Miser
I had the money
To buy aplenty
And I did spend
On buying gold
For the temple deity.
Prayed, I diligently
Every morning of
Every day,
Even my night
Ended in prayers
To the almighty.
I spent lavishly
On incense,
To get the best
Fragrance ~
For my favourite
Gods – Rama, Krishna
And Sai Baba.
I made sure the
Purohits had
Enough booty
From my share of wealth
To perform
All the holy functions
Impeccably without
Any dearth of
Religious amenities
So that I and my family
Are blessed by the
Holy trinity of
Om Shivai Namaha,
Vishnu and Brahma.
And yet after spending
So much on so many
Candles, sweets, savouries
And garlands of flowers
In their beautiful bounty,
I understand not
Why people still call me
A Miser,
When I tell them that my money
Is for the good, noble cause of
Sanctity, upholding the
Sanctum sanctorum of the
Temple deity,
And not squandering
On giving alms to
Beggars and lepers
Who line the streets
Anticipating my pity.
I, a miser?
God Almighty
I gift you so much
Out of love, affection
And duty.
They misunderstand me,
Don’t they?
For they call me a miser
As I feed you instead of
The hungry souls staring
At me with hunger, poverty
And depravity…
But then, for me,
Religion comes first
So does the opulence
In religious duty.
Hence, I please you
Almighty, with all the
Frills and fills of
Sumptuous feasts and
Social elaborations of
Kali Pooja, Durga Pooja,
Ganesha Chaturthi, Dussehra
And Diwali, not to mention
My very own home worship
Of the goddess of wealth
And prosperity – Lakshmi Pooja
Yet, they say I’m a miser?
Can they not see how lavishly
I spend to please thee…
O God Almighty,
Are they blind?
Give them some vision
So that they can see some
Clarity in my charity that I do
To appease the purohits -
So that they take good care of you
And in turn, I’m taken care by you.
The lepers and the beggars,
May they suffer their Karma
Let them go bothering others
But not me – as I’m with thee.
In your esteemed comradeship,
I’m above and beyond them.
Let me not stoop below to uplift them
Lest I fall and slip on the very floor
They are on, and in the process,
Lose thee, O God Almighty.
Me, a miser?
Let them say
And call me such
Miserable names.
I, once and for all,
Will always…
Classify myself
As an ardent devotee.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Festive Time
Hey Devotee!
It is festive time
For you,
To please yourself
And me.
Yet, I’m sorry to say
It doesn’t appease me.
You must be
Really enjoying
The cacophony
Of drums and beats
That scare away the birds
And animals on the streets.
May be, there are old people
Resting nearby in the very same
Streets through which your
Clamorous procession proceeds.
May be, a baby is in deep slumber.
May be, a child is having his exams.
May be, someone is reeling under
High fever. Needs some rest, if only
You could feel and see their stress
That keeps rising…the more your
Blaring mikes reach their crescendos.
What about the waters of my rivers
That swell up with tears…they know
At the end of the day, when the
Pooja culminates, the Pratima is
Immersed for Visarjan,
Their flora and fauna will take the brunt
Of all the plastic, the lead and mercuric
Colours, the numerous poly bags,
That float all over…
My waters blow up with carcasses
In the burning ghats, as if that wasn’t
Enough, now you do it all the year
Through…some Pooja or the other,
And my fish and crabs, turtles and frogs,
The shells and corals, the molluscs, you name it,
I have it in varied forms: my aquatic life
Pays the price for your water pollution.
Not to mention the noise pollution -
That comes with every Pooja celebration.
Why make a hue and cry, why publicise
Religion, why commercialise it, why not
Offer silent prayers to your temple deity?
I’m omniscient. I know it all…
Your desires and wishes.
I know you love me.
No need to overflow with so many emotions
That disturb the peace and tranquility
Of the environment.
Please preserve its sanctity.
Do not detonate it with all your commotion.
Religion should be heartfelt devotion.
Not a razzmatazz of pomp and show.
Remember me in your silent prayers,
Why upset the eco balance with your
Irreverent actions of religious fervour?
Worship me as Kali, Durga, Lakshmi.
I may be also your Saraswati. You also
See me as Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, Ganesha.
So many forms, myriad tales of my myths.
But leave out nature from the pain and agony
You inflict on its plants, birds and animals.
Don’t malign religion
With noise pollution
And water pollution.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Holy, Holy, Holy
Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty!
Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee;
Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty!
God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!
Holy, holy, holy! All the saints adore Thee,
Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;
Cherubim and seraphim falling down before Thee,
Who was, and is, and evermore shall be.
Holy, holy, holy! though the darkness hide Thee,
Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see;
Only Thou art holy; there is none beside Thee,
Perfect in power, in love, and purity.
Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty!
All Thy works shall praise Thy Name, in earth, and sky, and sea;
Holy, holy, holy; merciful and mighty!
God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Miser and his 3rd Wife
1
The Old Miser
my husband is dying
and he makes me promise
I must put all his money in his coffin
when he dies
“O my legal third wife
the only one surviving -
you must put all my money
secretly in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring away all the money
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
2
Now, he’s dead
and I’ve arranged for his funeral
and while everyone’s busy
with all these preparations
I dutifully take all his money
from the hiding place
which he whispered to me
with his last breath
and he bit my ear and he snarled:
“Put all my money
in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
3
So I take all his money
and bring it to the bank
and deposit it in my name
and make a cheque out for 10 million
and put the cheque below his head
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you can take all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
poem by Raj Arumugam
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happy Ramadan and Eid mubarak
“Happy Ramadan and Eid Mubark” I sincerely pray
Holy Ramadan end today on this very day
Let almighty shower all the blessings
You find all happiness without a single missing
I surrendered to almighty with a single wish
That you have everything in life with fine finish
I bowed before Him and prayed for happy stay
Happiness and joy with the family all the way
I waited for this holy day to end
With all fasts to the happiness of friend
May, Allah the almighty, show you the direction
Nothing can be sported as patch in your action
I obeyed his call during month long stay
Not a single day missed when I didn’t pay
That you be blessed with whatever possible
Life may pass with happiness and without any trouble
Stars had twinkled with gentle smile
The holy month was to start meanwhile
I stayed near to him for you
This one has remained fact and very true
Let this month come every year
When I hear prayers voice in my ear
I pray for your long life and happy journey
Let there be no dearth of precious jewels and money
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Eid greetings
“Happy Ramadan and Eid Mubark” I sincerely pray
Holy Ramadan end today on this very day
Let almighty shower all the blessings
You find all happiness without a single missing
I surrendered to almighty with a single wish
That you have everything in life with fine finish
I bowed before Him and prayed for happy stay
Happiness and joy with the family all the way
I waited for this holy day to end
With all fasts to the happiness of friend
May, Allah the almighty, show you the direction
Nothing can be sported as patch in your action
I obeyed his call during month long stay
Not a single day missed when I didn’t pay
That you be blessed with whatever possible
Life may pass with happiness and without any trouble
Stars had twinkled with gentle smile
The holy month was to start meanwhile
I stayed near to him for you
This one has remained fact and very true
Let this month come every year
When I hear prayers voice in my ear
I pray for your long life and happy journey
Let there be no dearth of precious jewels and money
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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For Years/ A Miser Of Every Minute
FOR YEARS/ A MISER OF EVERY MINUTE
For years
A miser of every minute
For my work.
And now near old age
I understand
All that time given to works
Never to be read,
And so
A seeming tranquility.
If all my time wasted
Why be a miser
Any longer?
And yet,
What have I done?
Can I somehow still
Do something?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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If you have a talent, use it in every which way possible. Don't hoard it. Don't dole it out like a miser. Spend it lavishly like a millionaire intent on going broke.
quote by Brendan Francis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet
The worldly prince doth in his sceptre hold
A kind of heaven in his authorities;
The wealthy miser, in his mass of gold,
Makes to his soul a kind of Paradise;
The epicure that eats and drinks all day,
Accounts no heaven, but in his hellish routs;
And she, whose beauty seems a sunny day,
Makes up her heaven but in her baby's clouts.
But, my sweet God, I seek no prince's power,
No miser's wealth, nor beauty's fading gloss,
Which pamper sin, whose sweets are inward sour,
And sorry gains that breed the spirit's loss:
No, my dear Lord, let my Heaven only be
In my Love's service, but to live to thee.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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Wealthy Man Don't Hoard Your Money
Some one else will own your property when you are dead and gone
The day you die the World won't stop life it will carry on
You've made it big, you've reached the top, you're plutocratic kind
But wealthy guy you too must die and leave your wealth behind.
You came out of your mother free of guilt and evil sin
But now you're just a money hoarder like all other greedy men,
Your dreams of wealth have all come true you are now a millionaire
But moneyed man you too will die as sure as cows wear hair.
There's nothing wrong with money without money man can't live
But in a man there must be what is known as take and give
And just like all other greedy men you never give but take
And the more money you accumulate the more you want to make.
Wealthy man don't hoard your money, don't be scared to spend a pound
Or someone else will spend it for you when your bones rest underground
Everybody hates a miser, no one loves a greedy soul
And you too will be forgotten when you're placed in earthy hole.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Crying From Misery
The miser has concussion when sick,
It is unholy and right if you end;
It contains blessings, the world,
When holiness has defeated;
We are holy, and they are so unholy,
The miser has concussion when sick
Too sick he is that it matters.
The misery of babies is like angelic crying,
You have divine nature when child
And lose when miserable more,
Like an angel it is, then adults shall change,
When babies were also them, also them.
The misery of babies is like angelic crying.
The miser has concussion when sick,
The misery of babies is like angelic crying.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Compulsive Obsession
The miser sits and counts his gold
well wrapped in rags against the cold.
He has no fire he lacks the sense
He cannot bear to spend his pence.
He dines upon stale bread and cheese
sometimes porridge made from peas
to satisfy his appetite.
His bags of coin his one delight.
He has no friends he trusts no man
for they will rob him if they can.
He lives in abject poverty
to spend a coin is misery.
I do not envy him his gold
a bitter man who’s heart is cold.
I share what little comes my way
I cannot make my few pence stay.
But count my self a wealthy man
The miser save all that he can
and lives alone in misery.
I think that he should envy me.
8-Jun-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Almighty Sea
The almighty sea reigns higher than them all.
The almighty sea will always stand tall.
The almighty sea will be your fall.
The almighty sea reigns higher than them all.
The sea is responsible for many a death,
Drowning the victim for its every breath.
Engulfing the bodies, in its wave,
Sending their souls to the grave.
The sea is a murderer killing by the millions.
Everyday people, normal civilians,
Are taken away by the monstrous surges.
And out of the ocean, a corpse emerges.
The sea is can kill in a matter of hours,
With the sheer extent of the waves’ powers.
Surely nothing can stop the water in its path,
Immersing the world in its wrath.
The almighty sea reigns higher than them all.
The almighty sea will always stand tall.
The almighty sea will be your fall.
The almighty sea reigns higher than them all.
Holy Home
Dear sir, it was God will
Else he might have been alive still
The great souls are needed there
They have to pick up from somewhere
It was your holy home
Only your son was welcome
God has taken note of your charity
He was loved by almighty
He could, otherwise laid you to rest
That is the only endurance and test
The destiny was decided as something different
The apostles were directly sent
You have seen and passed through age
How difficult it is now to manage!
I wish almighty give long endurance
You pass this test also at once
You brought him up with great care
No one could challenge him or dare
He was beautiful rose in your garden
His departure at this stage was all of sudden
It may take years to heal
You may miss him and feel
But remember it is God’s will
You are chosen for time to kill
It is your self service and wisdom
No one can challenge and understand seldom
God has give pain but may give strength too
This is advice but very true
You were blessed with enough of wealth
I wish and pray for nice stay with good health
It may be considered as serious blow
But He has bless you divine glow
You may last and endure
With so much peace for sure
The mission entrusted may be fulfilled
The humanity thrust in you will never be killed
Think not what the blow has delivered
Bear in mind what Gold has offered
You are still at helm of affairs
The garden may boom again with all the flowers
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Little Ganesha in Toonpura
This story is about tiny city of Toonpura. A little boy named Ganesha lived in this small town, which was located near a river. Daily life was very simple for him as he was very religious and he used to sit near the temple and wait for the morning worship of Lord Ganesha.
Only family member who was left alive of this little boy was his loving grandmother. Every day he prayed for her long life because she was the only one who actually truly loved him. He used to sell beautiful red roses whenever he could find some. With the little money which he could get by selling the roses, with that money the boy used to purchase sweets for his grandmother to eat.
One day he saw a large crowd gathered to visit the temple of Ganesha. He was excited because today he thought that lot of red roses will be sold since so many people are visiting the temple. Ganesha came running with his basket of flowers and started requesting the crowd to purchase his flowers. Some people said to him please go away since we are in hurry as Lord Ganesha is waiting for us. A liitle girl saw the red roses and told the boy please give me a rose. Without worrying about the money, he just gave one rose to her. She smiled back at him and this brought a smile on the face of Ganesha as well.
Then he went further and started asking others to purchase his roses as well, slowly some kind devotees started to buy his roses and this added a smile on the face of the little boy. The little girl whom he gave a rose came with a one rupee coin and said this is for you my friend. He said thank you by asking the reason as to why all of a sudden so many visitors are here. Girl said to the boy, Ganesha is drinking milk today. The little boy said to the little girl, really? To this she replied, yes this is true.
Ganesha got in the line with his basket of flowers. Gradually the devotees started to move ahead and feed lots of milk to the marble statue of Lord Ganesha. To the utter surprise of Ganesha, the statue did drink the milk. He suddenly spoke in his soft voice, please give me milk also to drink as I like it a lot and my name is Ganesha. I am very hungry as I have eaten nothing since the morning. The little girl, whom he met earlier in the crowd, came running with a cup of milk which she took from her mother. My friend Ganesha, the girl said, here is milk for you also so please do not be sad.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Fate to fight
Why think of their death to night?
When you are not sure of your fate to fight
Some what it created little awkwardness
Are we in full capacity to judge on their face?
The talk of reward comes later
Let us be peace lover and not hater
Life as such is totally uncertain
Important thing is to care for relation and maintain
Human life is full of misery
Love it to full extent even for your adversary
Never show to anybody that you are doing it out of pity
Act only to shows that you are just messenger of almighty
Whether life remains same or not should not cause any concern
Anything good performed by you may definitely turn
Your destiny and life into permanent peace
Life may be same again and spent at ease
Bow along with them for mass appeal
Your wish and desire should be in fact real
No lip services or out side show shown to the people
Else it my be known soon and land you in trouble
Let us go to their help if blessed with resources
Internal wishes and conscience must act as divine force
Noble soul with its action is always noticed by all
They see in it a good gesture to respond the call
We all must show sympathy in their troubled days
Pray almighty to come to the rescue and show the way
Render everything if that can over come their woes
Ponder not over result if almighty comes to your help and does
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Love
Lust for power and more power
Is your mask with a power monger
You may think then to annihilate
The weak for the conquest ultimate
Of your devotee- the power monger.
Money and miser in this pair
Of greed you become embodiment
You are a quantity for a miser
Of money and it's aggrandizement
For which he crosses all extents.
Lover and beloved in this pair
You mask adroitly carnel desires
Infatuation & longing on separation.
A mastery you show in presentation
In celestial form human relations.
poem by Ratnakar Mandlik
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Love's Almsman Plaineth His Fare
O you, love's mendicancy who never tried,
How little of your almsman me you know!
Your little languid hand in mine you slide,
Like to a child says--'Kiss me and let me go!'
And night for this is fretted with my tears,
While I:-'How soon this heavenly neck doth tire
Bending to me from its transtellar spheres!'
Ah, heart all kneaded out of honey and fire!
Who bound thee to a body nothing worth,
And shamed thee much with an unlovely soul,
That the most strainedest charity of earth
Distasteth soon to render back the whole
Of thine inflam-ed sweets and gentilesse!
Whereat, like an unpastured Titan, thou
Gnaw'st on thyself for famine's bitterness,
And leap'st against thy chain. Sweet Lady, how
Little a linking of the hand to you!
Though I should touch yours careless for a year,
Not one blue vein would lie divinelier blue
Upon your fragile temple, to unsphere
The seraphim for kisses! Not one curve
Of your sad mouth would droop more sad and sweet.
But little food love's beggars needs must serve,
That eye your plenteous graces from the street.
A hand-clasp I must feed on for a night,
A noon, although the untasted feast you lay,
To mock me, of your beauty. That you might
Be lover for one space, and make essay
What 'tis to pass unsuppered to your couch,
Keep fast from love all day; and so be taught
The famine which these craving lines avouch!
Ah! miser of good things that cost thee naught,
How know'st thou poor men's hunger?--Misery!
When I go doleless and unfed by thee!
poem by Francis Thompson
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Love is thee name
Love is thee name
Even wild can be tamed
Such a gift from almighty
It is good luck to dream of divine beauty
Person is lucky to dream it in sleep
No one on earth can afford to skip
Relation can turn soar with little tongue slip
Love is such a weapon to make you sentimental and weep
Love is to taken in broader terms
To love a person is no harm
Even God bless those who long for it
It is always good to wish and greet
Love costs nothing in any form
It keeps relation very warm
Hate finds no place
Always love and no mad race
God showers on those
Who stand with trust to repose?
How God can be indifferent to such persons?
He will always be merciful with solid reasons
It is one way of remaining close to almighty
Since all are like children and it is his duty
To keep you in good shape with care
Else is there any place to somewhere?
Carry the whole world with your attitude
There should be no reason or prelude
It is always recognized and accepted
How can one be indifferent and reject?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Today... 'God Almighty
Hallelujah! The Lord God Almighty reigns
He who creates the wind and forms the mountains.
Holy, holy, holy the living creatures cry
To the Glorious and Almighty God on high.
Great and marvellous are the deeds He performs
He who turns dawn to into the darkest storms.
The great God who was, and is, and is to come
the LORD Almighty is his name, The Holy One.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Give them a net, than a fish
feeling the gap is not sheltering the path
for in the floor, slippery is what it call, with no
exemption, everybody has to be ready
what does a man profit, when he earned is
not in his pocket, all he eats is only for his
bucket, where in the stomach i know, it will
just go
have pity in my strength, my worn out body is
all ready, only my toe wants to be busy, if you
give anything that is for free
why you always insist to receive, when the net
i give is for everybody, to feed the whole family
lies on me, then let be me
good to share with them your net, in the deep
blue water we will meet, let your day be with
everybody in the sea, where fish swims night
and day
in my country, fish is always in the table, net is
in the sea shore, where no fishers ever call, that's
what makes us poor, where the government is
the door, and every family knocks in the floor
now our vision is something to find, for other it
will be find, our people, looks up the sky, for
another night will fall, with hungry mind and soul
are weak in the alms always it take
the church made a steps, teach them not to call
for only beggars may ask, in my country i am gone
and in my face iam one... then teach me how to fish
iam ready
poem by Antonio Liao
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