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poetry

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Wed, 15 Jul 2009	#1
Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	After 25,000 years of conflict and strife, chaos and mayhem, clubs and stones to atom bombs, warfare with the occasional peace treaty, psycholgical suffering daily by billions and billions throughout all that history but, it was all worthwhile I guess, because we have poetry sex and chocolate.
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Wed, 15 Jul 2009

Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

After 25,000 years of conflict and strife, chaos and mayhem, clubs and stones to atom bombs, warfare with the occasional peace treaty, psycholgical suffering daily by billions and billions throughout all that history but, it was all worthwhile I guess, because we have poetry sex and chocolate.

Wed, 15 Jul 2009	#2
Patricia Hemingway Australia 30 posts in this forum Offline	lol - Yes, pain on the one hand, pleasures on the other. Funny about that! :)
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Wed, 15 Jul 2009

Patricia Hemingway Australia 30 posts in this forum Offline

lol - Yes, pain on the one hand, pleasures on the other. Funny about that! :)

Wed, 15 Jul 2009	#3
Ramesh G India 4 posts in this forum Offline	Randal Shacklett wrote: After 25,000 years of conflict and strife, chaos and mayhem, clubs and stones to atom bombs, warfare with the occasional peace treaty, psycholgical suffering daily by billions and billions throughout all that history but, it was all worthwhile I guess, because we have poetry sex and chocolate. More powerful than K's description. Freedom from the known is Attention in the Unknown: Krishnamurti J
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Wed, 15 Jul 2009

Ramesh G India 4 posts in this forum Offline

Randal Shacklett wrote:
After 25,000 years of conflict and strife, chaos and mayhem, clubs and stones to atom bombs, warfare with the occasional peace treaty, psycholgical suffering daily by billions and billions throughout all that history but, it was all worthwhile I guess, because we have poetry sex and chocolate.

More powerful than K's description.

Freedom from the known is Attention in the Unknown: Krishnamurti J

Wed, 15 Jul 2009	#4
max greene United States 51 posts in this forum Offline	The "Devil's Dictionary": It's not poetry, but maybe it's close enough. It defines "peace" as the interval between two wars. max
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Wed, 15 Jul 2009

max greene United States 51 posts in this forum Offline

The "Devil's Dictionary": It's not poetry, but maybe it's close enough. It defines "peace" as the interval between two wars.

max

Thu, 16 Jul 2009	#5
Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll. Yes, yes, we know that we can jest, We know, we know that we can smile! But there's a something in this breast, to which thy light words bring no rest, and thy gay smiles no anodyne. Give me thy hand, and hush awhile, and turn those limpid eyes on mine, and let me read there, love! thy inmost soul. Alas! is even love too weak to unlock the heart, and let it speak? Are even lovers powerless to reveal to one another what indeed they feel? I knew the mass of men conceal'd their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd they would by other men be met with blank indifference, or with blame reproved; I knew they lived and moved trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest of men, and alien to themselves--and yet the same heart beats in every human breast! But we, my love!--doth a like spell benumb our hearts, our voices?--must we too be dumb? Ah! well for us, if even we, even for a moment, can get free our heart, and have our lips unchain'd; For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd! Fate, which foresaw how frivolous a baby man would be-- By what distractions he would be possess'd, how he would pour himself in every strife, and well-nigh change his own identity-- that it might keep from his capricious play hs genuine self, and force him to obey even in his own despite his being's law, bade through the deep recesses of our breast the unregarded river of our life pursue with indiscernible flow its way; and that we should not see the buried stream, and seem to be eddying at large in blind uncertainty, Though driving on with it eternally. But often, in the world's most crowded streets, but often, in the din of strife, there rises an unspeakable desire after the knowledge of our buried life; a thirst to spend our fire and restless force in tracking out our true, original course; a longing to inquire Into the mystery of this heart which beats so wild, so deep in us--to know whence our lives come and where they go. And many a man in his own breast then delves, but deep enough, alas! none ever mines. And we have been on many thousand lines, and we have shown, on each, spirit and power; but hardly have we, for one little hour, been on our own line, have we been ourselves-- Hardly had skill to utter one of all the nameless feelings that course through our breast, but they course on for ever unexpress'd. And long we try in vain to speak and act our hidden self, and what we say and do Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true! And then we will no more be rack'd with inward striving, and demand of all the thousand nothings of the hour their stupefying power; Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call! Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn, from the soul's subterranean depth upborne as from an infinitely distant land, come airs, and floating echoes, and convey a melancholy into all our day. Only--but this is rare-- when a belovèd hand is laid in ours, when, jaded with the rush and glare of the interminable hours, our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, when our world-deafen'd ear Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd-- a bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, and a lost pulse of feeling stirs again. The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain, and what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know. A man becomes aware of his life's flow, and hears its winding murmur; and he sees the meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze. And there arrives a lull in the hot race wherein he doth for ever chase that flying and elusive shadow, rest. An air of coolness plays upon his face, an unwonted calm pervades his breast. And then he thinks he knows the hills where his life rose and the sea where it goes. - Matthew Arnold - Health care is everyone's job, not just in treating illness but in promoting healthy living. We must take personal responsibility, engaging our minds and hands in meaningful work - all essential components of healthy, secure lifestyles and communities. This post was last updated by Trees Palin (account deleted) Thu, 16 Jul 2009.
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Thu, 16 Jul 2009

Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll. Yes, yes, we know that we can jest, We know, we know that we can smile! But there's a something in this breast, to which thy light words bring no rest, and thy gay smiles no anodyne. Give me thy hand, and hush awhile, and turn those limpid eyes on mine, and let me read there, love! thy inmost soul. Alas! is even love too weak to unlock the heart, and let it speak? Are even lovers powerless to reveal to one another what indeed they feel? I knew the mass of men conceal'd their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd they would by other men be met with blank indifference, or with blame reproved; I knew they lived and moved trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest of men, and alien to themselves--and yet the same heart beats in every human breast! But we, my love!--doth a like spell benumb our hearts, our voices?--must we too be dumb? Ah! well for us, if even we, even for a moment, can get free our heart, and have our lips unchain'd; For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd! Fate, which foresaw how frivolous a baby man would be-- By what distractions he would be possess'd, how he would pour himself in every strife, and well-nigh change his own identity-- that it might keep from his capricious play hs genuine self, and force him to obey even in his own despite his being's law, bade through the deep recesses of our breast the unregarded river of our life pursue with indiscernible flow its way; and that we should not see the buried stream, and seem to be eddying at large in blind uncertainty, Though driving on with it eternally. But often, in the world's most crowded streets, but often, in the din of strife, there rises an unspeakable desire after the knowledge of our buried life; a thirst to spend our fire and restless force in tracking out our true, original course; a longing to inquire Into the mystery of this heart which beats so wild, so deep in us--to know whence our lives come and where they go. And many a man in his own breast then delves, but deep enough, alas! none ever mines. And we have been on many thousand lines, and we have shown, on each, spirit and power; but hardly have we, for one little hour, been on our own line, have we been ourselves-- Hardly had skill to utter one of all the nameless feelings that course through our breast, but they course on for ever unexpress'd. And long we try in vain to speak and act our hidden self, and what we say and do Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true! And then we will no more be rack'd with inward striving, and demand of all the thousand nothings of the hour their stupefying power; Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call! Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn, from the soul's subterranean depth upborne as from an infinitely distant land, come airs, and floating echoes, and convey a melancholy into all our day. Only--but this is rare-- when a belovèd hand is laid in ours, when, jaded with the rush and glare of the interminable hours, our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, when our world-deafen'd ear Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd-- a bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, and a lost pulse of feeling stirs again. The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain, and what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know. A man becomes aware of his life's flow, and hears its winding murmur; and he sees the meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze. And there arrives a lull in the hot race wherein he doth for ever chase that flying and elusive shadow, rest. An air of coolness plays upon his face, an unwonted calm pervades his breast. And then he thinks he knows the hills where his life rose and the sea where it goes. - Matthew Arnold -

Health care is everyone's job, not just in treating illness but in promoting healthy living. We must take personal responsibility, engaging our minds and hands in meaningful work - all essential components of healthy, secure lifestyles and communities.

This post was last updated by Trees Palin (account deleted) Thu, 16 Jul 2009.

Fri, 17 Jul 2009	#6
Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	Therese Okamoto wrote: Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll. Yes, yes, we know that we can jest, We know, we know that we can smile! But there's a something in this breast, to which thy light words bring no rest, and thy gay smiles no anodyne. Give me thy hand, and hush awhile, and turn those limpid eyes on mine, and let me read there, love! thy inmost soul. Alas! is even love too weak to unlock the heart, and let it speak? Are even lovers powerless to reveal to one another what indeed they feel? I knew the mass of men conceal'd their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd they would by other men be met with blank indifference, or with blame reproved; I knew they lived and moved trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest of men, and alien to themselves--and yet the same heart beats in every human breast! But we, my love!--doth a like spell benumb our hearts, our voices?--must we too be dumb? Ah! well for us, if even we, even for a moment, can get free our heart, and have our lips unchain'd; For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd! Fate, which foresaw how frivolous a baby man would be-- By what distractions he would be possess'd, how he would pour himself in every strife, and well-nigh change his own identity-- that it might keep from his capricious play hs genuine self, and force him to obey even in his own despite his being's law, bade through the deep recesses of our breast the unregarded river of our life pursue with indiscernible flow its way; and that we should not see the buried stream, and seem to be eddying at large in blind uncertainty, Though driving on with it eternally. But often, in the world's most crowded streets, but often, in the din of strife, there rises an unspeakable desire after the knowledge of our buried life; a thirst to spend our fire and restless force in tracking out our true, original course; a longing to inquire Into the mystery of this heart which beats so wild, so deep in us--to know whence our lives come and where they go. And many a man in his own breast then delves, but deep enough, alas! none ever mines. And we have been on many thousand lines, and we have shown, on each, spirit and power; but hardly have we, for one little hour, been on our own line, have we been ourselves-- Hardly had skill to utter one of all the nameless feelings that course through our breast, but they course on for ever unexpress'd. And long we try in vain to speak and act our hidden self, and what we say and do Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true! And then we will no more be rack'd with inward striving, and demand of all the thousand nothings of the hour their stupefying power; Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call! Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn, from the soul's subterranean depth upborne as from an infinitely distant land, come airs, and floating echoes, and convey a melancholy into all our day. Only--but this is rare-- when a belovèd hand is laid in ours, when, jaded with the rush and glare of the interminable hours, our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, when our world-deafen'd ear Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd-- a bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, and a lost pulse of feeling stirs again. The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain, and what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know. A man becomes aware of his life's flow, and hears its winding murmur; and he sees the meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze. And there arrives a lull in the hot race wherein he doth for ever chase that flying and elusive shadow, rest. An air of coolness plays upon his face, an unwonted calm pervades his breast. And then he thinks he knows the hills where his life rose and the sea where it goes. - Matthew Arnold - Don't you have something of your own for us Malahat? ;o)
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Fri, 17 Jul 2009

Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

Therese Okamoto wrote:
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll. Yes, yes, we know that we can jest, We know, we know that we can smile! But there's a something in this breast, to which thy light words bring no rest, and thy gay smiles no anodyne. Give me thy hand, and hush awhile, and turn those limpid eyes on mine, and let me read there, love! thy inmost soul. Alas! is even love too weak to unlock the heart, and let it speak? Are even lovers powerless to reveal to one another what indeed they feel? I knew the mass of men conceal'd their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd they would by other men be met with blank indifference, or with blame reproved; I knew they lived and moved trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest of men, and alien to themselves--and yet the same heart beats in every human breast! But we, my love!--doth a like spell benumb our hearts, our voices?--must we too be dumb? Ah! well for us, if even we, even for a moment, can get free our heart, and have our lips unchain'd; For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd! Fate, which foresaw how frivolous a baby man would be-- By what distractions he would be possess'd, how he would pour himself in every strife, and well-nigh change his own identity-- that it might keep from his capricious play hs genuine self, and force him to obey even in his own despite his being's law, bade through the deep recesses of our breast the unregarded river of our life pursue with indiscernible flow its way; and that we should not see the buried stream, and seem to be eddying at large in blind uncertainty, Though driving on with it eternally. But often, in the world's most crowded streets, but often, in the din of strife, there rises an unspeakable desire after the knowledge of our buried life; a thirst to spend our fire and restless force in tracking out our true, original course; a longing to inquire Into the mystery of this heart which beats so wild, so deep in us--to know whence our lives come and where they go. And many a man in his own breast then delves, but deep enough, alas! none ever mines. And we have been on many thousand lines, and we have shown, on each, spirit and power; but hardly have we, for one little hour, been on our own line, have we been ourselves-- Hardly had skill to utter one of all the nameless feelings that course through our breast, but they course on for ever unexpress'd. And long we try in vain to speak and act our hidden self, and what we say and do Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true! And then we will no more be rack'd with inward striving, and demand of all the thousand nothings of the hour their stupefying power; Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call! Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn, from the soul's subterranean depth upborne as from an infinitely distant land, come airs, and floating echoes, and convey a melancholy into all our day. Only--but this is rare-- when a belovèd hand is laid in ours, when, jaded with the rush and glare of the interminable hours, our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, when our world-deafen'd ear Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd-- a bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, and a lost pulse of feeling stirs again. The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain, and what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know. A man becomes aware of his life's flow, and hears its winding murmur; and he sees the meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze. And there arrives a lull in the hot race wherein he doth for ever chase that flying and elusive shadow, rest. An air of coolness plays upon his face, an unwonted calm pervades his breast. And then he thinks he knows the hills where his life rose and the sea where it goes. - Matthew Arnold -

Don't you have something of your own for us Malahat? ;o)

Fri, 17 Jul 2009	#7
Ramesh G India 4 posts in this forum Offline	The heart is dry And the mind dull Looking for life's spirit I roam about endlessly... To find nothing. Freedom from the known is Attention in the Unknown: Krishnamurti J
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Fri, 17 Jul 2009

Ramesh G India 4 posts in this forum Offline

The heart is dry

And the mind dull

Looking for life's spirit

I roam about endlessly...

To find nothing.

Freedom from the known is Attention in the Unknown: Krishnamurti J

Fri, 17 Jul 2009	#8
david sharma Ireland 6 posts in this forum Offline	On love We all are told from time to time; Love is this love is that? Love is all that is divine; May tell you what love is not; Love is not ? Love is not losing ;or gain? Love is not sorrow ;or pain? Love is not hurt; or tears Love is not brave or fear; Love is not your or mine; Love is not bread or wine; Love is not country or queen? Love is not illusion or dream; Love is not saint or scholar; Love is not pope or collar; Love is not prayer or sawyer; Love is not work or dollar; Love is not politics or poll; Lore is not sex or rock unroll Love is not to meet or to part; Love is not cleaver or smart; Love is not to give or to take ? Love is not envy or hate; Love is not us or they Love is not road or the way; Love is not journey or the end ? Love is not family or friend? Love is not vows or pretend ? Love is not shallow or deep; Love is not search or seeks; Love is not old or new; Love is not for one or few Love is not bible or quran; Love is not gita or gyan; Love is not for poor or for rich; Love is not to give or to ditch; Love is not for me or for you; Love is not asking or to say I do; Love is not right or wrong; Love is not wailing or song ? Love is not arms or to feed ? Love is not war or greed; Love is not good or bad Love is not fun or sad Love is not this or that ? Love is not time or thought? Love is not to buy or to sell; Love is not to ask or to tell; One must be wondering what is love then love is when self is not
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Fri, 17 Jul 2009

david sharma Ireland 6 posts in this forum Offline

On love
We all are told from
time to time;
Love is this love is that?
Love is all that is divine;
May tell you what love is not;
Love is not ?
Love is not losing ;or gain?
Love is not sorrow ;or pain?
Love is not hurt; or tears
Love is not brave or fear;
Love is not your or mine;
Love is not bread or wine;
Love is not country or queen?
Love is not illusion or dream;
Love is not saint or scholar;
Love is not pope or collar;
Love is not prayer or sawyer;
Love is not work or dollar;
Love is not politics or poll;
Lore is not sex or rock unroll
Love is not to meet or to part;

Love is not cleaver or smart;
Love is not to give or to take ?
Love is not envy or hate;

Love is not us or they
Love is not road or the way;
Love is not journey or the end ?
Love is not family or friend?
Love is not vows or pretend ?
Love is not shallow or deep;
Love is not search or seeks;
Love is not old or new;
Love is not for one or few
Love is not bible or quran;
Love is not gita or gyan;
Love is not for poor or for rich;
Love is not to give or to ditch;
Love is not for me or for you;
Love is not asking or to say I do;
Love is not right or wrong;
Love is not wailing or song ?
Love is not arms or to feed ?
Love is not war or greed;
Love is not good or bad
Love is not fun or sad
Love is not this or that ?
Love is not time or thought?

Love is not to buy or to sell;
Love is not to ask or to tell;

One must be wondering what is love then love is when self is not

Sat, 18 Jul 2009	#9
Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	ima love letting self be who it really is Health care is everyone's job, not just in treating illness but in promoting healthy living. We must take personal responsibility, engaging our minds and hands in meaningful work - all essential components of healthy, secure lifestyles and communities. This post was last updated by Trees Palin (account deleted) Sat, 18 Jul 2009.
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Sat, 18 Jul 2009

Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

ima love letting self be who it really is

This post was last updated by Trees Palin (account deleted) Sat, 18 Jul 2009.

Sun, 19 Jul 2009	#10
Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	Therese Okamoto wrote: ima love letting self be who it really is Yes, enjoying conflict. That is what I was pointing out in the other thread.
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Sun, 19 Jul 2009

#10

Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

Therese Okamoto wrote:
ima love letting self be who it really is

Yes, enjoying conflict. That is what I was pointing out in the other thread.

Sun, 19 Jul 2009	#11
Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	that it might keep from his capricious play his genuine self you gave yourself away mr self is conflicted, i dont have to let you be yourself but its nice when someone doesnt try to make you be something youre not... do you think i am just like you? you know i know you dont need my permission or anything, its important to be real, more important than anything else, isnt that the crux of JK? Health care is everyone's job, not just in treating illness but in promoting healthy living. We must take personal responsibility, engaging our minds and hands in meaningful work - all essential components of healthy, secure lifestyles and communities. This post was last updated by Trees Palin (account deleted) Sun, 19 Jul 2009.
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Sun, 19 Jul 2009

#11

Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

that it might keep from his capricious
play his genuine self

you gave yourself away mr self is conflicted, i dont have to let you be yourself but its nice when someone doesnt try to make you be something youre not... do you think i am just like you? you know i know you dont need my permission or anything, its important to be real, more important than anything else, isnt that the crux of JK?

This post was last updated by Trees Palin (account deleted) Sun, 19 Jul 2009.

Mon, 20 Jul 2009	#12
Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	Therese Okamoto wrote: that it might keep from his capricious play his genuine self you gave yourself away mr self is conflicted, i dont have to let you be yourself but its nice when someone doesnt try to make you be something youre not... do you think i am just like you? you know i know you dont need my permission or anything, its important to be real, more important than anything else, isnt that the crux of JK? Believing illusions about being real, is the problem, not the solution. Seeing what is real, without beliefs and opinions to distort, is the crux of JK's observations.
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Mon, 20 Jul 2009

#12

Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

Therese Okamoto wrote:
that it might keep from his capricious
play his genuine self

you gave yourself away mr self is conflicted, i dont have to let you be yourself but its nice when someone doesnt try to make you be something youre not... do you think i am just like you? you know i know you dont need my permission or anything, its important to be real, more important than anything else, isnt that the crux of JK?

Believing illusions about being real, is the problem, not the solution. Seeing what is real, without beliefs and opinions to distort, is the crux of JK's observations.

Mon, 20 Jul 2009	#13
Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	r u writing that contrariwise or as an addedum? Health care is everyone's job, not just in treating illness but in promoting healthy living. We must take personal responsibility, engaging our minds and hands in meaningful work - all essential components of healthy, secure lifestyles and communities.
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Mon, 20 Jul 2009

#13

Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

r u writing that contrariwise or as an addedum?

Tue, 21 Jul 2009	#14
Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	Therese Okamoto wrote: r u writing that contrariwise or as an addedum? Can you say that as if you were speaking to a 12 year old, so I can understand what you are asking?
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Tue, 21 Jul 2009

#14

Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

Therese Okamoto wrote:
r u writing that contrariwise or as an addedum?

Can you say that as if you were speaking to a 12 year old, so I can understand what you are asking?

Wed, 22 Jul 2009	#15
Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	you agree? Health care is everyone's job, not just in treating illness but in promoting healthy living. We must take personal responsibility, engaging our minds and hands in meaningful work - all essential components of healthy, secure lifestyles and communities.
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Wed, 22 Jul 2009

#15

Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

you agree?

Thu, 23 Jul 2009	#16
Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	Therese Okamoto wrote: you agree? I neither agree, or disagree.
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Thu, 23 Jul 2009

#16

Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

Therese Okamoto wrote:
you agree?

I neither agree, or disagree.

Tue, 08 Sep 2009	#17
ganesan balachandran India 63 posts in this forum Offline	Randal Shacklett wrote: After 25,000 years of conflict and strife, chaos and mayhem, clubs and stones to atom bombs, warfare with the occasional peace treaty, psycholgical suffering daily by billions and billions throughout all that history but, it was all worthwhile I guess, because we have poetry sex and chocolate. All these existed even at that time... and for all this you want the conflict to continue... Will any one help me to locate Poems and parables by JK? gb We are watching, not waiting, not expecting anything to happen but watching without end. JK
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Tue, 08 Sep 2009

#17

ganesan balachandran India 63 posts in this forum Offline

Randal Shacklett wrote:
After 25,000 years of conflict and strife, chaos and mayhem, clubs and stones to atom bombs, warfare with the occasional peace treaty, psycholgical suffering daily by billions and billions throughout all that history but, it was all worthwhile I guess, because we have poetry sex and chocolate.

All these existed even at that time... and for all this you want the conflict to continue...

Will any one help me to locate Poems and parables by JK?
gb

We are watching, not waiting, not expecting anything to happen but watching without end. JK

Tue, 08 Sep 2009	#18
Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	ganesan balachandran wrote: and for all this you want the conflict to continue... No sir, I was being sarcastic.
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Tue, 08 Sep 2009

#18

Randal Shacklett United States 263 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

ganesan balachandran wrote:
and for all this you want the conflict to continue...

No sir, I was being sarcastic.

Wed, 09 Sep 2009	#19
ganesan balachandran India 63 posts in this forum Offline	Randal Shacklett wrote: No sir, I was being sarcastic Iam sorry gb We are watching, not waiting, not expecting anything to happen but watching without end. JK
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Wed, 09 Sep 2009

#19

ganesan balachandran India 63 posts in this forum Offline

Randal Shacklett wrote:
No sir, I was being sarcastic

Iam sorry
gb

We are watching, not waiting, not expecting anything to happen but watching without end. JK

Sun, 13 Sep 2009	#20
Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	The exact meaning of poetics is the study of work to be done. The verb poiein from which the word is derived means nothing else but to do or to make. The poetics of the classical philosophers did not consist of lyical dissertations about natural talent or the essence of beauty. For them the single word techne embraced both the fine arts and the useful arts and was applied to the knowledge and the study of certain and inevitable rules of craft. That is why Aristotle's POETICS constantly suggest ideas regarding personal work, arrangement of materials and structure. - Igor Stravinsky - This is why it seems like artists always speak to my heart, they arent players or fighters, they just want to do what they do and make what they make. It's ALL poetry, if we understand poetry. Health care is everyone's job, not just in treating illness but in promoting healthy living. We must take personal responsibility, engaging our minds and hands in meaningful work - all essential components of healthy, secure lifestyles and communities.
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Sun, 13 Sep 2009

#20

Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

The exact meaning of poetics is the
study of work to be done. The verb
poiein from which the word is derived means nothing else but to do
or to make. The poetics of the
classical philosophers did not consist
of lyical dissertations about natural
talent or the essence of beauty. For
them the single word techne embraced
both the fine arts and the useful arts
and was applied to the knowledge and
the study of certain and inevitable
rules of craft. That is why
Aristotle's POETICS constantly suggest
ideas regarding personal work,
arrangement of materials and
structure. - Igor Stravinsky -

This is why it seems like artists always speak to my heart, they arent players or fighters, they just want to do what they do and make what they make. It's ALL poetry, if we understand poetry.

Sun, 13 Sep 2009	#21
Charlie Brown United States 2 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	Kind of a K-ish poem, i guess: Timeless, Thoughtless, Selfless Gaze The Ending of Time, when all is in Order When one is Alone, yet not in boredom. And the Mind and the Heart are free to Attend, Then Thought as Movement comes to an End The bird sounds, the breeze passes by, The thickening clouds pass over the sky. All is in motion, yet peaceably still, Natural movement, no effort of the Will. The nature beheld throughout ones youth, Viewed in the moment anew, as Truth. Not with a Self to compare or appraise. Only Observance, a self-less gaze. Pleasure in the Beauty, then let it be, Unlived with hereafter in memory. Thought as continuance by nature is selfish. When Self is not, then Love can flourish.
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Sun, 13 Sep 2009

#21

Charlie Brown United States 2 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

Kind of a K-ish poem, i guess:

Timeless, Thoughtless, Selfless Gaze

The Ending of Time, when all is in Order

When one is Alone, yet not in boredom.

And the Mind and the Heart are free to Attend,

Then Thought as Movement comes to an End

The bird sounds, the breeze passes by,

The thickening clouds pass over the sky.

All is in motion, yet peaceably still,

Natural movement, no effort of the Will.

The nature beheld throughout ones youth,

Viewed in the moment anew, as Truth.

Not with a Self to compare or appraise.

Only Observance, a self-less gaze.

Pleasure in the Beauty, then let it be,

Unlived with hereafter in memory.

Thought as continuance by nature is selfish.

When Self is not, then Love can flourish.

Thu, 17 Sep 2009	#22
Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED	Charlie Brown wrote: When Self is not, then Love can flourish. death is the environment in which love flourishes? GOOD GRIEF! Health care is everyone's job, not just in treating illness but in promoting healthy living. We must take personal responsibility, engaging our minds and hands in meaningful work - all essential components of healthy, secure lifestyles and communities. This post was last updated by Trees Palin (account deleted) Thu, 17 Sep 2009.
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Thu, 17 Sep 2009

#22

Trees Palin United States 29 posts in this forum ACCOUNT DELETED

Charlie Brown wrote:
When Self is not, then Love can flourish.

death is the environment in which love flourishes? GOOD GRIEF!

This post was last updated by Trees Palin (account deleted) Thu, 17 Sep 2009.

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