POETRY

DIDN'T I TELL YOU

2010-10-14T19:29:00.002+08:00

Didn't I tell you
Do not leave me for I am your only Friend,
I am the spring of life.
Even if you leave in anger for thousands of years
You will come back to me for I am your goal and your end.
Didn't I tell you
not to be seduced by this colorful world
for I am the Ultimate Painter.
Didn't I tell you
you are a fish do not go to dry land
for I am the deep Sea.
Didn't I tell you
not to fall in the net like birds
for I am your wings and the power of light.
Didn't I tell you
not to let them change your mind and turn you to ice
for I am your fire and warmth.
Didn't I tell you
they will corrupt you and make you forget
that I am the Spring of all virtues.
Didn't I tell you
not to question my actions
for everything falls into order, I am the Creator.
Didn't I tell you
your heart can guide you home
because it knows that I am your Master.

-- Translation by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Rumi: Hidden Music
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2001

SHARE YOUR POETRY

2007-12-23T14:46:00.000+09:00

SHARE YOUR POETRY

Please email to Bob < boab@iinet.net.au >

LAMENT
Sorrow and lament
the blindness of my loved ones.
Dost Thou desert them?
22 Jan 2005

ONE GOD
There is only God!
Numerous religions.
Chronological.

RIPENESS
One of my pleasures,
eating ripe and juicy fruit.
It sweetens my soul.

MEANING OF RIPENESS
How does eating fruit
provide sweetness for the soul?
Please respond by blog

PROTECTION
God the Almighty
I know you will protect me
From all harmful things

A MAGICAL TIME
By the riverside
motionless water like glass.
Birds still and silent
10 Jan 2005

SUBMISSION TO A HIGHER CAUSE -PIETY
Meditate and pray,
reach the Most Divine Lover
then submit to Her

THE UNKNOWABLE
My love is for Her
whom Baha'u'llah didst love.
Unknowable Maid!!!

See
"The Maid of Eternity came from the Exalted Paradise;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!"
http://bahai-library.com/provisionals/hallelujah.html

2007-03-08T19:12:00.000+09:00

Poem written during the Baha'i fast March 2007.

Virtue Hands

Virtues hands virtues hands
Palms that knead the bread that could feed us all
Fingers you strum the heart of a guitar

Type the words of freedom’s song
Making daisy chains for him
It’s your homage to a king
Hands that plant a tiny seed
Words becoming a mighty tree

Virtues hands virtues hands
You dig and plant
You nurture you sow
You’re the handprints in the wind
And the angels put you there

You lead and you do
What the Hidden words say.

Virtues hands virtues hands
Palms that knead the bread that could feed us all
Fingers you strum the heart of a guitar
Type the words of freedom’s song

June Perkins

2006-10-24T21:29:00.000+08:00

Beautiful book of Rumi's poetry with paintings
HIDDEN MUSIC
Translated by
Maryam Mafi amd Azima Melita Kolin

(can be purchased via the web from Amazon)

If you want everlasting glory don't go back to sleep.
If you want to burn with love don't go back to sleep.
You have wasted so many nights!
Tonight, for the love of God, meet the dawn don't go back to sleep!

SEE MY PAINTINGS

2006-08-08T19:05:00.000+08:00

SEE BOB'S PAINTINGS HERE

Larry’s Apology - June Perkins

2006-05-10T21:22:00.000+08:00

June Perkins wrote this in response to the cyclone in her area and all the amazing things that have been happening since. She as been studying other religions to teach the local school children attending Baha'i Special Religious Education BSRE classes in Tully. It brings all of that together.

June's Blog

LARRY'S APOLOGY

For the people of Johnstone and Cardwell Shire

Buddha’s footprints made their way
All the way to a gift shopWhere sat a lady and all the fragrances
Of Mother’s dayShe said “I don’t have a book on India.”Krishna’s pictures adorned the house that blew awayWhen Shiva came dressed as Larry
And Vishnu came like a thief in the night
On the back of a General called Cosgrove.On the hill where all the trees fell down,
And the cat bird was scared out of the forest
The mosaics of Christ found themselvesA tapestry of fish and loaves only They were generators and bread and milk.Helicopters foretold the coming of the cargoAnd the Messengers of recovery
And later the children came running For their teddy bears and sunglasses out at Mission beach.Old friends remembered connections
And the Silkwood found itself a silk heart
Woven from copper debris to golden pillars.

The march of Saints went on
And somewhere in Italy Someone waited for a relative
To walk through her door.Children in all their innocence couldn’t sleep When the rain came singing down the gutters
And the wind scraped its fingers along the sides of the houses.Houses marked with little quips like “Larry’s takeaway” Showed people heal with ironic laughter.

Sport languished for a while
As fields found themselves lakes.Butterflies flew in threes
And cassowaries knocked on doors
While artists gathered in the progress hall
And brewed a stone soup–
All peoples welcome here.
© June Perkins 2006

Robert James Michell, Montreal

2006-04-23T10:27:00.000+08:00

In Starlight—Writ

If we had only heeded, surely we’d have known!
If only, in our self-serve we had recked the Day!
Where were the signposts? Where was the light?

O, my friend, but it was always there,
There, when we were bat-like dwellers
Of those dark and searching places—
It was there—in starlight—writ!

Or, It was hidden in a sea of chaos.
In white noise, in an ancient code,
It was there within the germ of being
Wrapped in all our brutish ecstacies.

** ** ** ** ** **

Where once, there was excuse for blindness
Now, it’s crystal clear—clear as the gath’ring blue;
O, just look at that spotless crown of cumulus!

It is often there at the close of a fright’ning storm
In a brilliant arc of hope. O, yes!
If you would only look up to the Arc of Glory!

There I slaked the parch of self

O, have I wandered far where
Burdened camel trains
ply the swell of dunes
in deserts brim with want
And seen them scurry out to
Form a ring of tents around
Where stout cord and canvas
May outlast the desert jinn
Then, watched them loose
their loads in wet oases—
in haunts of owl and panther
Where they bedded down in thickets
their thorns a-bristle
And in a sun-lit grove among the rocks
perhaps, a sudden lash of viper
And when, upon the shimm’ring
line, mirages would arise:
Houris ripe for Bedouin taste
And young wives in noisy markets
swim in fragrant seas of
spices, teas, perfumes
There I slaked the parch of self
With waters sweetened
by Your love. There
I pleased the pallet—
Your eager fists so
full of dates and figs
_____________________________

Endless are the
Permutations of the Noble Mind

Endless are the permutations of the noble mind—
enjoining chants to haste the sun along
dreaming up cold fusions in mock cuisine
scheming to create our own-clone solar burst
Compassion is but logic to the noble heart—
towing icebergs for Sahara widows
playing hop-scotch with brown-eyed muchachas
weeping over gorilla-hand ashtrays
Sincerity’s the genus of the noble soul—
abiding wisdoms in the holy wood
viewing lotus blooms on some quiet pond
walking softly with a knotty stave
One virtue alone may claim to a crown of kings—
to become a straw detached from all but wind
play the spirit like a hollow reed, as you
follow in the Master’s submissive steps

___________________________________________

Haiku based on some of Bob's paintings

(Autumn Garden)

Luminous new blooms
Against the sombre jetty
They weren't there yesterday
_______________________________

(Albany Harbour Tug)

Puffing on a pipe
Old man with mighty arms-
Ancient harbour tug

______________________________

(A Favourite Place)

The further shore
Clad in joyous regalia
The water knows it, too

_____________________________

(Yellow Flowers)

In the midst of pain
Cut flowers seem to shout joy
Before the withering

____________________________

(Matilda Bay)
A proud cluster of sails
Seems to vie with the tower
At Matilda Bay

____________________________

(Kings Park Visitors)

Old-folks among the flowers
-True beauty in compassion
-True wisdom briefly blooms

____________________________

(Sunset City)

The dying sun knows
There is beauty in concrete
Look beyond the pain

SELECTION OF SUFI POETRY

2006-04-12T08:30:00.000+08:00

Winged Heart From the Sufi tradition : " The opened heart illuminated by God is set free " Robert Donaghey

Saadi of Shiraz (1215?-1292), a great poet of Persia, author of the Gulistan (Rose-Garden) and the Bostan (Orchard), who also wrote many odes and lyrics.

O bird of the morning, learn love from the moth
Because it burnt, lost its life, and found no voice.
These pretenders are ignorantly in search of Him,
Because he who obtained knowledge has not returned.

Sheikh Muslih-uddin Sa'di Shirazi - The Gulistan of Sa'di

Attar (1119 - 1230?) saint and mystic, one of the most voluminous authors in Persian literature on religious topics. His best-known work, Conference of the Birds, is an elaborate allegory of the soul's quest for reunion with God

So long as we do not die to ourselves,
and so long as we identify with someone or something,
we shall never be free.
The spiritual way is not for those wrapped up in exterior life.
Farid ud Din Attar
~~
Strive to discover the mystery before life is taken from you.
If while living you fail to find yourself, to know yourself,
how will you be able to understand
the secret of your existence when you die?
Farid ud Din Attar

~~
Four Things to Know
Hatim al-Asamm said, "I have chosen four things to know
and discarded all other things of knowledge.
"The first is this: I know that my daily bread is apportioned
to me and will neither be increased or decreased, so I have stopped
trying to add to it.
"Secondly, I know I owe to God a debt which no one else can
pay for me, so I am busy about paying it.
"Thirdly, I know that there is someone pursuing me ---
Death --- whom I cannot escape from, so I have prepared myself
to meet him.
"Fourth, I know that God is observing me, so I am ashamed
to do what I should not."
Farid ud Din Attar, translation by Andrew Harvey and Eryk Hanut - 'Perfume of the Desert'

A few poems from a number of authors are included HERE as examples of the amazing depth and variety of Sufi poetry:"

2006-04-11T17:43:00.000+08:00

IF A STONE HAD TEARS
Clutching a stone from the dust
In a withered claw of a hand
Sensing only darkness and shadow
In the presence of a glorious dawn
This poor blind gibbering creature
Tried to put out the Sun as He passed.
Guards rushed forward to restrain
That cacophony of shrill raucous cries
And the Sun spoke to them...
He said:

"Deny her not
What she regards
As a meritorious act
In the sight of God." *

Oh, dear beloveds
If that stone had tears
There would have been a river
Wide and deep and torrential enough
To wash away all the stones
Hurled throughout time
At the Sun
Light of the Worlds
When He appeared
Arrayed in new attire...
That Beauty of God
Amongst us

Nigh

* Baha'u'llah Dawnbreakers p.608
*~Baha'i Mysticism~* http://www.planetbahai.org/resources/mysticism/remysticisma.html

http://news.bahai.org/pictures/1305-pub.jpg

WHITE DOVES

2006-04-04T07:27:00.000+08:00

A thousand white doves
Flew into my heart
Shattering it all asunder
Brilliant white light
Terrible piercing tenderness
Thousands of pure white wings
fluttering
fluttering
fluttering

Nigh/Galya

HAFIZ - THE GIFT

2006-03-27T07:28:00.000+08:00

A ROOT IN EACH ACT
AND CREATURE

The sun's eyes are painting fields again.
It lashes with expert strokes
Are sweeping across the land.
A great palette of light has embraced
This earth.

Hafiz, if just a little clay and water
Mixed in His bowl
Can yield such exquisite scents, sights,
Music - and whirling forms -

What unspeakable wonders must await with
The commencement of unfolding
Of the infinite number of petals
That are the Soul.

What excitement will renew your body
When we all begin to see
That His heart resides in
Everything?

God has a root in each act and creature
That He draws His mysterious
Divine life from.

His eyes are painting fields again.

The Beloved with His own hands is tending,
Raising like a precious child,
Himself in
You.

("The Gift" - versions of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky)

(Thanks to Galya)

The Poetry of Roger White

2006-03-25T21:39:00.000+08:00

The Poetry of Roger White:

"He Who had no candle
has here, ensconced in circled circle,
amid adoring flowers
and green deferential trees,
this whitest marble taper
tipped in gold.
It gleams serenely from Carmel,
inextinguishably lights the world,
our reverential hearts
the willing wick. "

http://bahai-library.com/books/white/4g.html

MAKU

2006-03-25T21:10:00.000+08:00

High in remote mountain fastness
Dark night is falling
Down in the small village
The Mosque is warm and full of light
A myriad candles illumine and shine
Brightly flickering on golden walls
The faithful chant and pray to Him
Whom they have fearfully locked away.
Dark night is falling
And ever looming on frozen heights
The stark black fortress of Maku
Within deep caverns in a hewn rock cell
He lies in chains and fetters bound
Dark night has fallen
Small furry creatures are freezing, dying
And He has no coat, no warmth, no light
Abandoned in frozen silent isolation
To the pitiless cold of this black night
Without a single lamp.
..........and yet they are so veiled from Him as to refuse Him even a
lamp.

Galya Gunderson

"The Bab Selections", p87.

The Lord of the universe hath never raised up a prophet nor hath He sent down a Book unless He hath established His covenant with all men, calling for their acceptance of the next Revelation and of the next Book; inasmuch as the outpourings of His bounty are ceaseless and without limit. VI, 16.

How veiled are ye, O My creatures, ... who, without any right, have consigned Him unto a mountain [Mákú], not one of whose inhabitants is worthy of mention... With Him, which is with Me, there is no one except him who is one of the Letters of the Living of My Book. In His presence, which is My Presence, there is not at night even a lighted lamp! And yet, in places [of worship] which in varying degrees reach out unto Him, unnumbered lamps are shining! All that is on earth hath been created for Him, and all partake with delight of His benefits, and yet they are so veiled from Him as to refuse Him even a lamp!

In this Day therefore I bear witness unto My creatures, for the witness of no one other than Myself hath been or shall ever be worthy of mention in My presence. I affirm that no Paradise is more sublime for My creatures than to stand before My face and to believe in My holy Words, while no fire hath been or will be fiercer for them than to be veiled from the Manifestation of My exalted Self and to disbelieve in My Words.

Ye may contend: `How doth He speak on our behalf?'

OF ALL THE WORLD I CHOOSE YOU ALONE - RUMI

2006-01-15T18:19:00.000+08:00

Of all the world I choose you alone;
Will you allow me to sit in grief?
My heart is as a pen in your hand;
You cause me to be either glad or sad.
Save what you will, what will have I?
Save what you reveal, what do I see?
Out of me you grow a thorn or a rose;
I small roses now, and pull out thorns.
If you keep me as I am, I am;
If you change me, I'm changed.
In the glass where you colour my soul I'm who?
Why is my Love or hate?
You were first, and last you shall be;
Make my last better than my first, do.
When you're hidden, I'm faithless;
When you're visible, I'm faithful.
I'm nothing, except what you've bestowed;
What do you seek from my breast and sleeve?

-- Version by James Cowan
"Rumi's Divan of Shems of Tabriz, Selected Odes"
Element Books Limited 1997

REMEMBERING MEMORIES

2006-01-05T08:28:00.000+08:00

REMEMBERING MEMORIES

Life flows, a river silent and swift,
long gone times twirl past like fleeting mist.
Yesterday’s memories fade, and frail,
yet, yearning to be caressed and kissed.

Robert Abrahams
February 99

LAILA

2005-06-02T08:46:00.000+08:00

Sheikh Ahmad Alawi

Poem by Sheikh Ahmad Alawi in“Sufi Saint of the Twentieth Century”by Martin Lings

Full near I came unto where dwelleth

Laila, when I heard her call.

That voice, would I might ever hear it!

She favoured me, and drew me to her,

Took me in, into her precinct,

With discourse intimate addressed me.

She sat me by her, then came closer,

Raised the cloak that hid her from me,

Made me marvel to distraction,

Bewildered me with all her beauty.

She took me and amazed me,

And hid me in her inmost self,

Until I thought that she was I,

And my life she took as ransome.

She changed me and transfigured me,

And marked me with her special sign,

Pressed me to her, put me from her,

Named me as she is named.

Having slain and crumbled me,

She steeped the fragments in her blood.

Then, after my death, she raised me:

My star shines in her firmament.

Where is my life, and where my body,

Where my wilful soul? From her

The truth of these shone out to me,

Secrets that had been hidden from me.

Mine eyes have never seen but her:

To naught else can they testify.

All meanings in her are comprised.

Glory be to her Creator

Thou that beauty wouldst describe,

Here is something of her brightness.

Take it from me.

It is my art.

Think it not idle vanity.

My Heart lied not when it divulged

The secret of my meeting her.

If nearness unto her effaceth,

I still subsist in her subsistence.

1 p. 22. Laila, a woman's name meaning 'night', here represents the Divine Essence.

CREATIVITY AND VISUAL ART

2005-05-22T08:58:00.000+08:00

CREATIVITY AND VISUAL ART

You Too Can Haiku

2005-05-02T17:50:00.000+08:00

Lesson Overview:
This lesson will introduce students to the Japanese poetic form of haiku. (Note: haiku is most effectively taught after students have an understanding of syllables.) As an introductory activity, students will be briefly introduced to the geography of Japan, as well as Japanese culture, through examples of Asian art and music. After learning about and listening to some examples of haiku, they will write their own haiku. Then, students will illustrate and "publish" their finished poems in the style of a Japanese scroll using rice paper, ink, and watercolor.

More
ARTSEDGE: You Too Can Haiku

Kynan's Haiku

2005-01-15T17:52:00.000+08:00

CALM
Water surrounds eyes
Soft air, time to tread slowly
Calm, feel cool and warm

VALLEY OF LOVE

2005-01-13T07:15:00.000+08:00

VALLEY OF LOVE
Loves valley is the next and here desire
Will plunge the pilgrim into seas of fire,
until his very being is inflamed
And those whom fire rejects turn back ashamed.
The lover is a man who flares and burns,
Whose face is fevered, who in frensy yearns, ......

The Conference of the Birds, Farid ud-din Attar 12c Pers. Trs by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis, 1984, Great Book. Great book, see
http://us.penguinclassics.com/nf/Book/BookDisplay/0,,10_0140444343,00.html

For the story see
http://www.pangeaworldtheater.org/COB/story.html

See also Book "Seven Valleys" by Baha'u'llah
http://reference.bahai.org/en/t/b/SVFV/

WHO SELLEST ME THIS WINE ?

2005-01-09T15:37:00.000+08:00

Baha'i Reference Library - Memorials of the Faithful, Pages 29-32
Ustád Ismá’íl was the construction overseer of Farrukh Khán (Amínu’d-Dawlih) in Tihrán, living happily and prosperously, a man of high standing, well regarded by all. But he lost his heart to the Faith, and was enraptured by it, till his holy passion consumed every intervening veil. Then he cast caution aside, and became known throughout Tihrán as a pillar of the Bahá’ís.

At one time, Bahá’u’lláh had written down an ode of Rúmí’s for him, and had told him to turn his face toward the Báb and sing the words, set to a melody. And so as he wandered through the long dark nights, Ustád would sing these lines:

I am lost, O Love, possessed and dazed,
Love’s fool am I, in all the earth.
They call me first among the crazed,
Though I once came first for wit and worth.

O Love, who sellest me this wine, 1

O Love, for whom I burn and bleed,
Love, for whom I cry and pine—
Thou the Piper, I the reed.

If Thou wishest me to live,
Through me blow Thy holy breath.
The touch of Jesus Thou wilt give
To me, who’ve lain an age in death.

Thou, both End and Origin,
Thou without and Thou within—
From every eye Thou hidest well,
And yet in every eye dost dwell.

1.
Back To Reference]

"HERE" - Terri Turner

2005-01-09T10:03:00.000+08:00

This poem is the only answer I can find to answer all those art questions. This is where I have been stuck for some years.

Terri Turner

HERE

Here I sit
Here I am
Here is where I can give
Give to make changes
Give to help move out of this hole the world finds itself in
In trouble
Insane
Inside out
Out of control
Out of ideas but choosing to do what got them in the hole all over again
Again I find my self here
Again I put my head up
Again they tell me to go away
Again the solutions are rejected
Again my heart cries at lives that will be lost
Again tears will spill louder than the children’s laughter
Laughter no more for there spent bodies
Laughter no more in their homes
Laughter is all I am allowed so they can keep me out of the picture
Picture a future where children are allowed to be who they are
Picture a future where you look forward to your TV showing happy people
Picture Peace in children’s hearts
Picture Peace in the world
Picture Peace in your heart
Heart to heart
Heart full of pain because they continue to reject the Truth
Truth is the only key that will release us all from this
This has been my entire live
Live has been for what?

BLACK DAY - Robert Abrahams

2005-01-06T17:24:00.000+08:00

A Black Day

My head is ringing,
there is no singing.
My breath is wheezy,
short and not easy.
This all seems like hell,
I'm really not well.
Noise, noise in my ear,
but I never hear.
Words go round and round,
and don't make a sound.
Some just talk 'at me'
and never 'to me'
Alone, dejected
soon unremembered.
O Most Exalted,
I feel deserted.

Robert Abrahams, 2 November 1996.
You may be interested to know that things are much better now!!!

Geoffrey Rehn

2005-01-04T21:32:00.000+08:00

Geoffrey Rehn
Arise, heedless one!
Secure the Hidden Treasures
Everlasting joy

Arise to serve!
Forget all else save His Cause
Enter the Kingdom

O Blessed Beauty!
Bestow upon me Thy Grace
Eternal freedom

Lawh-i Halih, Halih, Halih, Ya Bisharat

2005-01-04T19:54:00.000+08:00

REVISED PROVISIONAL TRANSLATION (2) (16/7/95)
*Lawh-i Halih, Halih, Halih, Ya Bisharat
("Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!)

Source http://bahai-library.com/provisionals/hallelujah.html

He is the Beloved One
[1] The Maid of Eternity came from the Exalted Paradise;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[2] With harp and with song, with crimson goblet she came;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[3] With amorous glances, with the taste of mystical death--with dance and with song she came;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[4] With musky tresses, with beauteous ruby lips--from nigh unto God, she came;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[5] Two daggers her eyebrows, one hundred arrows from her eyelashes--to pierce our hearts she came;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[6] All souls in her path, all hearts in her embrace--massacred when she came;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[7] With snow-white hand, with raven locks--like the dragon of Moses she came;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[8] This sweet Davidic voice, from the Divine Lote-Tree--with the Messianic Spirit she came;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[9] With the allurement of fidelity, with the protection of Baha'-- from the Dawning-Place of "H" she came;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[10] With guiding light from the morn of the Divine Encounter, with Mount Sinai she came;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings! [11] This song of the spirit came to her lovers from the Nightingale of "No";Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[12] With the joyful tidings of reunion this Divine Maiden came from a branch of the Tree of Blessedness;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[13] This annihilated lover, this earthly bird--she came as a sacrifice in the Path of the Beloved;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[14] This sword of oppression, from the Throne of fidelity--she came upon the neck of the Beloved;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[15] This sacred missive, with an Arab messenger--she came from the city of Sheba;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[16] This Eternal Countenance, she came with snow-white hand from the Divine command;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[17] This Hijazi Falcon came with Iraqi accents from the forearm of the King;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[18] This Pardoning Visage, she came with fetching allure from the Court of Nearness;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[19] This Nightingale of mystic meaning, she came from the sacred rose bush with the hand of *ecstasy*;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[20] This luminous page, she came with light and splendour from the Midian of Spirit;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[21] This Witness of the Omnipotent, this heady Wine of the Beloved--she came with the goblet of Sovereignty;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[22] That essence of the Beauty of the True One, that jewel of the Glory of the True One--she came with the Most Great Sign;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[23] That Countenance of the Desired One, that Face of the Adored One--she came with the Most-Supreme Mercy;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[24] The souls to her reunion, the hearts to her Bestowal--as the Most Exalted Lord she hath come!Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!
[25] This Wondrous Remembrance hath come from the Eternal Rosegarden that the lovers of the beauty of the Adored One, hearts and souls burning with love, might, in utmost tranquillity, busy themselves with these wondrous new melodies; that perchance, attracted thereby, the inmates of the Kaaba of gnosis might be shaken with ecstasy and remember their divine and sacred homeland.

The Houri of Wonder Baha'u'llah

2005-01-04T19:31:00.000+08:00

Translation by Juan R. I. Cole

The Houri of Wonder by Baha'u'llah

The beauty of holiness has risen from behind her veil-- and that is a wondrous thing;
And spirits have fainted from the fire of their attraction, and that is a wondrous affair.
Then they awoke and soared into the pavilions of sanctity at the throne of domes, and that is a wondrous mystery.
Say: the houri of eternity removed the veil from her face-- exalted be the wondrous beauty of newness!
The lights of her visage shone from the earth to the clouds, and that is a wondrous radiance.
She threw a glance like a shooting star, and that is a wondrous glance.
By the fire of her countenance she burned up all names and designations, and that is a wondrous deed.
She cast her gaze upon the people of earth and dust, and that is a wondrous gaze.
Behold, the temples of existence quivered and then vanished, and that is a wondrous death.
Then a black strand of hair appeared from her, an adornment for the soul in the gloom of hindrances, and that is a wondrous hue.
The fragrance of scents and perfumes wafted from her, and that is a wondrous musk.
In her right hand she holds red wine and in her left, kebab, and that is a wondrous grace.
Her palm is dyed crimson with the blood of lovers, and that is a wondrous thing.
She passed around the wine of life in jugs and cups, and that is a wondrous fountain;
And sang of the beloved's name, strumming on lute and rebec, and that is a wondrous song.
Then hearts melted from fire and blaze, and that is a wondrous passion.
She bestowed the nourishment of beauty without measure, and that is a wondrous food.
The sword of allusion struck at necks, and that is a wondrous blow.
She smiled, and the pearls of her teeth were manifest, and that is a wondrous gleam.
Then the hearts of those who understand cried out, and that is a wondrous self-denial.
All those filled with pride and suspicion turned away from her, and that is nothing but a wondrous opponent.
When she heard, she returned to her palace in grief and regret, and that is a wondrous sorrow.
She went and returned, may her to and fro be exalted, and this is a wondrous decree;
And she uttered within her soul a cry that annihilated existence and then was made to vanish, and that is a wondrous grief.
She opened her lips for a river of advice and reproof to flow, and that is a wondrous spring.
She said, "Do not reject me, people of the Book." And that is a wondrous affair.
"Are you the people of guidance and are you the friends?" And that is a wondrous falsehood.
She said, "We shall not return to you, my companions." And that is a wondrous return.
"We shall conceal the mysteries of God that are in his scriptures." And this matter is from the All-Glorious, the Giving.
"You shall not find me until the promised one appears on the Day of Return." By my life, that is a wondrous abasement. Source: Baha'u'llah, Ad`iyyih-`i Hadrat-i Mahbub (Hofheim-Langenhain: Baha'i Publishing Trust, 1980), pp. 153-158.

ODE OF THE DOVE, BAHA'U'LLAH

2005-01-04T19:08:00.000+08:00

He is the Exalted, the All-Glorious.

1. I was enthralled by light rays from a face Whose advent dimmed and darkened every star,

2. As though the sunbeams of Her beauty's glowappeared and dazzled planets from afar.

3. Her joy diffused the musk of the unseen, Her stature raised the Spirit up above.

4. The End-Time's Trump resounded when She blew; Her breath caused shadows of the clouds to move.

5. Her gleam reveals Mount Sinai's deathlessness; Baha's bright light is kindled when She glows.

6. Then to Her west the sun of splendor dawned, and to Her east, the moon of moons arose.

7. The mistral's fragrance wafted from Her hair, and Beauty's eyes were solaced by Her gaze.

8. Her shining face gave Guidance sage advice, and Moses' soul was cleansed by Her form's blaze.

9. The heart of hearts embraced Her eyelid's dart. For Her locks' lasso, Being's head was bent.

10. Her footprints constitute My highest aim, the earth She trod, the most high Throne's advent.

11. To win Her I have wept in every eye; in exile, I have burned in every fire. ........

CHECK LINK ABOVE FOR FULL DOC

The art of Haiku Poetry

2004-12-23T13:56:00.000+08:00

The art of Haiku poetry

"Old pond...a frog leaps inwater's sound."- Matsuo Basho.

Haiku is small poetry with oriental metric that appeared in the XVI century, mainly in Japan. It's been disseminating in all around the world during this century. It has an old and long history that reminds us of the spiritual philosophy and the Taoist simbolism of the oriental mystics and Zen-Buddhist masters, who express much of their thoughts in form of myths, symbols, paradoxes and poetic images like the Haiku.

It's done to transcend the limitation imposed by the usual language and the linear/scientific thinking that treat the nature and the human being as a machine.

It's a contemplative poetry that values nature, color, season, contrasts and surprises. Usually it has 3 lines and 17 syllabes distributed in 5, 7 and 5. It must register or indicate a moment, sensation, impression or drama of a specific fact of nature. It's almost like a photo of some specific moment of nature.

More than inspiration, it requires meditation, effort, and perception to compose a real Haiku.

The Poetry of Roger White

2004-02-08T11:44:00.000+08:00

The Poetry of Roger White:

"NOTES POSTMARKED THE MOUNTAIN OF GOD
A second booklet of Roger White's poetry was published in 1992 by New Leaf Publishing of Richmond British Columbia.
It was the longest poem he had written. While not following strictly the program of pilgrimage nor alluding to every point of historic interest visited by Baha'i pilgrims during the course of their stay in the Holy Land, the poem was structured in nine parts following the nine days of pilgrimage.

What White brings his readers in this poem is what the poet Shelley said the mind in creation must be if it is to be truly successful in the writing of poetry. The mind must be as a fading coal which some invisible influence, like an inconstant wind, awakens to transitory brightness. What he awakens to a wonderful brightness for the reader is his experience of pilgrimage, certainly one of the more introspective and thoughtful pieces written thusfar on this important aspect of the Baha'i life.

In September 1990 his old friend, the person from whom he learned of the Cause, Winnifred Harvey died. As he wrote in the poem Returning[2] in the last four lines, as he"was about to leave hospital:

No one had asked him whether he wished to return
from his murky indolence,
human, hapless and vulnerable,
to this profane, irresistible confusion.

BRING CHOCOLATE

2004-02-08T11:13:00.000+08:00

Roger White, poet & writer (Canada / Israel.) Bring Chocolate: Advice From a PoetArt has a message for us. It says: ´Care, grow, develop, adapt, overcome, nurture, protect, foster, cherish.´ It says: ´Your reality is spiritual.´ It says: ´Achieve your full humanness.´ It invites us to laugh, cry, reflect, strive, persevere. It says: ´Rejoice!´ Above all, it says to us to be! We cannot turn our backs on art. Art heals.I am of the conviction that, in the future, increasingly, one important measure of the spiritual maturity and health of the Baha'i world community will be its capacity to attract and win the allegiance of artists of all kinds, and its sensitivity and imaginativeness in making creative use of them. Artists -- not tricksters and conjurers, but committed artists -- will be a vital force in preventing inflexibility in our community. They will be a source of rejuvenation. They will serve as a bulwark against fundamentalism, stagnation and administrative sterility. Artists call us away from formulas, caution us against the fake, and accustom us to unpredictability -- that trait which so characterizes life. The validate our senses. They link us to our own history. They clothe and give expression to our dreams and aspirations. They teach us impatience with stasis. They aid us to befriend our private experiences and heed our inner voices. They reveal how we may subvert our unexamined mechanistic responses to the world. They sabotage our smugness. They alert us to divine intimations. Art conveys information about ourselves and our universe which can be found nowhere else. Our artists are our benefactors.To the degree the Baha'i community views its artists as a gift rather than a problem will it witness the spread of the Faith "like wildfire" as promised by Shoghi Effendi, through their talents being harnessed to the dissemination of the spirit of the Cause. In general society, artists are often at war with their world and live on its fringes. Their lack of discretion in expressing their criticism -- which may be hostile, vituperative, negative, and offer no solutions -- may lead to their rejection and dismissal by the very society they long to influence. Artists are frequently seen as troublemakers, menaces, destroyers of order, or a frivolous clowns. Sometimes the kindest thing said of them is that are neurotic or mad. In the Baha'i community it must be different. Baha'u'llah said so. Consider that the Baha'i Writings state that ´All art is a gift of the Holy Spirit´ and exhorts us to respect those engaged in sciences, arts and crafts. The artist has among other responsibilities that of questioning our values, of leading us to new insights that release our potential for growth, of illuminating our humanity, or renewing our authenticity by putting us in touch with our inner selves and of creating works of art that challenge us -- as Rilke says -- to change our lives. They are a stimulus to transformation.

In the Baha'i Order the artists will find their home at the center of their community, free to interact constructively with the people who are served by their art; free to give and to receive strength and inspiration. It is my hope that you will be in the vanguard of this reconciliation between artists and their world. As Baha'u'llah foretells, the artists are coming home to claim their place. I urge you: Be there! Welcome them! Bring chocolate! -- Roger White

More about Roger White
http://haikubob.blogspot.com/2005/01/roger-white-poet.html

POETRY OF ROBERT HAYDEN

2004-01-26T22:28:00.000+08:00

An examination of the poetry of Robert Hayden in Light of the Revelation of Bahá'u'lláh by Duane L. Herrmann, (extracts)

U.S.A. Robert Hayden was born in Detroit, Michigan in 1913. His early life was marked by the poverty and deprivation common to any non-white person growing up in the United States in the 1920s and 30s. Not only was day-to-day living an economic and emotional struggle for the family, but Hayden's own poor eyesight kept him from participating in neighborhood activities with the other children. It was an added agony to his life. He sought refuge in the world of books. He taught himself to read before entering public school and kept on reading.

One of the highest honors was his appointment, not once, but twice, as Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress of the United States. His terms extended from 1976-78.

He was the first Black American to receive this honor. In 1985 this position was renamed "Poet Laureate of the United States," to more clearly reflect the honor it bestowed. So Robert Hayden was in effect Poet Laureate of his country, a long way indeed from the ghetto of Detroit. Hayden became Bahá'í, he said, for several reasons: the belief in progressive revelation; the belief that the Bahá'í teachings could effect the relationship between religious thought and scientific discovery necessary to a unified physical and metaphysical outlook; and, most important, the belief, in the transcendentalist principle of universal brotherhood. (Pontheolla T. Williams, Robert Hayden: A Critical Analysis of His Poetry, (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1978), p. 26.)

In 1943 he made the decision and formally entered the Bahá'í community. This decision did not appear to immediately influence the poetry he wrote. Even years later he did not consider it to have had much effect, but upon reflection, he concluded that it must have, "I realize it has given me a base, a focus." (Robert Hayden, 'From the Life: Some remembrances,' unpublished autobiographical notes, Hayden Papers, Bahá'í National Archives, pp. 15-16.)

Source http://bahai-library.com/bafa/hayden.htm

Following poems by Robert Hayden posted by Mike Day from Haifa 25 Jan 2005

POEMS

Bahá’u’lláh in the Garden of Ridwan
Agonies confirm His hour,
and swords like compass-needles turn
toward His heart.

The midnight air is forested
with presences that shelter Him
and sheltering praise

The auroral darkness which is God
and sing the word made flesh again
in Him,

Eternal exile whose return
epiphanies repeatedly
foretell.

He watches in a borrowed garden,
prays. And sleepers toss upon
their armored beds,

Half-roused by golden knocking at
the doors of consciousness. Energies
like angels dance

Glorias of recognition.
Within the rock the undiscovered suns
release their light.

And all the atoms cry aloud
I bear Him witness now
Who by the light of suns beyond the sun beyond
the sun with shrill pen

revealed renewal of
the covenant of timelessness with time, proclaimed
advent of splendor joy

alone can comprehend
and the imperious evils of an age could not
withstand and stars

and stones and seas
acclaimed—His life its crystal image and
magnetic field.

I bear Him witness now—
mystery Whose major clues are the heart of man,
the mystery of God:

Bahá’u’lláh:
Logos, poet, cosmic hero, surgeon, architect
of our hope of peace,

Wronged, Exiled One,
chosen to endure what agonies of knowledge, what
auroral dark

bestowals of truth
vision power anguish for our future’s sake.
"I was but a man

"like others, asleep upon
My couch, when, lo, the breezes of the All-Glorious
were wafted over Me. . . ."

Called, as in dead of night
a dreamer is roused to help the helpless flee
a burning house.

I bear Him witness now:
toward Him our history in its disastrous quest
for meaning is impelled.

Mike Day sends his regards and this pic from Israel with the mountains of Jordan behind him as he walks in the Negev.

Mike Day