
Was a Way to cope with this inevit groan
Of Hearts' Glass-Strings perform to Clouds nowhere
Why must I consume my time, Flair Phantom
If my own Fright Events I don't pursue?
The Sage has taught me with Eight Spokes random
Yet still cannot Define that Inner You
To whom your spirit, whose Muse you belong
Which Married Moments your own Clouds rain by
Of Good-Caused Country, Family and Song
To add my Themes which your Merry Smile lies.
They are still Strings, though Glassed these Portents are
Unless I cut them, such Mirage speads far.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Simon Fletcher Jan 2011
It is 1977, everyone is wearing the stone washed 501's
I haven't felt this way about America for months
Listening to Bowie with the smile on my face
Studying math and history at my own slow pace
The baby is crawling around the floor...
Weeing and cooing at certain moving objects
While the cat is being pet and being fed Chex
However that works, no idea...
He's an unusual cat, I must add...
Because when he got a bird, and it bled onto my plaids
I did not know whether to become enraged or plain sad
I breathe in and out
And stare out the window to stare at the clouds
Berlin looks so nice from here
I spent the whole night smoking Marlboro Lights and drinking my beer
Seeing soccer on my tele, all I can do is cheer
All my bad thoughts and horrible feelings suddenly disappear
Sally is saying she is turning her back on religion
And goes outside to feed the pigeons
She introduced me to ****** on Wednesday
And I shot up all through Thursday
Then Lenny got a job back in May
And because of my drinking problems, my wife decided not to stay
I went to court and now I have custody
My children will never be taken away...

[Note: I wrote this poem hours before listening to Berlin by Lou Reed, which has been called the most depressing album ever, they were right, but it can lose it's effect if you listen to it repeatedly...This poem is inspired by the album and it's elements and themes...]
Drifting in the shade
of Hello Poetry's long lost grave
In archive (a kingdom's history)
the past that has been made

Stepping on the bleached out bones
The pale parade of long dead dreams

Crunching fragments of sentenced themes
burning books , poems stuffed inside the reams

Epitaphs to their honor
2010 comments to poets
Vickey , Fix , and O'Connor

Poems to praise lost in time
I hold in hand the words that bind

Great poems whose eyes
were never shed
In a broken aspiration
now lay dead

Cruch , crunch ,
the landscape littered in 2012
Oh what sacred feelings
not forthwith

Here ! lay my poems
to rest here
In 2014 my poems
of yesteryear
know thyself Jan 2014
as complex as a net of themes
   metaphors are living things
   language of self-minded brains
   interwoven with a world thought sane  
   but deluded by senses and sense
   cooperating just by chance

you can’t deny those alien parts
that hide within your twisted self
nor cannot face just what they are
just like you can’t escape their hollow spell
that you can’t shelve
though it’s no use to delve

   chaotic like each world of thoughts
   worlds are nested in each word
   concepts of our looped up minds
   rooted in something that we can’t find
   cause we change with it and through each guess
   coevolving law or mess

we can’t deny these shady parts
that constitute our very self
nor cannot guess just who we are
just like we can’t escape that fuzzy spell
that we can’t shelve
though it’s no use to delve

there is no ground to stand upon
   as soon as we look what’s beneath
   but in the moment we go on
   a way’s rebuilt under our feet
so going on works as a ground
   and there’s no way of standing still
   we better swim or we will drown
   we are a process at its will
only in motion we are real
   so out of reach for static thoughts
   there’s a dynamic self that feels
   why understanding is a fitting word
since our points of view are fixed
   unable to reflect the complex loop
   changing within its feedbacked tricks
   that chase our circling selves right through
   constantly renovated tubes

we can’t deny these foreign parts
that constitute our very world
nor cannot guess where we should start
to rearrange our mental world of words
that guide our thoughts
in which we just occur
systematically blurred
Raj Arumugam Oct 2010
I’ve stopped writing
serious verse
cos every time I try
it only gets worse


I’ve stopped writing
on dignified subjects
and such proper themes
for every time I try
I roll down laughing
and the Public Library staff
lead me out by my ears


I’ve stopped pontificating
on divine matters
and such holy subjects
as mentioning God
and Angels, and Heaven and Hell
cos every time I try
we have such propagandists
quoting scriptures
and holding up revelations,
all these drugged believers
abusing reason and religion
after they’ve finished
with the children


and I do not discourse
on noble subjects
and themes befitting heroes
and great nations
for every time I try
the language slips to f-starters
and the idiom of the slums and gutters
and the curses of the homeless



so I sing about
what pleases me
and those who are easy
read if they will
cos they know
it doesn’t matter if they do or don’t ;
for the sun will still shine
the next day
and they’ll find better poems
in each sun ray
that pierces their skin
and wakes them up to life
Big Virge Aug 2021
Now When It Comes To Lyrics...
I'm A Rhyme Specialist...
And TRUE WORDSMITH... !!!

Because I Flip Scripts...
With Lyrical Twists...

That Twist And Turn...
Through EXPANSIVE Verse...
That Speaks On The World...
In Ways That Work...
Like... Spock And Kirk... !!!

Combative Like Captains...
With Logic That’s Valid...
In Finding What’s Best...
To Express Through Poems...

Which Is Why I’m A THREAT...
To... IGNORANT Heads...
Whose Mindset Lends...
Itself To The DEATH...
of... Common Sense... !?!

I’m A Lyrical Vet...
Wordsmith And Poet...

Whose Use of Diction...
... REFUSES Fiction... !!!
Because It’s Descriptive...
of How We’re Living...

From Vibes of Racism...
To Limited Thinking...
That Keeps Heads Imprisoned...
And Restricts Their Vision...

It’s A Gift GOD GIVEN... !!!

But NOT The Type of God...
That Most Heads Think of... !!!

It’s The Gods of Verse...
Who Have Blessed Big Virge...

That’s Right I Mean ME... !!!
To... Lyrically Be...

A Wordsmith Who Deals...
In Poetic Straight Speech...
That’s REALER Than REAL... !!!

Because It’s Themes Are REALITY...
NOT Fantasies Or Fallacies...

But Wordplay Driven...
To Give Descriptions...
of Peoples Submissions...
To Political Villains...

And Soldiers Killing...
To Fuel Divisions...

So My Words Don’t Deal In...
... Vicious Missions... !!!

Or The Type of Pictures...
With Impossible Visions...

My Wordplay Delivers...
Rhythmic Scriptures...

Like Those In Egypt...
In Restricted Crypts... !!!

So Are VERY WELL Hidden...
By Those Who Are Smitten...
With LYING To CHILDREN... !!!

As Well As The Heads...
Who Are Now SUBJECTS...
of Her Royal Highness... !!!

Who Clearly Think LESS...
Than A Man Who Is VEX...
And Is Ready To Vent...
Through EXTREME Violence... !!!

While I Use Rhymes...
To Define What I Find...
To Be Truth And Lies...

By Using My Mind...
My Thoughts And Pen...
To Write Poems...

That Prove That I’m THIS...

A Lyrical KING...
And TOP NOTCH...

..... “ Wordsmith “.....
It's what I now am.
Our own life...and others
Create
Themes

A sensory examination

Spilled out

Nothing is wasted

It is our write
Life experiences make great poetry. Sometimes they aren’t ours but we feel them as our own.
Ghosts of the day
give way
to the gloom
between street lights
where shadows move
in the sourness of solitude
when little changes
except time, tides
and dreams
with a variety of themes.
Adam Latham Oct 2014
I met her going to the fair,
Upon a country road,
A bow was tied about her hair
Which to her shoulders flowed.
The spark of youth shone in her eyes
In pools of emerald green,
Her body was of average size
Yet pretty to be seen.
The whitest dress I ever saw
Swept lightly about her feet,
And around her neck a rabbits claw
Clung in the summer heat.
She smiled thinly, bowed her head
And curtsied with true grace,
And then with timid words she said
"My lord what is this place?"
"The road to Danbury Fair," said I,
"And yonder to the coast,
Please walk with me a by and by
And I shall prove my boast."
A quarter mile, a half-a-mile,
My recollection fails,
We strolled in silent trance like style
All through the sun stroked dales.
Until upon a certain spot
No different than the rest,
The atmosphere that once was hot
Blew with a chilling zest.
Then suddenly the sky grew dim
As sun and light withdrew,
And darkness conquered every limb
Above us that was blue.
The woman gave a startled cry
And fell onto her knees,
"Right here is where I cut the tie
With man's mortalities.
My soul will never rest in peace
But always I shall be
A spirit with an earthly lease
Now and eternally."
A pounding heart betrayed my fear
At this unnatural sight,
But paralysed I could not steer
Myself away in flight.
Instead I watched with heavy breath,
This other worldly power
Tell of her own untimely death
Which cut her youthful flower.
A tale of highway treachery,
So long ago it seems,
Resulted in her pedigree
Dissolved from living themes.
And now with woeful discontent
She grieves her swift demise,
By stirring up the firmament
Over where her body lies.
Though boldness purged my nervous root,
My daring came too late,
The questions posed in minds pursuit
Never formed into debate.
For soon the apparition waned
And vanished from my view,
The clouds dispersed, the sun regained
Its former vibrant hue.
And me, my ordeal done at last,
I stood with nought to say,
A victim of a tragic past
That haunts the Danbury Way.
Elioinai Jan 2017
My words for you have melted together
Like gold and scarlet
Broad, deep themes of joy and emotions
That I cannot spill them out in an ordered form
they drip down warm
Upon the page they make a boldened shape
dark curves and twisted lines
like my face pressed against your chest
JR Rhine Feb 2016
Mother pulled the beat to hell diluted blood red minivan containing my brother and I into the darkened parking lot. The car couldn't park fast enough as my brother and I tore the creaky side door open and leapt onto the awaiting pavement. We stepped from darkness into light as we hopped onto a curb to be greeted by the brilliance of neon lights erected atop a single story rectangular building squatting at the top of the rectangular lot like a full measure rest. Glass windows as whole walls teased the treasures that lay before my eyes window-shopping like madmen I felt the objects of my covetry leap from their white shelves into my sweaty youthful grasp. Mother breezed forward, stepping across the tier confidant and disengaged; the front door rang announcing our presence. Two bells sounded: ring ring. The Rhines were here. Like a pistol shot signifying the start of a race, my brother and I scampered and scattered and scuttled like wild animals, scouring the shelves that sat dispersed through the gleaming room consuming with our eyes words that told stories with pictures that danced and sang. Clusters of shelves huddled together under several flat signs hung by frail strings dangling from the ceiling displaying themes that told me where to avoid "Romance" and where to find my beloved "Science Fiction." I halted, realizing almost as if there were indentations within the itchy carpet that had alerted me to the place where I had cemented by ruddy feet countless times before. I took my roving eyes from the stalling ground to peer up into the shelves that loomed over me like giants, arching over my head like holy stones erected atop holy celebratory sites of yore. My fingers traced along the shelves trailing over the innumerate plastic spines that encased my bountiful riches; I mouthed the vibrant words imprinted like cattle on each of them and sang to myself stories that spawned off of each one before finding the paragon that most expertly weaved JR the Raconteur into its fabrications. I bore into its dazzling shell hungrily, gobbling up faces and places and names and dates I spun it over to its backside to read plots to read histories to read legacies to read memories I read and read and saw and saw my mind was never more alive with the astounding conception of limitless potentialities my night was just getting started and with my final selection--and mother's blessing--I would march home victoriously wielding my fortune, my medium for which the pictures in my mind would transpose and dance before me like luminous sprites on the brilliant splendor of a luminescent two dimensional stage that is the television screen. It was the weekend getaway I waited for with anticipation every Saturday; I was an unversed monk relishing in the ancient libraries of History.
To the video stores of yore.
The
Concrete
Spatial poem
Has varied shapes
Ancient kind of verse
With Traditional Shapes.
Many  vague symbolic themes.
From tapers lozenges eggs or spheres
The concrete spatial poem has varied shapes.
~~            ~~          ~~            ~~
the above is with a Dectina Refrain
ample
Hark! 'tis the twanging horn! O'er yonder bridge,
That with its wearisome but needful length
Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon
Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright,
He comes, the herald of a noisy world,
With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen locks;
News from all nations lumb'ring at his back.
True to his charge, the close-pack'd load behind,
Yet careless what he brings, his one concern
Is to conduct it to the destin'd inn:
And, having dropp'd th' expected bag, pass on.
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some;
To him indiff'rent whether grief or joy.
Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks,
Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet
With tears that trickled down the writer's cheeks
Fast as the periods from his fluent quill,
Or charg'd with am'rous sighs of absent swains,
Or nymphs responsive, equally affect
His horse and him, unconscious of them all.
But oh th' important budget! usher'd in
With such heart-shaking music, who can say
What are its tidings? have our troops awak'd?
Or do they still, as if with ***** drugg'd,
Snore to the murmurs of th' Atlantic wave?
Is India free? and does she wear her plum'd
And jewell'd turban with a smile of peace,
Or do we grind her still? The grand debate,
The popular harangue, the **** reply,
The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,
And the loud laugh--I long to know them all;
I burn to set th' imprison'd wranglers free,
And give them voice and utt'rance once again.
Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And, while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful ev'ning in.
Not such his ev'ning, who with shining face
Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeez'd
And bor'd with elbow-points through both his sides,
Out-scolds the ranting actor on the stage:
Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb,
And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath
Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage,
Or placemen, all tranquility and smiles.
This folio of four pages, happy work!
Which not ev'n critics criticise; that holds
Inquisitive attention, while I read,
Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair,
Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break;
What is it, but a map of busy life,
Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?...


Oh winter, ruler of th' inverted year,
Thy scatter'd hair with sleet like ashes fill'd,
Thy breath congeal'd upon thy lips, thy cheeks
Fring'd with a beard made white with other snows
Than those of age, thy forehead wrapp'd in clouds,
A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne
A sliding car, indebted to no wheels,
But urg'd by storms along its slipp'ry way,
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st,
And dreaded as thou art! Thou hold'st the sun
A pris'ner in the yet undawning east,
Short'ning his journey between morn and noon,
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay,
Down to the rosy west; but kindly still
Compensating his loss with added hours
Of social converse and instructive ease,
And gath'ring, at short notice, in one group
The family dispers'd, and fixing thought,
Not less dispers'd by day-light and its cares.
I crown thee king of intimate delights,
Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturb'd retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted ev'ning, know.
No rattling wheels stop short before these gates;
No powder'd pert proficient in the art
Of sounding an alarm, assaults these doors
Till the street rings; no stationary steeds
Cough their own knell, while, heedless of the sound,
The silent circle fan themselves, and quake:
But here the needle plies its busy task,
The pattern grows, the well-depicted flow'r,
Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn,
Unfolds its *****; buds, and leaves, and sprigs,
And curling tendrils, gracefully dispos'd,
Follow the nimble finger of the fair;
A wreath that cannot fade, or flow'rs that blow
With most success when all besides decay.
The poet's or historian's page, by one
Made vocal for th' amusement of the rest;
The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sounds
The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out;
And the clear voice symphonious, yet distinct,
And in the charming strife triumphant still;
Beguile the night, and set a keener edge
On female industry: the threaded steel
Flies swiftly, and, unfelt, the task proceeds.
The volume clos'd, the customary rites
Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal;
Such as the mistress of the world once found
Delicious, when her patriots of high note,
Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble doors,
And under an old oak's domestic shade,
Enjoy'd--spare feast!--a radish and an egg!
Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull,
Nor such as with a frown forbids the play
Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth:
Nor do we madly, like an impious world,
Who deem religion frenzy, and the God
That made them an intruder on their joys,
Start at his awful name, or deem his praise
A jarring note. Themes of a graver tone,
Exciting oft our gratitude and love,
While we retrace with mem'ry's pointing wand,
That calls the past to our exact review,
The dangers we have 'scaped, the broken snare,
The disappointed foe, deliv'rance found
Unlook'd for, life preserv'd and peace restor'd--
Fruits of omnipotent eternal love.
Oh ev'nings worthy of the gods! exclaim'd
The Sabine bard. Oh ev'nings, I reply,
More to be priz'd and coveted than yours,
As more illumin'd, and with nobler truths.
That I, and mine, and those we love, enjoy....
RAJ NANDY Feb 2015
AN INTRODUCTION TO INDIAN ART IN VERSE  
By Raj Nandy : Part One

INTRODUCTION
Background :
The India subcontinent and her diverse physical features,
influenced her dynamic history, religion, and culture!
The fertile basin of the Sapta-Sindu Rivers* cradled one of
world’s most ancient civilization, (seven rivers)
Contemporary to the Sumerians and the Egyptians, popularly
known as the Indus Valley Civilization!
The Sindu (Indus), Jhelum, Chenab, Ravi, Sutlej, Bias, along
with the sacred river Saraswati, shaped India’s early History;
Where once flourished the urban settlements of Harappa and
Mohenjodaro, which lay buried for several centuries;
For our archaeologists and scholars to unravel their many
secrets and hidden mysteries!
Modern scholars refer to it as ‘Indus-Saraswati Civilization’;
By interpreting the text of the Rig Veda which mentions
eclipses, equinoxes, and other astronomical conjunctions,
They date the origin of the Vedas as earlier as 3000 BC;
Thereby lifting the fog which shrouds Ancient History! +
(+ Two broad schools of thoughts prevail; Max Mullar refers
to 1500 BC as the date for origin of the Vedas, but modern scientific findings point to a much earlier date for their Oral composition and
their long oral tradition!)

On the banks of the sacred Saraswati River the holy sages
did once meditate, *
When their third eye opened, as all earthly bonds they did
transcend !
From their lips flowed the sacred chants of the Vedas, as
they sang the creator Brahma’s unending praise!
These Vedic chants and incantations survived many
centuries of an oral tradition,
When Indian Art began to blossom into exotic flowers like
Brahma’s divine manifestations;
With all subsequent art forms following the model of
Brahma’s manifold creations!
The Vedas got written down during the later Vedic Age
with commentaries and interpolations,
And remain as India’s indigenous composition, forming a
part of her sacred religious tradition! *
(
Rig Veda the oldest, had hymns in praise of the creator;
Yajur Veda spelled the ritual procedures; Sama Veda sets
the hymns for melodious chanting, & is the source of seven
notes of music; Artha Veda had hymns for warding off evil
& hardship, giving us a glimpse of early Vedic life.)

IMPACT OF FOREIGN INVASIONS:
Through the winding Khyber Pass cutting through the rugged
Hindu Kush Range,
Came the Persians, Greeks, Muslims, the Moguls, and many
bounty hunters storming through north-western frontier gate;
Consisting of varied racial groups and cultures, they entered
India’s fertile alluvial plains!
Therefore, while tracing 5000 years of Art Story, one cannot
divorce Art from India’s exotic cultural history.
From the Cave Art of Bhimbetka, to the dancing girl of Harappa,
To the frescoes and the evocative figures of Ajanta and Ellora;
Many marvelous and exquisitely carved temples of the South,
And Muslim and Mogul architecture and frescoes along with
India’s rich Folk Art, enriched her artistic heritage no doubt!
Yet for a long time Indian Art had been the least known of
the Oriental Arts,
Perhaps because from Western point of view it was difficult
to understand the spirit behind Indian Art!
For Indian Art is at once aesthetic and sensual, also passionate,
symbolic, and spiritual !
It both celebrates and denies the individual’s love of life,
where free instinct with rigid reason combine !
These contradictory elements are found side by side due to
her culturally mixed conditions, as I had earlier mentioned!
Now, if we add to this the constant religious exaltation,
With the extensive use of symbolic presentation, from the
early days of Indian civilization;
We have the basic elements of an Art, which has gradually
aroused the interest of Western Civilization!

The further we get back in time, we only begin to find,
That religion, philosophy, art and architecture,
Had all merged into an unified whole to form India’s
composite culture!
But while moving forward in time, we once again find,
That art, architecture, music, poetry and dance, all begin to
gradually emerge, with their separate identities,
Where Indian Art is seen as a rich mosaic of cultural diversity!

(NOTES:-In the ancient days, the Saraswati River flowed from the Siwalik Range of Hills (foothills of the Himalayas) between Sutlej & the Yamuna rivers, through the present day Rann of Kutch into the Arabian Sea, when Rajasthan was a fertile place! Indus settlements like Kalibangan, Banawalli, Ganwaiwala, were situated on the banks of Sarsawati River, which was longer than the Indus & ran parallel, and is mentioned around50 times in the Rig Veda! Scientists say that due to tectonic plate movements, and climatic changes, Saraswati dried up around 1700BC ! The people settled there shifted east and the south, during the course of history! Some of those Indo-Aryan speaking people were already settled there, & others joined later. Max Muller’s theory of an Aryan Invasion which destroyed the Indus Valley Civilization during 1500BC, supported by Colonial Rulers, was subsequently proved wrong ! Indo-Aryans were a Language group of the Indo- European
Language Family, & not a racial group as mistaken by Max Mullar! Therefore Dr.Romila Thapar calls it a gradual migration, & not an invasion! The Vedas were indigenous composition of India. However, they got compiled & written down for the first time with commentaries, at a much later date! I have maintained this position since it has been proved by modern scholars scientifically!)

SYMBOLISM IN INDIAN ART
From the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic to the Cretan Bull
of Greece,
Symbols have conveyed ideas and messages, fulfilling
artistic needs.
The ‘Da Vinci Code’ speaks of Leonardo’s art works as
symbolic subterfuge with encrypted messages for a secret
society!
While Indian art is replete with many sacred symbols to
attract good fortune, for the benefit of the community!
The symbols of the Dot or ‘Bindu’, the Lotus, the Trident,
the Conch shell, the sign and chant of ‘OM’, are all sacred
and divine;
For at the root of Indian artistic symbolism lies the Indian
concept of Time!
The West tends to think of time as a dynamic process which
is forward moving and linear;
Commencing with the ‘Big Bang’, moving towards a ‘Big
Crunch’, when ‘there shall be no more time’, or a state of
total inertia !
Indian art and sculpture is influenced by the cyclic concept
of time unfolding a series of ages or ‘yugas’;
Where creation, destruction and recreation, becomes a
dynamic and an unending phenomena!
This has been artistically and symbolically expressed in the
figure of Shiva-Nataraja’s cosmic dance,
Which portrays the entire kinetic universe in a state of
eternal flux!
The hour-glass drum in Nataraja’s right hand symbolizes
all creation;
Fire in his left hand the cyclic time frame of destruction!
The raised third hand is in a gesture of infinite benediction;
And the fourth hand pointing to his upraised foot shows the
path of liberation!

It was easier to teach the vast untutored population through
symbols, images, and paintings in the form of Art;
For a picture is more effective than a thousand words!
The Dot or ‘bindu’ becomes the focus for meditation,
Where the mental energies are focused on a single point of
creation,
As seen in the cotemporary art works of SH Raza’s
artistic representations!
Yet the same dot when expanded as a circle becomes
wholeness and infinity;
The shape of celestial bodies of the cyclic universe in its
creativity!
The Lotus seen in many sculptures, on temple walls, and
majestic columns, denotes purity;
A symbol of non-attachment rising above the muddy waters,
retaining its pristine color and beauty!
The Lotus is a powerful and transformational symbol in
Buddhist Art,
Where pink lotus is for height of enlightenment, blue for
wisdom, white for spiritual perfection, and the red lotus
symbolizing the heart!
This Lotus symbol also finds a place in Mughal sculptural
carvings and miniatures;
The inverted lotus dome resting on its petals, forms the
crown of Taj Mahal’s white marble architecture!
The trident or ‘trishul’ symbolizes the three god-heads
Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva;
As the Creator, Preserver and Destroyer, in that cyclic
chain which goes on forever!
The ***** stone of Shiva-lingam surrounded by the oval
female yoni symbolizes fertility and creation,
Usually found in the inner sanctuary of Hindu temples!
Finally, the symbol of ‘OM’ and its vibrating sound,
Echoes the primordial vibrations with which space and
time abounds!
All matter comes from energy vibrations manifesting
cosmic creation;
Also symbolized in Einstein’s famous matter-energy equation!
The Conch Shell a gift of the sea when blown, sounds the
ancient primordial vibration of ‘OM’!
It’s hallowed auspicious sound accompanies marriage
ceremonies and rituals whenever occasion demands;
And pacifies mother earth during Shiva-Nataraja’s sudden
seismic dance! (earthquakes)
Dear readers the symbols mentioned here are very few,
Mainly to curb the length, while I pay Indian Art my
artistic due!

A BRIEF COMPARISON OF ART:
Despite the many foreign influences which entered India
through the Khyber and Bholan pass,
India displayed marvelous adaptability and resilience, in
the development of her indigenous Art!
The aesthetic objectivity of Western Art was replaced by
the Indian vision of spiritual subjectivity,
For the transitory world around was only a ‘Maya’ or an
Illusion,- lacking material reality!
Therefore life-like representation was not always the aim
of Indian art,
But to lift that veil and reveal the life of the spirit, - was
the objective from the very start!
Egyptian funerary art was more occupied with after-life
and death;
While the Greeks portrayed youthful vigor and idealized
beauty, celebrating the joys of life instead!
The proud Roman Emperors to outshine their predecessors
erected even bigger statues, monuments, and columns
draped in glory;
Only in the long run to drain the Roman treasury, - a sad
downfall story!
Indian art gradually evolved over centuries with elements
both religious and secular,
As seen from the period of King Chandragupta Maurya,
Who defeated the Greek Seleucus, to carve out the first
united Indian Empire ! (app. 322 BC)

SECULAR AND SPIRITUAL FUSION IN ART:
Ancient Indian ‘stupas’
and temples were not like churches
or synagogues purely spiritual and religious,
But were cultural centers depicting secular images which
were also non-religious!
The Buddhist ‘stupa’ at Amravati (1stcentury BC), and the
gateways at Sanchi (1stcentury AD), display wealth of carvings
from the life of Buddha;
Also warriors on horseback, royal procession, trader’s caravans,
farmers with produce, - all secular by far!
Indian temples from the 8th Century AD onwards depicted
images of musicians, dancers, acrobats and romantic couples,
along with a variety of Deities;
But after 10th Century ****** themes began to make their mark
with depiction of sensuality!
Sensuality and ****** interaction in temples of Khajuraho and
Konarak has been displayed without inhibition;
As Tantric ideas on compatibility of human sexuality with
human spirituality, fused into artistic depictions!
Religion got based on a healthy and egalitarian acceptance
of all activities without ****** starvation;
For the emotional health and well-being of society, without
hypocritical denial or inhibition!
(’Stupas’= originated from ancient burial mounds, later became devotional Buddhist sites with holy relics, & external decorative gateways and carvings!)

KHJURAHO TEMPLE COMPLEX (950 - 1040 AD) :
Was built by the Chandela Rajputs in Central India,
When Khajuraho, the land of the moon gods, was the first
capital city of the Chandelas!
****** art covers ten percent of the temple sculptures,
Where both Hindu and Jain temples were built in the north-Indian
Nagara style of Architecture.
Out of the 85 temples only 22 have stood the vagaries of time,
Where a perfect fusion of aesthetic elegance and evocative
Kama-Sutra like ****** sculptural brilliance, - dazzle the eyes!

KONARAK SUN TEMPLE OF ORISSA - EAST COAST:
From the Khajuraho temple of love, we now move to the
Konark temple of *** in stones - as art!
Built around 1250 AD in the form of a temple mounted on
a huge cosmic chariot for the Sun God;
With twelve pairs of stone-carved wheels pulled by seven
galloping horses, symbolizing the passage of time under
the Solar God !
Seven horses for each day of the week, pulls the chariot
east wards towards dawn;
With twelve pairs of wheels representing the twelve calendar
months, as each cyclic day ushers in a new morn !
The friezes above and below the chariot wheels show military
processions, with elephants and hunting scenes;
Celebrating the victory of King Narasimhadeva-I over the
invading Muslims!
The ****** art and voluptuous carvings symbolizes aesthetic
bliss when uniting with the divine;
Following yogic postures and breathing techniques, which
Tantric Art alone defines!
(
Both Khjuraho & Konark temples were re-discovered by the
British, & are now World Heritage Sites!)

Artistic invention followed the model of cosmic creation;
Ancient Vedic tradition visualized the spirit of a joyous
self-offering with chants and incantations!
The world was understood to be a structured arrangement
of five elements of earth, water, fire, air, and ethereal space;
Where each element brought forth a distinct art-expression
with artistic grace!
Element of Sculpture was earth, Painting the fluidity of water,
Dance was transformative fire, Music flowed through the air,
and Poetry vibrated in ethereal space!

CONCLUDING INTRODUCTION TO INDIAN ART:

Indian Art is like a prism with many dazzling facets,
I have only introduced the subject with its symbolism,
- without covering its complete assets!
After my Part Three on ‘Etruscan and Roman Art’,
Christian and Byzantine Art was to follow;
But following request from my few poet friends I have
postponed it for the morrow!
Traditional Indian Art survives through its sculptures,
architecture, paintings and folk art, ever evolving with
the passing of time and age;
Influenced by Buddhist, Jain, Muslim, Mogul, and many
indigenous art forms, enriching India’s cultural heritage!
While the art of our modern times constitutes a separate
Contemporary phase !
The juxtaposition of certain concepts and forms might
have appeared a bit intriguing,
But the spiritual content and symbolism in art answers
our basic artistic seeking!
The other aspects of Indian Art I plan to cover at a later
date,
Hope you liked my Introduction, being posted after
almost forty days!
ALL COPY RIGHTS ARE WITH RAJ NANDY
E-Mail: rajnandy21@yahoo.
    FEW COMMENTS BY POETS ON 'POETFREAK.COM' :-
I have a vicarious pleasure going through your historical journey of Indian art! Thanks for sharing this here! 2 Mar 2013 by Ramesh T A | Reply

The prism of Indian Art is indeed has myriads of facets and is an awesome mixture of many influences some of which you list here so clearly - a very understandable presentation of symbolism too - -thank you for your fine effort Raj. 2 Mar 2013 by Fay Slimm | Reply

Oh what an interesting read with immense information capturing every single detail. You painted this piece of art with utmost care. Truly, it's works Raj…tfs 2 Mar 2013 by John Thomas Tharayil | Reply

First, I have to say, the part about the lotus symbolism reminds me – My name ‘NILOTPAL’ can be split into ‘NIL’ meaning BLUE and ‘UTPAL’ meaning LOTUS. So my name represents wisdom (although it contradicts ME.. LOL). A lot of things were mentioned in the veda and other ancient Indian texts that were way ahead of the time Like the idea of ‘velocity of light’ got considerable mention in the rig veda-Sahan bhasya, ‘Elliptical order of planets, ‘Black holes’ , although these are the scientific aspects. The emphasis on contradictory elements or even the idea of opposites in Indian art is interesting because India developed the mathematical concept of ‘Zero’ and ‘infinity’. Hard to believe Rajasthan was a fertile place but now it possesses its own beauty. It was great to read about the Natraja, ‘OM’ and the trident(Trishul). Among symbolisms, Lord Ganseha is my favorite because a lot is portrayed in that one image like the MOOSHIK representing
When I composed the History of Western Art in Verse & posted the series on 'Poetfreak.com', few Indian poet friends requested me to compose on Indian Art separately. I am posting part one of my composition here for those who may like to know about Indian Art. Thanks & best wishes, -Raj
sked Jul 2013
Do I have any talent in poetry?
Can I write a good series of monometers?
Let’s
See
They’re
****
Are those even monometers?
How the hell should I know?

Maybe I can write a decent enjambment
Let it flow with no punctuation
Let it soar with no interruption whatsoever
Let it flow let it flow let it flow
Ah **** it!  
Flowing is for sissies!
Let’s punctuate this *******!  
Let’s add lots of **** to this!
Maybe, perhaps, supposedly!
All these worthless pathetic lines!

These are the things
That people may love
These are the things
That people may define as talent
This **** I made
They may say
I made from my talent
But to me
It is a massive piece of crap

Let’s add more **** to this!
Let’s add themes!
Love, darkness, hatred, abuse!
I’m sorry I left you baby, please come back!
It feels so black in this cruel horrid world!
*******!  *******!  *****! ****! I hate you!
Hit me again!  Hit me again you ******!

These are the things
That people may love
These are the things
That people may define as talent
This **** I made
They may say
I made from my talent
But to me
It is a massive piece of crap

If that isn’t talent then what is
You may ask
I answer this with a laugh
Poetry takes no talent
You silly fool
It is a simple sharing of heart and soul
Why lower it to a talent
It’s demeaning
It’s sickening
It makes me want to *****
Close your eyes
Let it take you in
Love it
Hate it
Praise it
**** it
Cleanse it
Vulgarize it
Whatever you like

If you ever want to be
A talented poet
Then don’t take my advice
Use structure
Use themes
Make your voice easily heard
But at the same time silent


These words
That people may love
These are the things
That people may define as talent
This **** I made
They may say
I made from my talent
But to me
It is a massive piece of crap
And really doesn't need talent.
Sjr1000 Nov 2013
A song of streaks and slumps
themes repeat themselves without relief
one minute you are up
one minute you are down
and each moment feels like forever

Nothing is going to change
inside or out
helplessness reigns
every decision you make
you should have refrained
every decision you didn't make
was the one which would have fixed everything.

You sit in shame
staring at the wall and wondering.
A flip of the dice, a flip of the cards,
a flip of the light, a glance from blue eyes
heat crackles midas
touch
you think you know
for the moment you have it all.

A song of streaks and slumps
sometimes decades long sometimes in moments wrong.
A river forever different forever the same

Don't lose hope
Don't get too cocky

In the end
streaks and slumps march us through our time.
MBJ Pancras Jun 2020
Adam
The unborn human
Made of soil by the Lord
For to rule the world.

2. Eve

Made of Adam’s rib
To live and serve with her mate
But fallen to sin.

3. Disobedience

The act against God
Inclined to the devil’s word
Unbelief in God.

4. Nakedness of Adam and Eve

Disgraced by their sin
Saturated in the fruit
Stripped of holiness.


5. The Garden of Eden

The place of God’s land
Of freedom and temptation
Of good and evil.

6. Satan in Serpent

The one arch rival
Of God, fallen of his pride,
Intruded to rob.

7. The Fruit of knowledge of Good and Evil

A mystery image
Made of God to try His man;
The logic of God.

8. The first parents’ punishment

Drifted from God’s Peace;
Fallen into Satan’s trap;
Of sorrows and death.

9. Abel

A righteous God’s son,
And born to be slain by Cain;
Innocence perceived.

10. Cain

A tool of evil
Shrouded with disgrace and shame;
The root of evil.

11. Noah and the Ark

God’s righteous man
Saved by his obedience
By the Grace of God.

12. The Flood

The Judgment of God
Fallen upon sins;
A great symbol of new life

13. Babel Tower

The evil image,
A symbol of human pride,
Conquered by Wisdom.

14. Abraham

God’s chosen human;
A father of great nations;
The faith understood.

15. Sarah

A blessed mother;
Blessed with Isaac in late age;
Abraham’s true heart.

16. Ishmael

A son of Abram
Born of Hagar by force;
Displeasure of God.

17. ***** and Gomorrah

The twins of evil,
Cradled by Satan with filth;
Burnt into ashes

18. Lot’s wife

An image of greed;
Ruled by the worldly desire;
A pillar of salt!

19. Isaac

The bond of Lord God
With Abraham for the race;
Faith tested in him.

20. Rebekah

Born to Bethuel
Full of generosity,
Mother of Jacob.

21. Jacob

Power and grace of God
Meant for cunning and deceit;
Yet blessed with Israel.

22. Rachel

A wife of Jacob;
Favourite and pleasing; mother
Of new progeny.

23. Aaron

A high-priest of God;
Elder brother of Moses,
A prophet of God.

24. Andrew

Yea, an apostle of Christ,
Brother of Simon Peter,
Living with the fish.


25. Barabbas

A condemned robber,
A convict praised by the Jews,
Thoughtless of the good.

26. Daniel

A man of visions;
Hero in the Lion’s den,
Unharmed by God’s Hand.

27. David

The psalmist of God,
The second king of Israel,
Guided by the Lord.

28. Samson and Delilah

A fool with muscle
Deprived by an evil force,
Fallen to blind death.

Scheming pretty ***,
Tainted with treachery,
Realm of sedition.

29. Elijah

A Hebrew prophet,
Persecuted for slurring
Ahab and Jez’bel.

30. Elisha

A great successor
Of Elijah, a prophet,
A stern disciple.


31. Enoch

The son of Jared,
Prior to Noah’s Great Flood,
Taken by the Lord.

32. Joseph

Sold to slavery
By his own jealous brothers,
The great vizier.


33. Esau

The twin of Jacob,
Sold his birthright to Jacob,
A son of Isaac.

34. Esther

Beauty embodied,
Then turned a queen of Persia,
Saviour of people.

35. Ezekiel
His book of visions
Predicts the fall of Judah
And Jerusalem.

36. Ezra

Ancient Jewish priest,
Law-maker at the altar,
Sent from Babylon.

37. Gideon

A wise Hebrew judge;
Led the Israel to victory
‘Gainst  Midianites.


38. Goliath

Philistine giant
Killed by David with a stone,
Terror to Hebrews.

39. Jesus Christ

He’s the Word of God,
The Way to Eternity,
God in human flesh.

40. John the Baptist

Forerunner of Christ,
Beheaded by King Herod,
Baptizer of Christ.

41. Judas Iscariot

Betrayer of Christ,
Fallen on thirty pieces
Silver to death.



42. Lazarus

Restored from death
By Jesus; for whom Christ wept,
Mary and Martha’s.

43. Lot

Abraham’s nephew;
Escaped *****’s destruction,
His wife, salt pillar.

44. Luke

An Evangelist,
A physician, who wrote Acts
And Jesus’ Gospel.

45. Mary Magdalene

A sinful woman,
Redeemed of evil spirits,
Devoted to Christ.

46. Matthew

A tax collector,
An apostle of Jesus,
A Gospel writer.

46. Matthias
A Christ’s Apostle,
Chosen by lot to replace
The Christ’s betrayer.

47. Melchizedek  

The priest of Salem,
A prototype of Jesus
Christ’s priesthood of God.

48. Moses

A Hebrew prophet,
Who had led the Israelites
To the Promised Land.


49. Nebuchadnezzar  

King of Babylon,
Who  destroyed Jerusalem;
Exiled the Jews.



50.  Paul

A Christ’s Apostle,
Died as a martyr in Rome;
Wrote great Epistles.

51 Peter

One who left fishing
For Christ as an Apostle,
Denied Christ three times.

52. Pontius Pilate

“What is Truth?” He asked.
The Roman procurator,
His hand in Christ’s death.

53. Solomon

The king of Israel,
Credited with great wisdom,
Son of David.

54. Susanna

The wife of Joachim,
Falsely accused but saved by
Daniel's wisdom.

55. Tetragrammaton

Hebrew Name for God;
Revealed to Moses on Mount
Sinai. Named ‘Yahweh’.

56. Mary

The worldly mother
Of Jesus who fostered Him
Till His death of Cross.

57. Ten Commandments

The law for the Jews
Carved on the stone, and rendered
Through Moses for them.

58. David’s sling

God’s Power hidden,
“Gainst the evil Goliath,
A sign of victory.



59. The Great Flood

The Lord’s Great wrath ‘gainst sins,,
The fair judgment of the Lord
For a new era.

60. Noah’s Ark

God’s Shelter on earth,
A prototype of Jesus
Christ for salvation.

61. Pillar of Salt

Symbol of man’s greed,
Lot’s wife, the victim of greed,
Wrath of human sin.

62. Plagues of Egypt

Curses of the Lord
Upon the sins of Israel,
Lesson to the world.

63. Solomon’s Wisdom

Incomparable
Gift of God to Solomon,
And none on earth has.

64. Psalms

Heartfelt songs to God,
Joy and distressed flow from heart,
Musical prayers.

65. Ecclesiastes

Truth of Vanities,
Preaching the short span of life,
And to fear the Lord.

66. Proverbs

Wise sayings of God,
Hidden truth of life in short,
All quotable quotes

67. Genesis

In the beginning,
Record of God’s creation
And of great nations.



68. Exodus

Israelites’ freedom
From slavery in Egypt;
The book of journey.

69. Leviticus

Book on rituals,
Traditions and practices
Led to the altar.

70. Numbers

The culmination
Of the life of Israelites’
Flight from the *******.

71. Deuteronomy

Drifting of Israel
In wilderness forty years,
And of Moses’ death.

72. Joshua

Conquest of Canaan,
Campaigns of the Israelites,
Forming of twelve tribes.

73. Judges

Unfaithful Israel
Fallen into punishment,
Cycle of sins ran.

74. Ruth

Ruth accepting God,
Israelites as her own folks,
Liturgical book.


75. I & II Samuel

Forming theology,
God’s Law given through prophets,
Based on Jewish life.

76. I & II Kings

History of Israel
From the death of King David
To Jehoiachin’s aid.


77. I & II Chronicles

Genealogy
From Adam. A narrative
Till Cyrus the Great.

78. Ezra

The first arrival
Of exiles during Cyrus,
About unique Jews.

79. Nehemiah

Firmness to restore
Jerusalem. Appointed
Judah’s Governor.

80. Esther

The queen of Persia;
Upset of the genocide
Of her own people.

81. Job

The vindication
Of God’s justice for man’s woes,
A theology.

82. Song of Solomon

Celebrating
****** love and enjoyment;
****** passion.

83. Isaiah

Jerusalem be
The centre of worldwide rule
By the Messiah.

84. Jeremiah

Message to the Jews
In exile in Babylon,
For their idol gods.

85. Lamentations

Grief o’er the city’s
Desertion; return to God,
A funeral dirge.



86. Ezekiel

Visions on three themes:
Judgment on Israel; nations,
Blessings for Israel.

87. Daniel

End time portrayal,
Visions and message of God
That He is just God.

88. Hosea

Slur at idol gods,
A metaphorical note:
Israel’s faithlessness.

89. Joel

Great Lamentations
Over locust plague and drought,
Call for repentance.

90. Amos

A short oracle
Announcing God’s great judgment,
Disgrace of great crimes.

91. Sin

The passage to death,
The arch enemy of God,
In various forms.  

92. Judas’ Betrayal

It is Judas’ Kiss,
God’s plan destined for Christ’s death,
Closeness defeated.

93. Peter’s Denial

Human fear of man,
Mortal bond ‘gainst Jesus’ Way,
Winning cowardice.

94. I AM

The Name of Lord God,
The Everlasting Father,
Holiness in Christ.



95. Grace

The unmerited
Divine aid to human life
For their saintly life.  

96. Mercy

The compassionate
Forbearance shown to the crooks
For their repentance.

97. Gratitude

Of being thankful;
Readiness to love others,
A virtuous act.

98. Repentance

Sorry for one’s crimes,
The divine change from one’s sins,
Pow’r of salvation.

99. Patience

The power of courage,
Tolerance of incitement
With no annoyance.

100. Truth

The Lord Jesus Christ,
The Way to Eternity,
Christ’s Second Coming.

101. Obadiah

An oracle of
Edom’s divine judgment note,
Restore of Israel.

102. Jonah

Swallowed by a fish,
Drifted from God’s commandment,
And then repented.

103. Micah

Jerusalem’s ruin
Predicted; Judah rebuked
For its idol gods.



104. Nahum

Assyrian’s end
Predicted, and Nineveh,
Poetical style.

105. Habakkuk

Five oracles of
Chaldeans rise to power,
Might be a Levi.

106. Zephaniah

Warnings of the Day
Of the Lord with His Judgment
Upon the sinful.


107. Haggai

Rebuilding temple
Greatly to strike poverty
In Jerusalem.

108. Malachi

Of second return
Of prophet Nehemiah
From Persia long time.

109. Mark

Of Jesus’ mission,
Sketch of Christ as a Hero,
A Gospel writer.

110. Luke

An Evangelist;
Doctor who wrote the Gospel,
Might have written Acts.

111. John

Disciple Christ loved,
Revealed Christ, the Word of God,
And Jesus’ mystery.

112. Acts

Birth of Christian Church,
Christ for the Gentiles also,
Luke might be author.


113. Romans

Pauline Epistle
Of salvation through Gospel,
The Church growth in Rome.

114. I & II Corinthians

Rebuking Corinth
Of their infamous life-style,
Paul, a firm preacher.

115. Galatians

The controversy
With the gentiles o’er Moses’
Law for salvation.

116. Ephesians

Keeping Christ’s Body
Pure and holy –that’s the theme,
Paul’s fervent preaching.

117. Philippians

‘Thank You’ note from Paul,
Epaphroditus’ fortunes,
Canonical note.

118. Colossians

Christ’s supremacy
Over the whole universe,
Godly life to lead.

119. I & II Thessalonians

Firm preaching of Christ,
Salvation only in Christ,
All must be redeemed.

120. I & II Timothy

Leadership in Church,
Warnings against false doctrines,
The roles of women.

121. Titus

Unruly false teachers,
Who led people towards death,
A scathing attack.



122. Philemon

Self-designation
As a prisoner of Jesus,
Prayerful request.

123. Hebrews

Christ, the Radiance of God’s
Glory; the Express Image,
Upholding all things.

124. James

Patience in trials,
Christians to overcome sins,
Consistent in Christ.

125. I & II Peter

Steadfastness in faith,
Christian virtues exalted,
False teachers condemned.

126. I, II & III John

Fellowship with God,
Not to lose learnt of Jesus,
Hospitality.

127. Jude

Quotes from the ancient,
Admonishes all to live
In Christ forever.

128. Revelation

Obscure images,
Spiritual images,
Symbolic fable.

129. The star from the East

Christ for the Gentiles,
Salvation for everyone,
The world needs a guide.

130. The Magi

Christ, the King of kings,
All shall bow before the Christ,
The Greatest Ruler.



131. The shepherds

God shall not forget
Even the common people,
Pastoral image.

132. The Manger

Christ’s humility,
A virtue of a leader,
Proven example.

133. Mary and Joseph

The Lord’s chosen womb,
And the chosen guardian
Of the Divine Babe.

134. Scourges upon Christ

Sins of the mankind,
The obedience of man
To satanic law.

135. Crown of Thorns

Pleasures of the world
At the cost of Divine Love,
Unholy worship.

136. Crucifixion

The old law been sealed,
The Law of Love to open,
The sin on the Cross.

137. “Why hast Thee forsaken Me?”

Sin separated
Man from God. Great agony
Without holy God.

138. The Garden of Gethsemane

A communion
Betwixt Christ and the Father,
Blood of agony.

139. Miracles of Jesus Christ

The Power of God
Manifested upon Christ
That the world knows HIM>



140. The Early Days of Jesus

A preparation
For the Divine Ministry
That man follows HIM.

141. Jesus’ First Coming

The Way born for man
Unto God the Eternal,
Of Mercy and Love.

142. Christ’s Second Coming

End of human life,
Christ the Judge to curse sinners,
Steadfast in HIS Plan.

143. Jesus’ Resurrection

Death has lost its sting,
The arch foe of God defeated,
Mankind begets Hope.

144. The Pentecost

The Spirit of God
Descended upon people
To proclaim the Word.

145. Atheist

The terrible phase
Of mankind which rejects God,
Shrouded with darkness.

146. Disbelief in Christ

Shrouded with glamour,
Lover of Death forever,
Sipping sweet poison.

147. Idol Worship

Brutal devotion,
Acrobatic somersaults,
Towards the Chasm.

148. Temptation

Sugar-coated trap,
Poison in enticing fruit,
A sweet hug to fall.



149. A soul between good and evil

Between Life and Death,
Walking on a strip of thread,
A sword on one’s throat.

150. Satan

Fallen Lucifer
With unseemly countenance
Wolfing human souls.

151. Heaven

God’s Abode ever,
Ineffable Glory reigns,
Joyous Light dwelleth.

152. Hell

The pit of Satan,
Agonizing gnashing teeth,
The endless darkness.

153. Judas’ Kiss

Outright betrayal,
Unrepentant self-collapse,
Thirty silver bits.

154. Sermon on the Mount

Beatitudes of life,
Truth preached with figures of speech,
The Voice of the Lord.

155. Eternity

The timeless journey,
No halts; no breaks; no fatigue,
Existence ever.
Dae Staebell Feb 2017
I fell in head over heels in love on two occasions and never again after. The wiser me part of me probably wouldn't call it love. He probably call a fickle and fleeting naive infatuation. The other part of me, the one that hasn't been completely drowned in sorrow and spite, stays ever the romantic. I remember the first time. The memory of it leaves a bitter taste in mouth, like a mouthful of copper pennies. It's almost not worth mentioning except that she shattered my innocent heart. The pain of love is a funny thing. It is like intentionally putting your hand over a scorching flame and then retreating back in shock because such an action actually hurt like somehow we, as kids, thought it wouldn't. Upon the heartbreak what anyone feels immediately is the sense of betrayal. It's ironic how that goes hand in hand with love. Romantic tragedy. To trust a love so passionately, so deeply, then to look down at your chest a find a point of a stiletto driven through it by someone you never thought could have the courage to do so. That small little sinister muse. I guess I should thank her really because without her I wouldn't have began to write as I do now. A lot of previous readers of my works will realize there's quite a few recurring themes: death, despair, betrayal, things we lock in the deepest corners of ourselves and throw away the key. Now the second time is truly the most grand, the most vulnerable, the most upsetting. See, I met this raven haired girl. God was she truly beautiful. Mesmerizing as it were.  She is often the subject in some of my poems. Sometimes as aptly refer to her as the raven hair girl and other times she's the sole woman in my works. She was truly a muse for me. It was as if I was staring a mirror image of me. Our common interests lined up like constellations. We were attracted to the darker things in life. Enjoying black humor, tv shows, you name. We even shared the same favorite work: Edgar Allan Poe's Dream-Land. That's where I drew her in and she me. I never wrote anything before to anyone until her. I gifted her a poem you see, she has it framed and on her night stand. I do not know if it is still there but I imagine it is. Nothing can move a person more than words and I guess I'm a bit more old fashion than most. The conversations we had went from dusk til dawn and so did the video chats. It was one of those occasions where you lost track of time, where your eyes start failing but you fear going to sleep because you don't know if it's all some fantasy you conjured up but then one day it just stopped. It was abrupt. No reason or rhyme. I say that but I'm sure there was a reason. I'm a simple man not an idiot. The day it happened I woke happier than most because it was finally a time where I thought she'd be the one. I was so sure of it. Oh how foolish I was. She disappeared, distanced herself, vanish like a ghost. Like a magic trick. An illusion. One moment I was in heaven, the next I'm falling from the sky like the Devil himself except there was nothing to stop me from falling. I ask myself what I could've done different and replay ever conversation over and over again in my head like some lunatic. I was always thinking there had to had to have been something wrong with me. The pain I felt, it stayed and is still here. Itching underneath my skin. It wasn't a physical pain you see but my body surely felt it. Draining and persistent. Almost like a parasite or leech even. She still haunts me but it is not a ghost I would soon part with because you see while im becoming madder by the hour it also inspires my madness. It is both damning and bliss. You see I am trapped in sort of a perpetual limbo, a limbo of...madness but I suppose we are all a bit mad here.
Themes running through me
pulsing beats only
I see,
can you hear them?
Is Zen
audible?

The vaudeville show starts at five,
the theatre's alive with the comics,
the sidekicks and
the stars of the show.

If I go will you come?
will you run through the night and
flash into the sun with me?
will you?

Themes running through me,
a haunting,
Excalibur and Arthur on a roundabout
table, in the stable, stands Trigger,
Roy is much bigger than me.

Voyages,
years in discovery
cover me,
only I see,
is Zen audible?
Emily A Grande Mar 2014
Preferred  are those conversations accompanied by cigarettes and splifs and misfits sitting where they knew they always should.

There comes a time when cleared minds realize conversations of personal problems and unified disfunction's exposed feels right. As though your ideas of crazy themes and wandering dreams are unified.

Listening to the good die young by billy Joel blasts as slow motions and hand gestures toss stories and emotions like cracking the binding of a books once judged by unpredictable covers.

I connect with people who's skin has sunken ink that tell stories people think need to stay forever by vibrating needles. Piercings on questionable parts like on noses that drip from other kinds of recreationals. that give bad impressions to those cliche stereotyped people. But if we're all the same species then how do you begin to distribute labels?

I believe there are certain people that smoke cigarettes. That need a release knowing risk that with each pack your buying death. But living larger then safe is easily the option that's best.

To fly free through roads just watching others live lives and in  split seconds build their story lines. Like that feeling of peoples first expressions when first meetings happen and the only conversations are those of eyes that frigidly glance back. When you realize everyone is there for same reason. But curiosity is the catalyst for judgement and we have all done that.

I believe there are layers to the soul. Not like designated  pieces and parts but one giant relation that we all hold. It's that common beating of trapped souls kept in that bone cage our chest mold. Each chest holds humanities most sacred vessel so how come so many people turn out damaged and evil when born starting with the same soul?

I'd like that think that our common bind is that we have the ability to breathe. And even when things get crazy and life gets messy and that ability to breathe starts to feel more like your starting to choke at least it's sign your still apart of this earth as a whole and not already six feet deep...

There's something beautiful in the fact your mind makes you who you are.. Or do you make up your mind? Are we all strung up like puppets being pulled on premeditated strings? Or are we morally free willed  where fate is created based off every individuals caged vessels desires and whatever subjective shoulders conscious ends up deciding.

It's funny to me that people have angelic and demonic whispers on opposite shoulders because I believe that they are one in the same. That in reality our conscious is one unified subjective subconscious who has free will to take a ride with the devil but if they chose to live a live of angelic routine the heart gets hurt and your heads to blame.

Because the heart wants what it does but the mind always knows what's best. But what if together they worked the same and the explanation for decisions being made, are based purely on happiness with consequential benefits determined by what's locked inside that bone cage.

When does choosing between what's right and what's easy ever stop giving beatings to the beating vessel a rest.

Because I have never seen them coincide for most instances there's always that contradicting choice. The one you know you've already chosen but if you want everyone to win you will have to personally sacrifice happinesses of the real meanings of life.

The ones that hurt the most but are so addictive they are mentally deadly to any head that's got a heart full of selfish wishes that claw to fulfilled within me.  

Regret is a funny concept because it can always be avoided, that intuition is real and if any instance of doubt or denial is present during, before, or after these ordeals,
you know your accepting the warm rush of blood make it's way home and suddenly your head turns numb and cold. And the only thing to do is uncage that spirit and let it go.

And these constant battles of war and peace have never in history coincided it seems. But what makes you the winner or the losing team? In reality it all doesn't matter in seems, because things happen and If you chose regret and if that's true happiness should anyone put there's souls intentions to rest?

Because hurting are those who believe they would  rather  let everyone else win because being themselves would ultimately hurt others.. And its conclusions like these, they say, you just cannot win. But I grew up when I realized life was really about how your pawn is played. And let's be honest,  Humans have always been the most dangerous game. And ultimately everyone wants to win in a way, but their victory prevents others from reaching their souls restless place.

So this circle of life is that of our species chosen shape. Which makes a lot of sense in minds bigger state.

And I guess that's cool because anyone could say, that we do live condensed on a circle floating in an infinite space, where its never ending and confusingly contradicting , kind of common to that comparison about humanity's constant levitation around mixed messages that mind and heart keep sending.

But in the end were all just spinning. Rotating on sanities axis and gravitationally pulled one way, because that's the way the stars aligned. And that seems quite similar to humanities battle of premeditated fate. So free wills just another excuse for regret shunned away?

But after your feet get planted back in the ground and your mind doesn't feel like it's spinning, that's when you know your true conscious is winning. And even if I there's regret as minds price to pay, let your heart benefit from not caring what decisions it's made.

And for once don't settle by locking it back away in its cage.

See ribs have have rows of entrapment like cell doors and windows but don't they say if god doesn't open up the door he will a window? I think your heart needs to only be able to see through what it can handle. And your mind only cages that soul of questioned decisions away, because it's the one that hurts in longevity and gets damaged with mental repercussions in your head that will always stay. And hearts vessels only know what they've seen through the cage. It will be bruised but like clockwork healing starts and familiar tempting feelings once again become craved.

And anxiety of memories are sent to the brain when the heart wants to start over and relies on its mind to be brave. And sometimes that deceivingly beautifully ****** devil, on your shoulder distributes desired deadly sins your mind is banned from letting it's sweet heart discover.

Which is when it knows it's time to come back down from that beautiful risky heart thumping heaven and evaluate  the damage you have done. And so now I see why hearts and minds don't get along. They desire each others abilities of their methods to stay strong...
.Emily A. Grande
Carmelo Antone Jan 2013
Shotgun shells sound like church bells when you’re aiming to heal,
No longer concealing something you hostler with a smile,
When you see the eyes of those you despise,
Those that have taken too much life to embrace the precious present of perception,

Revenge runs like a river Mosses could never part,
Tumultuously pulsating my persistence,
To fit the final piece,
To solve the puzzle without your presence,

Culture cultivated conflicts,
Decades of decadence,
Helms of disillusionments,
Steering us towards a powder-keg revelation,

A man of peace is still a militant in the wake of Diablo’s dissidence,
There is no such thing of justified killings,
Only ending life for economic stability,
Can’t ******* me when your ethics are themes of fables,

Not trying to incite fear, just sharing the truths of this rough reality,
The intolerance tolerated by so many ignorant maggots,

Not saying we are a lost cause but if you are keeping your mouth shut you’re just a bystander while the vagrants harvest the infection,

So many hurdles to split but so many who can overcome a conflict of greedy governance,
To many tyrants to topple when they trickle down table scraps,
Why do you think so many of us stay strapped?

Unity will be the divinity of the 21st Century,
So come and askew the ancestral atrocity,
It is ours and it is time to mend what went wrong,

For years your parent’s have allowed the intolerance to thrive,
And I don’t plan on dying without continuing the strive to question those that came before me,
Never forget our Nation’s success thus far found a foundation on the broken backs of Africans,
Never forget economics ignited the 1776 resistance,
And the Civil War only highlighted the plague of intolerance,

For generations we’ve been jaded by the justification of covering the cracks of a indentured foundation with mortar laid by the enslaved,

Censored, questioned, and indoctrinated because gramps likes his traditions,
Nothing but renditions of racist propositions to steal land from Native Americans
Nothing but blissful ******* to forget the fact that this was the land of the free, with some restrictions,
Some historically cited situations,

Guilt is something that their conscience can suppress,
When the money is present,
When wealth has no limits, at the sake of the impoverished,
Greed is just the first pest we must end.

Yet there are so many faults to overcome,
And seven billion should be enough,

Personally united because of our right to explore humanity,
Peacefully.
Fay Slimm Sep 2016
Poets Like Me..

Suspended at portals of rigid
and well-defined
thought reclines most whimsy,
which poets like me
welcome and use to un-stick
rusted up vision.
Freeing the mind we care not
where reality ends.
Wonder notices even the tiny
and gasps at gross,
the newly dry gossamer wing
seen as fillagreed
diamonds with eyesight, night
versed with ghostly
metaphor, the tides as emotion.
Humanized nature
allures the inventive in scribes
bent on perception
where real meets make-believe.
Awe, understood
as a lever appeals to romantics
like me addicted
to all ethereal's seducing fancy.
Idealized love
presents realms of impassioned
expression, themes,
versing spirit personified holds
complusion, creative
vision awakens to other worlds
where, finally winning
utopia becomes no mere illusion.
What feels real merges
and mixes with linguistic flights
of beguiling imagery.
Life through the eyes of all poets
like me changes
at will from the galling mundane
to that which excites
inspiration for evocative writing.
Joel M Frye May 2017
Because recycled
themes keep showing up, guess
I'm a green poet.

— The End —