Quotes about palm, page 3
I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU (Isaiah 49: 14-16)
I will never forget you,
My people
I have carved you
on the palm of My hand
I will never forget you
I will not leave you orphan
I will never forget My own
Does a mother forget her baby,
or a woman the child
within her womb?
Yet even if these forget,
yes even if these forget,
I will never forget My own
I will never forget you,
My people
I have carved you
on the palm of My hand
I will never forget you
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poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Feeling You In Palms.....
In the deep REALM of loneliness
and desert of silence
unseen and unsaid things
merge with each other
where silence is thirsty of happenings
thirsty of noise of creation
thirsty of itself
creating EXUBERANT canvas of moments
your powerful thoughts
appears in cloves of my soul
I try to hold your feelings in my palm
as if the palm is the complete LOVE to beloved one..
and every line of palms
every moment of palms…
even every silenced voice of palm
making me thrill for a moment
where i find
nails engraving YOUR name
Finally a forced- reminder
TO FULFIL THE LONGING
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poem by Seema Gupta
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A Farmer of Stars
I scoop the stars
Into my palm
In waters gathered from the storm
Each star
a world
Slipping slowly from my palm.
I wander
With the receding star
See the light
From afar
I reflect on
The moving light
Of what just might have been
Dreams swept by that moment’s delight.
Loss, always loss
Of the star
That was never mine
Each
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poem by Baru Gobira
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The foolish servant reads the palm in his Master's absence
His psychological stress took him to a person who reads the palm and gives you a narrative gesture about your identity.
'Stretch your palm and what do you prefer
Past, Present or Future? '
'All'
'Yes, past is gone and it never comes,
Present still goes and you gain fifty fifty.
But you never save in your lifetime.
Future is nice but it hasn't come yet.
There will be some changes in your life and who knows?
You don't want to see a Palmist as you read yourself well.
Future is nice and nothing to be worried.'
Before he leaves the servant showed his palm and begged him to read something about his future.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The fallen Maple leaf in brown colour
We both are like dumbs
Isn't it?
I see the red ants around you
in a friendly manner
And the handsome poverty
tries to be friend with me.
You have no right to ask
Why the tree bring you down?
And I cannot grumble
Why can't I fly?
My palm and your gloomy face
Give much similarities,
Scattered lines here and there
But the wealth line has disappeared
On my palm a long time ago.
I remember once an old palm reader
Predicted in the broad day light
' This crooked line says that one day
You become a pilot or a road runner! '
The old man is right as I fly on & off
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poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Paco De Lucia In Guitar Strings
the guitar strings of paco de lucia
are not new to me
the sound of his spanish guitar
strumming on my mind
they were with me
in my childhood
with my friends
we get a smooth
long and strong
coconut palm
take it on top
of a hill
covered with green
carabao grass
and we ride
on the palm
slide it
on the hill
and
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The lord of Catchers-Can
In the isles of a gutter
in the dim-lit graveyard of a church
a man must walk forever
with a beggars bowl in hand
and succumb to all the weather
a man can understand.
(The lord of Catchers-Can
Is both a shepherd and a man
from a palm of dust he fathers the waters of the land.
And hails the wheat and barley to fall or stand…)
Into these storm drains of heaven
a dream was washed away
like the rains of yesterday.
A holy man sojourning for a little while came
and then was gone!
Where no earthly vanities belong…
And blessed us in one name!
In the light of the eternal flame!
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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0332 How were they to know?
Yes, how were they to know,
searching in the heat of forenoon dunes,
those high hills of sand
where once the forests grew,
now a rhythm of burnt sunned, cool shadowed, mock horizons,
- they, searching for the camel which had strayed -
and finding there, a man sitting still, cross-legged
in the sand upon a small strip
of faded coloured carpet,
palm of hand crossed in palm of hand,
and in the palm of his upraised right hand,
one grain of sand
and who, as they approached,
did not shift his gaze from that one grain;
and yet they sensed that he sensed them;
better let him be, he knows what he’s about,
or if he’s mad, at least he’s quietly purposeful…
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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On The Death Of Mr. Fox
The following iiliberal impromptu appeared in a morning papaer:
'Our nation's foes lament on Fox's death,
But bless the hour when PITT resign'd his breath:
These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue,
We give the palm where Justice points its due.'
To which the author of these pieces sent the following reply :
Oh factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth
Would mangle still the dead, perverting truth;
What though our 'nation's foes' lament the fate
With generous' feeling, of the good and great'
Shall dastard tongues essay to blast the name
Of him whose meed exists in endless fame?
When PITT expired in plenitude of power,
Though Ilisuccess obscured his dying hour,
Pity her dewy wings before him spread,
For noble spirits 'war not with the dead:'
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Whispering palm
Whispering the sound of joy, river of joy flowing from the heart The heart harbour all manner of things The heart harbour good things The heart harbour evil things as well The heart of man is desperately wicked who can know it The heart of man is desperately wicked that it does wickedness to his flesh and blood, despite the fact they say blood is thicker than water I am at a loss, how wickedness persist in the heart of man without letting go i say The palm is tightly fixed to arm as the palm tree leaf is droplet dew greenish speaking beauty love Even when i am asleep it keeps running like a flowing tap, endless love flowing running tap galore without removing my eyes for second The flowing love that flows like a running tap of water has become a rei
Occurring decimal in my heart If i sleep it comes as a flash It still comes as a flash when i am awake that servants could be riding on horses while princes walk on the ground like servants killing the morale of those watching afar with suprise If the clouds are full of rain they empty themselves upon the good, bad, and the ugly If men would have being God Almighty the whole earth would have being totally wiped out of existence but God is not man Truely even at that when the doors are shut in the strreets, and the sound of grinding is low; when one rises up at the sound of a bird it makes peace reign in the heart for a day to always remember is fun Do not curse the king, even in your thought, do not curse the rich even in your bedroom for a bird of the air may carry your voice and a bird in flight may tell the matter, who cares about that because my heart boils of hatred that is persisting in the land, where nothing seems to work The greenish whispering palm only gives one assurance of hope for real to make the matter go.
poem by Olayemi Ayo
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