Quotes about midway, page 8
The Blue Mountains
Above the ashes straight and tall,
Through ferns with moisture dripping,
I climb beneath the sandstone wall,
My feet on mosses slipping.
Like ramparts round the valley's edge
The tinted cliffs are standing,
With many a broken wall and ledge,
And many a rocky landing.
And round about their rugged feet
Deep ferny dells are hidden
In shadowed depths, whence dust and heat
Are banished and forbidden.
The stream that, crooning to itself,
Comes down a tireless rover,
Flows calmly to the rocky shelf,
And there leaps bravely over.
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poem by Henry Lawson
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Auroville Mother
A plea in compliance
It was an event spiritual in the abundance
A divine force enforced into a human force
And you were there as if from the divine womb
Mirra Alfassa, grew to groom a babe to a Mother
A mother of the immortal godly consciousness
Kaali or Krishna, merged in your oneness
A onness blossoming the mundane florescence
But it's my ever doubting nescience..
Two sets of eyes in two disunified visions
A pair on matter in self esteemed bliss
Meditating the other in midway strain to slide
A feel somewhere in my consciousness is watching
A worry worrying on these unconditional uncertainty
In this swirl of life unsteady I'm
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poem by Indira Renganathan
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That 'poetry Is To Be The Voice Of Others'....
it is midway
between the path of
light and pond
that goldfish
appears
nearer
the tunnel of the
water from its source
to the receiver
who in turn becomes
another giver and then
another
by now you must have understood
what i have been driving at
this nail
penetrating the soft wood
this hammer
banging
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bangle Sellers
Bangle sellers are we who bear
Our shining loads to the temple fair...
Who will buy these delicate, bright
Rainbow-tinted circles of light?
Lustrous tokens of radiant lives,
For happy daughters and happy wives.
Some are meet for a maiden's wrist,
Silver and blue as the mountain mist,
Some are flushed like the buds that dream
On the tranquil brow of a woodland stream,
Some are aglow wth the bloom that cleaves
To the limpid glory of new born leaves
Some are like fields of sunlit corn,
Meet for a bride on her bridal morn,
Some, like the flame of her marriage fire,
Or, rich with the hue of her heart's desire,
Tinkling, luminous, tender, and clear,
Like her bridal laughter and bridal tear.
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poem by Sarojini Naidu
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My Mentor
My mentor
It's a new beginning I can feel the thrill
The purpose to rise higher with a steel will
Each day i look forward to with sleepless night
A knot in my stomach which slowly grows tight
Something is amiss lost in this frenzy around
My heart yearns for more as indifferently it drowns
It drowns away looking for appreciation
That encouragement which led to many unique creations
I miss it every moment of the rising day
Pray it may return like shining sun rays
For that was the reason I ushered my self so far
Worked day and night and fought all those war
Where are you my mentor my inspiration my soul
Have you left me behind for now greater are your goals
My heart cries inconsolably for I have no one to talk
I feel lost and cheated have worshipped you in every walk
Please don't give up on me I have something to share
My mentor I respect you and it's for you I care
I owe you all that what I have achieved till day
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poem by Rima Sharda
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The Fisher
ALL night a noise of leaping fish
Went round the bay,
And up and down the shallow sands
Sang waters at their play.
The mangroves drooped on salty creeks,
And through the dark,
Making a pale patch in the deep,
Gleamed, as it swam, a shark.
In streaks and twists of sudden fire
Among the reeds
The bream went by, and where they passed
The bubbles shone like beads.
All night the full deep drinking-song
Of Nature stirred,
And nought beside, save leaping fish
And some forlorn night-bird.
No lost wind wandered down the hills
To tell of wide
Wild waterways; on velvet moved
The silky, sucking tide.
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poem by Roderic Quinn
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No Bombs Here
Gran said it isn't safe
to walk about the bombsites
Janice said
as you walked with her
off of Meadow Row
towards the bombed out sites
of WW11
there might be
unexploded bombs
she added
holding on to your shirt sleeve
there are no
unexploded bombs here
you said
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poem by Terry Collett
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No Gospel like this Feast
No Gospel like this Feast
Spread for Thy Church by Thee;
Nor prophet nor evangelist
Preach the glad news so free.
All our Redemption cost,
All our Redemption won;
All it has won for us, the lost—
All it cost Thee, the Son;--
Thine was the bitter price,
Ours is the free gift given;
Thine was the Blood of Sacrifice,
Ours is the wine of Heaven!
For Thee, the burning thirst,
The shame, the mortal strife,
The broken heart, the side transpierced;
To us, the Bread of Life!
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poem by Elizabeth Rundle Charles (1863)
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LA CREAZZIONE DER MONNO (The Creation of The World)
L'anno che Gesucristo impastò er monno,
Ché pe impastallo già c'era la pasta,
Verde lo vorze fà, grosso e ritonno,
All'uso d'un cocommero de tasta.
Fece un zole, una luna e un mappamonno,
Ma de le stelle poi dì una catasta:
Su ucelli, bestie immezzo, e pesci in fonno:
Piantò le piante, e doppo disse: "Abbasta".
Me scordavo de dì che creò l'omo,
E coll'omo la donna, Adamo e Eva;
E je proibbì de nun toccaje un pomo.
Ma appena che a maggnà l'ebbe viduti,
Strillò per dio con quanta voce aveva:
"Ommini da vienì, sete futtuti"
English
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poem by Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli
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Society's Relief
my country is rooted to the
sultanate tradition,
one sultan and his children
and four wives ruling a
territory
those that block the way
are beheaded,
though not really that literally
in the modern sense of
my world, they finally name it
a dynasty
of political warlords and
rag and drag leaders,
one must know the word kowtow
the figurative language of toeing the line
and fidelity or else
fatality, somehow, in my own little way,
i think, there is a need for relief from
this secretly hated tradition of
putting power to the few
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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