Invictus: a Poem that Inspired a Leader

I really haven't been sharing Poems recently as I was blogging more about food. ( Shared Poems)
But, I am sharing today a very special poem that has affected my life and I discovered it when I was reading about Nelson Mandela's biography back in 2010, amid personal struggles.

The Poem 'Invictus' (meaning Unconquered, Undefeated) by William Henley, and the Leader Nelson Mandela (R.I.P Madiba) was inspired by the poem, and had it written on a scrap of paper on his prison cell while he was incarcerated for 27 years on Robben Island.

I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,                              

I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

This is  the section of  "The Baking Power of the Poet"

What does Poetry have to do with a Food blog?


 Let me reply with what Joyce Carol Oates, the noble peace prize winner in Literature, who quotes that
"If food is poetry, is not poetry also food?”! 


So,  Isn't poetry  after all, the food of the soul??  She also adds : "When poets write about food it is usually celebratory. Food as the thing-in-itself, but also the thoughtful preparation of meals, the serving of meals, meals communally shared: a sense of the sacred in the profane.”

What Oates claims is the reason why poetry should me a must for  a food lover like me and thus add this section to my blog!


I hope you will enjoy some of the poems below , either from other poets or written by me ...

Kabir will tell you

"I laugh when I hear that the fish in the water is thirsty.

You don't grasp the fact that what is most alive of all is inside your own house;

and so you walk from one holy city to the next with a confused look!

Kabir will tell you the truth: go wherever you like, to Calcutta or Tibet;

if you can't find where your soul is hidden, for you the world will never be real!"

Kabir- a mystic philosopher

I have always found interest in mystic philosophy, such as suffism and yogism.

I have attended several yoga classes and basically learned some basics to practice it. And I have read books for the famous poets, Rumi and Kabir.

But I tell you,  it is your sole responsibility  to explore this path alone. No class can teach you. No teachers can guide to reach such a pure state in your thinking.And no book can lighten it up for you. 
 And definitely I cant say that I have reached this state, nor is my objective in life to reach this state. But  it is very invigorating to try to be on this journey every once and then. 

This journey where you can find your soul, greet it , and talk to it..It's amazing how much things you can discover about yourself, about what you want , and about what you need from this life.

It enables you to focus all your energy on one aim. This aim differs from one person to another. :)

I wont be going further into this subject,  I am not an experienced person, neither am I a preacher.
But :
 Kabir wiill tell you if you are traveling the world trying to find what you need and what makes you happy,and  if you haven't found where your soul first , nothing in this world will make you happy, nothing will quench your urging thirst ! So,  you will keep wandering around the world aimlessly, wasting your energy , because what you need is in you and what you want , you can make it by your own hands.

Pearl

Loreena Mckennit's Magic

This is a post for a special song/poem ,  that I would like to share  for one of my favorite musician,Loreena Mckennit. God bless her . Her songs are an inspiration for me. No words can truely describe her voice and the music she plays.


I am just happy that I was able to see her live when she came to Byblos Festival in Summer 2009 .
That night was magical ; her voice reverberated alone but in the background you could hear  the sound of the waves as they hit  Byblos port .  There was a harmony ;  as if she rehearsed with the sea before she played live. 


Dante's Prayer -Loreena Mckennit  ..


When the dark wood fell before me
And all the paths were overgrown
When the priests of pride say there is no other way
I tilled the sorrows of stone

I did not believe because I could not see
Though you came to me in the night
When the dawn seemed forever lost
You showed me your love in the light of the stars

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me

Then the mountain rose before me
By the deep well of desire
From the fountain of forgiveness
Beyond the ice and fire

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me

Though we share this humble path, alone
How fragile is the heart
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars

Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me
Please remember me





The official site for Loreena McKennitt and her private record label, Quinlan Road.

I Will Disappear

I will disappear like the falling rain that touches your face, and then drying out on the pavement, once the sun shines on it.
I will disappear like the green color  of the leaves you saw on  that tree, fades as winter approaches.

I will disappear like the symphony playing strictly by the orchestra in a concert you attended.

I will disappear like the pain vanishing instantly after the needle pierces your fingers.

I will disappear like the lights of the airplane taking off, as it levitates higher in the sky.

I will disappear like the eyeliner that cover those eyes, gets removed off as night approaches.

I will disappear like the words written on the postcard, as the dust ate them throughout the years.

I will disappear. I will depart.
  But beware!


I will transform.

Like that rain drop transformed into free bubbles roaming in the air.

Like that leaf transformed into a beautiful yellow color, flying away from its bounded tree.

Like that symphony transformed into a sweet humming, played generously by all who heard the symphony.

Like that pain transformed into a giggle because the ache was foolish and minute.

Like that light transformed into a vigorous one when the same plane landed back again.

Like that eyeliner that transformed into a plain truth that unraveled the fakeness of those eyes.

Like those words transformed into a memory that can never be erased.

And so, I will transform into something more free, more beautiful.

For I was something that was real and now I am something that is intangible.

Auguries of Innocence

"Auguries of Innocence" by  William Blake .

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.

A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.

A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.

A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight
Does the rising sun affright.

Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.

The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.

The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.

He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be belov'd by men.
He who the ox to wrath has mov'd
Shall never be by woman lov'd.

The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.

The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the last judgement draweth nigh.

.....
The poison of the honey bee
Is the artist's jealousy.

The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro' the world we safely go.

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
...

The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun,
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.

The questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.

The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.

When gold and gems adorn the plow,
To peaceful arts shall envy bow.
A riddle, or the cricket's cry,
Is to doubt a fit reply.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.

If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
....
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro' the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light,

To those poor souls who dwell in night;

But does a human form display

To those who dwell in realms of day.

Gebran's Birthday And " A Half Life"

This is my first post in 2011. And what is better than beginning the new year with a post about a birthday.

And it's a special birthday indeed because it is the birthday of the renowned  Lebanese American artist, poet, and writer: Gebran Khalil Gebran. 
Gebran is considered an inspiration for hundreds of writers worldwide for his prudent words, graceful style and outstanding ideas. He is not just a talent but a universal legend in the world of literature.

So, I wanted to share one of his writings for him on my blog, and this is a motivation for everyone who wants to change something in his or her life :)

Here  is my own translation for  " A Half life" in English. But you can find  the Arabic version ( original version) below.

Don’t sit with half-lovers.

Don’t endorse half-friends.

Don’t read for the half-talented.

Don’t live a half life.

Don’t die a half death.

Don’t choose a half solution.

Don’t stand in the middle of the truth.

Don’t dream a half dream.

 

Don’t hang on a half hope.

If you shut up, shut up till the end.

And if you talked, talk till the end.

Don’t be silent, so that you can speak.

And don’t speak, so that you can be silent.

If you were satisfied, express your gratitude.

Don’t fake a half gratitude.

And if you are unsatisfied, express your disapproval.

Because a half disapproval, is actually an approval.

The half is a life you didn’t live.

It is a word you didn’t say.

A smile you postponed.

A love you couldn’t attain.

A friendship you didn’t know.

This half is what makes you strange even to the closet people around you.

And It is what makes the closest people, strangers for you.

The half is to reach and not to reach.

To work and not to work.

To leave and to arrive.

The half is you, when you are not yourself....Because you didn't know who you are.

The half is that you don't know who you are.

And whom you love is not your other half.

It is you in another place at the same time.

Half a drink won’t quench your thirst.

Half a meal won’t satisfy your hunger.

Walking half of the road won’t get you anywhere.

Half of an idea won’t give you a result.

The half is your moment of weakness, but you are not weak!

Because you are not a half human.

You are a human.

You were here to live a life, not to live a half life!

 

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نصفُ حياة

  

لا تجالس أنصاف العشاق، ولا تصادق أنصاف الأصدقاء، لا تقرأ لأنصاف الموهوبين، لا تعش نصف حياة، ولا تمت نصف موت، لا تختر نصف حل، ولا تقف في منتصف الحقيقة، لا تحلم نصف حلم، ولا تتعلق بنصف أمل، إذا صمتّ.. فاصمت حتى النهاية، وإذا تكلمت.. فتكلّم حتى النهاية، لا تصمت كي تتكلم، ولا تتكلم كي تصمت.

    

   إذا رضيت فعبّر عن رضاك، لا تصطنع نصف رضا، وإذا رفضت.. فعبّر عن رفضك، لأن نصف الرفض قبول.. النصف هو حياة لم تعشها، وهو كلمة لم تقلها، وهو ابتسامة أجّلتها، وهو حب لم تصل إليه، وهو صداقة لم تعرفها.. النصف هو ما يجعلك غريباً عن أقرب الناس إليك، وهو ما يجعل أقرب الناس إليك غرباء عنك، النصف هو أن تصل وأن لاتصل، أن تعمل وأن لا تعمل، أن تغيب وأن تحضر.. النصف هو أنت، عندما لا تكون أنت.. لأنك لم تعرف من أنت. النصف هو أن لا تعرف من أنت .. ومن تحب ليس نصفك الآخر.. هو أنت في مكان آخر في الوقت نفسه                                                                                                      !!..

نصف شربة لن تروي ظمأك، ونصف وجبة لن تشبع جوعك، نصف طريق لن يوصلك إلى أي مكان، ونصف فكرة لن تعطي لك نتيجة.. النصف هو لحظة عجزك وأنت لست بعاجز.. لأنك لست نصف إنسان. أنت إنسان.. وجدت كي تعيش الحياة، وليس كي تعيش نصف حياة!!  

                           "جبران خليل جبران"           

                        


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Interesting Links:
1-List of poems written by Gebranhttp://www.poemhunter.com/khalil-gibran/
2-One of my favorite books. I highly recommend it :
http://www.amazon.com/Prophet-Kahlil-Gibran/dp/0394404289/ref=pd_sim_b_2
3-A poem by Gebran  was made into a song to be sang by  Fairouz 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQJqu675Ino

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods

  I chose this poem by the British poet Lord Byron. He was  famous  for his romanticism and  his satire Don Juan! But, here is one of the poems that i like from his writings . Enjoy it!


There is a pleasure in the pathless woods
From Childe Harold, Canto iv, Verse 178

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society, where none intrudes,  

By the deep sea, and music in its roar:

I love not man the less, but Nature more,

From these our interviews, in which I steal

From all I may be, or have been before,

To mingle with the Universe, and feel

What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.



My Favorite Recipe

This recipe holds some wisdom in it, it is a short poem made by the famous American Poet Langston Hughes, titled " What happens to a dream deferred"?
I recall that I was in grade 7 when i  heard his poem for the first time . My english teacher was reading it and I immediately and  memorized it . ( Not that it is short :P) . From that time till now ( 9 years almost) ,  I enjoy reading it over and over again every time I feel like I am  losing sight and hope of my dreams. I consider this poem as a great recipe to make you struggle and not give up on your dreams , otherwise they will "explode " at some point of your life.




Langston is right. Dreams can never be lost. They are just postponed, deferred.


So"What happens to a Dream Deferred?"

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over--

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode? 
Langston Hughes

Though  Each word in this poem has a meaning , whether the raisin, the sun, or the meat . Everyone one  can associate these things that Langston mentioned to something in his/her life . But According to Langston, the main reason behind the poem was his urge to let the world  fight racial discrimination at the times it was prevailing in the U.S.A, and  his dream was  that the Black people get their rights and live equally with other people after  centuries of struggle.

In the Summer.....

                                               In the Summer-بالصيف

In the summer,
I stretch out on the shore
And think of you
Had I told the sea
What I felt for you,
It would have left its shores,
Its shells,
Its fish,
And followed me

This is a poem for the Famous Arabic Poet "Nizar Kabbani" . A simple poem that takes me to another place and time :)

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Private Number 0

She wakes up on the  resonating sound of the construction of a new building in front of her.
She is irritated as usual. She only wanted half an hour more of sleep!
She felt the urge to open the window and shout at this noisy street she lives in. Just shout out loud.
No one will hear her in any case.


The phone rings. Ahh not her annoying ringtone too. She remembered she should change it. It has been a month.
The phone is still ringing. With no number. Just two words.
“Private Number”.
She is not surprised . Just curious.
She wonders : "Is it a call from a stalker? and he wants to veil those digital numbers? So I cant have save his number."


Or is it a call from secret agents? With a plan for a political game?
Did they see her in that protest?


Is it a call from heaven? An angel in disguise? To warn her about a danger? "
Or is he just a normal human like her? And this “private number” thing is just a technical issue .


She finally answers . A charming voice replies back to her.
They talk. They hang up the phone.
Her private caller keeps calling her afterwards.
And She keeps answering.
The private caller's voice lingers in her head.
But she cant call back and it is agonizing her.

Every day, she waits for those two words to show up on that Nokia scratched screen.
& Every time, she answers, the private caller takes her away,


Takes her away to a far off land, of daring swordfights, magic spells! Perhaps he will be her prince!!
 Or perhaps not. Maybe to a land with fire and hate, where the prince is just another  devil in disguise .....


She would sometimes convince herself that he is all four in one: the angel, the stalker, the secret agent , or just any normal person . But she is sure that he has superpower; he is a “teleporter”, perhaps not in space or place, and neither in time but rather in thoughts and memories.






Beirut : January 2010-April 2011

From pearls to stars :My Cosmological Theory

--written by Loulwa K.  

It was a hot summer day , like any day in July.

A pearl was born on the shores of Condwai.

An iridescent pearl.

Her asylum was a nacreous shell.

But Once the sea got raged.

He sent the waves to bring all the shells back.

And so this shell sank deep in the sea.

But it was weak .And It cracked

The pearl fell. For the first time, she was free .

She explored the seven seas,

And dived in the abyss of darkness.

Not caring where the water may lead.

but she got jaded.

She started surfing up.

She breathed air. And she saw the sun.

Till, she once reached the shores. She found the land.

She yearned to go there. To a new place.

And so She ran.

She stayed on the land for a long time.

But she yearned more.

She looked up to the skies.

She gazed to the stars. She counted them.

She saw a moon; She followed it in her car.

She once saw Mars . So, She wondered :" is it that far? "

"I can go there . I will drop by.

I am only waiting for my trip to the moon and the stars."

Though she was born down in a shelled mollusk , a pearl will shine like those stars .

And this is how stars are formed in the universe. :)

ITHACA

 Ithaca, written by Konstantinos Petrou Kavafis.
Although Ithaca here is the Greek city visited by Odysseus , but for me Ithaca is that fingerlake city I visited in Upstate NY and where I lived for 3 months. Ithaca holds for me deep memories, sweet encounters and a great  experience that changed my whole life... It was the linchpin that made me decide about many things.

    ITHACA

As you set out for Ithaca
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon – don’t be afraid of them:

you’ ll never find things like that on your way

as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon – you won’t encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbours you’re seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

sensual perfume of every kind -

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaca always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you’re destined for.

But don’t hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you’re old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.

Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn’t have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca won’t have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

and this is the meaning of Ithaca.

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