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THE NOBLE NEW by Paramahansa Yogananda
Sing songs that none have sung...
Think thoughts that ne'er in brain have rung...
Walk in paths that none have trod...
Weep tears as none have shed for God...
Give peace to all to whom none other gave...
Claim him your own who's everywhere disclaimed...
Love all with love that none have felt...
And brave the battle of life with strength unchained.
[THIS PROMPTED 'THE NEW POET' ~ lebeau ~ TO SING ~ his own song....]
THE PERFECT CONDUIT
The soul sings its way through life
From God the melody ~ its spice
Humming through in vibrant tune
It sings from night to noon.
The soul BLEEDS in swelling pores
Reaching out to ITS & YOURS ~
Soothing words in action SPEAK...
'Till others also seek....
The soul sings from noon 'till dark
Embracing ALL around its 'bark'
But FEW do hear the soul's sweet sound...
Because they feel their God ~ THEY'VE found....
[[I found a perfect example of THE PERFECT CONDUIT when I read of Lahiri Mahasaya's curing of the blind man (when asked to do so) as per the citation on page 47 of AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A YOGI, by Parahamahansa Yogananada; Lahiri did not suffer from false ego (ahamkari) and simply let the power of God flow through him to accomplish this amazing feat. How? He touched the blind man on his 3rd eye and then told him to chant "RAMA" and keep chanting him. Seven days later the blind man could see!]]
[AFTER lebeau WROTE, "THE HEART & THE FEATHER", HE NOTICED THAT IT WAS VERY SIMILAR IN THEME TO 'THE CLOD' OF William Blake's poem, "THE CLOD & THE PEBBLE"....I entreat you that when you finish reading the below poem, see what happens to 'A CLOD' in lebeau's PUBLISHED POEM in that section.]
THE CLOD & THE PEBBLE
Love seeketh not itself to please...
Nor for itself hath any care...
But for another gives its ease...
To build a HEAVEN in HELL'S despair....
So sung a little clod of clay...
Trodden under the cattle's feet...
But a pebble of the brook...
Warbled out its metered meet:
Love seeketh only self to please...
To bind another to its delight...
Joys in another's lose of ease...
To build a HELL in HEAVEN'S despite.
[THE NEXT TWO POEMS~the first by lebeau~~and the second by the mystic~William Blake are being put together because the "lowly cardinal" doesn't want to be a "mighty AWESOME 'tyger'" and has to 'convince God quickly' or the poor little bird will be recycled as a ..(oh no!) a BUCK!!!....Now if this is not 'high drama"~~it escapes me what is...especially if you are a BIRD LOVER!!!]
THE CARDINAL COMETH
If by design and not by luck
God cast my mind to be a BUCK~~
My mind to God would earnest pray
To hear the simple words I say:
[[My dearest Lord, I do implore
The BUCK ~ though noble ~ does not SOAR!
Like 'tyger' who be land-locked too
In AWE-STRUCK FRAME sees NOT LIKE YOU!!!
And even WHALE in STREAM-LIKE FRAME
Is sea-locked too and will remail~~
Though ROSE in REDENED-BEAUTY SWELLS!
HER splendor~rooted~earth~indwells....
I wish to see AS THOU DOES SEE~
REFLECTING AWESOME SYMMETRY!!!
So give me WINGS that in my flight
ALL YOU CAST~~~I WILL DELIGHT!!!
MAKE ME RED~~~as spendid rosy...
CAST MY BEAUTY~~~as a posy...
Give me WINGS~~~LET ME FLY!!!
LIKE the RED BIRD in the SKY!!!]]
God was taken by my prayer
So He cast me IN THE AIR:
"GO IN MALENESS~~RED & BIRD..."
These~~the last words I did 'heard'
QUOTE the PRECIOUS little bird.
[THE TYGER~~~by William Blake (author of "The Clod & the Pebble" also) is considered the MOST POPULAR POEM IN THE WHOLE ENGLISH LANGUAGE>>>HOLY COW!!!>>>so how can a humble little cardinal compare to such AWESOMENESS?!?]
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what the grasp
Dare its deadly terror clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
[ THIS FOLLOWING POEM IS CONSIDERED A "PARODY" BUT A PARODY OF WHAT??? I WILL SIMPLY LEAVE IT TO YOUR VIVID IMAGINATION....]
THE MISTRESS
Mistress! Mistress! lying plump
In the middle of my bed,
Oh what god or misbegot
Could have shaped your AWESOME head?
In what womb so ne'er inviting
Meshed the puzzle of your eyes?
Oh what D-N-A- DESIGNER
On what DEVIL pin this prize?
And what brain ~ 'though trained in ART,
Could blend the 'beauties' of thy heart?
And when this heart began to beat,
What dread hand made such dread feet?
What the mold? what the die?
In what furnace did thee lie?
With what claws did grasp this prize
That now I see before my eyes?
And when the gods espied you here
They rained down water as their 'tear'!
Did he regret his work to see?
Did he who made THE COW make thee???
Mistres! Mistress! lying plump
In the middle of my bed,
Oh what god or misbegot
Could have shaped your AWESOME head?
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This next poet is not just a poet, but a devotee ~ a philosopher, and I am proud to call him my friend ~ one, JEFF REICKER. Jeff truly belongs with these other great poets because he is literally "IN SYNCH" with them; what do I mean???
In many ways he exemplifies the true "clod" that William Blake made famous in the poem quoted above...and 'coincidentally' ~ was born on the same day that Mr. Blake was, i.e. November 28th!!!
He is also like Paramahansa Yogananda, becaue as this yogi, he has 'DEVOTED' his life to "THE PATH" as in...becoming one with THE FATHER ~ or trying to as best he can....He even enriched my knowledge of Yogananda by gifting me a book called, "THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST" by Yogananda which I found to be truly an amazing book.
When I first "broke bread" with Jeff, during a five hour lunch together, the concept of higher spirituality came up, and without referring to any notes, he burst into what I thought was one of the most beautiful poems I ever heard. HE WROTE IT!!! So you can view what I heard with my own two ears ~ which blended into my heart ~~ like "the clod" blends with all & everything!
A HOUSE WITHOUT WALLS
There is a house without walls
where dew's mist of morning falls
near orchard field hid in a wood
long hallowed hearth and mantle stood
still and silent veiled from sight
mid tangled vines and cloaks of night
until dancing on golden beams of day
a child's delight discovered at play
O, now this house 'tis happiest home
treasure's trove 'neath heaven's dome.
There is a house without walls,
and a silent voice that calls,
thru trees where birds make nest,
and the holes where foxes rest,
thru a rustling wind it whispers
or in laughter of brothers and sisters,
it rolls on white-capped waves at sea,
and stirs thru hearts with ecstasy,
its echo curls in shells of yore,
to tell of deeps beyond the shore,
and thru the waxing moon it beckons,
ripening orbs of hours and seconds,
like fruit and grapes of orchard and vine,
it sweetens inward to tastes divine,
and outward blosssoms bouquet of scent,
opening mansions, high in firmament,
places pure, profuse...profound,
prepared for us thru sacred sound...
O Flame! burnishing below, upward aspire!
rise in heart's hearth, higher and higher!
expanding in bliss far beyond all walls,
COME HOME, COME HOME,
our Mother calls!
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AND THIS NEXT POEM BY JEFF SPEAKS VOLUMES ABOUT WHO HE IS ~~AND IN MANY WAYS, REFLECTS (PERHAPS RADIATES) THE THEMES OF THIS VERY WEBSITE!!! ~~~ FRIENDS!
Friends
of a multi-faceted face,
May I smile into you
intimate as all love?
May we recognize each other
radient, transfigured
gowned in gossamer of grace
Dare I say
What you must know [?]
too well....
(YOU ARE ME)
so...
let the mirror Fall
bottomless
and unbroken
WE.
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"THE CRY OF THE SOUL" by Sant Darshan Singh
We are but drops of the same fountain of divine beauty;
We are but waves on the great river of love.
We are diverse blossoms in the Garden of the Lord,
Who have gathered in the same valley of Light.
We who dwell on this Earth belong to one humanity;
There is but one God, and we are His children.
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[[I HAD ANOTHER EXTRAORDINARY SYNCH WITH ANOTHER EXTRAORDINARY POET ~ ONE, RABINDRANATH TAGORE ON THE NATURE OF DOGS: PLEASE SEE THE WEB PAGE, "TAGORE" AND SCROLL DOWN TO THE FULL POEM, "RECOVERY 14" AND MY COMMENT AT THE END OF THE POEM.]]
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"COURAGE" by Robert Service
Ten little brown chicks scattered & scuffled,
Under the blue-berries hiding in fear;
Mother-grouse cackling, feathers all ruffled,
Dashed to defend them as we draw near.
Heart of a heroine, how I admired her!
Of such devotion great poets have sung;
Homes have been blessed by the love that inspired her,
Risking her life for the sake of her young.
Ten little chicks on her valour reliant,
Peered with bright eyes from the bilberry spray;
Fiercely she face us, dismayed but defiant,
Rushed at us bravely to scare us away.
Then my companion, a crazy young devil
(After, he told me he'd done it for fun)
Pretended to tremble, and raised his arm level,
And e'er I could check him he blazed with his gun.
Headless she lay, from her neck the blood sprouted,
And dappled her plumage, the poor, pretty thing!
Ten little chicks~~oh, I know for I counted,
Came out and they tried to creep under her wing.
Sickened I said: "Here's an end to my killing;
I swear, nevermore bird or beast will I slay;
Starving I may be, but no more blood-spilling..."
That oath I have kept, and I keep it today.
[[If you liked the theme of the above poem, please consult byron lebeau's "ONWARD TROD" which can be found at the bottom of the "UNPUBLISHED POEMS" page.]]
WORMS also by Robert Service
Worms finer for fishing you couldn't be wishing;
I delved them dismayed from the velvety sod;
The rich loam upturning I gathered them squirming,
Big, fat, gleamy earthworms all ripe for my rod.
Thinks I, without waiting, my hooks I'll be baiting,
And flip me a fish from the foam of the pool;
Then Mother beholding, came crying & scolding:
"You're late, ye young divil! Be off to the school."
So grabbing me bait-tin I dropped them fat worms in,
With gobs of green turf for their comfort & cheer;
And there, clean forgotten, no doubt dead & rotten,
I left them to languish for nigh on a year.
One day to be cleaning the byre I was meaning,
When seeing that old rusty can on a shelf,
Says I, "To my thinking, them worms must be stinking,
Begorrah! I better find out for myself."
So I opened the tin, held my nose & looked in;
And what did I see? Why, most nothing at all.
Just a darkness & dank, and...a something that stank,
Tucked down in a corner, a greasy grey ball.
My worms~~ no, not dead, but thin as a thread,
Each seemed to reproach me, protesting its worth;
So softly I took them, and tenderly shook them
Back into the bosom of mothering earth.
I'm now in the City; 'tis grand, but I pity
The weariful wretches that crawl in its grime;
The dregs & the scum and the spawn of the slum,
And the poor little children that's cradled in crime.
Sure I see them in terms of my pitiful worms,
Surviving despite desperation & doom,
And I wish I was God, with a smile & a nod
To see them all down in a valley of bloom,
Saying:"Let these rejoice with a wonderful voice
For mothering earth and for fathering sea,
And healing of sun, for each weariful one
Of these poor human worms is a wee bit of me...
Let yours be the blame & yours be the shame:
What ye do unto them ye do also to ME."
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A Single Ray of Light by Steven Manchester
I have been told:
"To expand your mind read book after book,
but to strengthen your spirit...
read only the Bible."
Taking heed, I ventured into the world
and with every step discovered the Lord.
In the eyes of other people
I have seen His love,
in their friendship,
His mercy and compassion
and from the mouths of ignorance,
the wisest words have been spilled-
for He has spoken to me.
Mine is not a blind faith-
for Jesus is the light of the world
and believing that His spirit
dwells within me,
I become a single ray of that light
meant to be shed upon others.
Yet, as a child of parents
who married outside of the church,
I, myself, have been divorced and many times
refused to take part in manmade ceremonies.
For not conforming, through the church,
I have been refused both the bread of life
and the blood of salvation-
perhaps, the greatest sin of all,
for Jesus would never deny His own.
Combining the will of the Lord with my own,
I shall find my destiny
but in the meantime,
there is no shadow large enough
to conceal this single ray of light-
for the Lord is bigger than any church
and faith -- greater than any religion.
[LINK TO S. MANCHESTER:
WWW.StevenManchester.com
I believe that the above poem is reminiscent of my essay on this website, called, 'THE FORM AND THE ESSENCE' for its understanding of spirituality as a higher form of religion.
The second part of this essay can also be found on Eve Lorgen's site,
www.alienlovebite.com
where you just have to scroll down to a page called,
'ON MYSTICISM & SAINTS' for this byron lebeau two-part essay.]
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