" P O E T R Y "

"Moreover, something is, or seems, That touches me with mystic gleams, Like glimpses of forgotten dreams..... Of something felt, like something here; Of something done, I know not where; Such as no language may declare Tennyson Give me wine.... Bachus, But not the wine that has known the belly of the grape.

The word was whispered through the ranks, And each hero seized his lance,  The word was whispered through the ranks, Advance! We play at paste Till qualified for pearl; Then drop the paste And deem ourself a fool. The shapes, though, were similar And our new hands Learned gem-tactics, Practicing sands. Emily Dickinson

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And reverie. The reverie alone will do, If bees are few. Emily Dickinson That flies and grows hot with going, And fires which it had not, finds, amid the clouds. Unless above himself, he can.....Erect himself; What Purpose Man ?

The lyric poet may drink wine and live generously, but the epic poet, he who shall sing of the gods, and their descent unto men, must drink water out of a wooden bowl.

"Me and mine." There is no "me", There is no "mine", A seeming " Thee ", perhaps a seeming " Thine." But Absolutely !  Positively ! There is no "me", There is no "mine". Learned men, Sages, Saints, The Mystic, the Guru, the same picture they paint. In words so confusing, in verse and rhyme, They tell the same story, One..at a time. There is no "me", There is no "mine". With logic, and reason, and common sense, I pondered this mystery, this riddle, This phrase with the perfect defense. How could it be ?  I don't understand; But the Truth lay sleeping, in these words so benign; There is no "me", There is no "mine". I struggled hard, I fought a good fight, I wrestled for days, and I wrestled for nights. In utter frustration, with the end not in sight; Still these words came softly, from out the Divine; There is no "me", There is no "mine". There must be an answer, there had to be, But with the wrong kind of eye, I was trying to see. With preconceived notions, and concepts so fine, Blinded by ignorance, by habit entwined; To open this paradox, these words underline; There is no "me", There is no "mine". The echo of the answer, just a glint, that was all, All that was needed, my mind to enthrall, Wonder of wonders, the problem was solved ! The " problem " was mine..... There is no " mine "..... No " mine ", no " problem ", But there's far more to see, For I had it all backwards !  How blind could I be ! Where there is no " mine," There is also no " me ". Geo Wain

"Yet a little while." I feel a rage within my breast, silent, immense, powerful; An all consuming rage. For I have been deceived, and for that, someone must pay ! Deceived completely, tricked, hoodwinked, Used, blindfolded and abandoned; Usurped, and totally so. Who is this fellow ? that did such a thing to me. What is his name ? and where does he live ? I will hunt him out, I will find him. Him the deceiver ! I will hunt him down like a dog, I will slay him; With no mercy and no quarter; It deserves to be so; It is only just, it is only right.  I am he, I am the one. But someone cast a Light, out-reaching and down, Not instant Light, not sudden Light, But a powerful Light, brighter than the sun. And slowly, surely, gradually, that Light did dawn. I must thank this person, my champion, my friend; Him I congratulate, and to him I owe a great debt. My gratitude is overwhelming. Who is this fellow ? that did such a thing for me. What is his name, and where does he live. I am he, I am the one. I am the deceived, and I am the deceiver. I am the Liberated, and I am the Liberator. But I have not yet found Him, what strange mystery is this ? Him that I know so well ! Him that I don't know at all ! More than that, Him that can not be ' known '. Yet a little while...... and the Light will shine. For I have caught the scent of that all elusive fox; The hound is loose ! run fox run ! But to no avail . There is no place to hide, there is no place to turn. For I know your haunts, and I know your den ! I know even your thoughts, your weakness and your strength, And also your habits, your breadth and your length. Yes I know you fox ! and I know you well ! I know you by sight, and by sound, and by smell ! And I have you now, as it were, Right in the very palm of my hand. I admire you fox, 'twas a merry chase, you led me upon; But this game is over; Yet a little while, and this hunt is done ! For I am the fox, and I am the hound, The hunter and the hunted, and the scent in between. Yet a little while..... And the One...will be found. Geo Wain

The poet must be continually watching the moods of his mind, as the astronomer watches the aspects of theheavens. The poet is a man who lives at last by watching his moods.  An old poet comes at last to watch his moods as narrowly as a cat does a mouse.

Felt dimly in the soul, by world-man unconceived; Unknown Goal of all yearning; The Eternal Beloved, veiled in the objects of human desire; Balancing the emptiness of living death, With values beyond conceiving. The Goal of all searching, little understood, By few yet attained, though free for all. Sought afar, but never found, For closer It lies than all possession; Closer than home, country or race, Closer than friend, companion or Guide, Closer than body, feeling or thought, For closest of all It lies, Thine own true SELF. Franklin Merrell-Wolff Seek and ye shall find....That; It cannot be found by searching.... but: Only searchers find it !

Die while you are alive, And be completely dead. Bunan For I have felt the Sway, of the elephant's shoulder; And now you want me climb on a jackass ? Please be serious. Mirabai "Could we but think with the same intensity We love with, we might do great things, I think." I have just three things to teach, Simplicity, Patience, and Compassion. These three are your greatest treasures. Lao Tzu I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. ~ Robert Frost "I was as a gem concealed; Me, my burning ray revealed" Koran.

In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

I am certain of nothing but of the holiness of the heart’s affections, and the truth of the Imagination. Keats.

Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all. Emily Dickinson.

Poetry Page 3

Bookmark this page and visit again.

Have a 'Fresh Thought' e-mailed to you every day. Simply send me an e-mail with 'subscribe' in the subject line.

E-MAIL: gwain@wightman.net

adversity	beauty	dreams	evil	fate	growth	humility
influences	intuition	love	mind	moksha	muse	nature
poetry	poverty	reading	realms	religion	semantics	senses
sex	society	solitude	stillness	teachers	virtue	vista