Come With Me, My Dear

本帖最后由 Immanuel 于 2011-1-26 11:02 编辑

Come With Me, My Dear

Hold me closer and come, my dear
Know that, I am gentle, gentler than a dove
woos day and night, but a lonely heart could hear
Or, a lily, only the tender hands of God can carve
I bloom in the breeze of a new year
after snow caps seared by a merciless love

They are singing a song, a dirge or a dance  
I no more care
Spring mountains dress up verdant Southern lace
All pop and thrust into an unexpected fair
I can hear the gentle voice of a tempting chance
It has tarried,  it deserves from me a good share
世皆浮波客,我是波上舟。
dushuxianji.wordpress.com

Come With Me, My Dear

Hold me closer and come, my dear
Know that, I am gentle, gentler than a dove
...
Immanuel 发表于 2011-1-6 18:56


虽然我整天在英语世界里混,读你的英文诗文我是瞠目结舌像个大傻瓜。
愿我心行于爱,信和美之中

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To me, to be poetic is most time to entertain a spur of thoughts or emotions...Nothing logic to its source or expression, but a strong feeling and knowing as something worthy to be versed...And I am quite poor with my English, not mention English poems...

Maybe you need to read as what they are, a mist of uncertain ideas, or a current of mixed feelings...
世皆浮波客,我是波上舟。
dushuxianji.wordpress.com

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BTW, I was thinking about the Spring time of a year of Jubilee...

A friend in South Africa turned to be 50, she had sent me a picture of a green mountain where she was working...

MIsty Mountain

mountain mist.jpg
2011-1-8 07:37
世皆浮波客,我是波上舟。
dushuxianji.wordpress.com

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BTW, I was thinking about the Spring time of a year of Jubilee...

A friend in South Africa turned ...
Immanuel 发表于 2011-1-8 07:38

谢谢兄弟分享。非常非常地喜欢这图!
一个星期前我给你去过一E,不知是否到达你的信箱?
问候兄弟!
愿我心行于爱,信和美之中

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谦姐,迟复见谅云。。。

未能收到来信,不知是否是我Google邮箱的问题。。。能否再寄给我一次呢?
世皆浮波客,我是波上舟。
dushuxianji.wordpress.com

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To me, to be poetic is most time to entertain a spur of thoughts or emotions...Nothing logic to its source or expression, but a strong feeling and knowing as something worthy to be versed...

Well said.
因为无能为力,所以尽力而为。

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本帖最后由 Immanuel 于 2011-2-15 00:54 编辑

View of A Life

one man’s view, likens unto that of a window
he studies the currents of day and night
they tarry and flow
episodes of retreat and fight

7th street and 6th
a crossroad I helped to lay out
he shies away from the bright side of my face
leaving behind me and my shout

dear friend Mark now gives a solemn homily
line after line I read it
I saw him coming out of a trolley
telling me that my hair is quite neat

Years back, I was wondering in the midst of the street people. A poor fellow died, some said he was stabbed by his drinking buddy. His body was picked up and my friend Mark, a deacon of a local Catholic church, asked me to help him to hold a funeral for him and review some of his homilies. I knew the dead only by face, thus could not help much. Yet I was greatly saddened by his death and the thought and fact that a man can truly die that lonely. I felt for him.

Years later, a friend of mine toured me around his father's property in town. They newly built a bridge over a little creek running through a wooden area blocks away from the main ways of the city. For most of the city dwellers, it was a forbidden garden, a presence of the untamed nature, buried in dimness and strangeness, hidden and mystified to a point of terror.  Friend shared with me that a dead body was found in the creek few years back. I could not image the scene of a dead body soaking in that crystal stream for over 10 days. The dead was the one for whom Mark served the funeral, I suspected.

Few days back, I was quiet, entertaining myself with few lofty contemplations. Suddenly a young fellow who was also a street fellow I got acquainted with came to my mind. He was truly nice to me. Every time he saw me, he would be eager to talk to me. Few times, He jumped out the bus just to hang around with me. One day, I saw him waiting at a bus stop. I called out loud on him. He turned around, evidently recognized me. But he seemed to be very troubled. The next moment he jumped on the bus as if just to run away.

Days later, I saw him again. He still was shamed and troubled. I asked him, learned that he had a drinking problem and felt shamed to be in my presence when he stuck in it. Never had I related to him anything of my life nor my morals at the time. I was surprised to be found having such a bearing on him.  But I took pity on the young man, felt bad for him, offered my help. He refused. We never saw each other again.

As, I think of him now, I can only pray that he is recovered, happy and safe. If he saw me again, he would not hesitate for a moment to rush out of the bus to just crack a joke on me, teasing me with my hair or anything.

Another note. My friend Bonita was a graphic designer for an architecture company, few years back she asked me to review some of their designs. One is a project of a layout for the crossroads of 6th and 7th street in downtown. Interesting the ministry my friends hold was just around that corner, under a highway bridge of IH35. 6th street is famous for its bars. I had an experience dragged by a Mexican friend, drinking beers from bar to bar, just for fun. He wanted to bet that he could drink through all the bars one night. The poor fellow got drunk happily and quickly. If only I met him again, I really would like to tour him this time, just to see him lovely and coarsely sneak around, being a "typical" Mexican country fellow. He was a good guy, very nice to me in his own ways.

One of the themes I was pondering upon is the tragedy of the living dead and the reality of one who is dead yet still alive in spirit, living more than in the heart and memory of his family and friends, but really is presently in heaven. I thought about the cloud of witnesses in heaven, the fact that God is God to the living, not the dead.

Sometime back, my friend Brad had two consecutive visions, seeing us standing in the presence of God, with the heavenly assembly around. Peter and Paul was standing aside, happy to see us coming to our place before God. This and many other revelations would bring me to a place of awe and curiosity. How so? Yet as much as that I don't know, I do know that He loves me and knew me. What a wonder to be more than alive, but actually becoming, or ever was, part of His divine plan and being honored and known by Him, His holy angels and His saints.

"Death, where is your sting?" What a Good News!

世皆浮波客,我是波上舟。
dushuxianji.wordpress.com

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兄弟是存心把我再读成大傻瓜。
真是喜羡交加。谢谢分享!
逮着机会,问候Immanuel兄弟,新春快乐,兔年吉祥!
对了,我写了一篇随笔《一本从天而来的圣经》,不转过来了,有空欢迎光临批阅哈。
http://blog.creaders.net/qianqian/user_blog_diary.php?did=79164
愿我心行于爱,信和美之中

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QQ, thx, happy new year to you as well. 我是身在此山中,不知世间事的人。度日如年,在我有一番别样滋味。 所谓年年如日日,日日如年年。近读中庸,有铭句:“苟日新,又日新,日日新”。讲得太好了。

为诗做了一些背景上的交待,只是为了你!  

顺问安好,祝你也度日如年。
世皆浮波客,我是波上舟。
dushuxianji.wordpress.com

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