Thursday, October 14, 2010


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

Sunday, December 23, 2007


Please email to Bob < >

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

There is only God!
Numerous religions.

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

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

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

By the riverside
motionless water like glass.
Birds still and silent

10 Jan 2005

Meditate and pray,
reach the Most Divine Lover
then submit to Her

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

"The Maid of Eternity came from the Exalted Paradise;Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, O Glad Tidings!"

Thursday, March 08, 2007

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

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Beautiful book of Rumi's poetry with paintings
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!

Tuesday, August 08, 2006



Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Larry’s Apology - June Perkins

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


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

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Robert James Michell, Montreal

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

Wednesday, April 12, 2006


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:"

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

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


* Baha'u'llah Dawnbreakers p.608
*~Baha'i Mysticism~*

Tuesday, April 04, 2006


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


Monday, March 27, 2006



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

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


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

(Thanks to Galya)

Saturday, March 25, 2006

The Poetry of Roger White

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.


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

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?'

Sunday, January 15, 2006


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

Thursday, January 05, 2006



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

Thursday, June 02, 2005


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.

Sunday, May 22, 2005



Monday, May 02, 2005

You Too Can Haiku

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.

ARTSEDGE: You Too Can Haiku

Saturday, January 15, 2005

Kynan's Haiku

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

Thursday, January 13, 2005


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,,10_0140444343,00.html

For the story see

See also Book "Seven Valleys" by Baha'u'llah