Anmol

says

Pat C says

Hi, I created a new group called Golden Age Pulp Heroes. It looks like you've read a variety of those books. Feel free to join if interested!

posted 1 year ago. ( send a note )

Howard H says

Hi Howard H. I,m reading the Black Candle, It,s POEMS of Women of India, Bangladesh.& Pakistan.

posted 2 years ago. ( send a note )

Howard H says

Hi Howard H. I,m reading the Black Candle, It,s POEMS of Women of India, Bangladesh.& Pakistan.

posted 2 years ago. ( send a note )

Dr. Prateep Sen says

how have u been? where did u disappear?

posted 2 years ago. ( send a note )

Howard H says

I,m reading The King of Vooka

posted 2 years ago. ( send a note )

Joseph Spence, Sr. says

Hello Anmol,

This is Wonderful News my Shelfarian friend! I have been nominated to receive the 2009 Author's Award for my book, "The Awakened One Poetics." Please click the following link, scroll down to my name, make your selection, enter your name and email address at the bottom of the form, and type in the correct code. Please cast your vote ASAP! This is critical. I need as many votes as possible. When voting, please vote for the first Joseph S. Spence, Sr.

Additionally, please ask your friends and family members to vote for me. This is the link:

http://www.critters.org/predpoll/author.shtml

Thank you,
Joseph "Epulaeryu Master" Spence, Sr.
www.TheAwakenedOnePoetics.Com
“Enlightened—
peel away the layers:/
behold pure gold!”

posted 2 years ago. ( send a note )

Joseph Spence, Sr. says

Hello Anmol,
This is the cover of my new book, "The Awakened One Poetics." Several members have read it and are very elated and inspired with the uplifting poems. It’s really a great book for you to read also. Check the reviews on Amazon.com.
Have a great day and thank you!
Joseph

posted 2 years ago. ( send a note )

Joseph Spence, Sr. says

Dear Anmol,

Hope everything is well with you. I have great news! My new book, The Awakened One Poetics, has been released and is now listed on Amazon. It’s published in seven languages and is truly a great present for the summer. This is the link where it’s located:

http://www.amazon.com/Awakened-Poetics-Spanish-Japanese-Chinese/dp/8190381245/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1251647942&sr=1-1

Your support and innate goodness will be greatly appreciated. Please notify your friends and other members for me.
Namaste!
Joseph

posted 2 years ago. ( send a note )

Joseph Spence, Sr. says

It's great to hear from you. Stay happy and in the best of moods; it's good for the soul! I have the book; however, I am currently reading "Vipassana Meditation" as taught by S. N. Geonka. As soon as I am through reading Vipassana, I will start reading "Memoirs of "Babur." I heard it's very interesting and intriguing. Is that true?

posted 2 years ago. ( send a note )

Joseph Spence, Sr. says

Hello Anmol my sister,
How are you these days?

posted 2 years ago. ( send a note )

Promod P.P says

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yey knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sign
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.

By Robert Frost

posted 3 years ago. ( send a note )

Promod P.P says

THe peom below was of Charles C. Finn

posted 3 years ago. ( send a note )

Promod P.P says

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear for I wear a mask,
a thousand masks,
masks that I'm afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.

Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled, for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command and that I need no one,
but don't believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this.
I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.

But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only hope, and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this.
I don't dare to, I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me,
that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.

I don't like hiding.
I don't like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings--
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!

With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator--
of the person that is me if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.

Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.

posted 3 years ago. ( send a note )

Promod P.P says

He said it doesn't look good
he said it looks bad in fact real bad
he said I counted thirty-two of them on one lung before
I quit counting them
I said I'm glad I wouldn't want to know
about any more being there than that
he said are you a religious man do you kneel down
in forest groves and let yourself ask for help
when you come to a waterfall
mist blowing against your face and arms
do you stop and ask for understanding at those moments
I said not yet but I intend to start today
he said I'm real sorry he said
I wish I had some other kind of news to give you
I said Amen and he said something else
I didn't catch and not knowing what else to do
and not wanting him to have to repeat it
and me to have to fully digest it
I just looked at him
for a minute and he looked back it was then
I jumped up and shook hands with this man who'd just given me
something no one else on earth had ever given me
I may have even thanked him habit being so strong

What The Doctor Said
Raymond Carver

posted 3 years ago. ( send a note )

Promod P.P says

To a man and his resolution
a woman is someone steadfast
to be decided in the early morning
sun surrounded by the aroma
of a coffee drizzle
as the skies and the gods above
smile down bereaved and jovially
bearded
not benign but somewhat clumsy
in and out the Central Avenue traffic
lights smothering the blossoms of
all your soul’s passion flowers
as if in life as if in frenzy

Calcutta
Prasenjit Maiti

posted 3 years ago. ( send a note )

Promod P.P says

It was a wonderful verse

posted 3 years ago. ( send a note )

Promod P.P says

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.

You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.

The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.

My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Pablo Neruda

posted 3 years ago. ( send a note )

Joseph Spence, Sr. says

Hello Anmol, I have just completed reading "Going Home: Jesus and Buddha as Brothers," by Thich Nhat Hanh. The book you're reading sounds interesting. I will get a copy and share some thoughts with you. Until then, I will be reading "Women in Praise of the Sacred," edited by Jane Hirshfield. Have a wonderful day my friend!
~Joseph

posted 3 years ago. ( send a note )

Promod P.P says

Between going and staying the day wavers,
in love with its own transparency.
The circular afternoon is now a bay
where the world in stillness rocks.

All is visible and all elusive,
all is near and can't be touched.

Paper, book, pencil, glass,
rest in the shade of their names.

Time throbbing in my temples repeats
the same unchanging syllable of blood.

The light turns the indifferent wall
into a ghostly theater of reflections.

I find myself in the middle of an eye,
watching myself in its blank stare.

The moment scatters. Motionless,
I stay and go: I am a pause.

Octavio Paz

posted 3 years ago. ( send a note )

Joseph Spence, Sr. says

Excellent! Which book are you reading now?

Joseph

posted 3 years ago. ( send a note )