Poetry for Peace...welcoming the poets and prophets and those who write the wrongs.

I wish you the peace
of a tranquil river
meandering ever to the sea.....

Picking up waves of the full moon
Sand dune shadows swelling into power
Fulfilling it's hour as it smashes against the cliffs
And fades into the Mediterranean skies.

There are no goodbyes.

Clouds form
Bringing wealth to the Dutchmen in the African interior
Sail the trade pain carrier cargo along the Ivory coast
The voices of the ghost ships crying
Picking up speed with the lying voices of the past
Hurricane blast through the slavelands of the American south
Cry out with one mouth and bleed
Through the veins of a willing heart
When we depart
We'll take the Goldrush river
And find peace in forever.

I wish you the peace
of a tranquil river
meandering ever to the sea.....

Views: 100

Reply to This

Replies to This Discussion

An interesting poem, Krow. Very atmospheric. Reminds me of my first poem, "This is a day".

Here is my latest poem, writen about the conservative suburb I live in. It is sardonic and jocular:

Go and Seeketh the North Shore

Yea, go and seeketh the North Shore man.
He despiseth in Nature, save for his
Garden coveted, bricked and bow’d in trellis.
His wife clothe’d in a waiters black and white,
His sons astute in Ascott grey and navy,
His daughters fare, in Charles Blackman a-lines,
All stockings, manners and results,
His childe clean, kept from germs, dogs and
Other things to cause a ripple in his humours.
E’en his parents are well meant to a fault,
Just so long as excitement is narry invited.
His car is like a tank or dray from Hadies,
Pumice or at best puce on the outside,
All fire and brimstone in the belly,
Woe betide an earth that stands in the beast’s way.

For, God is to believe in and horse to eat.
O Behold! He prefereth his television flat
And his world flatter.

Yea, go and seeketh the North Shore man,
When it is the Sabbath or a second past ten,
Or the day that Christ took kip,
The cleansing alehouse shall vanish like a TARDIS.
In the spring, he is miserable,
In the summer he is invisible,
In the autumn he is in absentia,
In the winter he is dead.
In the night he must thinketh only of his finance.
In the morning he must articulate his maximus,
In the day he is like oak trees in the Antipodeans.

For, God is to believe in and horse to eat.
O Behold! He prefereth his television flat
And his world flatter.

Yea, go and seeketh the North Shore man,
And leave us with this aerodynamic desk-set,
For we are sick of life and all
He has created in this, the temple of Centra,
Where all can be brought but delight to souls,
Yet none can see it.
Patrick Hromas,
Child of Equus
20/8/08
Glad to see other poets for peace here. Yes the basis for unrest exists even in the suburbs. Seeds of war are everywhere, and will take all of us in unison, weeding them out of this Edens garden. thanks for your addition here. Very nicely done.

Dark clouds gather
where Nostradamus principals
spin the axis of time.
There is no tomorrow here
where nightmares co-exist
in the power plays
of the unfortunates,
only fate
spun out in yard-lengths
of misery
and hopelessness
woven in shades of gray
and gossamer.
Fairytales
told to us
to keep us still
and unknowing,
distractions,
distortions
self medicated with shopping malls
and fantasy
we obey.

Armageddon,
we await your rescue.

Purge us of persecution
and prison cells
and the bathroom stalls of factory lifetimes,
save us from boredom and mediocrity
show us that there is something bigger
than they....are.
Save us from what we have made of ourselves.

Implosion of ideals
re-seeding the universe
in the springtime of existence.
Maybe I should also title it political rants........

We are led around by the bull
ring around who knows
I suppose we could blame the government
and the sparring tournament
we call elections.
But who set the directions?
Every time we allowed a voice to override our say
Every time we held back an opinion because there may
be a fundamentalist idealist in the crowd
we have allowed
minority control. It's a hypocrisy
of democracy.
How many have hidden their understanding
in the face of status quo demanding
that we all follow their ancient script?
Are we so ill equipped
to stand up and be counted as a member of the human race?
Is it all about saving face
and fitting in
when will we begin
to accept our birthright, restore
our position as all children of the Creator?
Do unto others twisted into a diatribe
of follow my leader, never mind the bribe
that got him there.
All too few care
or feel they have any power or say
"waitin' for the world to change" some day
perhaps as the old elite die off
and their descendants fly off
in lear jets to Mars
we can begin to heal the collective scars
and the imprints of slavery and fear
We could then begin to clear
the debris of five thousand years of colonization
and finally understand we are all one nation
all our relations.
Following the lines of war, we go back so far......

We are part of a tapestry of many generations
Woven threads of the DNA of so many nations
Brought together as one.
There is work to be done.
Residential schools and wartime.
Refugee camps and rising crime
Getto distinction
Language extinction
And deliverance
Makes no difference where the wounds were made
or when,
women have been passing them on for generation
after generation
after generation.

If we’re ready to leap, and we are.
We do follow our own star
Wherever we are
In the universe.
We must converse.
We can choose what lines to leave behind
And what lines to bind us.
Woven through the histories
Where only love can find us.
Threads of addiction lets leave behind,
We all must make our choices
Do we hold for ourselves our very best
Or do we yield to destructive voices?
Lets leave behind the bigotry
Towards souls of a different sway
Pluck the threads of hypocrisy
Bring our differences out to play.
Lets leave behind the stereotypes
Unless that persona suits you just fine.
The ever increasing telepathy
Will prevent any more of the lying.
But we must each tie off the threads we hold
That we don’t want in a better world way.
By healing the sins of our ancestors
We change the course of the day.
Maybe this is why we choose the Mothers
That carry some damn twisted thread.
We each must separate wheat from the chaff
With forgiveness and compassion instead.
It unravels so very far back in time
If you follow it past your perceptions
The stamp of ancestral experience is thine
If you can overcome life’s self deceptions.
Tie off the lines that you will not let through
Let them stay behind as warning
Illuminate the world of the future
with understandings gleaned through the mourning.
Remember the weavers, the healers, the muse
The women who plant and harvest by moon
Men work by their sides with love and respect
Till the conquerors came set spell in the rune.
Everything changed and we all lost our way
Separation set in and we sputtered in rage
As we tossed back and forth between shame and blame
We called to the stars for a mystic or mage
Many have come to reach us to dare
To love ourselves enough to operate where
A different frequency may find us aware
Enough to hear it, and begin to care.
But with all those DNA threads vibrating pain
And all the swallowed guilt and shame
It’s kinda hard to hear their songs
Or even remember their name.
So this generation is to tie them off
And understand how they twisted that way
To forgive and to heal to a far greater soul
Than has ever had the great grace to stay.
For it will take such confidence and belief in oneself
To bring this planet back to health
Where dedication and pureness of intent
Will have much more impact than great wealth.
Yor probably know there is a group for Peace Poetry here on ipeace...you are very welcome to put poems there as well....

An Open Hand

Here is my open hand
please take my only gift,
I have nothing to give
but my loyalty and love.

I am poor and simple
I have no gold to give
but here is my heart
within this open hand.

Clasp my hand please
and share friendship now,
we will be so much stronger
helping each other together.

By David Gould © 18th August 2008
Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
by Paramhansa Yogananda

Demand that God's Light drive dark Ignorance away.

O, Divine Friend, if the darkness of my ignorance be as old as the world, still make me realize that with the dawn of Thy light, the darkness will vanish as though it had never been.
I found the poetry place, thanks!
And thanks for the prayer.
I am ranting still, I know.... it is how I stay sane sometimes while watching the politricks unfold on both sides of the great divide. I think I need to stay away from the speeches for a few days.

patience is slightly eroded
and I have been goaded
into a rant.
Ooooh I can't
stop myself.
Arrogant Children of frontal lobe disconnect
cannot feel past your intellect
thanks for saving you our water?
While you lead to the slaughter
the men and women of ancient rite
test your might
on the unfree world
logic unfurled
in doublethink mentality
erasing the totality
of existence.
Your ignorant insistence
that your way is right and smart
build another sweat shop wallmart
while the ceo's of lockheed
have a pressing need
to piss themselves.
Missile shelves
go off with streetbomb precision
and every decision
is money making for someone high
on the hog. Why
do we so blindly go along
when we know, it is so very wrong.
I cannot watch the news without being aware
and it hurts so much to care
Georgies state inundate
Come on in the waters great!
Little warm for this time 'o year
never mind, have a beer
Global warming ain't real
but these hurricanes have a nasty feel
Loose the eagle from it's tether
must be terrorist affecting the weather
whether or not there is proof
time for another spoof
give the impression
that there is no recession
and the millions of homeless are just lazy
things can get a little hazy
unless you tell us what to think
the new world order really does stink.
Ya, take our water
and use our kids for cannon fodder.
I'm done with that reality spewed
Time for this Earth to be renewed.
K, I am trying to post some peaceful ones too. counter-balance.

Sun dappled shadows
Reflecting spirit’s form
Moss covered standing stones
From afternoon still warm
The kings and queens of yesterday
Yet hold the evensong
Prayers for peace prosperity
A right for every wrong
With every war that has been fought
Upon these sacred grounds
Run fast the blood of future lives
And yet the drum deep sounds
Calling soul to hold a place
Upon the earth still fair
Stay the sword for truce by might
Lends your grace to bear
A heart that bleeds for all life held
Within the hands of fate
Behold the truth where patterns meld
And time she runs too late
The past and future meet as one
Where power thickens still
And stately folk are seen at night
Still gathered on high hill.
Landscape shaped raw
By winds
Blowing prayer flags
Sacrificing peace
To the world below.
tye
dyes
markers of a lost cause
when a handful of people
actually believed that Peace had a chance
and that we all had something to do with it happening.
Die hards some of us
still waiting
to make it happen.
What's happening
man.


SAMADHI*

Vanished the veils of light and shade,
Lifted every vapor of sorrow,
Sailed away all dawns of fleeting joy,
Gone the dim sensory mirage.
Love, hate, health) disease, life, death,
Perished these false shadows on the screen of duality.
Waves of laughter, scyllas of sarcasm, melancholic whirlpools,
Melting in the vast sea of bliss.
The storm of maya stilled
By magic wand of intuition deep.
The universe, forgotten dream, subconsciously lurks,
Ready to invade my newly wakened memory divine.
I live without the cosmic shadow,
But it is not, bereft of me;
As the sea exists without the waves,
But they breathe not without the sea.
Dreams, wakings, states of deep turiya sleep,
Present, past, future, no more for me,
But ever-present, all-flowing I, I, everywhere.
Planets, stars, stardust, earth,
Volcanic bursts of doomsday cataclysms,
Creation's molding furnace,
Glaciers of silent x-rays, burning electron floods,
Thoughts of all men, past, present, to come,
Every blade of grass, myself, mankind,
Each particle of universal dust,
Anger, greed, good, bad, salvation, lust,
I swallowed, transmuted all
Into a vast ocean of blood of my own one Being!
Smoldering joy, oft-puffed by meditation
Blinding my tearful eyes,
Burst into immortal flames of bliss,
Consumed my tears, my frame, my all.
Thou art I, I am Thou,
Knowing, Knower, Known, as One!
Tranquilled, unbroken thrill, eternally living, ever new peace!
Enjoyable beyond imagination of expectancy, samadhi bliss!
Not a mental chloroform
Or unconscious state without wilful return,
Samadhi but extends my conscious realm
Beyond the limits of the mortal frame
To farthest boundary of eternity
Where I, the Cosmic Sea,
Watch the little ego floating in me.
The sparrow, each grain of sand, fall not without my sight.
All space like an iceberg floats within my mental sea.
Colossal Container, I, of all things made.
By deeper, longer, thirsty, guru-given meditation
Comes this celestial samadhi
Mobile murmurs of atoms are heard,
The dark earth, mountains, vales, lo! molten liquid!
Flowing seas change into vapors of nebulae!
Aum blows upon the vapors, opening wondrously their veils,
Oceans stand revealed, shining electrons,
Till, at last sound of the cosmic drum,
Vanish the grosser lights into eternal rays
Of all-pervading bliss.
From joy I came, for joy I live, in sacred joy I melt.
Ocean of mind, I drink all creation's waves.
Four veils of solid, liquid, vapor, light,
Lift aright.
Myself, in everything, enters the Great Myself.
Gone forever, fitful, flickering shadows of mortal memory.
Spotless is my mental sky, below, ahead, and high above.
Eternity and I, one united ray.
A tiny bubble of laughter, I
Am become the Sea of Mirth Itself.

Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
1949 Edition

by Paramhansa Yogananda
Really beautiful. Thank you for posting it, and remembering to cite the author. I

RSS

© 2020   Created by David Califa. Managed by Eyal Raviv.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service