Category Archives: my own poetry

The wind of the Word blows

The wind of the Word blows out of Love Street and goes where it wills with delight; how sweet the scent of Rose! Print Friendly

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Don’t think for a moment that God does not hear your prayer

Don’t think for a moment that God does not hear your prayer- his answer lies in the anguish that only patient love can bear. It’s a rough road to crawl and crawl to the feet of the Friend when the broken … Continue reading

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The world O the world a can full of lively worm

The world O the world a can full of lively worm, wriggling for spirit to attain at last perfect form. Man, at last, no more a wriggling worm, but aghast at nascent mind crawling through mud to speak, at last. … Continue reading

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Now is the time of the Prophet of Light’s return

Now is the time of the Prophet of Light’s return; Zarathustra will bring this Age of Iron to an end. Rama, prince of virtue crowned as the Solar King will again slay the dark rapacious lord and fiend. Now is … Continue reading

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The light of his eyes kindles in my heart a flame

The light of his eyes kindles in my heart a flame, which I nurture with the breath of his holy name. This body is the alembic from which spirit rises and rises to condense and fall in shame. Millions of … Continue reading

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The Magus does inspire

The Magus does inspire the silence of desire with a glass of his wine: O heart of crystal fire! Print Friendly

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Bird, O bird sing your song

Bird, O bird sing your song; cry O cry all night long for the dawn’s petaled light: the rose is our sweet King. Print Friendly

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The Prophet as the perfect Friend has come yet again

The Prophet as the perfect Friend has come yet again, to bless with his sword of love the bliss of divine pain. Long past is the honor of the Man perfect in praise for glorious Allah; long past are his … Continue reading

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Reply to censure

What the this, what the that; don’t tell me I can’t spit my raucous giggle-goo at you, pompous and fat! Print Friendly

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Ghazal #55 from Ghazals For The Friend, by Bill Gannett

We are crying to our lord and master without peer: all but his long curly hair is small and cheap beer. We have lit a candle to his blazing presence, and written many a ghazal about his essence. We can’t … Continue reading

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