Tuesday, 26 May 2015
Who Am I?
Picture
© Chattering Magpie
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal
life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I,
Reach my hands and play with pebbles of destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvellous rebellion of man at all signs,
Reading "Keep Off."
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive,
In the universe.
Carl Sandburg
Picture
© Chattering Magpie
The Truth by Betty Ashe
Picture
© Chattering Magpie
This is the truth
I have betrayed you
This is the truth
I have lied to you
This is the truth
I feel no remorse
This is the truth
I will do it again
or
Is this the truth?
It meant nothing!
Is this the truth?
Please believe me
Is this the truth?
I am truly sorry
Is this the truth?
It won't happen again
or
The truth is this
I was a bit bored
The truth is this
Just a bit of fun
The truth is this
I got caught out
The truth is this
I'm only human
Picture
© Chattering Magpie
Sunday, 24 May 2015
A poem by Sheikh Muzaffer (excerpt #2)
Picture copyright the
Chattering Magpie
Love is a special pleasurable pain.
Whoever has this in the heart will know the secret.
They will see that everything is Truth,
And that everything leads to Truth.
There is nothing but Truth.
In the realisation of that;
They will be overcome.
They will sink into the sea of truth.
Picture copyright the
Chattering Magpie
A poem by Rumi (excerpt #1
Picture the Chattering Magpie © 2009
Those who don’t feel this
love,
Pulling them like a river,
Those who don’t drink dawn,
Like a cup of spring water,
Or take in sunset like
supper,
Those who don’t want to
change,
Let them sleep.
This love is beyond the study
of theology,
That old trickery and
hypocrisy,
If you want to improve your
mind that way,
Sleep on.
I’ve given up on my brain,
I’ve torn the cloth to
shreds,
And thrown it away.
If you’re not completely
naked,
Wrap your beautiful robe of
words,
About you and sleep.
Picture copyright the Chattering Magpie © 2014
A poem by Sheikh Muzaffer (excerpt #1)
Love makes us speak, love
makes us moan,
Love makes us die, love
brings us to life,
Love makes us drunk and
bewildered,
It sometimes makes one a
king.
Love and the lover have no
rigid doctrine.
Whichever direction the lover
takes,
He turns towards his beloved.
Wherever he may be, he is
with his beloved.
Wherever he goes, he goes
with his beloved.
He cannot do anything,
He cannot survive even for
one moment,
Without his beloved.
He constantly recalls his
beloved,
As his beloved remembers him.
Lover and beloved, remember
and remembered,
Are ever in each other’s
company, always together.
The Tarjuman al-Ashwaq by Ibn al-Arabi
'My heart has become capable of every form,
It is a pasture for gazelles and a convent for Christian monks,
And a temple for idols and the pilgrim's Ka‘ba,
And the tables of the Tora and the book of the Koran.
I follow the religion of Love: whatever way Love's camels take,
That is my religion and my faith.'
The Tarjuman al-Ashwaq, by Ibn al-Arabi.
Trans: Reynold A. Nicholson (1911).
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