Category Archives: my own poetry

In the blur of daylong thought

Posted on April 27, 2015 by bill gannett

In the blur of daylong thought again and again have I sought silence, sharp and crystal clear; all muttering comes to naught. Print Friendly

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Ahmad is the first and last

Posted on April 12, 2015 by bill gannett

Ahmad is the first and last of the One who is pure praise; now again he has returned to grace the end of our days. Print Friendly

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The road to La Verna

Posted on April 7, 2015 by bill gannett

The road to La Verna is red with blood of tears; the grief of Francesco wept for years and years. Jesus on Cross flew the sky with wounded hands and feet to grace Il Poverello with grief perfect and complete. … Continue reading →

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All the world longs for the Friend to appear

Posted on April 4, 2015 by bill gannett

All the world longs for the Friend to appear, all the world sighs to hold him close and dear. All the lambent light playing on his pale face the world longs to touch and kiss as pure grace. All the … Continue reading →

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Night cries

Posted on March 22, 2015 by bill gannett

Night cries stars of tears a milky way of anguish blubbering super novas and dark repression of immense and oppressive gravity. Dawn laughs it all away.     Print Friendly

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Meher means the Sun who is the eternal Friend

Posted on March 20, 2015 by bill gannett

Meher means the Sun who is the eternal Friend: he is pure radiance whom mercy and grace attend. The recurring advent of the glorious Avatar dawns again and again as beauty’s rising star. Now is the spilling Rose fragrant in … Continue reading →

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All my days a hunger

Posted on February 27, 2015 by bill gannett

All my days a hunger, a longing for laughter; I cry for the lost friend, for the winsome Meher. Print Friendly

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Our way is full of cry and petition for yet more wine

Posted on February 5, 2015 by bill gannett

Our way is full of cry and petition for yet more wine- how else can the rend of love street achieve his ruin? We have no greater trust than in the master’s glance; we did not stumble this way on … Continue reading →

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Ghazal #37 from Ghazals For The Friend

Posted on January 18, 2015 by bill gannett

The storm of desire leaves me a piteous wreck: spirit becomes twisted and broken from neglect. Snarling dogs of discontent prowl around the door; unless love gives us courage, we hunt after spoor. We can’t see you in the darkness … Continue reading →

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Celtic fire in my head

Posted on January 4, 2015 by bill gannett

Celtic fire in my head burns and longs to be bled of all wan pretension: love rises from the dead. Print Friendly

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