10 Great Quotes from “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran

10.) “But let there be spaces in your togetherness.

“And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.”

-on Marriage

 

9.) “He who wears his morality but as his best garment were better naked.”

-on Religion

 

8.) “And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.”
-on Pain

 

7.) “What of the ox who loves his yoke and deems the elk and deer of the forest stray and vagrant things?

“What of the old serpent who cannot shed his skin and calls all others naked and shameless?”

-on Laws

 

6.) “If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.”

-on Teaching

 

5.) “For if you should enter the temple for no other purpose than asking you shall not receive.”

-on Prayer

 

4.) “And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.”

-on Freedom

 

3.) “For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?”

-on Giving

 

2.) “Only then shall you know that the erect and the fallen are but one man standing in the twilight between the night of his pygmy self and the day of his god self.”

-on Crime and Punishment

 

1.) “Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house as guest, and then becomes a host, and then a master.”

-on Houses

POEM: Thought Bubbles

Source: Spiff via Wikipedia

 

Silence the jittery critter.
Ride the dullness down
to where images bubble.

In that blurry dimness
one feels their logic,
but shine the mind’s light
and all sense shatters —
scattering,
dissolving into shadows
without a trace.

Leaving only the dull ache of betrayal
that, as in a dream,
something so absurd and fragile
could feel so wise.

POEM: Molecule Tools Around





There’s a molecule I just inhaled
that’s known a bit of nastiness.
Sighed by a dying Jesus.
Swept around the planet
every two weeks since.
It’s swirled in the eddies of a bomb casing —
barreling toward annihilation.
It’s nourished dictators,
and drowned martyrs.
Landing on a blade of grass,
outside a storehouse of inhumanity,
biding it’s time to atrocity.
It knows no regret,
nor the error of its ways.
Riding my hemoglobin will not redeem it,
of that I can be certain.

POEM: Neuron Fire

Source: NIH

flip the switch
the lights go out
but for random flashes and flickers
playing pieces of your past
shuffled into unrecognizable dream stills
like lightning illuminating
and old farmyard
a flash…
a monster appears on the horizon
a flash…
the monster is bigger
with each flash the monster looms larger
but it’s not getting bigger
it’s getting closer
when it’s no longer a silhouette
when it has features
all hope will be lost

 

Bamboo Haiku





bamboo copse
groans in subtle wind
no space between


crows rule

the bamboo arch

over the road



bamboo grove
carpeted in grainy beige
alien landscape


plastic cup

gripped in crow’s beak

frat boy style



pink blossoms
will soon bleed onto
bamboo pollen

POEM: Dreams

dreams, my friend, are lost on you
you think them false when they are true
you think them true when they are truer
you think them from a subconscious sewer

you feed your monsters, but make them ride alone
then can’t tell the imposters when they’re full-grown
they say that nature outstrips nurture
and the seeker outwits the searcher

but who can know such things

POEM: Smoke

turrets turned as tires burned
forming a cloak of jet black smoke
oh hell! oh hell! for a tank shell
will pass right through, belching smoke of its own like a chimney flue
and when the wall is blown apart, and spall flies as from a cart of darts
I’ll long for naught, just I thought, while I wonder just what man hath wrought

Desert Haiku

Cubes of sand
Tumble on a tiny scale
Scouring history








Camel lurches
Only in a land of sand
could it kneel



Grain of sand
Do you miss the sea
from whence you came?



Bleached bones
Sandblasted lopsided
How will you go?



Wind blown
zebra stripes in the sand
Nature’s echo



Dubai

On Writing Poetry

1.) Toss open a bag of words.
2.) Dance said words into a configuration in which they sprout a feeling.
3.) Shake vigorously until the detritus that detracts from feeling falls away.
4.) Read aloud.
5.) Shake some more.
6.) READ – SHAKE – REPEAT

Source: National Endowment for the Arts

POEM: Madmen on the March

by Gustave Dore (via Wikipedia)

 

Madmen on the march
Clones de la Mancha
Pouring through the arch
Lacking lingua franca



Seeking common thrills
An army of sham knights
Tilting at windmills
With more pride than fight



It’s not a sickness of the brain
that scripts this lunatic life.
It’s chasing the sanction of “sane”
that breeds this stream of strife.



[Note: A poem on the hilarity of defining sanity as the recognition of reality. As if any of us knows what’s real in a meaningful sense. Sanity is being able to pretend you know what’s real with sufficient confidence to avoid grinding against society’s sensitive spots.]