Wickedness poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best Wickedness poems ever written. Read all poems about Wickedness.
No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The Ship was still as she could be;
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.
A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell ! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower;
The graves give up their dead: fair Elenor
Walk'd by the castle gate, and lookèd in.
A hollow groan ran thro' the dreary vaults.
The clock of my days winds down.
The cat eats sparrows outside my window.
Once, she brought me a small rabbit
which we devoured together, under
In the prologue to the Masnavi Rumi hailed Love and its sweet madness that heals all infirmities, and he exhorted the reader to burst the bonds to silver and gold to be free. The Beloved is all in all and is only veiled by the lover. Rumi identified the first cause of all things as God and considered all second causes subordinate to that. Human minds recognize the second causes, but only prophets perceive the action of the first cause. One story tells of a clever rabbit who warned the lion about another lion and showed the lion his own image in a well, causing him to attack it and drown. After delivering his companions from the tyrannical lion, the rabbit urges them to engage in the more difficult warfare against their own inward lusts. In a debate between trusting God and human exertion, Rumi quoted the prophet Muhammad as saying, "Trust in God, yet tie the camel's leg."8 He also mentioned the adage that the worker is the friend of God; so in trusting in providence one need not neglect to use means. Exerting oneself can be giving thanks for God's blessings; but he asked if fatalism shows gratitude.
God is hidden and has no opposite, not seen by us yet seeing us. Form is born of the formless but ultimately returns to the formless. An arrow shot by God cannot remain in the air but must return to God. Rumi reconciled God's agency with human free will and found the divine voice in the inward voice. Those in close communion with God are free, but the one who does not love is fettered by compulsion. God is the agency and first cause of our actions, but human will as the second cause finds recompense in hell or with the Friend. God is like the soul, and the world is like the body. The good and evil of bodies comes from souls. When the sanctuary of true prayer is revealed to one, it is shameful to turn back to mere formal religion. Rumi confirmed Muhammad's view that women hold dominion over the wise and men of heart; but violent fools, lacking tenderness, gentleness, and friendship, try to hold the upper hand over women, because they are swayed by their animal nature. The human qualities of love and tenderness can control the animal passions. Rumi concluded that woman is a ray of God and the Creator's self.
She lay, skin down in the moist dirt,
the canebrake rustling
with the whispers of leaves, and
Birth is not from sin
Birth is from the best love;
from the faithful love of two biological soul;
From the gushing liquid I'm; as if an aquatic animal
I am really shocked to behold the pink city
Blood when flows near by the green field
From the ill fatted souls of their mother’s womb
Tear when turns red eyes yet steeped in sorrows
A traveller on the skirt of Sarum's Plain
Pursued his vagrant way, with feet half bare;
Queen Guinevere had fled the court, and sat
There in the holy house at Almesbury
Weeping, none with her save a little maid,
A novice: one low light betwixt them burned
Contained in this world is one specific hatred
Colour and ethnicity; these differences denigrated
Before I was born, I knew I was already hated
‘Cause of the colour of my skin, constantly humiliated.
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done
In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale,
Whom Arthur and his knighthood called The Pure,
Had passed into the silent life of prayer,
A storm was coming, but the winds were still,
And in the wild woods of Broceliande,
Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old
It looked a tower of ivied masonwork,
Today, recovering from influenza,
I begin, having nothing worse to do,
This autobiography that ends a
Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn
From his displeasure; in whose look serene,
When angry most he seemed and most severe,
What else but favour, grace, and mercy, shone?
Inscribed to Robert Aiken, Esq.
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys and destiny obscure;
Come my servant, follow me,
According to thy place;
And surely God will be with thee,
And send the heav'nly grace.
A wickedness that lurks in the night,
A darkness that brings no light,
A cruelness that makes us all shiver,
The evil that we must deliver.
Today's opinion is tomorrow's rubbish
It is the full swing of life that establishes order
The fist of life punches hard on the sac of ignorance and wickedness
Regardless of your opinion, life sticks to its agenda
No man wants to go there
Not even the wicked man (woman)
Knows the depth of darkness
Or the ferocity of spiritual desolation
No one formulated this concoction
There is no formula to this equation
There is no hope in this malignancy
It's a cancer that destroys the mind, body and spirit
The wickedness of the world! ! ! !
The wickedness of mankind on earth!
Professor living on the streets! ! !
Don't you have a house? !
Come to Africa and sleep in my room;
Able to comfort your soul.
Evil acts on earth,
Mankind on earth,
Being evil like the Gods and Goddesses! ! !
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