Members' poems

[PersianPaladin]

Winter


In the depths of coldness sharp,
And empty mists damp –
Lies the spirit of winter,
With the sun and its power –
Faded, to but that of a lamp.

Coldness and bitterness grows,
On the grasses and trees,
On the bushes and the leaves.
And on the rest of nature –
Henceforth, the next months,
Coming to its knees.

Submission. From knees to
Prostration. And so do the leaf-stricken trees
Bow and sway in the cold – exposed to the fullness
Of the One.
The animals hide and sleep – and seek
Protection from the harshness, but prostrate
So – in this season of Submission.

Winter, the season of Contemplation.

The animals dream, of coming food and warmth,
Plants and grasses – of bees, breezes and
Sun.
And those spirits, awoken in their sleep –
Naked in the coolness of their Lord, their all Mighty,
Their One.

All dream, of the coming Mercies –
All dream, of the coming sun.

And, as the sky grows darker,
And the breath of the living grows shorter,
A Protecting eye grows nearer,
And a burning Light glows ever brighter.

It is the season of passions cooled,
Of life’s bussle stalled,
And all carnality halted.
And the memory Remembered –
and the Mercy
for the coming months – renewed.

All dream, of the day of Nearness.
All dream, of the breath of warmth into
The coldness of men’s hearts.

For in the shadowy dark of winter –
A small light shines brighter,
Brighter than in any other –
Spring, autumn, or summer.

And, as the days grows lesser,
And the songbirds hymn grows quieter,
A new dawn draws ever closer,
And a new harmony – gains,
In rhythm.

It is the season of Submission.
A submission to the Truth,
A truth that is hidden within every
Creature that sleeps here now.

For to be closest to God,
One has to be closest to Winter.

Because – only through surviving the pain
And the struggle, can those who live,
Come to know and Love.

For when life’s bussle-driven
Veil is stripped away –
And its heat and rhythm unclothed –
All life lies naked and untainted,
Ready to receive the unveiled,
Unforgotten, coolness and Mercy
Of their Lord.

All dream, that the candle burns on.
All dream, that the thread of Iman
Is held, when all else
Is burnt away – in this season,
Of burning reality.

And when the eyes of lovers tire,
And the passions enflamed,
Lost, in burning fire.
Here comes the coolness of Winter,
To renew the Remembrance,
To lay bare all,
To the Reality of the One,
Allah.

To hope, to Pray, to Remember,
And never to forget,
The season of contemplation.
The season of Remembrance, as
A new life dawns, and last seasons
Fruits rewarded.

[PersianPaladin]

The Nomad
-------------

O you, that wander the wilds.
Know that I am One and with you, wherever
It is that you wander.

Know that I am Present Always,
And by your side,
Wherever it is that you travel alone.

In the cold and the dark,
In the snowy rivers,
The firey plains,
The lofty mountains,
And the viscious rains.

In the pit of gorges,
In the icey streams,
And the rocky crags
That from forth,
Water springs.

Along the roads of uncertainty,
The fields of unyielded crop,
The dusty sands,
And the lofty cliffs,
And their merciless drop.

Through the mountain passes,
The roar of the mighty river crossing,
Into the dark caves,
And the dark thunder clouds amassing.

Across the steep edge,
The muddy descents,
The infested marshes,
And the pummelling hail
That never seems to relent.

Amongst the fields of dancing flies,
In the snowfields of heaven’s ascent,
Across the ruins,
And into the land which lover’s lament.

Through the waterfalls of tumbling might,
Into the river of cold knives,
Across the grazing fields of old,
And into the plains of eternal sight.

Across the paths of falling stone,
Through the strange passes unknown,
Meandering tributaries yet un-traversed,
Along the steep edge’s, yet unrehearsed.

I am Here.

Amongst the glimmering stars –
Lone lamps of self-nourishing flame,
Remembrancers of those reading the firmaments
Name.

And through the forests of still and musk,
Of old ancient wisdoms,
Sunlight dancing, and water’s rest –
Trees of eternal manifest,
With words of effervescent best.

I am Here.

Amongst the fields of ever-green grazed,
Through the grasses and the river banks,
Of which lie footsteps of successive lovers
Dazed.

And through the burning fogs of bright morn,
And in the nights of frosty ground and air –
But with your lone travelling hearts still
Warm.

I am Present.

As you travel with your flock,
As you travel with your kind.
Even though I seem to be far
From mind.

But alone you seem,
From above the mountains, and the clouds,
That in the sun do gleam.

But alone, you will never be.
Even as the world be travelled,
Its whole, its span, its entirety.

And through to the summer pastures,
And the long golden fields.
Your journey’s end – will be at a life spent,
Spent in all eternal Finality.

You travelled across the horizons of memory,
Restless in your moments resident,
And constant in the footsteps of those
Who reap the reward, and Remember Me!

He is Allah. And the lover is restless
In his passion to walk the path of Remembrance.

There can be no stopping,
No ceasing – as long as the fields
Are fed by the constant rains.

Of Allah’s Mercy.

There can be no lament,
No stale settlements of successive consumption,
Of too long memories, and cumulative
Sins that tied to a place that forever relent.

There can be no wasted tears,
No needless wastes of lands too well-known,
No worn grounds and fields,
As long as His Beauty is Known.

There can be no stopping,
No ceasing – as long as the rivers
Are fed by the constant streams.

Of His Prayer.

[Andy]

This is my own poem I just wrote (& it is not a question about the poems above, which are very good).

I call it "Why":


Why why why ?

Why why?

W- h - y ?

Why why why?

Why?

.
.
.

W H Y ?