And arose whence Tagoreweb nature 154
And arose whence
Up she goes and arose whence a misfit
My thyme rosemary and my bay leaf delight leaves a pulpit
A patsy outskirt arose a pinnacle up to zenith sky underneath Bethlehem
A fanciful misfit hue staid in outspoken twilight until alone Eden sank in grief grieving for a leaf
A fanciful Myst of a song soared along the flight of a mundane delight upon a cosmos and a white lily
A sunlit raisin croon and the flight of the song a spell along , o'er the mundane and the cosmic hymn
Up she goes!
And arose whence a soul kindled a verse and the fanciful basilica temple as kismet wills on in wilmette and in jolene!
Ingratitude
Tagoreweb
Raga : Behug- Keertan
Taal: Dadra
Composition time (Bangla) : 1328
Composition(After Christ) : 1921
Composition place : Shantiniketan
Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2026
www.tagoreweb.in/Songs/prakriti-236
And arose whence
Up she goes and arose whence a misfit
My thyme rosemary and my bay leaf delight leaves a pulpit
A patsy outskirt arose a pinnacle up to zenith sky underneath Bethlehem
A fanciful misfit hue staid in outspoken twilight until alone Eden sank in grief grieving for a leaf
A fanciful Myst of a song soared along the flight of a mundane delight upon a cosmos and a white lily
A sunlit raisin croon and the flight of the song a spell along , o'er the mundane and the cosmic hymn
Up she goes!
And arose whence a soul kindled a verse and the fanciful basilica temple as kismet wills on in wilmette and in jolene!
Ingratitude
Tagoreweb
Raga : Behug- Keertan
Taal: Dadra
Composition time (Bangla) : 1328
Composition(After Christ) : 1921
Composition place : Shantiniketan
The Tower was engineered
by Monsieur Eiffel in Paris
the Wheel was favoured
by Mr. Ferris
Michelangelo in Rome
contributed St. Peter's Basilica dome
Eddystone Lighthouse the first
was constructed by Winstanley and
in St. Paul's Cathedral
Sir Christopher Wren had a hand
the seated Thinker
was carved out by Auguste Rodin
the Taj Mahal (Mumtaz') tomb
commissioned by Shah Jahan
all roads lead to the Colosseum
started by Emperor Vespasian
Borglum executed Mount Rushmore
while Hadrian gave us the Wall
and Ferdinand de Lesseps
secured the Suez Canal
in Byzantine Constantinople
Justinian I built the Hagia Sophia
in Italy Bonanno Pisano began
the (later leaning) Tower of Pisa
the Egyptian Pharaoh Khafre
inspired the Sphinx
but in Scotland who designed
the Musselburgh (golf) Links
We drive breakneck over hot roads.
Churches, big as cathedrals, rocket
from pocket villages.
Castillo's cast their campanile on the baking earth.
The Great Mosque of Cordoba,
the green Alhambra shades us
through a preaching dust.
The Giralda; its Christianized minaret
stretched like a tourists neck,
and above the Papal parapets,
a banished Allah.
The holy places have hollow guts,
their tubes are wrapped
around a torso, like alien spaceships.
One edifice dwarfs another
until awe sinks to its knees
attired in the black mufti
of old peasant women.
We are traveling fast now.
Nave and transept are our crossroads.
Basilica and sacellum our roadside naps.
The car parallel parks itself
beside every altar and shrine,
it's engine running,
as we chase God's works down,
ticking off only ourselves.
Find respite in an island
with uplifting hands.
as a stranger,
walking through strange lands.
What does it mean to belong?
be better to another
a special someone,
free of toil
someone yours.
Not enough to belong in today
you're in deep,
rapt in the present
at foot of an evergreen,
where you fell asleep.
What time will you wake?
is time a thing known
as such and..
will it be too late.
You find yourself charmed
in a chapel..
with pennies plucked
from your eyes,
now placed at your feet.
Will angels hear praying
under Basilica' stars
for theirs
for ours..?
Must be turning to sunrise, always
be at it swift
for a reckoning comes, wi' hope
for you in,
Jacob Marley's* gift.
~~~~~*Jacob Marley - Charles Dickens 'A Christmas Carol' 1843 ~~~~~
Gentle winds, drift
drift gently this
hawk above the waters,
brown like the clay
of earth's marble realm.
I saw the dance of crows
as I rose, far beyond reach
from the sight of golem eyes
of haughty men breached,
by the lies of serpents and swine.
How divine was the moment
when a hand lifted my brow
from the depths,
to the east
where my true call was,
a basilica of wonder
weaving the four winds
weaving worlds.
Dreaming into another life,
into another realm
I do best
than walk the streets as a beggar
in a world not my own.
Michelangelo was seventy-one years young
when he began designing St Peter’s Basilica, Vatican’s Dome
Lying on scaffolds for hours a day, it was a labor of love
His final hurrah, a worthwhile sacrifice,
Millions of visitors have marveled at his works.
Each streak of paint was an experienced stroke of a master painter.
Michelangelo, the quintessential designer, working for hours
Bravo! He has left us the ultimate artistic masterpiece.
Bejeweled, in and out of the Gothic architecture,
Conceived by Abbot Suger, through a constant conjecture;
With perfect glasswork etched out of the then-time silica,
Found its place In Saint-Denis Cathedral Basilica...!
Modestly outsized splash-smeared gorgeous goblet casements,
Renaissance classic styled stone accent wall sacred basements;
Prettily pointed piercing cumulative curly curves,
Rib vaults great and small intertwining like the war of nerves...!
Soaring airborne ramparts; metaphysical adornments;
Perpendicular proportions; lopsided floral fronts;
Steady solemn designs that flounce upward in height and grace;
Domed arched ceilings that charms of times, ages, and eras embrace...!
With no shrinks and wrinkles like the perfection of pure youth,
Enticing grand elegance like the fullness of the truth;
Tracery is a treasury of architectural forms,
Within which dwell, fine ethereal elemental norms...!!!
26 January 2023
TRACERY Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
"Take Me There Contest, Judged 01/21/2023/ NA"
I yearn to visit the eternal city of Rome,
St. Peter's Basilica with its tall dome;
oh, love the beautiful gilt and art,
the holiness touches my heart.
The Sistine Chapel,
breathtaking,
the ceiling dappled.
I want to walk cobbled streets,
and pause for some Italian eats.
To see the Vatican garden and catacomb,
to wander outdoor markets and just roam.
Trapped in slothfulness
Trapped in spiral labyrinth
Will she leave her shell
Inspired by a mosiac art of snails in Aquileia Basilica. Explained here: https://theomagica.com/blog/visit-to-a-gnostic-sanctum-aquileia
Aquileia's official website explaining the site: http://www.comune.aquileia.ud.it/index.php?id=6903&L=4
My maternal grandfather died when I was just seven!
Most certainly he is honored with special joy in heaven.
He left his art work at the Basilica of Notre Dame in Indiana
Those artistic, lighted fixtures you see hanging down
Are his creations,he must ride on his own heavenly cloud!
It makes me wonder....what will I leave behind of beauty?
That inspires human souls, to look up to God and in gratitude,
On this earth, perform His work witn joyous duty!
He created Art Deco Doors at the Chicago Tribune Towers,
Peoplle walked through those doors and worked for hours,
Upon hours.
Tribute to my Grandfather, Stanley of blessed memory.
Love, Panagiota
10/13/2020
Opus #3
We drive breakneck over hot roads.
Churches, big as cathedrals, rocket
from pocket villages.
Castillo's cast their campanile on the baking earth.
The Great Mosque of Cordoba,
the green Alhambra shades us
through a preaching dust.
The Giralda; its Christianized minaret
stretched like a tourists neck,
and above the Papal parapets,
a banished Allah.
The holy places have hollow guts,
their tubes are wrapped
around a torso, like alien spaceships.
One edifice dwarfs another
until awe sinks to its knees
attired in the black mufti
of old peasant women.
We are traveling fast now.
Nave and transept are our crossroads.
Basilica and sacellum our roadside naps.
The car parallel parks itself
beside every altar and shrine,
it's engine running
as we chase God's works down,
ticking off not only Him
but ourselves.
By George P. Lumayag
https://georgelumayag.weebly.com/
It seems angels in Heaven discourage devotees to use their phones
During novena masses at the Basilica Minore del Santo Niño.
An angel says, ‘No selfie…, no taking of pictures…
And no live broadcasting on social media using cell phones.’
Metaphorically speaking, there is no signal in Heaven.
No phrase in the bible - to use your phone to transmit your prayers to God.
It is because that communicating to Him is an earnest wish in word or thought.
There is no telco nor there is no business in Heaven!
What the angels of God want is to set your phone in silent mode.
The church discourages devotees from using their phones
To ensure the novena masses will remain solemn.
There you can see the loving angels singing in a sober mood.
Viva Pit Senyor!!! in a thunderous mood.
basilica bells
ring-ting-a-tingling swell ~
touching cold window
11/22/2018
swell - to become distended with emotion
Didn’t digest my all-dressed pizza
Suffering now from insomnia
A touch of every possible phobia
Mostly of ravenous bacteria
And humongous tarantula
O yes, and the sordid mafia
Did I call my Grandmamma
Did I put away the spatula
Did I book girls’ day at the spa
Did all the bourgeois really die of cholera
I’m drowning under this plethora
Remind me What’s that formula
O yes, Abracadabra
Tra-la-la and La-di-da
And poof now I’m in a gondola
On the way to utopia
Dressed in graceful taffeta
Eating baklava in the basilica
Hanging from the candelabra
Swinging to the tunes of Lady Gaga
Supported by the silliest orchestra
Hey you Pass me the foie gras
I have a cockeyed camera
You’ll see me at the cinema
I love you Etcetera Etcetera
AP: 1st place 2020, 3rd place 2025
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