August 6, 2009 #542
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a set of proverbs.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
ON MARRIAGE, SEX, AND LOVE
1. One needs always to remember that the point of marriage is not sex but love.
2. Love, like the air, is often taken for granted. But a happily married couple both know that they need love and are grateful to have it.
3. Sex brings ecstasy and then satisfaction. Love brings grace and then fulfillment.
4. One can enjoy both sex and love, but one cannot pursue both. For the pursuit of sexual ecstasy is self-centered and tends towards isolation, whereas the pursuit of love is other-centered and tends towards communion.
5. Marriage is difficult and requires constant compromise. One cannot share a life without losing autonomy, but what one gains is well worth the loss.
6. The only way to be completely autonomous is to be completely alone.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Poem of the Week
February 26, 2009 #521
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a philosophical poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Once a paladin
Rode into mountains
Seeking himself
Among barren stones.
He was a spring
Covered by fountains,
Or an immortal elf
In a dungeon of bones.
Long he rode weary
Through high mountain passes
And deep, lonely canyons
Untouched by the sun.
Long he rode dreary
'Mid snow-covered masses,
His dreams for companions,
And still he rode on.
Yet he found nothing
That matched his ambition
To see himself naked
Of what was not him:
That singular something
Beyond all condition,
The soul he'd forsaken
For life's daily din.
He came on a hermit
Praying in shadow,
Unmoving for hours
In the early spring cold;
His hut near a summit
In a high mountain meadow
Covered with flowers,
Red, white, and gold.
Finally moving,
He turned towards the paladin,
Blank as a snowfield,
Silent as space;
The soul simply choosing
To pass its brief time within,
Steadfastly sealed
Behind its locked face.
“Good Sir,” said the paladin,
“Long have I wandered
In search of the soul
That somehow I lost.
“My life has been sin,
My brief moment squandered,
Yet I would be whole
Regardless of cost.
“O holy man,
Show me the truth
Known to those few
At being's bright core!
“And, if you can,
Yourself be the proof,
For I would be you --
I ask nothing more.”
The hermit then opened
His eyes wide as saucers.
Behind them was emptiness,
Nothing at all.
Sheer nothingness beckoned
Like death 'neath life's wonders,
The absolute stillness
That makes the flesh crawl.
“O God!” shrieked the paladin,
“Heaven, please save me!”
And down from the mountains
He fled on his steed;
Back towards profusion,
The commerce that daily
Surrounds the great fountains
That simple springs feed.
Back, back to the world
Of passion and plunder
The paladin raced
Away from that sight
Of a self self-dissolved
In the truth that lay under
The truth – just a taste
Of the cold, waiting night.
Nor did he ever
Recover from seeing
That vision of nothingness
At being's heart.
Alas! He could never
Embrace his own being,
And so performed graceless
His pitiful part.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a philosophical poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Once a paladin
Rode into mountains
Seeking himself
Among barren stones.
He was a spring
Covered by fountains,
Or an immortal elf
In a dungeon of bones.
Long he rode weary
Through high mountain passes
And deep, lonely canyons
Untouched by the sun.
Long he rode dreary
'Mid snow-covered masses,
His dreams for companions,
And still he rode on.
Yet he found nothing
That matched his ambition
To see himself naked
Of what was not him:
That singular something
Beyond all condition,
The soul he'd forsaken
For life's daily din.
He came on a hermit
Praying in shadow,
Unmoving for hours
In the early spring cold;
His hut near a summit
In a high mountain meadow
Covered with flowers,
Red, white, and gold.
Finally moving,
He turned towards the paladin,
Blank as a snowfield,
Silent as space;
The soul simply choosing
To pass its brief time within,
Steadfastly sealed
Behind its locked face.
“Good Sir,” said the paladin,
“Long have I wandered
In search of the soul
That somehow I lost.
“My life has been sin,
My brief moment squandered,
Yet I would be whole
Regardless of cost.
“O holy man,
Show me the truth
Known to those few
At being's bright core!
“And, if you can,
Yourself be the proof,
For I would be you --
I ask nothing more.”
The hermit then opened
His eyes wide as saucers.
Behind them was emptiness,
Nothing at all.
Sheer nothingness beckoned
Like death 'neath life's wonders,
The absolute stillness
That makes the flesh crawl.
“O God!” shrieked the paladin,
“Heaven, please save me!”
And down from the mountains
He fled on his steed;
Back towards profusion,
The commerce that daily
Surrounds the great fountains
That simple springs feed.
Back, back to the world
Of passion and plunder
The paladin raced
Away from that sight
Of a self self-dissolved
In the truth that lay under
The truth – just a taste
Of the cold, waiting night.
Nor did he ever
Recover from seeing
That vision of nothingness
At being's heart.
Alas! He could never
Embrace his own being,
And so performed graceless
His pitiful part.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Poem of the Week
February 5, 2009 #518
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a love poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
The bond of love is not desire, but need.
Desire fades; need with wisdom grows:
The need to be needed, and the need to need.
But why the need to need when one is freed
By needing less of that which comes and goes?
The bond of love is not desire, but need.
And why need to be needed? Why should one cede
What one might well enjoy for what one owes?
The need to be needed, and the need to need
Are longings of the sower for the seed,
And the seed for the sower, who whistles as he sows.
The bond of love is not desire, but need.
Love is longing, by dint of death decreed,
The beauty and the terror life bestows,
The need to be needed, and the need to need
Embedded in one's being, as indeed,
Being needs Creation, which it once chose.
The bond of love is not desire, but need:
The need to be needed, and the need to need.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a love poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
The bond of love is not desire, but need.
Desire fades; need with wisdom grows:
The need to be needed, and the need to need.
But why the need to need when one is freed
By needing less of that which comes and goes?
The bond of love is not desire, but need.
And why need to be needed? Why should one cede
What one might well enjoy for what one owes?
The need to be needed, and the need to need
Are longings of the sower for the seed,
And the seed for the sower, who whistles as he sows.
The bond of love is not desire, but need.
Love is longing, by dint of death decreed,
The beauty and the terror life bestows,
The need to be needed, and the need to need
Embedded in one's being, as indeed,
Being needs Creation, which it once chose.
The bond of love is not desire, but need:
The need to be needed, and the need to need.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Poem of the Week
November 27, 2008 #509
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a Thanksgiving Day poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
There is no joy that does not speak of longing,
Having come a long, hard way to love.
All happiness is earned, all bliss belonging,
Nor can one be alone, though lonely prove.
Kindness is a kind of gratitude,
Sign and source of pleasure in one's being,
Giving thanks by giving, as the shrewd
Invest in what they have small chance of seeing.
Very little time is spent in singing.
Instead, we speak of what we want or need,
Not knowing every moment we are bringing
Gifts to those whose music we might read.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a Thanksgiving Day poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
There is no joy that does not speak of longing,
Having come a long, hard way to love.
All happiness is earned, all bliss belonging,
Nor can one be alone, though lonely prove.
Kindness is a kind of gratitude,
Sign and source of pleasure in one's being,
Giving thanks by giving, as the shrewd
Invest in what they have small chance of seeing.
Very little time is spent in singing.
Instead, we speak of what we want or need,
Not knowing every moment we are bringing
Gifts to those whose music we might read.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Poem of the Week
November 20, 2008 #508
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a philosophical poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
The whole point of being is
There is no point to being.
Is just simply is
Forever, outside time.
The nothingness you see
Is something you're not seeing.
No thing is ever nothing.
We move, the stars align.
Time is just our motion,
And death, time's timely end.
We remain as is;
The others must move on.
The swiftly passing moment
Is something we transcend,
For all that is just is,
And nothing's ever gone.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a philosophical poem.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week." You can also cast a vote for it to boost its popularity on Yahoo Buzz.
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
The whole point of being is
There is no point to being.
Is just simply is
Forever, outside time.
The nothingness you see
Is something you're not seeing.
No thing is ever nothing.
We move, the stars align.
Time is just our motion,
And death, time's timely end.
We remain as is;
The others must move on.
The swiftly passing moment
Is something we transcend,
For all that is just is,
And nothing's ever gone.
© by Nicholas Gordon
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Poem of the Week
October 2, 2008 #502
GREED GRIPS EVERY HEART, NO LESS THAN LUST
Greed grips every heart, no less than lust.
Reason drowns in fantasies of power.
Even though the journey ends in dust,
Each finds ample cravings in the hour,
Destined to dark seeds that root and flower.
© by Nicholas Gordon
GREED GRIPS EVERY HEART, NO LESS THAN LUST
Greed grips every heart, no less than lust.
Reason drowns in fantasies of power.
Even though the journey ends in dust,
Each finds ample cravings in the hour,
Destined to dark seeds that root and flower.
© by Nicholas Gordon
If you liked this poem, vote for it on Yahoo Buzz by clicking on the icon below.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Poem of the Week
May 1, 2008 #484
Dear Subscriber:
This week’s poem of the week is a philosophical poem to a mother.
You can hear me read the poem and listen to the music for it at my site by going to http://www.poemsforfree.com and clicking on "Poem of the Week."
You can post a comment on the poem or read other comments on it at http://nicholasgordon.blogspot.com.
Yours,
Nick Gordon
Maybe time is like a snowdrift. Spring
Opens up its secrets. And perhaps
There you find what you’ve been looking for.
Harsh winters wait, of course, but there are more
Ecstasies than sorrows under wraps,
Retained in drifts till their awakening.
© by Nicholas Gordon
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