Sagacious words

Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary. ~ Khalil Gibran

Sunday, 26 August 2012

Clear Minutes

Nothing left standing in the way except the right to be wrong,
Nothing left but the right, to be able to write and sing a song,
The notions of belief, in seas of disbelief,
Give credence to hope and the forfeits that come with age
And all that it bestows, showing life in different lights
For many are the minds that refuse to work within walls of hate.
And the kindness of people delivers a lesser density of travesty,
Sometimes the assaults on the living, are softened by gestures
Of warmth, shown in the care found in clear minutes of intuition,
Which give perception to the illusions of the contradictory life.


Saturday, 25 August 2012

Ralph Waldo Emerson: The World-Soul

An Excerpt:

...The politics are base,
The letters do not cheer,
And ’tis far in the deeps of history –
The voice that speaketh clear.
Trade and the streets ensnare us,
Our bodies are weak and worn,
We plot and corrupt each other,
And we despoil the unborn.

Yet there in the parlor sits
Some figure of noble guise,
Our angel in a stranger’s form,
Or woman’s pleading eyes;
Or only a flashing sunbeam
In at the window pane;
Or music pours on mortals
Its beautiful disdain....

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Friday, 24 August 2012

An Imperial Elegy

Not one corner of a foreign field
But a span as wide as Europe;
An appearance of a titan's grave,
And the length thereof a thousand miles,
It crossed all Europe like a mystic road,
Or as the Spirits' Pathway lieth on the night.
And I heard a voice crying
This is the Path of Glory.

   ~ Wilfred Owen

Friday, 17 August 2012


Hatred comes hidden like a thief
Stealing hope from the heart,
In moments of extreme emotion
That overtake sane inclinations-
In the world of human intricacies,
The world is a phase of expectations.

J. Bibi

Inner Calm

The cuts of a chilly breeze,
Awaken the sleeping mind;
Like the heart that steels itself,
Against screeching bouts of pain,

In the weirdness of all new ways,
The frozen mind makes a space,
Inside of every memory blinded,

In effect, the place becomes
A new ascension of the soul-
As the heart grows wings;
In the cold comfort of now,

It picks up on the growing serenity
And gives in, to an obscure patience
Which from the dawn of all living;

Grows away upwards,
Towards higher ground,
To be inside healing smiles
And on top of calm clouds.


On Children - Khalil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Tao Te Ching - Lao Tzu

....If its deep mystery we would sound;

But if desire always within us be,

Its outer fringe is all that we shall see.

Under these two aspects, it is really the same;

but as development takes place, it receives the different names.

Together we call them the Mystery.

Where the Mystery is the deepest is the gate of all that
is subtle and wonderful.

~ Tao Te Ching - Lao Tzu

Tuesday, 14 August 2012


The soul that does not die,
When confronted by destruction-
Is the spirit that knows how to fly,

The morning always follows the night-
Amidst hopes which don't hide from realities;
The slippery road teaches how to walk upright.

And the dream-fields promise new life,
As the struggles of self against the world continue;
The  mission to accomplish control over strife.


Monday, 13 August 2012

William Shakespeare

But wherefore do not you a mightier way

But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify yourself in your decay
With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens yet unset
With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair,
Which this, Time’s pencil, or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,
Can make you live yourself in eyes of men.
To give away yourself keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill. ~ William Shakespeare

Wednesday, 8 August 2012


In the midst of living and dying
There is the cursing and crying
Laughter covers every wound
From the broken cries of shame
To the temporary highs of gain
Let the lightness of every move
Deny not the pastures of wonder
And bar none the music of heart
For as the wars of world are done
Let survivors kick start beginnings
In the midst of living and dying,
There are always shades of the sun
As the pursuit of human perfection
Makes the misery drag down validation
Gently, for every action of raw depression
Let rhythms of human progression
Speed forwards with a kind intention.


Monday, 6 August 2012

The kindness of the clouds

The rain is a gentle kindness of the clouds,
It gives a cooling respite to burning bones-
It improves on dusty environments of old
And creates forests and fields for new life:
Just as healed remnants of a heart burned-
Are moulded slowly into pieces of gold-
As tenacity found in the aftermath of storms;
Within sands of loss and inside the plains of time.


Broken trust

So the greasy path is betrayed
And with treacherous certainty-
The imminent end is fully displayed

As scavenging hyenas circle with cowardly lust
And growing tornadoes begin to ravage destruction-
Compelled by the furious aftermath of broken trust-

The savage winds of derision claim ground
And the interfering blades of self doubt cut clear-
Diminishing the fresh glow of power new-found.

As the mountains grow ominously bigger-
Through the forests of regret and pain
And towards redemption the heart staggers.

The fruits blossom on the branches of the tree
Of nurtured wisdom and understanding-
The tastes of which enable, the enslaved to feel free.


Colours True

The quest for freedom
Brings in colours true;
The fools sing notes of brightness-
As the wasteland diminishes-
And the sum of misery grows;
As the infrequent bouts of wealth-
The fortunes of the lost-
Grow into fantastical monuments,
Of survival instincts.


Thursday, 2 August 2012


The wind caresses

Sweetly the wisps of hair,

The blue sky moves-


Rolling the clouds past-

As a conveyor belt of images.

Watching in unison,

As the rest of the world

Seems to slow down

Into a blurry slide show.

Scratching at the scars,

The scabs strong,

Reminders of the pain,

The need to be real,

The need to feel in control-

As environments of suffocation,


Into shapes of white fluff.


Wednesday, 1 August 2012

A Tranquility Ascending (The Last Breath)

The great and small make the mass,
The fighting for the peace should last.
Human contradictions which make whole-
the conflicting pain and ambitions of the soul.
Let the last breath sigh forgiveness and understanding
And the tortured mind give into a tranquility ascending-
The habits of life grow into chains that bind against truth-
Resist by nurturing the minds ability, to find paths of growth.