Quotes about grasp, page 38
Learning Class
The chairs are all laid out
within the classroom lair
for the gaining of knowledge
that will be taught there.
Some will ignore the learning call
and into the wilderness will fall.
Others will seek the pleasures
that knowledge always brings,
that wellspring of deliverance
that is within everyone’s grasp
when they come to sit
within the learning class.
16 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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Living With The Big C
Living with the big C
is a paradox of life and death,
the sword of Damocles
held above your head.
You search for treatment
grasping at any cure
you can find
to set it in remission.
The more you grasp
for the magic cure
the more your life
ebbs farther away.
Still you hope with prayer
one day in the near future
the cure you’re looking for
will eventually be found.
poem by David Harris
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Passing Strangers 2
A candle flickers shining bright,
a homeward beacon in the night
for wayward passing strangers
on their lingering flight.
The flame holds out a welcome
with its warm beckoning light
for any passing stranger
that may have lost their way.
The candle never fades and dies,
but remains an eternal light
for all passing strangers
to grasp as a homeward light.
23 July 2010
poem by David Harris
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Moonglow and Memories
I’m afraid I’m losing them
Things that slip
through fingers and mind
It slides from my grasp
Tho I squeeze til I gasp
I cannot contain Luna’s shine
Like the moon that I cup
In my hands
In the night
Like memories
That I just can’t quite
Remember just right
I’m afraid that I’m losing them
Both moon glow and memories
Tho’ I do try so hard
[...] Read more
poem by David Whalen
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Hell.... Distance!
the true concept
of hell is... distance!
we burn the bridge
with fingers that grasp!
not knowing,
we will never be free at death,
unless we let go in this life!
when the sun rises at dawn,
there is light...
sadly, we spend most
of our mornings and evenings,
still waiting on the sun to rise!
distance...
the illusion of me and mine,
that falls short of, 'i am'!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Laugh When I Hear That The Fish In The Water Is Thirsty
I laugh when I hear that the fish in the water is thirsty
You don't grasp the fact that what is most alive of all
is inside your own house.
and so you walk from one holy city to the next with
a confused look!
Kabir will tell you the truth: go wherever you like,
to Calcutta or Tibet;
if you can't find where your soul is hidden,
for you the world will never be real!
Margaret's Song
Too soothe and mild your lowland airs
for one whose hope is gone:
I'm think of the little tarn,
Brown, very lone.
Would now the tall swift mists could lay
their wet grasp on my hair,
and the great natures of the hills
round me friendly were.
In vain! - for taking hills your plains
have spoilt my soul I think,
But would my feet were going down
Towards the brown tarn's brink.
poem by Lascelles Abercrombie
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Losing things.
I`ve been losing things,
All my life.
Cameras, people, towels, phones
Lovers, friends.
I am always anxious
For the postman to call.
Losing things.
Waiting for a mirror to fall.
Too suspicious to walk
Under the ladder of it all.
Losing things.
Yet can`t grasp it all.
Losing things.
Objects, losing things.
I`ve been losing touch.
Finding so much
In everything.
Losing things.
poem by Peter Vealey
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Put Out My Eyes
Put out my eyes, and I can see you still,
Slam my ears to, and I can hear you yet;
And without any feet can go to you;
And tongueless, I can conjure you at will.
Break off my arms, I shall take hold of you
And grasp you with my heart as with a hand;
Arrest my heart, my brain will beat as true;
And if you set this brain of mine afire,
Then on my blood-stream I yet will carry you.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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If Love Is A Wild Bird
if love is a wild bird,
then i must be a cliff or a rock
far away from the trees,
where the wild bird
builds its nest,
i must be an unknown forest
where the eggs are hidden
where the hatching is done
without even my knowing.
if love is a wild bird
beyond the grasp of my twigs
then i must be the night that hovers
on its wings
and stays also wildly on its dreams
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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