Some poems, old and new
image courtesy: themoonschool.org
My Krishna is blue
I played Holi with Gopala
And now my hair is blue
Having taken on his hue
Deep in the night
The blue seeps through
And dyes my thoughts
Churning them into Love
The cobwebs of ol' patterns
Get washed by the
Sweet sound of his flute song
Waking me from Maya's dream.
She walks,
She walks with a little leap in her step,
The leap is in her right leg, not her left.
So every right step she takes
She does with a little leap
a leap of trust, a leap of joy.
that little girl
hides in the corner
hoping nobody notices
her plight and her shame
that little girl
turns invisible
to protect herself
and erase her pain
that little girl
cannot say what she feels
or what she thinks
for no one cares to hear her tale
that little girl
cannot complain or confide
for no one believes her
or takes her side
that little girl
has been a stranger to her past
disowning a part of herself
that disgusted her so
though she was not to blame
she was not to know
the fear nay her terror
held her hostage
and made her an accomplice
to the keeping of the sordid secret
exactly what happened and how
is blocked from her mind
though she is certain it was
her dad and his older brother
who subjugated her will to theirs
by the use of force and might
to satiate their salacious lust
they laughed derisively
at her trust and innocence
their perversion had won
trampled over a little bud
that little girl felt betrayed
on so many levels
that little girl knows it was wrong
to be victimized for their inappropriate desire
that little girl could not sing her song
for they threatened her with death
though not her own
that little girl felt powerless to defend herself
that little girl felt helpless and hopeless
for her oppressors were the very ones
who ought to have been her protectors
that little girl felt scared
that somehow it was all her fault
that little girl felt guilty
that if someone found out
she would be blamed
that little girl felt lost and confused
in that unsafe world
where nothing was as it seemed
that little girl was raging mad
at her mom and at her dad
at her whole family and clan
for at some level they all knew
yet no one rescued her
no one saved her
no one stood up for her
that little girl was furious
her fury a rolled up ball
sitting in her belly
that little girl could explode
any minute now
spill out her guts
and spill out all the dirty little dark secrets
she was made to carry
but wait _
that little girl does not do that
instead she implodes
she swallows it whole
turning it into a black hole
a place of nothing
of no feeling, no sensing, no memory
mom and dad are safe now
uncle and aunt at a distance
everything is as it should be
(on the surface at least)
except she can no longer love them
unconditionally
the implosion causes a crack in her body
ever so slight and subtle
that sits by the sacral curve
and holds her unconscious distrust of the world
that little girl has grown up now
and she can write a poem
sing her song
tell her tale
that little girl has matured enough
to work through her pain
and her myriad feelings
to come to a place of forgiveness
that little girl is fearless
is free of guilt, shame and blame
is a pure, clean, clear, innocent girl
that little girl opens her heart with love
voices her truth with compassion
and sees others as mirrors of her Self
A husband and wife
Have it all very nice
A house with a view
A garden, a stew
They play and they gambol
They sing and they sink
Into the quagmire of emotions
they never leave behind.
A husband and wife
Have it all very fine
Yet they wonder and ponder
what would make it all worthwhile?
Yet the distances betwixt them
Do often intervene
And the longed for intimacy
Is somewhere out at sea
Where the angels step in to heal
as the demons come clean.
A washing of the soul
Can bring that joy about
That calls with the fervent cry of
The cuckoo and the peacock in a cloud.
May all your dreams turn lucid
And all fantasy abound
with the clarity of truth seeking
A homecoming of ye to y'rself aloud.
A moon cries tears of blood
the kite of hope collects them all
they dance on the string
little rivulets of pain
metamorphosing suffering into play,
little children skip and gambol
in the shower of flowers
and look to the kite
as at a rainbow.
"The Halcyon Spring"
"Your poetry is like musk _
fragrant, decorative, seemingly colourful, a luxury.
Make it a necessity,
a kind of a drug that calls for absolute addiction.
Turn its simplicity into confused philosophy.
Become a little more ambiguous,
and you could be a lot more famous."
"Dear well-wisher,
you want me to gain a wide following,
to give my poetry a pedestal on which it can strut.
My poetry is not motivated toward creating an impact.
It simply serves the purpose of giving form
to my musings and feelings.
When this form is aesthetic,
I am happy.
And happiness is an end in itself."
nevertheless she laughs
she has cried tears of pain and agony
faced the betrayal of friends
struggled on the path of lonesomeness;
and looked at trees and flowers
with a new freshness.
she has suffered depths of despair
and longed for release from the darkness;
she has listened to the sounds around
and their profound silence.
she has awakened to a new identity
in losing her personality;
nevertheless she laughs.
she guffaws, she bawls
she tirades, she crawls
she even yearns, now and then,
nevertheless she laughs.
the dance of essence
saturn turns around on its rings
in elaborate twirls and twists
while consciousness springs up in strings
as the elegance of the universe unfolds its dance
in multiple manifestations of essence.
out of one comes the two
out of two comes the three
out of three comes the many
out of many come each and all
but all are dancing
the elegant dance of the universal essence.
the indivisible advaita charades in many forms
time and space are but two such norms
others include energy mass shape size weight
characteristic color caste creed race
or any other distinguishing feature or trait
their essence tucked neatly inside
the elegance of the universal dance.
