A rose

By on February 11, 2009 in Happiness

A rose among thorns,
A noble heart that knew only loving,
A gentle soul that knew only giving,
So many times he was pricked by the lusty thorns
Surrounding that red fragrant rose
His heart,
One day he thought he will change,
Wont let any one make a fool of him again,
He was hell bent to go to hell
When he heard a voice sweet
He looked in his petals and saw a fairy sweet,
She said in a voice gentle serene
If you become thorn where shall I dwell

About mydomainpvt

 

 

Who am I? just a child of God like you
Your very own, I too worship the same God
Only in some other form, and just like you
I too pray for food, shelter and clothe for all.

What do I love? In this beautiful world?
Let me think, the smile on a baby’s face
Flowers, gardens, sky, clouds and butterflies
Music, love, friends, any thing with beauty.

My religion? To love every harmless soul
Feel compassion for every living being
Never play God even when I am wronged
Never to hit back unless pushed in corner.

What do I hope? A permanent place in your heart
An entire life of friendship with you
We will fly together forever, in the blue skies
Full of love, peace and harmony everlasting

 

 

A lotus of light is slowly opening its petals
A divine fragrance is enveloping my being
As if my whole existence is slowly changing
Transforming itself to wait for your touch.

Don’t make me wait any longer
Just come down place your feet
In this lotus waiting for you
Touch it and make it divine

 

 

My blog: suryagni.blogspot.com
My email: sharmishthabasu1949@hotmail.com

 

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The Rose

By on November 25, 2008 in Inspiration, Meditation, Spirit

 

I dreamt I came to a magnificent city

     whose palace was the rose, rose.

The crown and throne of the great sultan,

     his garden and chambers

          were the rose, rose.

 

Here they buy and sell but roses

     and the roses are the scales they use,

Weighing roses with more roses,

     the marketplace and bazaar

          are all roses, rose.

 

The white rose and the red rose

     grew coupled in one garden.

Their faces turn as one toward the thorn.

     Both thorn and blossom

          are the rose, rose.

 

Soil is the rose and stone is the rose,

     withered is the rose, fresh is the rose.

Within the Lord’s private gardens

     both slender cypress and old maple

          are the rose, rose.

 

The rose is turning the waterwheel

     and gets ground between the stones.

The wheel turns round as the water flows.

     Its power and its stillness

          are the rose, rose.

 

From the rose a tent appears

     filled with an offering of everything.

Its gatekeepers are the holy prophets.

     The bread and the wine they pour

          are the rose, rose.

 

Oh Ummi Sinan, heed the mystery

     of the sorrow of nightingale and rose.

Every cry of the forlorn nightingale

          is for the rose, the rose.

 

by Ummi Sinan 16th century

Digital image by Charles Wildbank

 – from Quarreling with God: Mystic Rebel Poems of the Dervishes of Turkey

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About wildbank

Up to present day, observable form and vivid color have long been attributed to Wildbank's art. His recent works appear to flirt with the abstract and the surreal christened as his HADO series. His studio in Jamesport is now open to the public by appointment. The artist can be contacted at: wildbank@wildbank.com or located at: LINKEDIN website under WILDBANK . . . the inner world for me is one vast camera obscura with all its images of light and ever-changing color. Then I seek outside for models to reflect that vision from within... www.wildbank.com
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One Response to The Rose

  1. dlj926 November 25, 2008 at 4:53 pm #

    Thank you for this poem, which so deeply enlivens for me the essence of my studies on the Sufi path. To practice the Mevlevi Turn is a profound and expansive experience, where separation dissolves in the Oneness of All. So much cannot be put into words in states of insight and union; the rose is both the lover and the beloved. Reading this poem has opened my heart to see a bridge back through my past to the Source again. Thank you.

    I will share a quote from the Masnavi by Jalalu'ddin Rumi:

    "Come, come, whoever you are,

    Wanderer, Worshiper, Lover of Leaving.

    Ours is not a caravan of despair.

    Come, even though you have broken your vow a thousand times;

    Come, come yet again, come."