I have never feared nature
To me, everything needs to be loved
From the most beautiful bird
To the lowliest insect
They are all my friends and I care for them
Even the snakes that can kill me with a bite
I will hold them and pet them
People say that I am foolish for tempting death
But I do not see it that way
I am always nice to them
Talking to them and showing them affection
They always treat me the same way
That is how my life should be
I would not want it any different
© Poem – XXVIII/X/MMXXV
LRET
~ A Poem on the Parsha* ~
'In the Sinai Desert'
A wilderness - barren, desolate
that snakes and scorpions populate
Flat, sand-swept, open to all
who yearn to hear Eternity's call
There God led His new nation
Spoke to three million, atop a mountain gradation
On Horeb, the lowliest of them
face-to-face ~ Moses and Jerusalem
________________________________________________
*'Parsha' is Hebrew for (loosely) 'portion.' Every Sabbath
a portion of the Five Books of Moses is read in the
synagogue. In a year's time, all five books are completed,
and the grand occasion is celebrated at the last holiday
of the Fall Harvest Season, 'Simchas Torah.' (lit., 'Rejoic-
ing with the Law.'). This Sabbath, the portion read is titled
'In the Desert,' from the Book of Numbers 1:1 - 4:20.
Vivaldi wrote the Seasons
Botticelli painted La primavera
and I change the screen door
Of all the ways in the world
to trace the miracle change of the world
I mark it in the lowliest way
They greeted the spring with joy
and the fall with registration
but I, I change the screen door.
For what deeper, Earth's surface pleasure
Is dug this vein for
Anticipate the lowliest hearts
To be enriched more.
Tell me, who do you say that I am?
--The Son of God,
--King of Kings,
--Lord of Lords?
Even you, Lord, did not call yourself divine.
You never claimed to be
--God in the flesh,
--The High Priest, or
--Prophet of the ages.
You called yourself the lowliest of names,
“The Son of Man.”
Peter said, “You are the Christ,
The Son of the Living God.”
But I say that you are Jesus, the Christ,
The Sacrificial Lamb of God
Who takes away the sin of the world!
Written April 22, 2021
For Mystic Rose Rose's Contest
"Tell Me, Who Do You Say That I Am"
Despair of spectres whispered, John heard it muttered
Fears spoken, centuries of shame sunk into stone
Hanging tree hoisted him, feet above ground fluttered
Rope bound neck bulged, blood starved eyes shuttered
Aghast, entertainment starved spectators absorbed gore
Under his breath they heard it uttered,
" I am among the lowliest, and the last"
Sentiment collected by authorities, soon to outlaw
Heinous hangings of criminals and martyrs
Testiment to the cruelty, trademark of cessation
Clouds of purest doves spun above the atrociousity
Tyburn' s turbulent history viewed at Marble Arch
Has John's pledge to thank for returning compassion
14th September 2020
For: Line Gauthier 's Contest
Tyburn Collaboration max. 14
Last Curtain
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I know the day comes when my eyes close,
when my sight fails,
when life takes its leave in silence
and the last curtain veils my vision.
Yet the stars will still watch by night;
the sun will still rise like before;
the hours will still heave like sea waves
casting up pleasures and pains.
When I consider this end of my earth-life,
the barrier of the moments breaks
and I see by the illumination of death
this world with its careless treasures.
Rare is its lowliest seat,
rare its meanest of lives.
Things I longed for in vain and those I received, let them pass.
Let me but truly possess the things I rejected and overlooked.
Keywords/Tags: Tagore, translation, Bengali, Urdu, last, curtain, death, eyes, close, sight, vision, visionary, blindness, night, stars, sun, sea, waves, illumination, treasure, treasures
In the most darkest place under the moonlight
In the most seeming way I could not be seen
In the most fragmented self I could be in
I found you
In the lowliest spirit of my most fragile being
In the most undesirable dwelling of my self-doubt
In the most bizarre condition I could not decipher
I found you
In my oblivion hunted by diffidence
In my closest verge of claimed death
Yes, I found you
Yet, you did not found me.
Deep in the forest
On a heading of northwest
We weren't looking for anything of interest
When we came across a wooden bridge woven
Together with the creepiest
Rope which was between two rock ledges
Sitting on the crest.
We didn't go near or cross because much
To our surprise our binoculars showed
Underneath the bridge lived what looked like
A family of trolls that alot in my expedition party
Were ready to attest.
They said let's be honest
Everyone needs a place where they can get
Dressed,
Digest
Food, and feel blest
To have guests.
Director we are asking that at your earliest
Opportunity please erase this quest.
We will forget that we saw some of the
Homeliest,
Grimiest,
And down on their funds lowliest
Trolls that we by passed with zest.
Excuse me, those weren't trolls as you first
Suggest
They're humans who are hard pressed.
I sneak and slither in the darkness
I steal, lie, and waste
I ravenously eat the candy
It's the rush not the taste
I live for the high
Yet feel nothing but low
I'd pretend to be alive
but why put on a show
For your enjoyment here is the liar
Here is the lowliest of thieves
Here is what they tell you not to be
Only through deception he achieves
I lived in a land where the coconuts grew
where the sun always shone
under sky that was blue
where the fans on the ceilings
and conditioned air
were the only cool breeze
you could find anywhere.
I basked in the heat, and baked in the sun
where living and loving
were always good fun
where I woke up happy
to meet every day
knowing that working
was simply more play.
An island afloat in the tropical seas
with sun, sea and sand
meant only to please
the locals so friendly
the food so divine
with flavour so scrumptious
it didn’t need wine.
From it’s beaches to hilltop, from jungle to street
from market to temple
in trishaw, on feet
shone beauty and wisdom
in all you could see
where even the lowliest soul
could soar free.
I lived on an island, the island caught me
by my heart, where it stays
and I still long to be
a ‘Pearl in the Orient’
second to none
where dreams were alive
under tropical sun.
Now many years on and I’ve never been back
though an ache in my heart
still marks out the track
that I took in my youth
under tropical sun
when ‘Pulau Pinang’
was the place I learned fun.
Ivor G Davies
Palm Sunday
Shopping and hawking,
purchasing and vending their wares;
the observant noticed;
the indifferent paid no mind;
the powerful perturbed by all the noise
make their way to confront
and charge the man
some call anointed.
Loud and raucous singing
disturbs the quiet of the status quo.
Those who should be seen and not heard
are making the utmost clamor;
appreciated by some;
angering others
insisting they turn the volume down.
Boulders will sing
while trees will give their branches
to welcome the mighty
if the lowliest of participants
are muzzled by the powerful,
but they sing in applause;
an affront to the self-made mighty.
Shaking off the winter greys and
waving springtime green,
a shout welcomes the anointed one.
Thrown off fashion lines the path
covering eager rocks
postponing the clearing of their throats.
Join the cavalcade
and raise the benediction;
awaken the sleeping alleluias
and the slumbering hosannas.
Join the lowest of the low
and applaud the highest of the high.
But beware,
the shoppers are eager to buy,
even if the cost is high.
And the hawkers are ready
to sell their merchandise.
The Relentless
I know, do not remind me, but today I saw my father
On TV, he is 110 and can dance salsa, so if I´m like him
I have years of gymnastic prowess
I rang the TV channel asked for my dad´s address, they
didn’t tell me against policy....ok.
I´m tenacious like the Wiesenthal centre pursuing war
criminals to their grave and spitting on it, because their
ideology to the pursue of old crimes have no limitation
nor forgiveness, but my father wasn´t there, his voice
was ensnaring women
A, this centre of vengeance has a duty to follow the old
Nazis to the point of ridiculousness, the lowliest guard
at a concentration camp will do an old face in the papers.
Alas the money well is drying out even evil Nazis have to
die and get a Christian burial.
And one wonders if a new law is being made that gives
the right of the survivors to follow and righteously
demand that the grandchildren of the wronged should
benefit too we remember the pain because a corny eye
demands ritual repentance.
He was my vision of a good life.
I soon, became his new wife.
Celebrations were grand
Then, we did not demand.
Together we shared goals…hoped.
Disappointments came, we coped.
I gave all that she had.
Through the good and the bad.
At Christmas, I lavished him with gifts.
I could have written his book of festschrifts
Anything he wanted, I would try to buy.
I went all out, do or die!
Birthdays came, I was never remiss.
My joy was his happiness.
Material things for me, he did dismiss.
Instead, he gave me his sweetest kiss.
At first, I was only sad.
Later I became very mad!
Later, the economy failed,
Some of our dreams bailed.
But love was not lost.
Amid differences tossed.
Eventually, I began to learn
Even through disappointment’s burn.
Wisdom brought its hum.
Now, I am no Longer Numb.
Pure love is loveliest…
When selfishness is lowliest.
To give freely without expectation of return is bliss.
To give with dreams of reciprocation… dismiss.
© February 21, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Colors fading from view
The sun dies slowly in the sky
Clouds grow and churn above
Casting shadows on an empty landscape
The rotting smell of sulfur fills the air
Even as the lowliest creature struggles
Fighting for a final gasp of air
Air that no longer exists
It lowers its head
Its eyes stare straight ahead
Looking into world around it
A world that once had life
Then man came to be
A single cross word
Shouted across a turbulent ocean
Twenty millennium of progress
Stone to metal to nuclear fusion
Leads to an ultimate act
Everything is lost in a mere second
The press of a single button
And the world exists no more
Except for a single creature
That has taken its final breath
And the Earth is once again as it was
A ball of water, rock and gas
Nothing more
Nothing less
Just a ball
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