Kahlil Gibran Poet & Painter...

[ënagualí~ᏉLAᗪἇ ኔጡ።]

Kahlil Gibran Poet & Painter...

He was called "filthy" because his skin was dark, unintelligent because he could barely speak English. When he arrived in this country, he was placed in a special class for immigrants. But, a few of his teachers saw something in the way he expressed himself, through his drawings, through his view of the world. He would soon master his new language.

His mother had made a difficult decision to take him, his two younger sisters and a half-brother to America, seeking a better life for their family. They settled in Boston's South End, at the time the second-largest Syrian-Lebanese-American community. The family would struggle and the young boy would lose one sister and his half-brother to tuberculosis. His mother would die of cancer.

He would write, “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

He was born in poverty on January 6, 1883 in what is now modern day Lebanon.

He believed in love, he believed in peace, and he believed in understanding.

His name was Kahlil Gibran, and he is primarily known for his book, "The Prophet." The book, published in 1923, would sell tens of millions of copies, making him the third best-selling poet of all time, behind Shakespeare and Laozi.

Published in 108 languages around the world, passages from "The Prophet" are quoted at weddings, in political speeches and at funerals, inspiring influential figures such as John F. Kennedy, Indira Gandhi, Elvis Presley, John Lennon, and David Bowie.

He was very outspoken, attacking hypocrisy and corruption. His books were burned in Beirut, and in America, he would receive death threats.

Gibran was the only member of his family to pursue scholastic education. His sisters were not allowed to enter school, primarily because of Middle Eastern traditions as well as financial difficulties. Gibran, however, was inspired by the strength of the women in his family, especially his mother. After one sister, his mother, and his half-brother died, his other sister, Mariana would support Gibran and herself by working at a dressmaker's shop.

Of his mother, he would write:

"The most beautiful word on the lips of mankind is the word 'Mother,' and the most beautiful call is the call of 'My mother.' It is a word full of hope and love, a sweet and kind word coming from the depths of the heart. The mother is everything – she is our consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness. She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness."

Gibran would later champion the cause of women’s emancipation and education. And from this he painted many beautiful water colour art pieces..

He believed that “Safeguarding the rights of others is the most noble and beautiful end of a human being.”

In a poem to new immigrants, he would write,:-

"I believe you can say to the founders of this great nation. 'Here I am. A youth. A young tree. Whose roots were plucked from the hills of Lebanon. Yet I am deeply rooted here. And I would be fruitful.'"

He would write in "The Prophet":

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.”

[Julie]

Another favourite of mine, thanks for sharing Khalil Gibran on group Vlada

Kahlil Gibran and the Divine Feminine -- linked

portrait of Gibran's mother 

[ënagualí~ᏉLAᗪἇ ኔጡ።]

Yes I usually only share what I'm into myself too, that way you get an idea of what my taste is obviously.. but I've been a fan of his for years ever since on Writers Network when I got introduced to him, so I started to write in similar over tones myself.. then we had collaborated verse competitions on writers Network with other poets, and my soul family Lady friend and I collaborated one poem together & came in first place with it, we titled it:-"Estoic Echoes"..

Here it is below with original image & music attached....

[Julie]

Yes love doing collaborations we call them chain poems sometimes or on Poetry Showcase we used to write from a piece of art to see where it took us, we each put forward very different poems from the same image...I posted my poem Temple Balm on FoL a day or two ago....just noticed the video read Temple. The above poem sounds so different from the way you write Vlada.

One of the first things I experienced when I joined the first Gaia community was "haiku" chain poetry

[ënagualí~ᏉLAᗪἇ ኔጡ።]

Why do you think my poem sounds so different from the way I write.. I dont understand what you mean by that?, the poem we wrote together 'Estoic Echoes' was based on our time spent with each other over eons, we were reflecting back on it together one night, Stac & I have communicated for years since 2008 online & because we knew each other in another life time, we would communicate constantly on msn chat room night after night.. so it was instant flow for both of us, we'd often break into poetic verse and then we took that collaboration to Writers Network and entered the collaboration competition with it ..

I actually just did another collaboration bouncing off one your poems 2mins ago, the one of the water colour painting it was so easy to just flow like a paint brush using a single sentence.. I havn't been getting any notifications from FOL since you joined me on here. IDK why either but I will go see your poem you wrote....

[ënagualí~ᏉLAᗪἇ ኔጡ።]

Oh just realised I'm not on that site FOL, as the owner wouldn't let me in cos of my email address not being in balance she said.. LOL that was the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard, when truth was she's a total control freak and wants to control people, she needs her head read, as she suffers from major mental illness....so cant read your poem Temple Balm I'm afraid..

[Julie]

Yes, I'll add the temple balm poem to my poems old and new discussion, I wrote it at the beginning of the pandemic as a prayer of hope in March 2020.  I'll go check out your collaboration Vlada, thanks

[ënagualí~ᏉLAᗪἇ ኔጡ።]

And a youth said, Speak to us of Friendship.
And he answered, saying:

Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.”
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery us not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

~Kahlil Gibran

[Julie]

Kahlil Gibran on Love

When Love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard, and steep.
And when his wings enfold you, yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions,
may wound you.
.

And when he speaks to you, believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams,
as the north wind, lays waste the garden
.

For even, as love crowns you, so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth, so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height,
and caresses your tenderest branches,
that quiver in the sun
,
So shall he descend to your roots,
and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn, he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you, to make you naked.
He sifts you, to free you from your husks
.

He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you, until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you, to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread,
for God's sacred feast
.

All these things shall love do unto you,
that you may know the secrets of your heart,
and in that knowledge,
become a fragment of Life's heart
.

But if in your fear, you would seek,
only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you,
that you cover your nakedness,

and pass out of love's threshing-floor
,
Into the seasonless world,
where you shall laugh,
but not all of your laughter,
And weep, but not all of your tears
.

Love gives naught but itself,
and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not, nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love
.

When you love you should not say,
“God is in my heart,” but rather,
I am in the heart of God.”
.

And think not you can direct the course of love,
if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
.

But if you love and must needs have desires,
let these be your desires:
.

To melt and be like a running brook,
that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully
.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart,
and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;
.
And then to sleep,
with a prayer for the beloved in your heart,
and a song of praise upon your lips
.

Kahlil Gibran

from The Prophet

[ënagualí~ᏉLAᗪἇ ኔጡ።]

You didn't answer my question Julie, asking what you meant on my collaborated poem 'Estoic echoes' :-

 Why do you think my poem sounds so different from the way I write.. I dont understand what you mean by that?,