Baha'i Poets - Famous and Not So Famous - III

Welcome to my third and final installment of this series. I would like to take the opportunity to express my thanks to the Event Co-ordinator, Kay Day. In researching the articles in this series, I have learned about an aspect of the Baha'i Faith that I was aware of but had no real knowledge of. I have also met some Baha'is that I may not have ever corresponded with otherwise.

I would now like to introduce you to some of the not-so-famous poets who are Baha'is.

Bobby Mitchell

I was introduced to Bobby by Jaine Toth (see my second article in this series). Here is a link to a (his words not mine) irreverent bio. His poetry appears in a few places on the Web, Untitled Poem, New Mexican Panoramic Postcard, and four different poems here but you will have to scroll down to his name and click on the different poems. It is well worth the effort, though. Here is a taste of Bobby's poetry just to whet your appetite:

Salat

In the light of a pale crescent moon
an old man's brow
bears the mark of his faith

as he bows his head
to the ground

in humble submission
his prayers are not so much the murmur
of syllables and sounds
as they are the murmur
of his heart

and in the stillness of the warm desert
night
the melody of his love
is lifted up into heaven

upon the wings of angels.

---

Tahirih

In a drama played
upon the stage of human destiny
Qurrat-ul-Ayn
lifts the veil

between earth and heaven
blowing away the centuries of dust
from the desert of men's souls

Calling on paradise to come down
to separate the chaff from the grain
the left from the right

sounding the trumpet
to awaken the heedless

calling the lovers
to the Seat of Sanctity

Embracing heaven
raising the Standard
declaring victory

in the struggle for men's hearts
And dancing in holy ecstasy
thru the Gates of Eden
onto the pages of history

in her brilliant bridal array.

---

10-East In the Morning

Throw all my junk in the back of the trunk
I'm moving away from this ol place
Got everything packed up in my two-tone Chevrolet
I'm sick of running in this tired rat-race

I'm getting outta this middle of nowhere town
And gonna go somewhere at the end of that road
I ain't lookin to find no pot of gold
Just gotta get out on my own

I'll make plenty of miles if the weather holds on
Even if the wipers don't work
I don't know where I'm goin but I'll know once I get there
Which should be sometime after dark

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