Author's Poems

5 of 64
in Poems (Author's Poems)
What do I know about God and the purpose of life?
I know that this world exists.
That I am placed in it like my eye in its visual field.
That something about it is problematic, which we call its meaning.
This meaning does not lie in it but outside of it.
That life is the world.
That my will penetrates the world.
That my will is good or evil.
Therefore that good and evil are somehow connected with the meaning of the world.
The meaning of life, I. E. the meaning of the world, we can call God.
And connect with this the comparison of God to a father.
To pray is to think about the meaning of life.
Rate this poem: Send
    in Poems (Author's Poems)
    I had once a beautiful fatherland.
    The oak tree
    Grew so high there, violets nodded softly.
    It was a dream.
    It kissed me in German and spoke in German
    (You would hardly believe
    How good it sounded) the words: "I love you!"
    It was a dream.
    Rate this poem: Send
      in Poems (Author's Poems)
      In placid hours well-pleased we dream
      Of many a brave unbodied scheme.
      But form to lend, pulsed life create,
      What unlike things must meet and mate:
      a flame to melt, a wind to freeze;
      Sad patience, joyous energies;
      Humility, yet pride and scorn;
      Instinct and study; love and hate;
      Audacity, reverence. These must mate,
      And fuse with Jacob's mystic heart,
      To wrestle with the angel, Art.
      Rate this poem: Send
        in Poems (Author's Poems)
        I do not want to be the inheritor of so many misfortunes.
        I do not want to continue as a root and as a tomb,
        as a solitary tunnel, as a cellar full of corpses,
        stiff with cold, dying with pain.
        Rate this poem: Send
          in Poems (Author's Poems)
          Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
          Of the North Church tower as a signal light,
          One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
          And I on the opposite shore will be,
          Ready to ride and spread the alarm
          Through every Middlesex village and farm.
          Rate this poem: Send
            in Poems (Author's Poems)
            I come from all places
            and to all places I go:
            I am art among the arts
            and mountain among mountains.
            I know the strange names
            of flowers and herbs
            and of fatal deceptions
            and magnificent griefs.

            In night's darkness I've seen
            raining down on my head
            pure flames, flashing rays
            of beauty divine.
            Rate this poem: Send
              1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 ... 64  
              Read something newDiscover All Topics