Showing posts with label English Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label English Poem. Show all posts

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Walking with Grandma


I like walking with Grandma, 
Her steps are short like mine. 
She doesn’t say “now hurry up” 
She always takes her time. 

I like to walk with Grandma, 
Her eyes see things like mine do, 
Wee pebble bright, a funny cloud, 
Half hidden drops of dew. 

Most people have to hurry, 
They do not stop to see. 
I’m glad that God made Grandma 
Unrushed and young like me!

Friday, May 4, 2012

A Golf Poem



Stand proud you noble swingers of clubs and losers of balls. A recent study found the average golfer walks about 900 miles a year. Another study found golfers drink, on average, 22 gallons of alcohol a Year. That means, on average, golfers get about 41 miles to the gallon! Kind of makes you proud. Almost feel like a hybrid. Had William Wordsworth been a golfer, he would have written something like this about a golf ball!

In my hand I hold a ball, white and dimpled, rather small.
Oh, how bland it does appear, this harmless looking little sphere.
By its size I could not guess,
The awesome strength it does possess.
But since I fell beneath its spell,
I've wandered through the fires of hell.
My life has not been quite the same,
Since I chose to play this stupid game.
It rules my mind for hours on end,
A fortune it has made me spend.
It has made me yell, curse and cry,
I hate myself and want to die.
It promises a thing called par,
If I can hit it straight and far.
To master such a tiny ball,
Should not be very hard at all.
But my desires the ball refuses,
And does exactly as it chooses.
It hooks and slices, dribbles and dies,
And even disappears before my eyes.
Often it will have a whim,
To hit a tree or take a swim.
With miles of grass on which to land,
Finds a tiny patch of sand.
Then has me offering up my soul,
If only it would find the hole.
It's made me whimper like a pup,
And swear that I will give it up.
And take to drink to ease my sorrow,
But the ball knows ... I’ll be back tomorrow.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

To a Stranger


Passing stranger! You do not know,
How longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking,
Or she I was seeking.
(It comes to me as a dream)

I have somewhere surely,
Lived a life of joy with you,
All is recalled as we flit by each other,
Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured.

You grew up with me, 
Were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become
not yours only nor left my body mine only.

You give me the pleasure of your eyes,
face, flesh as we pass,
You take of my beard, breast, hands,
in return.

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you,
when I sit alone or wake at night, alone,
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again.
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.


by Walt Whitman (1819 - 1892)

Monday, February 27, 2012

The Universal Incarnation


There is a Wisdom like a brooding Sun,
A Bliss in the heart's crypt grown fiery white,
The heart of a world in which all hearts are one,
A Silence on the mountains of delight. 

A Calm that cradles Fate upon its knees;
A wide Compassion leans to embrace earth's pain;
A Witness dwells within our secrecies,
The incarnate Godhead in the body of man. 

Our mind is a glimmering curtain of that Ray,
Our strength a parody of the Immortal's power,
Our joy a dreamer on the Eternal's way
Hunting the fugitive beauty of an hour. 

Only on the heart's veiled door the word of flame
Is written, the secret and tremendous Name.

~ Sri Aurobindo

Invitation



With wind and the weather beating round me
Up to the hill and the moorland I go.
Who will come with me? Who will climb with me?
Wade through the brook and tramp through the snow?

Not in the petty circle of cities
Cramped by your doors and your walls I dwell;
Over me God is blue in the welkin,
Against me the wind and the storm rebel.

I sport with solitude here in my regions,
Of misadventure have made me a friend.
Who would live largely? Who would live freely?
Here to the wind-swept uplands ascend.

I am the Lord of tempest and mountain,
I am the Spirit of freedom and pride.
Stark must he be and a kinsman to danger
Who shares my kingdom and walks at my side.


~ Sri Aurobindo

Life



Mystic Miracle, daughter of Delight, 
Life, thou ecstasy,
Let the radius of thy flight
Be eternity.

On thy wings thou bearest high
Glory and disdain,
Godhead and mortality,
Ecstasy and pain.

Take me in thy wild embrace 
Without weak reserve
Body dire and unveiled face;
Faint not, Life, nor swerve.

All thy bliss I would explore,
All thy tyranny.
Cruel like the lion's roar,
Sweet like springtide be.

Like a Titan I would take, 
Like a God enjoy,
Like a man contend and make,
Revel like a boy.

More I will not ask of thee,
Nor my fate would choose;
King or conquered let me be,
Live or lose.

Even in rags I am a god;
Fallen, I am divine;
High I triumph when down-trod,
Long I live when slain.
 

~ Sri Aurobindo
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