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Quotes about unseen, page 3

He fights well who flies well' (Guillford, The Owl and The Nightingale)

A see through unseen
Wing of wake in light
Flower-like green
In a rainbow bright

A poppy-like red
Throbbing in blood
Unheard unsaid
A silent guard

A sun-like yellow
Circling within
Melody mellow
In wings unseen

A sky-like blue
Transparent rainbow
A see through see through
My eyes will know

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My Unseen Friend 2

The unseen spirit ever walks by me
Neither in front of me nor at my back!
His concerns are genuine.

The unseen spirit often chuckles.
At times he sings chimes into my ears.
He leaves me not, a mischievous guy indeed!

There we see a blue river far
With banks vast and sandy
The unseen spirit and I walk towards it.
There I think of catching a fish
There are no fish in the river though.

There he becomes a fish for me!
Tell me - who are you?

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Ghost Town

The old town stood abandoned
left to those unseen to roam.
The inhabitants left behind
when the residence moved away.
The tumbleweeds dance through the streets
once alive with people.
Shudders sway back and forth
pushed by unseen hands.
Flowers grow where seeds have fallen,
dropped by birds and wind.
Spiders draw exotic webs
covering corners everywhere.
Doors left unlocked creak
under any breeze passing through.
Wild animals forage
watched by the unseen inhabitants
that live within in the town.
This silent town of ghosts.

11 April 2009

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Poem about Poetry - Did I write them?

did i write my poems?
no, not entirely
does the flower
blossom on its own?
not, not entirely
there are hands
that help each petal
tilt itself, one by one
so that the flower
inches and express
its beauty to you
beauty installed
by a set of hands
one could only describe as
the Lofty Ones

did i write my poems?
no, not entirely
there are verses
that have sprung

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The unseen from the seen

Dear, O my dear forever,
I have seen you a portion,
The rest under clouds.
Your face, hair, nape
And limbs from elbows,
And no more, were visible.
The rest beneath the saree
Is safely kept unseen.
It is enough to my faculty.
From the parts I have seen,
I perceive the parts unseen.
I could visualize,
I could surmise,
I could X-ray.
I could fantasize
And I could imagine
What were there in store,
And what shape they were:
The lean breast, the thin arms,
The slender legs and the narrow groin.

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The Unseen Shrines

The shrine where only one person can reign,
That is formless, figure less, unseen but felt and ours,
It is simply elusive, safe, treasured, but monopolized,
it is formless, figure less, unseen but felt and ours.
The shrine where only one person can reign,
Light this shrine with the wick of kindness,
The kindness, the size of life long,
Oil of understanding to fuel it regularly,
As Tolerance suffocates the person in it,
Let us understand and love each other,
The shrine where only one person can reign,
Never lighten this shrine with spirited lamps,
Smoke it with Incense of weeds and drugs,
The shrine that is figure less,
The shrine that is formless,
The shrine that is unseen,
The shrine that can be felt,
The shrine that can be enjoyed,
The shrine that can be worshiped,
It is nowhere else, it is in our heart,

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O' Murderous Poverty

O' poverty, thou hast made man prostrate his soul for repast
Thou hast made him swallow the bitter pills of living
Yet thou sing songs of death to his hearing
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel and fiend.

In thy bosom cometh suffering, pains and sorrows
Thou taketh delight when the world's burden heaped upon man
Man toil in vain for subsistence from sunrise to sunset
Yet thou castigate him with thy unseen wand
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel and fiend.

Man roams about the street with no shoes for his feet
And with no vest upon his already worn out bones
Having his repast from the table crumbs of other folks
Not certain of where the next crumbs of survival cometh
Yet you castigate him with thy unseen wand
O' murderous poverty, thou art cruel and fiend.

His offspring sick and pale then die ere his face
His heart become a place where dirge and elegy meet

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

By The Fireside : The Builders

All are architects of Fate,
Working in these walls of Time;
Some with massive deeds and great,
Some with ornaments of rhyme.

Nothing useless is, or low;
Each thing in its place is best;
And what seems but idle show
Strengthens and supports the rest.

For the structure that we raise,
Time is with materials filled;
Our to-days and yesterdays
Are the blocks with which we build.

Truly shape and fashion these;
Leave no yawning gaps between;
Think not, because no man sees,
Such things will remain unseen.

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Unread

Unread the faces in the street

That cross and cross the path

Where they meet, and do not meet

The eyes unseen

There, there are windows without souls

But two feet mark the spot

And on they go

casting their lot beneath them

Like an afterthought

Can you see the lines in her skin?

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A Moth Life

What is this moth life?

To sleep all day
to hide from the light
the heat the warmth of the sun...

To awake with night
the night sounds night senses
to see by light of moon tread stellar stars...

To fly with dark air
still air night breezes winds
like dark matter currents of the universe...

To fly with celestial navigation
upon moon beams, or flickering stars these pulsing points,
guide your path, as you dance with radio waves, unseen in human unaided perception...


God created you in dull form

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