Poetry may be written independently, as discrete poems, or may occur in conjunction with other arts, as in poetic drama, hymns or lyrics.

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ever-quivering membrane
in velvet rain
covers the embrace of wholeness

hidden lightdrops coming to life
as silent retreat to the essence of
shades of skies

as we live the souls
confining touches of lips
into ivy – inside

-Pallai Károly, Hungary

life left to die
die for life
Immortal . Here

magic quilt
for a swaddling
omens . immpermant

worlds . above . below Sing
spirits ring in babies ears
molecular . architectonic

skulls remain
dogs dig deep
Immpermant , Over There

time for some things . . AH

(reflecting near Miller knox Regional Shoreline Park near Richmond California 1997)

running for ball . good time
rolling away
slipped face down . good Time

learning culture . good Time
Columbia . 42nd street library
Overwhelmed by the ancients . good Time

Dancing with Onn . good Time
feel of closeness
soft cotton . good Time

jumping for life . good Time
dribble . confuse
faded away Swish . good Time

dreaming dog friend . good Time
reminds me of a Tibetan protector
Lady . wolf lusted for hen next door . good Time

Targeting the sight . good Time
white out . ugh
I was the sight . good Time

ancient syllables . good Time
emerging leafs of palms
orders of things arised . good Time

calm heart . good Time
sinking into nondiscursive space
afterglow . good Time

hormones with love . good Time
tooth pick and dime for barter
AH . . AH . . good Time

thinking Space
born again
now . . AH . . AH and . . AH

AH . . AH and AH

way of thinking

(a friend asked me how I think while driving around near Hilo Hawaii 2004)

if thinking right . on some right
thinking straight . to some straight
around thought . any dimension
deep thought . at least as deep as the sea
creative thought . Zen action thought
building thought . connecting imaginary dots
birthing images . not having anything or nothing

then not thinking . in the hustle bustle
about any series . that eats self or blows up
moving ratiocinations . tending to fade away
melody and image . more sticky
ineffable entities . missed by cyclotrons
regrouping in deep space and silence . must give it name
weaving disappearing contexts . no name

threading no thinking . makes deities and ghosts
pausing lingering stopping breath . fills empties cavities
thoughts feelings wiggling connections . starve for craving
images escape . empowering cycles of life
like snowflakes . melt with the touch
the clock ticks . mice run the tick dock tickety dock
murmurings capture space . threads appear

to be continued of course.

STILL

(waiting for love in phitsanulok. 2001 พ . ส.2003)

Still . the mountain
looming
round the walk
calming the hair

mothers love . still
demanding love
mothers wrath
leaking affect

Still . eyes
hanging in all directions
no choice . under gaze
following the followed

Still . dog
fabricating nothing
smells blood . chi
basking in the sand

Lady . Still
playing cards
her dream
spreads

Still . blue sky
climbing heavens stairway
rumbling earth .
suspended . Still very Still

The Poetry of William Stablein

LOVE IS THE MASTER

Love is the One who masters all things;

I am mastered totally by Love.

By my passion of love for Love

I have ground sweet as sugar.

O furious Wind, I am only a straw before you;

How could I know where I will be blown next?

Whoever claims to have made a pact with Destiny

Reveals himself a liar and a fool;

What is any of us but a straw in a storm?

How could anyone make a pact with a hurricane?

God is working everywhere his massive Resurrection;

How can we pretend to act on our own?

In the hand of Love I am like a cat in a sack;

Sometimes Love hoists me into the air,

Sometimes Love flings me into the air,

Love swings me round and round His head;

I have no peace, in this world or any other.

The lovers of God have fallen in a furious river;

They have surrendered themselves to Love’s commands.

Like mill wheels they turn, day and night, day and night,

Constantly turning and turning, and crying out.

— Rumi

STAY CLOSE, MY HEART

Stay close, my heart, to the one who knows your ways;

Come into the shade of the tree that allays has fresh flowers.

Don’t stroll idly through the bazaar of the perfume-markers:

Stay in the shop of the sugar-seller.

If you don’t find true balance, anyone can deceive you;

Anyone can trick out of a thing of straw,

And make you take it for gold

Don’t squat with a bowl before every boiling pot;

In each pot on the fire you find very different things.

Not all sugarcanes have sugar, not all abysses a peak;

Not all eyes possess vision, not every sea is full of pearls.

O nightingale, with your voice of dark honey! Go on lamenting!

Only your drunken ecstasy can pierce the rock’s hard heart!

Surrender yourself, and if you cannot be welcomes by the Friend,

Know that you are rebelling inwardly like a thread

That doesn’t want to go through the needle’s eye!

The awakened heart is a lamp; protect it by the him of your robe!

Hurry and get out of this wind, for the weather is bad.

And when you’ve left this storm, you will come to a fountain;

You’ll find a Friend there who will always nourish your soul.

And with your soul always green, you’ll grow into a tall tree

Flowering always with sweet light-fruit, whose growth is interior.

(translated by Andrew Harvey)

—Rumi

THE INTEREST WITHOUT THE CAPITAL

The lover’s food is the love of the bread;

no bread need be at hand:

no one who is sincere in his love is a slave to existence.

Lovers have nothing to do with with with existence;

lovers have the interest without the capital.

Without wings they fly around the world;

without hands they carry the polo ball off the field.

That dervish who caught the scent of Reality

used to weave basket even though his hand had been cut off.

Lover have pitched their tents in nonexistence:

they are of one quality and one essence, as nonexistence is.

Mathnawi III, 3020-3024

—Rumi

THE SHIP SUNK IN LOVE

Should Love’s heart rejoice unless I burn?

For my heart is Love’s dwelling.

If You will burn Your house, burn it, Love!

Who will say, ‘It’s not allowed’?

Burn this house thoroughly!

The lover’s house improves with fire.

From now on I will make burning my aim,

From now on I will make burning my aim,

for I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.

Abandon sleep tonight; traverse fro one night

the region of the sleepless.

Look upon these lovers who have become distraught

and like moths have died in union with the One Beloved.

Look upon this ship of God’s creatures

and see how it is sunk in Love.

Mathnawi VI, 617-623

The Rumi Collection, Edited by Kabir Helminski

—Rumi

Oh Beloved,

take me.

Liberate my soul.

Fill me with your love and

release me from the two worlds.

If I set my heart on anything but you

let fire burn me from inside.

Oh Beloved,

take away what I want.

Take away what I do.

Take away what I need.

Take away everything

that takes me from you.

—Rumi

CRADLE MY HEART

Last night,

I was lying on the rooftop,

thinking of you.

I saw a special Star,

and summoned her to take you a message.

I prostrated myself to the Star

and asked her to take my prostration

to that Sun of Tabriz.

So that with his light, he can turn

my dark stones into gold.

I opened my chest and showed her my scars,

I told her to bring me news

of my bloodthirsty Lover.

As I waited,

I paced back and forth,

until the child of my heart became quiet.

The child slept, as if I were rocking his cradle.

Oh Beloved, give milk to the infant of the heart,

and don’t hold us from our turning.

You have cared for hundreds,

don’t let it stop with me now.

At the end, the town of unity is the place for the heart.

Why do you keep this bewildered heart

in the town of dissolution?

I have gone speechless, but to rid myself

of this dry mood,

oh Saaqhi, pass the narcissus of the wine.

-Rumi

THE AWAKENING

In the early dawn of happiness

you gave me three kisses

so that I would wake up

to this moment of love

I tried to remember in my heart

what I’d dreamt about

during the night

before I became aware

of this moving

of life

I found my dreams

but the moon took me away

It lifted me up to the firmament

and suspended me there

I saw how my heart had fallen

on your path

singing a song

Between my love and my heart

things were happening which

slowly slowly

made me recall everything

You amuse me with your touch

although I can’t see your hands.

You have kissed me with tenderness

although I haven’t seen your lips

You are hidden from me.

But it is you who keeps me alive

Perhaps the time will come

when you will tire of kisses

I shall be happy

even for insults from you

I only ask that you

keep some attention on me.

The Love Poems of Rumi by

Deepak Chopra (Editor)

—Rumi

Tonight is a night of union for the stars and of scattering,

scattering, since a bride is coming from the skies, consisting of a full moon.

Venus cannot contain hereself for charming melodies, like the

nightingale which becomes intoxicated with the rose in spring-time.

See how the polestar is ogling Leo;

behold what dust Pisces is stirring up drom the deep!

Jupiter has galloped his steed against ancient Saturn, saying

“Take back your youth and go, bring good tidings!”

Mars’ hand, which was full of blood from the handle of his

sword, has become as life-giving as the sun, the exalted in works.

Since Aquarius has come full of that water of life, the dry

cluster of Virgo is raining pearls from him.

The Pleiades full of goodness fears not Libra and being

broken; how should Aries flee away in fright from its mother?

When from the moon the arrow of a glance struck the heart

of Sagittarius, he took to night-faring in passion for her, like Scorpio.

On such a festival, go, sacrifice Taurus, else you are crooked of

gait in the mud like Cancer.

This sky is the astrolabe, and the reality is Love;

whatever wesay of this, attend to the meaning.

Shamsi-Tabriz, on that dawn when you shine, the dark night

is transformed to bright day by your moonlike face.

“Mystical Poems of Rumi 1″A.J. Arberry

The University of Chicago Press, 1968

—Rumi

MAULANA’S LAST LETTER TO SHAMS

Sometimes I wonder, sweetest love, if you

Were a mere dream in along winter night,

A dream of spring-days, and of golden light

Which sheds its rays upon a frozen heart;

A dream of wine that fills the drunken eye.

And so I wonder, sweetest love, if I

Should drink this ruby wine, or rather weep;

Each tear a bezel with your face engraved,

A rosary to memorize your name…

There are so many ways to call you back-

Yes, even if you only were a dream.

translated by Annemarie Schimmel,

‘Nightingale Under The Snow’

—Rumi

AFTER BEING IN LOVE, THE NEXT RESPONSIBILITY

Turn me like a waterwheel turning a millstone.

Plenty of water, a Living River.

Keep me in one place and scatter the love.

Leaf-moves in wind, straw drawn toward amber,

all parts of the world are in love,

but they do not tell their secrets. Cows grazing

on a sacramental table, ants whispering in Solomon’s ear.

Mountains mumbling an echo. Sky, calm.

If the sun were not in love, he would have no brightness,

the side of the hill no grass on it.

The ocean would come to rest somewhere.

Be a lover as they are, that you come to know

you Beloved. Be faithful that you may know

Faith. The other parts of the universe did not accept

the next responsibility of love as you can.

They were afraid they might make a mistake

with it, the inspired knowing

that springs from being in love

-Rumi

FURUZANFAR #2674 (translated by Coleman Barks)

The Rumi Collection, edited by Kabir Helminski

That moon, which the sky ne’er saw even in dreams, has returned

And brought a fire no water can quench.

See the body’ s house, and see my. soul,

This made drunken and that desolate by the cup of his love.

When the host of the tavern became my heart-mate,

My blood turned to wine and my heart to kabab.

When the eye is filled with thought of him, a voice arrives :

W ell done, O flagon, and bravo, wine!

Love’s fingers tear up, root and stem,

Every house where sunbeams fall from love.

When my heart saw love’s sea, of a sudden

It left me and leaped in, crying, , Find me.’

The face of Shamsi Din, Tabriz’s glory, is the sun

In whose track the cloud-like hearts are moving.

From Divan-i Shams, translated R. A. Nicholson

—Rumi

THROUGH LOVE all that is bitter will sweet

Through Love all that is copper will be gold.

Through Love all dregs will turn to purest wine

Through Love all pain will turn to medicine.

Through Love the dead will all become alive.

Through Love the king will turn into a slave!

—Rumi

ONCE a beloved asked her lover: “Friend,

You have seen many places in the world!

Now – which of all these cities was the best?

He said: “The city where my sweetheart lives!”

—Rumi

FROM MYSELF I am copper,

through You, friend, I am gold.

From myself I’m a stone, but

through You I am a gem!

—Rumi

O SUN, fill our house once more with light!

Make happy all your friends and blind your foes!

Rise from behind the hill, transform the stones

To rubies and the sour grapes to wine!

O Sun, make our vineyard fresh again,

And fill the steppes with houris and green cloaks!

Physician of the lovers, heaven’s lamp!

Rescus the lovers! Help the suffering!

Show but your face – the world is filled with light!

But if you cover it, it’s the darkest night!

—Rumi

HOW SHOULD THE SOUL not take wings

when from the Glory of God

It hears a sweet, kindly call:

“Why are you here, soul? Arise!”

How should a fish not leap fast

into the sea form dry land

When from the ocean so cool

the sound of the waves reaches its

How should the falcon not fly

back to his king from the hunt

When from the falconer’s drum

it hears to call: “Oh, come back”?

Why should not every Sufi

begin to dance atom-like

Around the Sun of duration

that saves from impermanence?

What graciousness and what beauty?

What life-bestowing! What grace!

If anyone does without that, woe-

what err, what suffering!

Oh fly , of fly, O my soul-bird,

fly to your primordial home!

You have escaped from the cage now-

your wings are spread in the air.

Oh travel from brackish water

now to the fountain of life!

Return from the place of the sandals

now to the high seat of souls!

Go on! Go on! we are going,

and we are coming, O soul,

From this world of separation

to union, a world beyond worlds!

How long shall we here in the dust-world

like children fill our skirts

With earth and with stones without value,

with broken shards without worth?

Let’s take our hand from the dust grove,

let’s fly to the heavens’ high,

Let’s fly from our childish behaviour

and join the banquet of men!

Call out, O soul, to proclaim now

that you are rules and king!

You have the grace of the answer,

you know the question as well!

Translated by Annemarie Schimmel, ‘Look! This is Love’

—Rumi

WHISPERS OF LOVE

Lover whispers to my ear,

“Better to be a prey than a hunter.

Make yourself My fool.

Stop trying to be the sun and become a speck!

Dwell at My door and be homeless.

Don’t pretend to be a candle, be a moth,

so you may taste the savor of Life

and know the power hidden in serving.”

Mathnawi V. 411-414 (translated by Kabir Helminski)

The Rumi Collection, Edited by Kabir Helminski

—Rumi

how long

can i lament

with this depressed

heart and soul

how long

can i remain

a sad autumn

ever since my grief

has shed my leaves

the entire space

of my soul

is burning in agony

how long can i

hide the flames

wanting to rise

out of this fire

how long can one suffer

the pain of hatred

of another human

a friend behaving like an enemy

with a broken heart

how much more

can i take the message

from body to soul

i believe in love

i swear by love

believe me my love

how long

like a prisoner of grief

can i beg for mercy

you know i’m not

a piece of rock or steel

but hearing my story

even water will become

as tense as a stone

if i can only recount

the story of my life

right out of my body

flames will grow

—Rumi

rocking and rolling

what have you been drinking

please let me know

you must be drunk

going house to house

wandering from street to street

who have you been with

who have you kissed

who’s face have you been fondling

you are my soul

you are my life

i swear my life and love is yours

so tell me the truth

where is that fountainhead

the one you’ve been drinking from

don’t hide this secret

lead me to the source

fill my jug over and over again

last night i finally caught

your attention in the crowd

it was your image filling my dream

telling me to stop this wandering

stop this search for

good and evil

i said my dear prophet

give me some of

that you’ve drunk for ecstasy of life

if i let you drink you said

any of this burning flame

it will scorch your mouth and throat

your portion has been

given already by heaven

ask for more at your peril

i lamented and begged

i desire much more

please show me the source

i have no fear

to burn my mouth and throat

i’m ready to drink every flame and more

—Rumi

show me your face

i crave

flowers and gardens

open your lips

i crave

the taste of honey

come out from

behind the clouds

i desire a sunny face

your voice echoed

saying “leave me alone”

i wish to hear your voice

again saying “leave me alone”

i swear this city without you

is a prison

i am dying to get out

to roam in deserts and mountains

i am tired of

flimsy friends and

submissive companions

i die to walk with the brave

am blue hearing

nagging voices and meek cries

i desire loud music

drunken parties and

wild dance

one hand holding

a cup of wine

one hand caressing your hair

then dancing in orbital circle

that is what i yearn for

i can sing better than any nightingale

but because of

this city’s freaks

i seal my lips

while my heart weeps

yesterday the wisest man

holding a lit lantern

in daylight

was searching around town saying

i am tired of

all these beasts and brutes

i seek

a true human

we have all looked

for one but

no one could be found

they said

yes he replied

but my search is

for the one

who cannot be found

-Rumi

Translated by Nader Khalili

“Rumi, Fountain of Fire”

Reason says, I will beguile him with the tongue;” Love says, “Be silent. I will beguile him with the soul.”

The soul says to the heart, “Go, do not laugh at me and yourself. What is there that is not his, that I may

beguile him thereby?”

He is not sorrowful and anxious and seeking oblivion that I may beguile him with wine and a heavy measure.

The arrow of his glance needs not a bow that I should beguile the shaft of his gaze with a bow.

He is not prisoner of the world, fettered to this world of earth, that I should beguile him with gold of the

kingdom of the world.

He is an angel, though in form he is a man; he is not lustful that I should beguile him with women.

Angels start away from the house wherein this form is, so how should I beguile him with such a form and likeness?

He does not take a flock of horses, since he flies on wings; his food is light, so how should I beguile him with bread?

He is not a merchant and trafficker in the market of the world that I should beguile him with enchantment of gain and loss.

He is not veiled that I should make myself out sick and utter sighs, to beguile him with lamentation.

I will bind my head and bow my head, for I have got out of hand; I will not beguile his compassion with sickness or fluttering.

Hair by hair he sees my crookedness and feigning; what’s hidden from him that I should beguile him with anything hidden.

He is not a seeker of fame, a prince addicted to poets, that I should beguile him with verses and lyrics and flowing poetry.

The glory of the unseen form is too great for me to beguile it with blessing or Paradise.

Shams-e Tabriz, who is his chosen and beloved – perchance I will beguile him with this same pole of the age.

—Rumi

I saw my sweetheart wandering about the house; he had taken a rebec and was playing a melody.

With a plectrum like fire he was playing a sweet melody, drunken and dissolute and charming from the Magian wine.

He was invoking the saqi in the air of Iraq2

The air of Iraq is a Persian tune.

; the wine was his object, the saqi was his excuse.

The moonfaced saqi pitcher in his hand, entered from a corner and set it in the middle.

He filled the first cup with that flaming wine; did you ever see water sending out flames?

He set it on his hand for the sake of the lovers, then prostrated and kissed the threshold.

My sweetheart seized it from him and quaffed the wine; flames from that wine went running over his face.

He was beholding his own beauty, and saying to the evil eye, “Never has there been, nor shall there come in this age, another like me.”

-Rumi

Translation by A. J. Arberry “Mystical Poems of Rumi 2″

The University of Chicago Press, 1991

Love Poems of Passion by Rumi Persian Poet

Refugee
come to me
stride the ocean-side
come be free
rejoice in thee
over hills
in valley creeks
springs a leak
eastward bound
desert storm
lizard ground
sand and stone
touch and feel
not a sound
on love
lands…

Ben Youngblood 1992

Water Dance

Dance with me darling
With angels from heaven
Step with me into paradise
And gaze upon the skies
And ocean of deep blue
Running through the sand
Down to the beach side
To the clean, clear water
Holding onto each other
Tightly, so to never stray
From each others side
Dancing and splashing
In ocean waters

Ben Youngblood 1998

Mi Amor

Clouds over my head
You make it sunshine
over my lonely bed
Like a glass of red fine wine
that warms my lips and tongue
I cherish you, my darling
like a favorite love song
I will place the eternal ring
when we meet again
It has been so long
since I have gazed
upon your face
I long for the day
to be dazed
of you

Ben Youngblood

My love

My love
eyes of black pearls
the spirit of an angel
your the sweetest girl
that I want to feel
your smiles of peace
put me to to ease

My love
let me in
love again
until the end
say it’s so
let’s go down
the winding road
and grow

my dear
my heart is near

Ben Youngblood 1998

Love Poems by Benny Youngblood