Freedom, by J. W. Cassandra. My poem belongs to my volume 18, “Incompletion”, cycle “Incompletion”, as well. I share it both in English and Hungarian. As illustration, I share a photo of the dawn above the river Danube, Budapest, Hungary. The bird, flying toward the rising sun gave me the idea of the poem. I share it both in English and Hungarian.
What happens when the mind tries reading the Brain of a high age female using words for other minds…
This poem describes the fear of Christina Georgina Rossetti, not from death but from the fact that her lover might not remember her after she is gone. But as the poem progresses, she accept that for a greater good, it would be better if he forgets her and live happily, rather than remember and be sad.
Beseech to the Dying Spirit, by J. W. Cassandra. This my own poem belongs to my volume I, Eternity, Awaken to Consciousness, cycle Altar for New Worlds, as the other poem, recently shared here, “As the Dreamy Buddha”. This poem itself was born by inspiration. It was written in 2007, translated this year. I share it both in English and Hungarian. The poem by its form follows the vision by that I wrote it: irregular with its rows but, I felt a peculiar rhythm writing it and tried to give it through. I feel so, the vision is more important. One more important thought: indeed, the Spirit in my poem is alive, not dying just by the whirl of the lights it seems as if it would dying…
Beseech to the Dying Spirit, by J. W. Cassandra. This my own poem belongs to my volume I, Eternity, Awaken to Consciousness, cycle Altar for New Worlds, as the other poem, recently shared here, “As the Dreamy Buddha”. This poem itself was born by inspiration. It was written in 2007, translated this year. I share it both in English and Hungarian. The poem by its form follows the vision by that I wrote it: irregular with its rows but, I felt a peculiar rhythm writing it and tried to give it through. I feel so, the vision is more important. One more important thought: indeed, the Spirit in my poem is alive, not dying just by the whirl of the lights it seems as if it would dying…
The Only Thing That Matters, by J. W. Cassandra. This my own poem was written recently, so I haven’t placed it in any volumes yet. The idea of the poem came to my by chance, if I can say it so. I watched the raven and came to my mind that in the Antiquity the so-called secret societies had been multiplied mainly in Asia Minor, where different gods and initiations had been in the focus. One of them was the cult of Mithra of the Graeco-Roman era or origin that used the Corvus that is Raven as a grade of the initiation. In addition, the raven was in the Scandinavian mythology the main god’s, Odin’s favourite twin animal as Hugin (Notion) and Munin (Memory) and his heralds, as well. By these ideas I wrote my poem that I share here with you.
The Only Thing That Matters, by J. W. Cassandra. This my own poem was written recently, so I haven’t placed it in any volumes yet. The idea of the poem came to my by chance, if I can say it so. I watched the raven and came to my mind that in the Antiquity the so-called secret societies had been multiplied mainly in Asia Minor, where different gods and initiations had been in the focus. One of them was the cult of Mithra of the Graeco-Roman era or origin that used the Corvus that is Raven as a grade of the initiation. In addition, the raven was in the Scandinavian mythology the main god’s, Odin’s favourite twin animal as Hugin (Notion) and Munin (Memory) and his heralds, as well. By these ideas I wrote my poem that I share here with you.
As the Dreamy Buddha, by J. W. Cassandra. This poem has a peculiar, unique story. It belongs to my volume 1, “Eternity, Awaken to Consciousness “, cycle “Altar for New Worlds”. And its story: originally I wrote it in my 19-year-old-age, as I then could see the Buddha. I mean the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni since, at that time in our country there had been available about Buddhism, Buddha, etc., only strongly imperfect information. Who at that time here at us knew who is Buddha, they were the “scholars”… So, at the university I wrote a bit longer version of the poem, and I shortened it in the Summer of 2007, when we found it in a copy book in the attic… Then I put it into my volume. Anyway, I had more poems just they had been lost from that period. Since then, I wrote more poems about Buddha, like Compassionate, Amitabha, etc. But this was my first attempt to depict, how I saw him then… My perspective widened and altered in the meantime. 🙂
As the Dreamy Buddha, by J. W. Cassandra. This poem has a peculiar, unique story. It belongs to my volume 1, “Eternity, Awaken to Consciousness “, cycle “Altar for New Worlds”. And its story: originally I wrote it in my 19-year-old-age, as I then could see the Buddha. I mean the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni since, at that time in our country there had been available about Buddhism, Buddha, etc., only strongly imperfect information. Who at that time here at us knew who is Buddha, they were the “scholars”… So, at the university I wrote a bit longer version of the poem, and I shortened it in the Summer of 2007, when we found it in a copy book in the attic… Then I put it into my volume. Anyway, I had more poems just they had been lost from that period. Since then, I wrote more poems about Buddha, like Compassionate, Amitabha, etc. But this was my first attempt to depict, how I saw him then… My perspective widened and altered in the meantime. 🙂
New Hampshire is a poem that describes Robert Frost’s love for the city of New Hampshire and its natural beauty, love for arts, and unbusinesslike nature. It also discusses the shallowness of people who measure everything based on its commercial value.
We’ve been allured andbecame blinded by the colorful realities of life.Because wenever learn the art of using the white crayon.
Some arts aren’t meant to be understood.Sometimes, it is only meant to be expressed by an artist.
This is an extremely sad poem, much like the life of Emily Dickinson. A poem about her appraisal of the sadness and grief that she meets, and I bet she meets many. This poem just keeps getting sad until the last couple of paragraphs, where she reveals that other’s grief gives her comfort. It is others too, who have suffered. And some of the pains are like hers.
The beauty of this poem lies in its simplicity. How the writer is able to find the greatest of the virtues in the simplest of things.
Everything that we witness daily, the things that are doing nothing more than the routine things are the biggest epitome of patience.
‘Diving into wreck’ is a poem that talks about the whole diving experience of a sea diver straight from the preparation stage until when he reaches the bottom of the sea to find a wreck. This poem talks about the whole emotional journey of the diver.
