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Showing posts with the label Poems

Awaken us from ignorance

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Behold, Usha... the beautiful dawn... Heaven’s darling daughter decked in pure pious white, the goddess of worldly wealth in its entirety has slowly emerged in her magnificence and vermilion splendor to brighten the eastern hemisphere! Oh, the most lovely and lucky lady of golden hue and luster, spread your light here and everywhere to awaken us from the deep inertia of ignorance. ~ Rig Veda

Unending love

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I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times... In life after life, in age after age, forever. My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs, That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms, In life after life, in age after age, forever. Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age old pain, It's ancient tale of being apart or together. As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge, Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time. You become an image of what is remembered forever. You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount. At the heart of time, love of one for another. We have played along side millions of lovers, Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting, the distressful tears of farewell, Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever. Rabindranath Tagore...

To Make You Win

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Do not give up and do not give in, For hope is there to make you win. Whether through trouble or through pain, The lesson should never be in vain. Starting through the night, It might feel you have lost sight. But behold just a few moments more, And light will break through with a roar. Do not give up and do not give in, For hope is there to make you win. Anonymous

Hope is the thing with feathers

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Hope is like a lighthouse in the midst of the stormy sea. However the dark and deep the night is, hope never lets us lose a heart. It always inspires us to sail on. Hope is like rays of dawn which fades all darkness and glorify everything. Here in this poem, bird is being described as a metaphor of hope. This hope bird resides in everyone. And it signs the song of divinity in the time of strain and stress. In troubles and hassles, hope never lets us lay down. Hope gives courage to rise again. It’s really a hopeful poem: Hope is the thing with feathers   That perches in the soul,   And sings the tune without the words,   And never stops at all,      And sweetest in the gale is heard;           And sore must be the storm   That could abash the little bird   That kept so many warm.      I’ve heard it in the chillest land,   And on the strangest sea;          Yet, never, in extremity,   It asked a crumb of me. ~ Emily Dickinson The commentary of the poem: Hope is a bird with feathers;

The little fluit

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Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life. This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new. At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable. Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill. By Rabindranath Tagore

You can if you think you can

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“Man often becomes what he believes himself to be. If I keep on saying to myself that I can’t do a certain thing, it is possible that I may end up really becoming incapable of doing it. On the contrary, if I have the belief that I can do it, I shall surely acquire the capacity to do it even if I may not have it at the beginning.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi  What I believe for myself is true for me. It doesn’t matter if it is positive or negative. What my belief is, so my persona is. Here is a wonderful poem about self-belief. It says that success lies in the quality of a will and the state of mind. If I think repeatedly that I am a loser; surely I will lose. If I think I am a winner; surely I will win.  If I want to rise in life, I must elevate my attitude. I must make sure of myself to win a prize. If I have weak beliefs; the result will be feeble. If I have strong beliefs; the result will be powerful. It is not true that stronger and faster always wins. Sooner or later he wins who thi

This, too, shall pass away...

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Long ago an eastern monarch, plagued by many worries, harassed on every side, called his wise men together. He asked them to invent a motto, a few magic words that would help him in time of trial or distress. It must be brief enough to be engraved on a ring, he said, so that he could have it always before his eyes. It must be appropriate to every situation, as useful in prosperity as in adversity. It must be a motto wise and true and endlessly enduring, words by which a man could be guided all his life, in every circumstance, no matter what happened. The wise men thought and thought, and finally came to the monarch with their magic words. They were words for every change or chance of fortune, declared the wise men… words to fit every situation, good or bad… words to ease the heart and mind in every circumstance. And the words they gave the monarch to engrave on his ring were : This, too, shall pass away. The words are wise and true and endlessly enduring. They have giv

Invictus

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The sun cut sharply across one corner of the room. The young man on the cot gazed at the brightness for a moment, then turned and faced the wall. He had been in the Edinburgh Infirmary nearly two years now, while Dr. Lister tried desperately to save his remaining foot. He had been subjected to so many operations he had lost count, twenty at least, in the last twenty months! But he was not beaten yet. He turned and faced the sun again, and smiled. Words rang through his mind, sang through his mind: “In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud.” The man on the cot was William Ernest Henley. Few in this world are called upon to endure all he had in his brief twenty-five years. He had suffered since childhood from an agonizing tubercular infection of the bones, for which the usual victorian remedy was amputation. One foot had already been removed, and the other was threatened. It was in the hope of avoiding a second amputation that he had submitted to this lo

I asked for strength

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I asked for strength and God gave me difficulties to make me strong. I asked for wisdom and God gave me problems to solve. I asked for prosperity and God gave me brawn and brains to work. I asked for courage and God gave me dangers to overcome. I asked for patience and God placed me in situations where I was forced to wait. I asked for love and God gave me troubled people to help. I asked for favors and God gave me opportunities. I received nothing I wanted I received everything I needed. My prayers have all been answered. Author unknown

Give me strength

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This is my prayer to thee, my lord---strike, strike at the root of penury in my heart.  Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows. Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service. Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might. Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles. And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with love. By Rabindranath Tagore

Daffodils

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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee; A poet could not be but gay, In such a jocund company! I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. Wordsworth