The Himalayas
O Himalah! O rampart of the realm of India!
Bowing down, the sky kisses your forehead
Your condition does not show any signs of old age
You are young in the midst of day and night's alternation
The Kalâm of ñër Sân« witnessed but one Effulgence
For the discerning eye you are an embodiment of Effulgence
To the outward eye you are a mere mountain range
In reality you are our sentinel, you are India's rampart
You are the diwan whose opening verse is the sky
You lead Man to the solitudes of his heart's retreat
Snow has endowed you with the turban of honour
Which scoffs at the crown of the world-illuminating sun
Antiquity is but a moment of your bygone age
Dark clouds are encamped in your valleys
Your peaks are matching with the pleiades in elegance
Though you are standing on earth your abode is sky's expanse
The stream in your flank is a fast flowing mirror
For which the breeze is working like a kerchief
The mountain top's lightning has given a whip
In the hands of cloud for the ambling horse
O Himalah! Are you like a theater stage
Which nature's hand has made for its elements?
Ah! How the cloud is swaying in excessive joy
The cloud like an unchained elephant is speeding
Gentle movement of the morning zephyr is acting like a cradle
Every flower bud is swinging with intoxication of existence
The flower bud's silence with the petal's tongue is saying
'I have never experienced the jerk of the florist's hand
Silence itself is relating the tale of mine
The corner of nature's solitude is the abode of mine'
The brook is melodiously descending from the high land
Putting the waves of Kawthar and Tasnâm to embarrassment
As if showing the mirror to Nature's beauty
Now evading now rowing against the rock in its way
Play in passing this orchestra of beautiful music
O wayfarer! The heart comprehends your music
When the night's Lailah unfurls her long hair
The sound of water-falls allures the heart
That silence of the night whose beauty surpasses speech
That state of silent meditation overshadowing the trees
That dusk's beauty which shivers along the mountain range
Very beautiful looks this rouge on your cheeks
O Himalah! Do relate to us some stories of the time
When your valleys became abode of Man's ancestors
Relate something of the life without sophistication
Which had not been stained by the rouge of sophistication
O Imagination! Bring back that period
O Vicissitudes of Time speed backwards
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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A Longing
O Lord! I have become weary of human assemblages!
When the heart is sad no pleasure in assemblages can be
I seek escape from tumult, my heart desires
The silence which speech may ardently love!
I vehemently desire silence, I strongly long that
A small hut in the mountain's side may there be
Freed from worry I may live in retirement
Freed from the cares of the world I may be
Birds chirping may give the pleasure of the lyre
In the spring's noise may the orchestra's melody be
The flower bud bursting may give God's message to me
Showing the whole world 1 to me this small wine-cup may be
My arm may be my pillow, and the green grass my bed be
Putting the congregation to shame my solitude's quality be
The nightingale be so familiar with my face that
Her little heart harboring no fear from me may be
Avenues of green trees standing on both sides be
The spring's clear water providing a beautiful picture be
The view of the mountain range may be so beautiful
To see it the waves of water again and again rising be
The verdure may be asleep in the lap of the earth
Water running through the bushes may glistening be
Again and again the flowered boughs touching the water be
As if some beauty looking at itself in mirror be
When the sun apply myrtle to the evening's bride
The tunic of every flower may pinkish golden be
When night's travellers falter behind with fatigue
Their only hope my broken earthenware lamp may be
May the lightning lead them to my hut
When clouds hovering over the whole sky be.
The early dawn's cuckoo, that morning's mu'adhdhin2
May my confidante he be, and may his confidante I be
May I not be obligated to the temple or to the mosque
May the hut's hole alone herald of morning's arrival be
When the dew may come to perform the flowers' ablution
May wailing my supplication, weeping my ablution be
In this silence may my heart's wailing rise so high
That for stars' caravan the clarion's call my wailing be
May every compassionate heart weeping with me be
Perhaps it may awaken those who may unconscious be
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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Walking past the silent Nature
Nature being,
On Earth fingers,
Bygone Nature,
On Earth carpet,
Echo of the past,
Sound sour on naked abode,
At the silent abode,
Of eternal stay...
Walking past the silent Nature,
Forlorn! memory was recalled,
As the season ride pass the past,
solitude on ageless abode,
Countless as night stars,
Silent Nature,
Quiet abode,
Like a guard on post,
I gazed at the difficult attire...
Sacred sand on seasonless scene,
Like a beautiful mansion,
Their difficult abode,
Of Eternal stay....
poem by Rasaq Malik
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The Cloud On The Mountain
Elevation bestows the sky's nearness to my abode
I am the mountain's cloud, my skirt sprinkles roses
Now the wilderness, now the rose garden is my abode
City and wilderness are mine, ocean is mine, forest is mine
If I want to return to some valley for the night
The mountain's verdure is my carpet of velvet
Nature has taught me to be a pearl spreader
To chant the camel song for the camel of the Beloved of Mercy
To be the comforter of the dispirited farmer's heart
To be the elegance of the assembly of the garden's trees
I spread out over the face of the earth like the locks
I get arranged and adorned by the breeze's
I tantalize the expecting eye from a distance
As I pass silently over some habitation
As I approach strolling towards a brook's bank
I endow the brook with ear rings of whirlpools
I am the hope of the freshly grown field's verdure
I am the ocean's offspring, I am nourished by the sun
I gave ocean's tumult to the mountain spring
I charmed the birds into thrilling chants
I pronounced 'Rise' standing by the verdure's head
I conferred the taste for smile to the rose-bud
By my benevolence farmers' huts on the mountain side
Are converted into bed chambers of the opulent.
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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The Morning Sun
Far from the ignoble strife of Man's tavern you are
The wine-cup adorning the sky's assemblage you are
The jewel which should be the pearl of the morning's bride's ear you are
The ornament which would be the pride of horizon's forehead you are
The blot of night's ink from time's page has been removed!
The star from sky like a spurious picture has been removed!
When from the roof of the sky your beauty appears
Effect of sleep's wine suddenly from eyes disappears
Perception's expanse gets filled with light
Though opens only the material eye your light
The spectacle which the eyes seek is desired
The effulgence which would open the insight is desired
The desires for freedom were not fulfilled in this life
We remained imprisoned in chains of dependence all life
The high and the low are alike for your eye
I too have longing for such a discerning eye
May my eye shedding tears in sympathy for others' woes be!
May my heart free from the prejudice of nation and customs be!
May my tongue be not bound with discrimination of color
May mankind be my nation, the whole world my country be
May secret of Nature's organization clear to my insight be
May smoke of my imagination's candle rising to the sky be
May search for secrets of opposites not make me restless!
May the Love-creating Beauty in everything appear to me!
If the rose petals get damaged by the breeze
May its pain dropping from my eye as a tear be
May the heart contain that little spark of Love's fire
The light of which may contain the secret of the Truth
May my heart not mine but the Beloved's mirror be!
May no thought in my mind except human sympathy be!
If you cannot endure the hardships of the tumultuous world
O the Great Luminary that is not the mark of greatness!
As you are not aware of your world-decorating beauty
You cannot be equal to a speck of dust at the Man's door!
The light of Man eager for the Spectacle ever remained
And you obligated to the tomorrow's morning ever remained
Longing for the Light of the Truth is only in our hearts
Abode of Lailah of desire for search is only in this litter
Opening of the difficult knot, Oh what a pleasure it is!
The pleasure of universal gain in our endless effort is!
Your bosom is unacquainted with the pain of investigation
You are not familiar with searching of the secrets of Nature
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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Rainbows and Dreams...
Like a flower that has no petals and its
Demure timidity became a song in its heart;
Those rhythms in the heart beats are the music
Of my life; my tranquil music…
Passions seeking salvation embraced beauty,
Flowing through rivulets of eloquent silence
Of imagination, and hallucinations.
Let the hues start painting that portrait
Of this flower that embezzle my heart.
Rainbows leaning on the earth and spanning
Over the firmament, caressing in adoration
The sky, eternally blue and placid in its nature,
Clasping the chillness of the snow-clad
Mountains of the earth,
Gifted and bestowed dreams on me
And the entire fragrance, of that flower.
The flower that has stolen my heart…
poem by Kunjubi Varghese
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Flower Vavroovahana Pa
Flower blossoms naturally;
Beautifies nature silently.
Pervades fragrance in air;
Allures bees with pleasure.
Dazzles with sun beam;
Bees collect honey forms flowers’ stream.
Does not hesitate to flow honey;
Has made the Nature flowery.
She smiles in the lap of Nature;
Enchants the minds of poets with pleasure.
Poet’s derive inspiration;
Enjoy the beauty of creation.
A tiny flower is endowed with beauty;
Allures lovers with gaiety.
Beautiful flower tranquilises mind daily;
Deities enjoy the beauty gaily.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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My India
MR VAVROO VAHANA PATRA, ODISHA, INDIA.
(Dedicated to Anna Hazare)
MY INDIA
Majestic are her mountains;
Melodious are her fountains.
Splendid are her vast oceans;
Mysterious is God’s creation.
India is rich in rivers
And beautiful innocent creatures
God endowed Earth with Nature;
This is the art of the Supreme power
Lovely are the flowers & creepers;
Nature fulfils all creatures’ desires.
Birds fly in the sky merrily.
Poets depicts them in verses gaily
Mild breeze blows day & night.
Deities, devotees, poets, live with delight.
My India is an abode of Gods & hermits,
People of all religion live in it.
They live under the umbrella of democracy
Politics works hand-in- hand with bureaucracy
Industrialist providing employment develop the nation
Honest politicians serve the poor in God’s creation
India smiles with many a film industry
Film stars enchant us with their beauty
Co-operation is the pride of Indian citizens
Poets and scientists bring forth new creation.
Thank you jai hind, cell- +919853390060
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Attachment to Naure!
How is love of Nature developing in one?
Somewhere sometime in the past sure
Experience of oneself in Nature alone
Love of Nature must have begun in one!
Walking alone in Nature thoughts go on
Absorbed by the beauty of Sky, Sea, trees,
Mountains, rivers and valleys sometime
Kindling imagination roam as mad horse!
Fed by the elixir of beauty of Nature sure
One cannot resist seeing the same beauty
Some other time alone due to some reason
Making one a disciple of Nature as God ever!
So I too had my own special experience in
Nature beautiful at a hill station in Summer
Surely created a deep impression inside me
That never leaves me think separate from it!
poem by Ramesh T A
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What a wonderful world of nature...
When the early morning is born with heavenly blessed
When the bright sun rays shower through the misty clouds
When the birds choir being to chirp their songs on the trees
then the day being with a wonderful of nature.
I can feel the Mother Nature touches me with her love
I can feel the nature illuminates my heart and brighten my soul
I can see the green grass in summer-spread lovely
I can see the flowers in the spring bloomed lavishly
I can see the leaves falls in the autumn covered earth greatly
I can see the trees full of snow in the winter sprinkled
I can see the stream water gurgles from the mountain
I can see the fauna in the jungles freely set to live happily
I can see the barren lands wet and fertile
Not only they are beautiful in nature
but they serve a purpose for us
Not only they are beauty as forest
but they serve food and water for us
Always, praise the God and thank HIM for HIS beautiful creation
What a wonderful world of nature that you and me live.
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Upon the lap of Nature
A lonesome bird
A whispering wind
A solitary cloud,
Nature is a singular scene.
A running brook
Gushing falls
Breathing woods,
Nature is a singular voice.
Endless meads
Dancing shades
A grazing cow
Nature is a singular vision.
A ploughman’s call
A melodious song
A barking dog,
Nature is a singular pulse.
A twinkling star
A silent night
A burning candle,
Nature is a singular moment.
A blossoming bud
A blissful moment
A graceful heart,
Nature is a singular mould.
A different season
A different mood
A changing hue
Nature is a singular feel.
Nature’s themes are endless,
Variety simply countless
Yet, the impact is singular,
Thy pulses are thine alone.
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What is actually this Nature? Nature is our own living core. When we are on the lap of Nature, we are within our reflections. We are born out of this Nature and finally return to her elements. We owe our bodily and mental existence to these gross and subtle elements of nature. We are in eternal communion with her either consciously or unconsciously. Our core is peace and solitude. The rest is all a forced mask. This is why we turn to Nature now and then for an all round refreshment. A twinkling star, a flying bird, a passing wind, a running brook, a falling leaf, a burning candle, a silent night, a sailing cloud, a grazing cow… these present moments of glory in our life. They all represent the philosophy of our life. They boost our mental battery because on the lap of Nature, our thoughts gradually disappear and we become contemplative and meditative. Everybody needs this tonic. Nature is a beautiful lass. Nature is a good philosopher too. Let us open our eyes and ears and be ready for a floating experience!
poem by Ravi Panamanna
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Voodooded Lips
VOODOODED LIPS
esspeecee …18.06.09.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll reflect you lips’ eloquence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll blush-in by your lips’ glittrence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll unfold your lips’ innocence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll savor to the lees your lips’ elegance.
In the mirror of silence
I get psychic catharsis
In our lip lock reminiscences.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll siphon in your lips’ effulgence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll grope your lips
In abyssal absence.
In the mirror of silence
My lips will coalesce
In your lips’ effervescence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll be vortexed by
Lips’ psychedelic resonance.
In the mirror of silence
We’ll passionately hug
With sensuous confluence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll smear lips by
Your lips’ fragrance.
In the mirror of silence
We’ll tie-up our lips
In Monalisian resemblance.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll fresco my lips
From your lips’ brilliance.
In the mirror of silence
My lips will stain
By your lips’ every essence.
I’m voodooded by:
In the mirror of silence,
Your lips’ excellence,
And deluxe luminance.
Copyright reserved by the Author
.
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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Nature And Poet
Nature is the diet of a poet,
from natural beauty
poet derives immense pleasure,
drinks the nectar from the flowing down
Himalayan hilly stream, fulfils the long cherished
desire, translates into reality
the sweet lovely dream;
The tiny brook dazzles with the morn’s Sun beam.
Oh Lord Siva! Ye reside on ‘Kailash Mountain’;
Beside Ye flows down the magnificent
alluring mysterious
transparent water of the fountain.
Devotees pray thee for a bliss;
from the ‘Abode of peace’
Ye fulfil their desire and wish;
they sleep in the lap of Nature,
receive Nature’s kiss.
Poet is a worshipper, preacher
in the temple of Nature;
With indomitable enthusiasm
pens verses with tranquillity,
serenity, sanctity, being pure.
Man comes and goes;
poet’s verses remain for ever;
As a brook flows down eternally
in the lap of Nature.
Poet’s poem dazzles in golden letters
on the pages of history;
Depicts the Eternal Truth of Earth,
the beauty of Nature,
and the mystery.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Sonnet: The Place for Hermits
Why hermits choose to live alone so high?
Why saints choose forests for building their huts?
By keeping off cities, crowds bring God nigh;
Such decisions require real guts.
In solitude, one realizes God;
In silence, Nature’s beauty is felt more;
The mountain-tops, clouds look like God’s abode;
The wild berries and streams form main food-store.
And time ticks slowly while the air is clean;
An ideal place for meditations oft;
The flora, fauna form a splendid scene;
The voice of Mother Nature is heard soft.
Such environs help saints do yogic feats;
To control breathing, mind and all heart beats.
9-9-2002
poem by John Celes
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A Tear And A Smile
I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart
For the joys of the multitude.
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes
To flow from my every part turn into laughter.
I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.
A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding
Of life's secrets and hidden things.
A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and
To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.
A tear to unite me with those of broken heart;
A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.
I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I live Weary and despairing.
I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the
Depths of my spirit,for I have seen those who are
Satisfied the most wretched of people.
I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and Longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.
With evening's coming the flower folds her petals
And sleeps, embracingher longing.
At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet
The sun's kiss.
The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment.
A tear and a smile.
The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come
Together and area cloud.
And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys
Until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping
To the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to Return to the sea, its home.
The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting.
A tear and a smile.
And so does the spirit become separated from
The greater spirit to move in the world of matter
And pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow
And the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death
And return whence it came.
To the ocean of Love and Beauty----to God.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Loves Beauty
I'm going ask you to stop consider with me,
Without loves caress where would we be.
Let me relate my experience in the matter,
Its importance is far above mindless chatter.
Loves beauty fondles the hair,
Moreover, shares both dramas and blackest fears.
To heart and mind it clings,
In addition, causes the recipients heart to sing.
I wake each morning to the sound of her voice,
Waking without this music would not be my choice.
Her voice gives a song to my heart,
Also courage to storm a day's rampart.
She turns a simple man into a knight of old,
She gives me an even greater resolve.
This love I have has enlivened my hearing,
With flowers opening and rivers brooking.
When I think of her being hurt in anyway,
Tears fill my eyes, tears I cannot allay.
My heart has a pain so great,
This pain so strong it will not dissipate.
Loves beauty spoils with laughter sweet as birdsong,
A song to be listened to day and nightlong.
Loves nature is both kind and gentle nature,
It has the beauty of an oil painting picture.
I see loves beauty, my heart leaps like the deer,
Love emboldens happiness and dismisses drear.
Loves beauty provides a port where safety lays,
A port where I rest beyond all malaise.
So dear one take on my humble words I plead,
Search high and low for love and be not wearied.
For to receive loves beauty is beyond measure,
To give loves beauty gives giver equal treasure.
R.K. Hart 21/11/2012
That Peace And Silence is In your heart!
Before the birth of universe,
Before the birth of star and universe,
Before the birth of space and time,
Before the eternal vibration,
there was grand silence,
And that is still in your heart!
Before the birth of Earth,
Before the birth of stars an Sun,
There was love and love brought elements,
And elements joined hands in love,
And the affinities and hinderences,
On the bass of background vibration AUM,
Dance of creation and destruction,
Started with its own orchestra,
Brought the stage show called life,
And that eternal Truth,
May one call it God,
Or Almighty, is watching its own dance,
Silently seated in every heart,
Find in your own heart
that silent witness!
Peace and silence of that truth,
Is all eloquent,
Great orator, always sit silent when others talk,
Silently picking word by word,
Gross and subtle meanings of all sentences,
Look at its patience,
Patiently waiting for end of dance of desires,
Speech of own ignorance,
And music of all dualities,
Duet music of nature and immature souls!
That peace is not lost,
Its silence is proof of its presence,
Its presence is basis of life,
Its own nature is above,
Above all perspectives and perceptives
Game of love of energy and matter!
found in nature!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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O Beauty of Night...
As the golden sun goes to rest,
And the sky drape into black blanket,
Now take your turn
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Variety of moods makes me wonder,
Sometimes you look like circular disc,
At times spongy ball of cotton
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Eyes long to catch the glimpse,
Hands reach to hold you,
Lips hum song for you,
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Play not hide & seek,
Cover not behind the dark cloud
Unveil your beauty for me to gaze
O beauty of Night – Moon.
Cool gentle breeze blowing in silent night
Urge my heart to
Bathe in the white beam
O beauty of Night - Moon.
Reflection of my love I see in you
Fall down from the starry sky
To hold you in my arms
O beauty of Night – Moon.
poem by Geeta Nair
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Mirza Ghalib
Through you the secret was revealed to the human intellect
That innumerable enigmas are solved by human intellect
You were the complete soul, literary assembly was your body
You adorned as well as remained veiled from the assembly
Your eye is longing to witness that veiled Beauty
Which is veiled in everything as the pathos of life
The assemblage of existence is rich with your harp
As mountain's silence by the brook's melodious harp
The garden of your imagination bestows glory on the universe
From the field of your thought worlds grow like meadows
Life is concealed in the humor of your verse
Picture's lips move with your command of language
Speech is very proud of the elegance of your miraculous lips
Thurayyah is astonished at your style's elegance
Beloved of literature itself loves your style
Delhi's bud is mocking at the rose of Shiraz
Ah! You are resting in the midst of Delhi's ruins
Your counterpart is resting in the Weimar's garden
Matching you in literary elegance is not possible
Till maturity of thought and imagination are combined
Ah! What has befallen the land of India!
Ah! The inspirer of the super-critical eye!
The lock of Urdu's hair still craves for combing
This candle still craves for moth's heart-felt pathos
O Jahanabad! O cradle of learning and art
Your entire super-structure is a silent lament
The sun and the moon are asleep in every speck of your dust
Though innumerable other gems are also hidden in your dust
Does another world-famous person like him also lie buried in you?
Does another gem like him also lie concealed in you?
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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The Bird's Complaint
I am constantly reminded of the bygone times
Those garden's springs, those chorus of chimes
Gone are the freedoms of our own nests
Where we could come and go at our own pleasure
My heart aches the moment I think
Of the buds' smile at the dew's tears
That beautiful figure, that Kamini's form
Which source of happiness in my nest did form
I do not hear those lovely sounds in my cage now
May it happen that my freedom be in my own hands now!
How unfortunate I am, tantalized for my abode I am
My companions are in the home‐land, in the prison I am
Spring has arrived, the flower buds are laughing
On my misfortune in this dark house I am wailing
God, To whom should I relate my tale of woe?
I fear lest I die in this cage with this woe (grief) !
Since separation from the garden the condition of my heart is such
My heart is waxing the grief, my grief is waxing the heart
O Listeners, considering this music do not be happy
This call is the wailing of my wounded heart
O the one who confined me make me free
A silent prisoner I am, earn my blessings free
poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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The Lover’s Colloquy
[HERNANI, Act V.]
One little moment to indulge the sight
With the rich beauty of the summer's night.
The harp is hushed, and, see, the torch is dim,--
Night and ourselves together. To the brim
The cup of our felicity is filled.
Each sound is mute, each harsh sensation stilled.
Dost thou not think that, e'en while nature sleeps,
Some power its amorous vigils o'er us keeps?
No cloud in heaven; while all around repose,
Come taste with me the fragrance of the rose,
Which loads the night-air with its musky breath,
While everything is still as nature's death.
E'en as you spoke--and gentle words were those
Spoken by you,--the silver moon uprose;
How that mysterious union of her ray,
With your impassioned accents, made its way
Straight to my heart! I could have wished to die
In that pale moonlight, and while thou wert by.
HERNANI. Thy words are music, and thy strain of love
Is borrowed from the choir of heaven above.
DONNA SOL. Night is too silent, darkness too profound
Oh, for a star to shine, a voice to sound--
To raise some sudden note of music now
Suited to night.
HERN. Capricious girl! your vow
Was poured for silence, and to be released
From the thronged tumult of the marriage feast.
DONNA SOL. Yes; but one bird to carol in the field,--
A nightingale, in mossy shade concealed,--
A distant flute,--for music's stream can roll
To soothe the heart, and harmonize the soul,--
O! 'twould be bliss to listen.
[_Distant sound of a horn, the signal that_ HERNANI
_must go to_ DON RUY, _who, having saved his
life, had him bound in a vow to yield it up._]
poem by Victor Hugo
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