Nachman was a revered Sage
The greatest of his age
One day he came to his stand
Armless! What had happened?
The next day, no legs either
His students, now in a fever
On the morrow, his body covered with boils
Panic set in – Was that the reward for all of Nachman's toils?
Asked if to teach, he still could
He replied ~ ‘What happens is all for the good’
~ Adapted from part of the tale in the Talmud
of 'Nachum, Ish Gam-zo,' meaning 'Nachum,
the man who says, "This too is for the good."
Tractate Ta'anis / Fasting - Chapter Three,
page 10b
Categories:
adapted, faith, health, pain, student,
Form: Narrative
TEXT-IMAGE POETRY ART
This visual poetic form (inspired by the work of the conceptual artist Hamish Fulton's (b 1946) landscape 'text-and-image' work 'a seven day walk in the mountains Switzerland early summer 1984'.
FULTON is the name I gave in 2008 to this shape poetic form has 5 words of 5 letters or 3 words of 3 letters (as above) or 7 words of 7 letters & so on with a pastoral theme.
I called this form a FULTON as a tribute to Hamish and his art.I created(adapted) & (&labelled)as a tribute
Categories:
adapted, art, poetry, word play,
Form: Shape
Though life's worries pull us apart,
Through summer’s heat and winter’s heart,
A drop of my blood once fell here,
And I can’t pass this village, dear.
At first, we came with hesitation,
But soon adapted with dedication.
In ten years, it shaped who we are,
This modest school that seemed so far.
My homeland blessed me with its grace,
Its image forever in my heart's space.
It gave me all its sacred charms,
And kept a corner of my heart warm.
No kin of mine remains in this place,
No treasure I hid in its embrace.
Yet it pulls me like a magnet's might,
Even if I hold the world outright!
Categories:
adapted, beautiful,
Form: Free verse
(Dzachuka Tibet, summer of 2017)
The Madness of the Crowd and Other Popular Delusions
The crowd is always prone to madness
Since reaction as a herd in danger
Demands conformity without reason.
The fact we live in a time of madness
Is nothing new or unusual,
Relative Reality after all being
Merely a conspiracy of relatives.
But sometimes it seems it’s all now extra crazy
As traditional boundaries break down
And everyone is free to think and say
And increasingly do whatever they want.
The ascendency of gender dysphoria
And acceptance, even celebration
Of child mutilation
Being a case in point.
But the fact is, we live in a world of illusion
Which the madness and delusions of the crowd
Is merely attempting to adapt to,
As all our perceptions and thoughts filter through
A mind which can do no other than interpret and distort.
These are the tools we are given,
A mind and body hardwired to survive
In a world of illusion, thus adapted
To the point of expertise with spinning illusions.
It’s not our fault, but instead our destiny
To find a way through
Out of the Cave of Unknowing
Into the Space
Of a land before time.
(12/6/24)
Categories:
adapted, life, perspective, spiritual,
Form: Narrative
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
I am here!
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Are you there?
I am the Shepherd of heaven's flock,
The door of your heart, please unlock.
I am here!
At the door of your heart, I knock.
Hear my voice, I am here, so near,
The door of your heart, please unlock,
And let our two hearts as one lock.
Where are you?
Turn the knob, snob me not,
Sup with me and I'll sup with you,
The table of your heart, the spot,
Come, dine with the living brot.
And there you are.
O what a cold old heart thou art!
The dainty delicacies of sin you store and share,
Is the devil's death knell for a fleshy heart.
There's death in the pot you serve, depart.
I have come, come let's dine,
Eat my flesh, drink my blood, eat and live.
My flesh is meat. My blood is fine wine,
Ignite the hearth in your heart, keep the fire alive.
Eat and drink the living word, eat and live.
I am here!
In your heart to forever stay,
The deadly dainty delicacies of sin eat no more.
The hot pot of the word, eat night and day,
Our hearts together locked as one in heaven's way.
By Oshorakpor Wilson.
Adapted from Revelation 3:20.
Categories:
adapted, christian, faith, religious, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme
a tribute to Mondrian
in an OPEN(organic) captalised FORM of adapted haiga VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Categories:
adapted, art, poetry, word play,
Form: Ekphrasis
The rich, deep tone of the skins of the Chewa people of Malawi reflects an image of a race that has seen the passage of time. They have adapted with resilience and strength to the challenges posed by the relentless sun.
The dark hue of their skins, like the fine edge of our galaxy, embodies identity and heritage. A heritage of a culture so vibrant, and an identity rooted in resilience. The Chewa, the black of Malawi, is a symbol of enduring strength.
Their traditions are woven into the very fabric of the land, from the rhythmic dances to the sacred rituals, so grand. Their voices, like echoes from ancient times, tell tales of old, of a people united, with spirits bold, and hearts of gold.
Categories:
adapted, 12th grade, africa,
Form: Prose Poetry
THE GEM IN BLACK
Give me black, I'll write on your heart
To the smile, cherished; found in her
Sleep no more, come up
Let me hold thy hand up
While you smile, gazing up
In thee, no trouble slays
If I'm ever trapped, cuddle!
Lost in thee, to say no more
Walk of the hour of timeline
To gem so rare in black
Tilting the wave of ocean's flow
Willingly, I agreed to your wave-line
As East winds bring a call up whistle
Calm me, in thy calmness
Dress me, in thy decency
Mould me, in thy confidence
Till black is written, on golden stand.
By Sir Taitophil; adapted for Pharm Christie.
Categories:
adapted, africa, beautiful, dark, faith,
Form: Free verse
I wasn't a native in the land, but I blended in
wasn't a place I called home, but I dwelt it
simply a misfit trying to fit in
a victim of circumstance
a weakened soul that knew no resistance
adapted to the cruelty and swore my allegiance
In the mist of the pain I found closure
despite the stress, i took hold of my composure
My true self hidden in a chained enclosure
I survived the tyranny
sorrowful songs were the only company
but in all the agony i remained a faithful slave
convinced that the only alternative was to be brave
Freedom was far from a delicacy I could crave
Then you came
with hope engraved all over your name
Rescued me from the land of shame
Fed my hungry tummy with the attention I never had
Pointed the way to freedom, where i could be glad
Watered my withered Love garden
and welcomed my torn heart into your haven
I beg of you please!
Take a tight grip of this hand, to never release
From a distance I see Pharaoh with a swarm of chariots like bee's
I give you my heart and soul to encrypt
I can't take a step back to Egypt
Categories:
adapted, emotions, love,
Form: Rhyme
"The beauty you see in me
--is a reflection of you" :-)
I want you to cut out
a paper heart, of any hue
Doesn't matter if you're a kid,
or went to NYU
This experiment doesn't use
markers, glitter, nor glue
Doesn't need perfect proportions
-- it's fine if it's askew
Now, go ahead and crumple it
into a ball (just do!)
Next, please open up and smooth out
the paper, through and through
Iron it, flatten in a book --
but whatever you do
There will be many remaining
creases within your view
These symbolize harmful words'
memories -- even if true
All the mean, blunt, biting thoughts
folks wish someone else knew
Our rash impulse to hurt peoples' feelings
-- we should subdue
The philosophy "hello human kindness!"
-- let's renew
Our own hearts are like a mirror
showing how others feel, too
[Sunday, April 28, 2024. Inspired by reading "Paper Heart" by Cat Patrick;
adapted to fit the "Mirror Poetry Contest" by Sara Kendrick; deadline 6/8/24]
Categories:
adapted, analogy, heart, imagery, inspirational,
Form: Monorhyme
Scattered though my peices of time
So many tears I cried
Now I am so alone
I cry so much more now
When these places are no longer filmiar
I have adapted to all this change
Yes we seem so much more together
But no longer as one
I can't see my future
All I see is my past
The present is a work in progress
Will I love again
Will I be loved again
So many questions
Not enough answers
So long past this dating scene
Not sure how to grow
Not sure where to begin
Frustrated apps
Frustrated feelings
This world is changing
I am so out of touch
But I have hope
I have a plan
I have the goals
I just hope someone will be there to share
All of what has made me..Me.
Categories:
adapted, confusion, courage,
Form: Free verse
Inspired by, and adapted to, the classic Jane Austen novel, "Pride and Prejudice".
Pride and Prejudice
By Michelle Morris
04/03/2021
Why won't you let me in?
Why do you close the doors?
Is it your heart that hurts?
Or is it your ego keeping score?
Have you tried to see my side of the story?
Or are you too busy defending your own prejudice?
Or maybe it's your pride that's too big and scared, that's putting a wall between us?
Why won't you consider it?
That I might be what's best?
Why not open your heart and mind?
Why not give our love the test?
© Michelle Morris, 2021
Categories:
adapted, courage, emotions, history, love,
Form: Rhyme
As the sun sets, and the horizon fades to black
People disappear into the nothingness, never to be seen again
What tries to take root withers and becomes wilted
Forever never lasts, it's always just a moment or two
Ice laces the cold of night, where my heart has adapted to live
Faces fly by like a slideshow on an old projector
One after another, they all burst into clouds of dust
And the scroll continues rolling outward, the ink still writing
When I try to hold on, they slip away, leaving me to fall
Sliding down the edge of a cliff, into the oblivion of a canyon
As I try to crawl out, voices drag me back downward
Ghosts of the past haunt me, I fight against them and beg
Am I walking through the landscape of a living nightmare?
Am I awake or asleep, who am I, am I even alive?
Every hand that reaches out to pull me upward
Is a mirage that fades away upon getting a distance closer
I walk in a barren wasteland where only shadows accompany
And where the light of the moon fails to reach the depths of
So I look down with a blank expression and try to feel
Absolutely anything that would fill the void inside my chest
Categories:
adapted, dark, depression,
Form: Free verse
The darkness is my comfort, where I feel safe and sound
For it was refuge from the monsters, who tried to tear me down
My monsters come not from darkness, but in the harsh light of day
Hands gripping around my neck, pulling me down without my say
The darkness provides peace, a quiet time for all
A set of arms to watch me when I feel like I'm going to fall
As a result I have become acquainted with the spirit of the night
For this sacred time of tranquility is my refuge from it's light
So when the world falls asleep, and into the dreamworld be
There's a whole void awaiting, my perfect calamity
Adapted to the emptiness, a daughter of the night
In starry skies is when I have the best of my foresight
Praise be to the night who raised me, and the moon my beloved goddess
Compared to the loudness of the day, the night is much more modest
Everyone believes that sunny days bring about the most of joy
But the moon has kept me safe and sound, comforting me in the void
Categories:
adapted, depression, moon, night,
Form: Rhyme
In the union of husband and wife intertwined
shines the essence of all that is holy and divine
________________________________________
Adapted to poetry from 'Daily Dose of Wisdom,'
Aug. 29 2023, Chabad.org, based on 'The Wisdom
of the Lubavitcher Rebbe,' by Rabbi Tzi Freeman.
Categories:
adapted, marriage, meaningful, spiritual, uplifting,
Form: Couplet
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