The Hounds of Happiness

The hounds of happiness have been taught well
By master Guilty Fear to seek out all
The hearts where mirth and joyful feelings dwell;
The sound of glee and laughter is their call.

The hounds don’t live in time, or dwell in space,
But they can always find a place on earth;
The minds and hearts of people they do chase,
For they devour jealously all mirth.

The hounds detect all sounds and smell each scent;
Each laugh is heard throughout their darkened sphere;
They shred your life until your days are spent,
And chase to hell where there’s no hope or cheer.

We can escape the growling hunting hounds,
When fear is gone and only love abounds.

Chaos Isn’t King

This poem says that there is only one will–God’s will–and that sin (opposition to God’s will) is only a temporary mistake in the world of illusion. Mistakes should not be punished but gently corrected.

If God does reign with power, truth, and light,
Then nothing real can overcome his might;
If we believe God’s will has been suppressed,
And some other will has His will oppressed,
Then truly God does not exist as Lord,
And He should not be worshiped or adored;
If we could truly overcome His will,
Then chaos would become a bitter pill,
And oneness would become a cruel joke,
And hope would vanish into wisps of smoke;
But, really, only one will does exist,
And this one will is what we can’t resist;
When we suppose that we have thrown it down,
That we have taken all His strength and crown,
We only need to know that we are wrong,
And can’t live in this dream world for too long,
And we must know that chaos isn’t king,
For only dreams can make disorder sting;
If dreams were real, then sinners would be king,
And death would be what all the poets sing;
For sin calls for the death of God on high,
And killers soon would feel the need to die;
For who could kill God and His holy will,
And feel like he should go on living still?
But if the thought of sin is just an error,
Then there’s no need at all to live in terror;
For errors are what a mind thinks when alone;
To God, illusions always are unknown;
So, even though we think that we are right
To think we can put out the holy light,
Our thoughts of sin in time do not affect
Eternal life, with which we can connect;
For God is love, and God does still receive
His Son, when he does truth and light perceive;
And never will God’s son be left outside,
For when his tears are wiped away and dried,
He’ll see there was no need at all to hide;
Soon after will His love and joy abide
Within His Son, when he discards his pride;
A grave and hopeless problem, sin did seem,
Until the Son awakened from his dream.

The First and the Last

This poem’s form is prescribed by the “First & Last Form.”

The First and the Last is for real
He takes all our sorrow to heal
Feeds thousands a miracle meal
Walks on the water in a storm
Is baptized with a dove’s white form

Passes through each city and town
Makes the unclean spirits all drown
Is mocked with a sharp thorny crown
The world, He did come to reform
All His works, real love did inform

He taught everyone to repent
To become, with our lot, content
To overcome our foe’s torment
He put Satan under His heel
The First and the Last is for real

—————————–
“First & Last Form”
There are 15 lines, 5 lines per stanza.
This is the rhyme scheme: Aaabb cccbb dddaA
There are 8 syllables per line.
The first and last lines in the poem are the same.
There are only 4 different rhyming sounds (a-d).
Source: http://forums.familyfriendpoems.com/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=104807

Love Waited

This poem refers to spiritual love (spiritual union) and not to romantic love. There are more people who hate spiritual love than people who are disillusioned with romantic love. People can fall in love with someone romantically and never really know the person. On the other hand, spiritual love implies a deep knowing and understanding of the other person. The form of this poem is called a trianglet. It rhymes AbcxddxcbA (where the x lines don’t have to rhyme and the A lines are identical). The number of syllables per line is 1-2-3-4-5-5-4-3-2-1.

Love
waited
till the end
of time for you
to recognize it.
Now that you prize it
what will you do
to commend
hated
love?

The Two Farmers

This poem is a new sonnet about an old idea.

Two farmers walked out into their own fields;
They planted all of their thoughts in the ground;
Each one must partake of what his land yields,
For what each man sowed was what did abound.

The first farmer planted thoughts that were good;
He sowed what was beneficial to share;
He sowed compassion as well as he could;
The plants that grew supplied him with good fare.

The next farmer planted thoughts that were base;
He sowed hatred and fear in all of his foes;
He ate his produce at the marketplace,
And he became full of pains and of woes.

The very thoughts that you sow and you mete
Are those you will have to take and to eat.

From Light to Light – Revised

The Light
There is a light that embraces all things,
And carries all people in gentle wings;
It is intelligent, loving, and warm,
And there are numberless beings that swarm
Within its peaceful and welcoming mien;
It cannot, with the body’s eyes, be seen;
And this light can never be sensed or viewed
While estranged beings have oneness eschewed;
There is no stranger thrown to the outside,
And no being can within the light hide;
For the pure light has no shadows or shades,
And within there are no degrees or grades;
The light knows everything that does exist,
And no one can the light wholly resist;
For everything made is light eternal,
And each light knows its brothers fraternal,
The light has a sense of humor sublime,
Which nothing can weaken–not even time;
This is not a joy that mocks anyone–
It is a joy that includes everyone;
It lifts all to higher levels of light,
And these levels have no limits in height.

 
The Darkness
Can you feel the guilt, fear, and angst inside?
Do you feel that goodness and hope have died?
Your enemies are all you ever see,
And the dangers tell you to fight or flee;
No one cares about your safety or health;
Everyone tries to stab your back with stealth;
Your friends and family have private ends;
Each has money that he hoards and defends;
They really think they would be better off,
If all other people they could knock off;
People only share to get something back;
When they don’t get it, they quickly attack;
Greed is the norm, and giving is a joke,
And people compete so they don’t go broke;
They are afraid to escape this nightmare;
To leave this wicked world, they do not dare;
But what people don’t seem to realize
Is that nothing that lives ever just dies;
And if they so choose, they can fly away,
And easily escape without delay;
But if there is disorder in their mind
They might not leave it all quickly behind;
Before they can hear the call of the light,
They must leave their guilt, and the fear of night.
 

The Return to the Light
How can any person who fears the light
Encounter within it lasting delight?
He must learn that light’s one reality
Is to shine without partiality;
He must learn that only loving thoughts last;
All else will fade into the distant past;
He must into his fearful mind invite
Only the all-encompassing light;
While guilt and fear still have some attraction,
The darkness will create a distraction;
But when he sees that he’s wholly guiltless,
He will love all beings, and only bless;
Forgiveness will rest with a true blessing
On all those whom guilt had been oppressing;
And a thought reversal will be produced,
And all of the false judgments will be loosed;
Pardon will let all people recover,
And people will not attack each other;
And all that people will see is pure light,
And people will never return to night;
Joy and gladness will increase without end,
As oneness does all divisions transcend.

Which Side Are You On?

This is a sonnet about a decision that we make every day. Our actions reveal which decision we have made.

“For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?” (Matthew 16:25-26 NASB)

 

Some people will do whatever they can
To preserve their body another day;
They think that the flesh is what makes the man;
The instinct to live is what they obey.

Some try to nurture their soul while on earth;
They believe that self-knowledge is king;
They see that flesh goes through death and rebirth,
And that life is a spiritual thing.

It is important to think and decide,
Whether the soul is more worthy of care,
Or with our flesh and bones we should side,
For our loyalty we always declare.

When at last your body yields to decay,
Will you look on your soul with dismay?

Mistress Math

This is a tragicomic poem.

Long ago, Math left her obscurity,
And, soon after, she lost her purity;
Men have embraced her in every field,
For when they ask her, she always does yield;
For she enjoys all of the attentions,
And men ignore all of her false pretensions;
See her standing under that pale lamp light?
She is valued most in the dead of the night;
For each scientist reads in his textbooks
Of her sine-wave curves and charming good looks.

She says, “Prove it all night, prove it all night!
Come and make love to me with all your might!”
How can she seduce so many good men?
How can she go where most have never been?
She’s a mistress who comes from abstraction;
That’s her strength and her fatal attraction;
She continually keeps you guessing,
And her love is a curse and a blessing;
For while men use her to prove that they’re right,
She has the last laugh in the morning’s light.

How has she led so many men from truth?
How has she wasted many a man’s youth?
She is deceptively simple at first,
But, in the end, she can make your brain burst;
For, at the start, she is easy indeed,
But her complexity can make your heart bleed;
At first, she says that you’re the only one,
While she is, with your colleague, having fun;
And just when you think you have figured her out,
A suspicious idea from your mind will sprout.

In every lab and in every field,
Men to her great power have kneeled;
For she teaches that what can be counted
Is real, while all else should be discounted;
She makes men mad trying to quantify
The world, but they’re working to simplify
The things that they still don’t understand,
The knowledge that is slipping through their hand;
They count something, and say that’s what it means;
They make models and graphs of complex scenes.

How does Math get away with all these things?
Why is she the tune that each scientist sings?
She tells men they truly understand her,
And that they now can fully command her;
And men are fooled by this simple deception,
As they simplify each new perception;
For if they cannot truly comprehend
All of the world’s wonders and apprehend,
They return to what they learned in their schools,
Where they recited their fact charts and rules.

So don’t be surprised when you see a shrink
Adding up all the thoughts that you think,
And don’t look so shocked when you find out
That someone dissected Einstein’s mind out;
For the doctor thought he needed to know
How each blood vessel did pump and flow;
And when he had counted all the brain cells,
And analyzed all the chemical smells,
He believed he knew the man in the brain,
But no true wisdom did he really gain.

When the astronomers count all the stars,
They’ll be no closer to knowing about Mars;
For though Math tells us we can use her skills,
Quantifying all qualities just chills
The heart that wants to know and comprehend,
And truly wants the whole world for a friend;
And those who think that they know their lovers
By counting their toes under the covers,
Have been misled by all of Math’s seductions,
And have blindly followed her instructions.

I’m going to tell you how to resist
Math’s skills, when she does forcefully insist
That she is understanding’s only source,
That she is on wisdom’s pathway and course;
You need to know that only One is real;
It is the only number that can heal;
All other numbers are imaginary;
They are One’s imagined adversary;
But if you would follow after Math’s charms,
You’d be attacking One with powerless arms.

All the differences cannot be arranged
Into groups without becoming estranged;
Everyone who needs more than one number
Is still in a dream, and still does slumber;
Two is the beginning of confusion
For those who keep living in illusion;
But One is what everyone will see
When men forsake Math and from her flee;
Math is the mistress of separation,
But single-mindedness is reparation.

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