bake me some cheesecake,
you,
;)
m'am

I don't care about..
the rest,

here's the recipy..;)

Watching every motion in my foolish lover's game
On this endless ocean finally lovers know no shame
Turning and returning to some secret place inside
Watching in slow motion as you turn around and say

Take my breath away
Take my breath away

Watching I keep waiting still anticipating love
Never hesitating to become the fated ones
Turning and returning to some secret place to hide
Watching in slow motion as you turn to me and say

Take my breath away

Through the hourglass I saw you, in time you slipped away
When the mirror crashed I called you, and turned to hear you say
If only for today I am unafraid

Take my breath away
Take my breath away

Watching every motion in this foolish lover's game
Haunted by the notion somewhere there's a love in flames
Turning and returning to some secret place inside
Watching in slow motion as you turn to me and say

Take my breath away
My love, take my breath away

;)

Love, Passion

CHASING WOMEN

“To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.”

~William Blake (1757-1827)


To be in passion
Women you woo,
You chase them
Dine and wine them.

But when you get them,
Passion in you gets you.
You find them boring
As they stick with you.

You free yourself
And then, once again,
Miss that miss yet unborn
And start chasing women.

All the fun is in the chasing.
It’s all the same in mating.
So find a women full of passions,
Full of love of varying fashions.

~White Wings

http://whitewings.sulekha.com/blogs/blogdisplay.aspx?cid=102502

The Shepherd


How sweet is the shepherd's sweet lot!
From the morn to the evening he strays;
He shall follow his sheep all the day,
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

For he hears the lambs' innocent call,
And he hears the ewes' tender reply;
He is watchful while they are in peace,
For they know when their shepherd is nigh.

~William Blake

Now What Is Love


Now what is Love, I pray thee, tell?
It is that fountain and that well
Where pleasure and repentance dwell;
It is, perhaps, the sauncing bell
That tolls all into heaven or hell;
And this is Love, as I hear tell.

Yet what is Love, I prithee, say?
It is a work on holiday,
It is December matched with May,
When lusty bloods in fresh array
Hear ten months after of the play;
And this is Love, as I hear say.

Yet what is Love, good shepherd, sain?
It is a sunshine mixed with rain,
It is a toothache or like pain,
It is a game where none hath gain;
The lass saith no, yet would full fain;
And this is Love, as I hear sain.

Yet, shepherd, what is Love, I pray?
It is a yes, it is a nay,
A pretty kind of sporting fray,
It is a thing will soon away.
Then, nymphs, take vantage while ye may;
And this is Love, as I hear say.

Yet what is Love, good shepherd, show?
A thing that creeps, it cannot go,
A prize that passeth to and fro,
A thing for one, a thing for moe,
And he that proves shall find it so;
And shepherd, this is Love, I trow.

~Sir Walter Raleigh (1552 - 1618)

Raleigh (or Ralegh) was an adventurer, courtier to Elizabeth I, navigator, author and poet. Some thought him a rogue, others thought him an explorer and author of great vision.

Walter Raleigh is generally considered one of the foremost poets of the Elizabethan era. His poetry is generally written in the relatively straightforward, unornamented mode known as the plain style. C.S. Lewis considered Raleigh one of the era's "silver poets," a group of writers who resisted the Italian Renaissance influence of dense classical reference and elaborate poetic devices.

In poems such as "What is Our Life" and "The Lie" Raleigh expresses a contemptus mundi attitude more characteristic of the Middle Ages than of the dawning era of humanistic optimism. However, his lesser-known long poem "The Ocean to Cynthia" combines this vein with the more elaborate conceits associated with his contemporaries Spenser and Donne, while achieving a power and originality that justifies Lewis's assessment, and contradicts it by expressing a melancholy sense of history reminiscent of "The Tempest" and all the more effective for being the product of personal experience. Raleigh is also Marlovian in terms of the terse line, e.g. "She sleeps thy death that erst thy danger sighed".

i absolutely love the first 4 lines of this! I always put it everywhere - i even had a website called holding-infinities.com for a while! :D Thank you for posting, it always makes me smile.

I never really can keep my attention on the whole poem, though. For some reason. Seems like its just the first bit for me!

Every Grain Of Sand

In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
There's a dyin' voice within me reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.

Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake,
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break.
In the fury of the moment I can see the Master's hand
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.

Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear,
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer.
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.

I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.

I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.

I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me.
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.

Bob Dylan

“To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.”

I would like to share these other famous lines which I like:

“I am again emerged into the light of day, but I have traveled through Perils & Darkness not unlike a champion. I have conquered, and shall go on conquering. Nothing can withstand the fury of my course among the stars of God & in the abysses of the accuser.”

- from William Blake’s Milton.

“ I rest not from my great task!
To open the Eternal Worlds, to open the immortal Eyes
Of Man inwards into the Worlds of Thought, into Eternity
Ever expanding in the Bosom of God, the Human Imagination.”

-From William Blake’s Jersualem.

Sting's version of the first four lines of Blake's poem, from his song Send Your Love...

Finding the world in the smallness of a grain of sand
And holding infinities in the palm of your hand
And Heaven's realms in the seedlings of this tiny flower
And eternities in the space of a single hour...

You see of course by now,
how the American government ‘stays the course.’

The methods are as time tested known to man,
start a war, label nay-sayers as traitorous, and,
‘stay the course.’

Look at our Native American brothers;
since the Plymouth Pilgrims arrived
to the 20th century,
American’s ‘stayed the course’ for 3 hundred years

of genocide.

Even during the entire African in chains ‘thing,’
when the pious outcry of Northerners to
‘free the slaves’ was but a ruse; b/c in the end
it was all about the money and centralizing power.

As abolitionist’s continued to ‘homestead’
Indian country . . .
Guns and God, while decrying the pagan’s way
made for some more money and for others’ local aristocracies.

We ‘stayed the course’ in the Philippines,
we ‘stayed the course’ at the ‘dirty’ Mexican’s expense.

‘Staying the course’ is ever the motto of
God-fearing patriots
(while heedlessly putting ever more money in the fat cats’
bank accounts).

And here you thought I was the fool.

Are you under Noahide law too?
Are the Ten Commandments posted upon your federal lawn?
Is your church and state separated when your local politician says,
“us and Israel too . . .”.

And who is the fool?

Label me anti-Semitic? Ha! What a farce!
I do not hate Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ the Messiah

‘Stay the course’ American patriot.
We’ll see who cries ‘Jesus where art thou!’
when heads start rolling.

As Liberman, the ‘ex’-Commie,
‘stays the course,’ with ever more force mind you . . .

And U.S. pres McCain or McGoldstein co-signs, ‘yes sir!’

And here you thought us Tirasians were stupid . . .

Yo Marek, where is the Wodka bro?
Is it happy hour yet?

O wait, I am happy hour!
Smiley faced (and getting red-nosed) non-taxpayer variety even!

Present incarnation of John the Baptist
alive and kicking . . .

Peace

I step back
imploding.
The will to survive
eroding (or is that corroding).

Like feeding a diseased liver
alcohol.
Like pouring battery acid
on one’s eyes.

Blinding oneself to the outside
killing oneself on the inside.

It is not being afraid to live
it is a mater of economic pride.

We must make our own meaning . . .

Loved ones’ (O Linda) cannot support
a blogger with a cause.
Fighting for the oppressed
is an economic loss.

I cannot afford to be
self-sufficient.
Seven fifty an hour
leaves me too mentally deficient.

O wait, after the tax-man cometh
make that about two dollars an hour.

It is not a matter of money
I just cannot afford to live.

I do not want to compete for a higher wage anyway . . .

A Christian nation living upon Judaic values . . .
Abraham bought me with no money: circumcised r us here!

The Apocalypse of St. John the Apostle:

20:4: And the souls of them that were beheaded for the testimony of Jesus and for the word of God and who had not adored the beast nor his image nor received his character on their foreheads or in their hands. And they lived and reigned with Christ a thousand years.
et animas decollatorum propter testimonium Iesu et propter verbum Dei et qui non adoraverunt bestiam neque imaginem eius nec acceperunt caracterem in frontibus aut in manibus suis et vixerunt et regnaverunt cum Christo mille annis
και τας ψυχας των πεπελεκισμενων δια την μαρτυριαν ιησου και δια τον λογον του θεου και οιτινες ου προσεκυνησαν τω θηριω ουτε την εικονα αυτου και ουκ ελαβον το χαραγμα επι το μετωπον [αυτων] και επι την χειρα αυτων και εζησαν και εβασιλευσαν μετα του χριστου [τα] χιλια ετη

Peace

I wrote this on my blog a while back:

Exuberance Is Beauty

It just occured to me (from the infinite source?) that you don’t have to understand why you like something in order for it to be valid, or in order to follow it. Do we ask why light exists before we use it to observe things? “Exuberance is Beauty” the famous quote from William Blake means that our sensations, our “sense” is a valid structure even without the articulation of language or stamp of approval from any of the other cerebral cortex institutions. For instance, right now, for some reason, I wanted to write this. Why? Does it matter? Does it have to be defined? It might be interesting in its own right, but what if the energy spent on wondering why steals energy from the original impulse? Did the universe come into being so that it could be proud of itself? Did it create conscious creatures so that it could be showered with praises? Reason, as Blake says, is the outward circumference of energy, not the source of it. And energy is interest, which comes from a place “far more deeply interfused”, far closer to the ground of being than logic.

As The Poems Go


as the poems go into the thousands you
realize that you've created very
little.

~Charles Bukowski

Dear DK Matai, I hope you like this poem by Christopher Fry written at the end of WW II which is still so much relevant in the context of science and spirituality:

A Sleep of Prisoners
So the human heart can go the length of God,
Dark and cold we may be,
But this is no winter now.
The frozen misery of centuries,

Clocks, breaks, begins to move
The thunder is the thunder of the flows
Thank God our time is now,
When wrong comes to face us everywhere.
Never to leave us 'til we take the greatest stride
Of soul man ever took.
Affairs are now soul size,
The enterprise is exploration into God

~ Chritopher Fry Christopher Fry (1907- 2005)

Christopher Fry, the British playwright best-known for his durable comedy ''The Lady's Not for Burning," and also helped script Hollywood's 1959 epic blockbusters like ''Ben Hur," and “Barabbas”

The wry wordsmith flourished in the mid-20th century when he was hailed as a national treasure, called Britain's greatest playwright and compared to Shakespeare.

Dear DK Matai, I hope you like this poem by Christopher Fry from the play, "A Sleep of Prisoners" written at the end of WW II which is still so much relevant in the context of science and spirituality:

A Sleep of Prisoners

So the human heart can go the length of God,
Dark and cold we may be,
But this is no winter now.
The frozen misery of centuries,

Clocks, breaks, begins to move
The thunder is the thunder of the flows
Thank God our time is now,
When wrong comes to face us everywhere.
Never to leave us 'til we take the greatest stride
Of soul man ever took.
Affairs are now soul size,
The enterprise is exploration into God

~ Chritopher Fry Christopher Fry (1907- 2005)

Christopher Fry, the British playwright best-known for his durable comedy ''The Lady's Not for Burning," and also helped script Hollywood's 1959 epic blockbusters like ''Ben Hur," and “Barabbas”

The wry wordsmith flourished in the mid-20th century when he was hailed as a national treasure, called Britain's greatest playwright and compared to Shakespeare.

BIRTH RIGHT, DIE RIGHT

Live your life that the fear of death
can never enter your heart.

Trouble no one about their religion; respect others
in their view, and demand that they respect yours.

Love your life, perfect your life
beautify all things in your life.

Seek to make your life long and its
purpose in the service of your people.

Prepare a noble death song for the day
when you go over the great divide.

Always give a word or a sign of salute when
meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger,
when in a lonely place.

Show respect to all people and bow to none.

When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the
food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason
for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself.

Abuse no one and nothing, for abuse turns the wise
ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.

When it comes your time to die, be not like those
whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when
their time comes, they weep and pray for a little more
time to live their lives over again in a different way.
Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.

No tribe has the right to sell, even to each other,
much less to strangers...

~Chief Tecumseh

Dear DK: This is, to my way of thinking, one of Blake's most deeply moving pieces--it is ever the greatest of testaments that not a sparrow shall fall without the Father knowing of this--and every form of life is to be respected and treasured.

Yesterday afternoon, I visited with a a young man who is a "restless writer," and soon to be a father for the first time--partially accounting for his restlessness, as he continues to try and "wrestle" words of great wisdom from the ethers--I was helping him digest an environemental report as he is also a budding real estate developer--I was once an appraiser and was familiar with these types of reports.

The young man then put down his report, and suddenly shifted the topic to creative writing, and insisted that I address him in terms of poetry and/or short stories, instead of the book-writing topics I'm interested in engaging--after a go-around about the fact that I'm not at all even slightly gifted with poetry, I answered by saying, "If I could write poetry, I would want to be able to convey the truths of life as does William Blake, who is like no other in his ability to capture the sublime truths of this, and other worlds."

And DK.....I've been telling bits-and-pieces to my best friend, and "book-writing" mentor, Patzi, about the daily adventures I'm having with two flies who came in to visit with me during a brief cold spell--I didn't have the heart to shoo them back into the cold--but as I'm leaving on a bike ride now that it's warm again, I'm leaving the sliding glass door open for them to "come-and-go" as they wish.

I told Patzi this morning how one of them was sitting on my right hand as I was typing to her, and just as I was thinking of my father, which was the topic of our conversation, the fly up and hopped over onto the "Y" key, and stayed there--I used to drive my dad crazy when I was a boy with asking him "why"--he is a scientist who it took me until my teens before I was able to exhaust his ability to answer everY "why"--and the trail of endless "but whys" in response to his answers!

Thank You for this one, DK--a treasure for all times, and an understanding that in its depths, answers to all of man's woes, and paves the way for achieving his/her greatest happiness and understanding.

Much Love to you and the Intentblog audience, and Ravi, good one with Chief Tecumseh's piece--my great great grand-dad has that name for his middle; William Tecumseh Sherman. Dave

Ref. 15. I see you posted this in two places Ravi; I like this one better b/c of the last two lines!

Peace

Ref. to post #16, 17

David, that is interesting to know.

Craig, indeed you are a native mind!

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

~Rudyard Kipling

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) who won the Nobel Prize in Literature 1907 was born in Bombay, but educated in England at the United Services College, Westward Ho, Bideford. In 1882 he returned to India, where he worked for Anglo-Indian newspapers. His literary career began with Departmental Ditties (1886), but subsequently he became chiefly known as a writer of short stories. A prolific writer, he achieved fame quickly. Kipling was the poet of the British Empire and its yeoman, the common soldier, whom he glorified in many of his works, in particular Plain Tales from the Hills (1888) and Soldiers Three (1888), collections of short stories with roughly and affectionately drawn soldier portraits. His Barrack Room Ballads (1892) were written for, as much as about, the common soldier. In 1894 appeared his Jungle Book, which became a children's classic all over the world. Kim (1901), the story of Kimball O'Hara and his adventures in the Himalayas, is perhaps his most felicitous work. Other works include The Second Jungle Book (1895), The Seven Seas (1896), Captains Courageous (1897), The Day's Work (1898), Stalky and Co. (1899), Just So Stories (1902), Trafficks and Discoveries (1904), Puck of Pook's Hill (1906), Actions and Reactions (1909), Debits and Credits (1926), Thy Servant a Dog (1930), and Limits and Renewals (1932). During the First World War Kipling wrote some propaganda books. His collected poems appeared in 1933.

Kipling was the recipient of many honorary degrees and other awards. In 1926 he received the Gold Medal of the Royal Society of Literature, which only Scott, Meredith, and Hardy had been awarded before him.

Ravi: Thanks again for another wonderful piece--this one from Kipling has the same down-to-earth humbling and balancing effect that is something of a Kipling equivalent to Max Erhmann's "Desiderata."

I also enjoy the personal bios of some of the poets you pull into the Intentblog.

Although I'm not qualified to be a poetry critic of any specific flavor (is anyone really?!), I find some of the directions of your personal poems to be evolving steadily, and at times, in a very "inspirational" way (In-Spirit)--thanks for sharing such pieces. Dave

Ravi, IF is the poem/card I gave to my son for his graduation in June. One of my favorites. He cried after reading it when I gave it to him.

I tried to memorise it once, as well as Desiderata and other favorites..but lo and behold.. my memory-retention level is deficient, so it is "my" pleasure, when someone posts them from time to time...

with loving kindness,
North

Nice Ravi

Peace