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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Fox

fox at night, originally uploaded by martin.gallagher24.

I see you Fox, you try and hide, when I come running

I see you Fox, scurry into the darkness when I come gunning

or driving, my point home.

However, when my values are shifted into neutral, and my hand break is on,

you rear your head and come crawling back with a menacing grin.

Because feeling satisfaction is being lulled into a false sense of security.

I lock the door, unwittingly leaving my valuables on display.

You, Fox, yes you. Know how to pick every lock I use

you, Fox, yes you, are waiting till my defences are down, till I am fast asleep

before you pounce.

However Fox, I outwitted you.

My flood lights illuminate the scene when you come in my path.

The alarm bells are regularly checked and put me in a constant state of vigilance

I feel safe

or not.

A deterrent such as this is of little use.

Prevention is better than cure.

I remove my valuables and buy a rottweiler

Fox doesn’t come around these parts any more.

However, he will be back, in some other form.

-a poem about the human ego

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I have been pretty busy the last few days.

I will be writing a more meaningful entry very shortly but thought I’d give a little insight into what i’m up to  this week, aside from dental school in the day:

Monday evening: Studying the World Order of Bahá’u’lláh in a study group facilitated by American film director, Mark Bamford.

The World Order of Bahá’u’lláh is a collection of letters and messages from Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Bahá’í Faith, first published in 1938.

Here is an excerpt:

Leaders of religion, exponents of political theories, governors of human institutions, who at present are witnessing with perplexity and dismay the bankruptcy of their ideas, and the disintegration of their handiwork, would do well to turn their gaze to the Revelation of Bahá’u’lláh, and to meditate upon the World Order which, lying enshrined in His teachings, is slowly and imperceptibly rising amid the welter and chaos of present-day civilization. They need have no doubt or anxiety regarding the nature, the origin or validity of the institutions which the adherents of the Faith are building up throughout the world. For these lie embedded in the teachings themselves, unadulterated and unobscured by unwarrantable inferences, or unauthorized interpretations of His Word.

Tuesday evening: Taking photographs for a launch at the Foreign Policy Centre at the British Government’s Houses of Parliament . This is for the launch of a pamphlet entitled ‘A revolution without rights? Women, Kurds and Baha’is searching for equality in Iran’

Wednesday evening: Watching Waltz with Bashir with some friends in central London.

Waltz with Bashir is an award winning animated documentary of the Israeli-Lebannon war. The trailer can be seen here

Dental School has recently upped the ante in terms of stress, exams and requirements to graduate….

Apart from prayers, I like play my guitar/bass and read poetry to unwind.

Here is a quatrain (Rubaiyat) of poetry by Rumi that I found inspiring and peaceful:

It’s good to leave each day behind,

like flowing water, free of sadness.

Yesterday is gone and its tale told.

Today new seeds are growing.

Rumi

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A Winter Battle

Like a fallen autumn leaf, picked up by a fresh breeze.

Welcoming, fresh, ever changing.

Carried along, dropped and picked up again

Journey unpredictable, but very welcoming.

The vast, freshness of the air, is inhaled deeply

and exhaled deeply. Eyes closed and arms open.

Poles reversing, unexpectedly.

Winter rears its ugly head.

Arms quickly close. Breathing rudely interrupted.

Layers once removed, are quickly replaced.

Feelings of refreshment trapped in crystals of ice.

Skin too thin, metabolism stalls like a faulty motor.

Heart dampened by the deafening silence.

Ears stung from the rude awakening.

Comatose from the shock,

staring into the abyss of regret.

Or not.

Confusion presides like an overcast frontline

Eyes heavy like artillery…..

Shells dropping, hearts being torn apart.

everything fading to grey.

Waking up to a red sky, wounded from the battle.

Colours restored, but with less saturation.

Survivors picked up,  infantry regroups, infantry retreats.

Finding more hope in the lost battle than a battle not fought at all.

A lesson learnt.

once bitten, twice shy.

Burnt but still alive.

Never knowing when its your tour of duty next.

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