Purify the Mind
From Mt. Kailas,
birthplace of Shiva,
Lord of All,
the snow slides down the Himalayas
melting into pure water
and becomes Ganga
the holiest of rivers.
Absorbing the works of nature
and of man, it flows
past temples, villages,
rice fields, factories,
Calcutta slums,
and becomes,
at last, the sea
in the Bay of Bengal.
On its way
it purifies the faithful,
accepts the bodies of the dead
and funeral relics,
washes elephants,
infuses tea;
and harbours cholera
and an influx
of chemicals and sewage.
As a carrier
it is a vehicle of Life.
According to its contents,
it sustains
or kills.
poem by Brian Taylor
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Water Anew
From mountain high to valley low, the warmth of springs thaw runoff comes clear cold water from the melting snow.
Spring rain, cool and clear, mist and fog, early morning's dew, creeks, rivers, lakes renew.
Though mud stained from the thaw, the water soon will clear, life sustaining, life anew.
With summer weather comes light or heavy rains, sprinkle, mist or fog, life sustaining, life anew.
With autumn arrives the cold, then frost, soon after winter follows, sleet and snow, water turns to ice.
Though covered with ice and winters snow, the water in creeks, rivers and lakes renew until springs thaw, the water still flows.
Whether spring, summer, autumn or winter, water, life sustaining, life anew.
poem by Alvin Schaut
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Where the river Ganges meets Yamuna
[Fall from Himalayas and adrift on river Ganges; ]
A free fall while I was meditating at the peak
And I think of Issac Newton's Law 'The Gravity'.
Oh! When I touched the cold water of river Ganges at Dehra Dun
I was so happy after a long time.
At New Delhi takes water and returns only sewage.
Downstream, the Yamuna is almost dead like me.
At Varnasi the holliest city water levels dropped.
It's very strange while I alive couldn't see & hear anything,
Also feel nothing,
Death is really a gift.
You see, hear & feel everything
Then I became a real swimmer of life at the Bay of Bengal.
* I dedicate this poem to Jyoti.Tottam/Pipola for their great article in the Time Magazine 'How India's success is killing its holy river? '
And I think of my old friends Lalith Rohan in Netherlands and Joseph John who lives in Spain.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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special Oil
On a fine wee hours
I suddenly found myself
among the heaps of dead bodies
as I was eaten yesterday so they were
all by none other than men to become
more valuable than them and waiting
patiently in a queue to be decomposed
with a magic lotion to be put to become
smoke of the factory having been gotten
a chance to pip into the deep pit of a well
of oil I saw with a great shock innumerable
lines of bodies some were dead some were
half alive decomposing with super special
chemicals to become oil after thousands of
years to be fit for the factories exactly like me
poem by Abdul Wahab
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From the Banks of Ganga: III
Who tends these trees
Thick and green on the hill slopes?
Who for do they bear leaf?
Who for do they feast?
Who created this waterfall
Of unseen origin trickling
From between the trees into the Ganga
Ganga mai
The eternal mother
Creator and destroyer
Ganga mai
Who sustains and devours
Ma, Ganga
I approach you
A child, hungry and forlorn
Longing to retreat into your womb
To be nurtured
And to be re-born!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Everyday Is The Environment Day
Once streams, now they are drains.
Once rivers, now they are drains.
Sewage goes from where water comes.
Excreta go from where water comes.
Once fields, now they are of smoke.
Once cities, now they are of smoke.
Smoke goes from where breath-air comes.
Carbon fills the air looking for plants.
Sewage unaddressed, carbons unaddressed,
No amount of environment savings
Could bail out the earth. The Environment Day
Must be everyday and not a tokenism.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Prachi Vavroovahana Patra
Prachi is beautiful;
Birds play on both sides are delightful.
Her water is pure;
Flows with a muttering in the lap of Nature.
At Kakatapur Prachi flows delightfully;
All creatures bathe in the river pleasantly.
Bathes the cosy feet of mother affectionatively;
All devotes enjoy the beauty devotionally.
From time immemorial Prachi flows in the lap of Nature gleefully;
Magnifies the beauty of Nature pleasantly.
Provides water to all creatures;
Creatures live with pleasure.
Prachi is a Deity on Earth;
Bathing in the chilly water all derive mirth.
Allures women, men in morning;
Purifies the souls of human beings, the morn is delighting.
Peace reigns in the lap of Prachi daily;
Women, men, guys, girls enjoy the beauty gaily.
Devotees bathe in the water peacefully;
Mind is filled with peace eternally.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Provide water and air which is clean and pure
Water
Is the most important
Need of life
The miracle liquid
Is scarce and polluted
Specially in the villages
The poor and needy
Are force to drink it in plenty
Science and technology
Is being used more and more
By all the countries
Underdeveloped nations
In their urge
To become developed
Use resources
In an unbalanced manner
Nobody bothers
About the poor villagers
Industries of rich and powerful
Pollute environment and soil
Toxifying the water underneath
With chemicals like chlorine
Rivers and lakes too face their ire
Poor people forced to drink
The same water
Causing diseases
In the poor and needy
What was provided by god?
Free of cost, is now bought
Enormous profits are earned
In the name of water,
Pure and healthy
I ask everybody
To wake and rise
Force the rulers
To use their might
Provide water and air
Which is clean and pure
Develop water purifiers
Cheap and handy
Distribute them to the needy
Save poor people from
Disease and dying
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Water
There was a fountain
that flows out in the hillocks
where cold fresh water
sprayed up bubbling and pure.
No borehole water that tastes like mud
or that which streams metallic out of a pipe
and still less the city’s
purified liquid
in which the chemicals are still drifting white,
could smell and taste
like water which comes out of the heart
of the earth
and washed pure by thousands of rocks
splashing clean and clear into a glass.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Electric Funeral
Reflex in the sky warn you you're gonna die
Storm coming, you'd better hide from the atomic tide
Flashes in the sky turns houses into sties
Turns people into clay, radiation minds decay
Robot minds of robot slaves
lead them to atomic rage
plastic flowers, melting sun,
fading moon falls upon
dying world of radiation,
victims of mad frustration
Burning globe of oxy'n fire,
like electric funeral pyre
Buildings crashing down to a cracking ground
Rivers turn to wood, ice melting to flood
Earth lies in death bed, clouds cry water dead
Tearing life away, here's the burning pay
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
And so in the sky shines the electric eye
supernatural king takes earth under his wing
Heaven's golden chorus sings,
Hell's angels flap their wings
Evil souls fall to Hell, ever trapped in burning cells!
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Electric Funeral
Reflex in the sky warn you you're gonna die
Storm coming, you'd better hide from the atomic tide
Flashes in the sky turns houses into sties
Turns people into clay, radiation minds decay
Robot minds of robot slaves lead them to atomic rage
plastic flowers, melting sun, fading moon falls upon
dying world of radiation, victims of mad frustration
Burning globe of oxy'n fire, like electric funeral pyre
Buildings crashing down to a cracking ground
Rivers turn to wood, ice melting to flood
Earth lies in death bed, clouds cry water dead
Tearing life away, here's the burning pay
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
Electric Funeral
And so in the sky shines the electric eye
supernatural king takes earth under his wing
Heaven's golden chorus sings, Hell's angels flap their wings
Evil souls fall to Hell, ever trapped in burning cells
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gupteswar
Saivapeetha Gupteswar attracts devotees day and night;
Devotees assemble on the shrine with delight.
The shrine smiles endowed with blossoms and flowers;
Bhagavana Shiva contents all devotees’ desires.
Gupteswar is the Deity of Deities;
All devotees smile with delight.
Shavaree Sings the Glory of Gupteswar;
Bhagavana loves all creatures.
God attracts all devotees on Earth;
Devotees dance, chant God’s name with mirth.
Enjoy Mahashivaratree delightfully;
Chant Shiva’s name gaily.
Shrine of Gupteswar is surrounded by mountains;
Beautifully flows tiny fountains.
Fragrance of wild flowers pervades in the air.
God Shiva contents all devotees’ desires.
Shivalinga is prayed on the shrine lapped by mountains;
Purified, sanctified is the environment.
God blessth all innocent devotees;
Is an Ocean of Delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Journeys end
The stream meanders to and fro.
Here where the cattle come to drink
the yellow cowslips gaily grow.
The weeping willows stooping low
adorn the banks on either side.
The stream continues in its flow.
Past meadows where the cattle graze
and fields where corn is ripening
but here and there red poppies blaze.
The stream now to a river grown
now deep and wide; it gathers strength
Its purpose to itself unknown.
Past cottages which stand alone.
Small villages and market towns
and bridges built of weathered stone.
It has become a thoroughfare
which slices through the city’s heart
With rush and bustle everywhere.
The docks and quays and factories
confine the river in its course.
There is no grass there are no trees.
The river flows on turgidly
until at last it gains release
and flows into the open sea.
But in the distance still the stream
meanders gently to and fro
Where cowslips nod and lovers dream.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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London’s Water
Under London’s busy streets forgotten rivers run:
Westbourne. Holbourne and the Fleet, all shielded from the sun,
Springing from the ancient fonts, which once the city took
To succour thirsty thousands, who built beside the brook.
Our bold forefathers drank their fill from sparkling, rippling rills
That flowed from Hampstead’s teeming ponds upon North London’s hills.
From Tyburn grim to Hackney Brook they savoured, crystal clear,
The purest water in the South, no need for mead or beer.
But, as the population grew, the bubbling brooks grew rank.
With sewage, muck and garbage filled, the streamlets stalled and stank
And, as the mediaeval folk were felled by plague from fleas,
Our rancid rat-filled rivers ran with danger and disease.
As good King Henry Third obtained new water from the marsh
That stood by Tyburn’s grassy fields, now under Marble Arch,
The poorer peasants supped, unstopped, from foetid Father Thames
All risking death from cholera, those sickly citizens.
Though Peter Morice tried to raise more water by a wheel
Which, in one arch of London Bridge, he built with craft and skill,
The daring Dutchman didn’t know the peril people faced
From drinking dirty ditchwater which down the river raced.
When the New River cut its course from distant river Lea
And made its way to Sadler’s Wells, where now lithe dancers reel,
The city’s health improved, no doubt, but rubbish still was thrown
Into the ever-filthier Thames, where barges ferried stone.
As many fortune seekers came to streets not paved with gold,
Then overcrowded hovels covered up the waters cold
And culverts carried underground the filthy River Fleet;
Its name now just remembered in that famous press-men’s street.
But Doctor Snow soon saw that dirty water played its part
In decimating denizens who dwelled in Soho’s heart
And, when he closed the Broad Street pump, he saved unnumbered men
And stopped an epidemic breaking, in Victoria’s reign.
When the Great Stink enforced MPs to vote at Parliament
To solve the sanitation problems, swiftly, to prevent
The closing of the capital to all but lower ranks,
Brave Bazalgette stepped up to reinforce the riverbanks.
Under the new Embankment, he made a massive pipe
To take away the sludge and slime that smelt so rank and ripe
To Barking in the poor man’s East where they would never know
That there, into the river, ran the sewage overflow.
But down the years, filtration beds and chemicals improved
The quality of water, which we Londoners could use
And, though we grumble loudly when we see burst water mains,
We’re better off now that we have efficient pipes and drains.
For London’s water still tastes sweet from our Artesian Basin
Which takes the rain from Chiltern Hills, but now that we are facing
Climate change, there is the need to take care of our ration
And use less water if we can and save it with a passion.
So let’s give thanks for water as it gushes from the taps.
Though London’s hidden rivers have gone from published maps,
They still remain as major drains though which our sewage passes
And so, to these lost rivers, let us toast and raise our glasses.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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Mother earth is crying
Mother earth is crying
The way man is treating
Water in scarcity
Rivers not deep
Houses and houses
Whole earth
Filled with factories
Their waste spoiling the soil
Creating a big turmoil
Greenery decreasing
Trees cut without thinking
Forests shrinking
Cities are increasing
Animals are dying
Snow melting
Heat is increasing
Mining and digging
Are like stabbing
Mother earth on the chest
For few grand
Lakes are full of filth
Fewer trees for shelter
Fewer birds now chirp
Let wisdom arrive
Don’t play with nature
Otherwise all will cry
No man will survive
Humans now wake
For your own sake
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Life Of The Burden Carrier
The burden carrier...
Assesses life,
From a self centered point of view.
Nothing is ever quite right,
With their findings.
No matter what is done,
Or what some may do.
A fulfillment is obtained,
That sustains them with complaints.
And any excuse to induce their own pain,
Helps them contain an arrogance maintained.
This is the life of the burden carrier.
Nobody knows the troubles they've seen.
Nobody knows their sorrows.
Nobody!
And 'who' do we thank for that?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Special Natures
The day is founded on relishes,
The night causes special natures.
Openly, the gusts of wind bury the day with the night,
And all of nature flows with mild pain;
Let the nature of the day be that of storms
Freezing from ice to flowing water.
The water is the nature of night and day,
Storms are the pools we ask to be absent.
Water is a faithful companion and fuel
That we admire for all of the time.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Cajolment
You are omnicient and too omnipresent
Still oh God for you we have to build temples.
It is often believed that You reside there
Inspite of being the Creator of the nature.
You have created nature as also human
Yet you can not put him under the nature
You have to face always the cajoling men,
Nature you use to suppress them then.
Stern nature brings floods and earthquakes
Those destroy then the proud foolish men
Reestablishing your dominance over them
Inculcating fear once again in them.
Then perhaps to pay respects or for show
Man builds temples to restrict your power.
Your power works in temples he then believes
And bends before you after committing follies.
Poet: Ratnakar D. Mandlik
poem by Ratnakar Mandlik
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Love's winter
The ice was melting the day we met,
Melting somewhere north.
Your eyes be the colour of hope,
But hope was there and then.
And yes you really touched my soul,
Upon the hills so green.
And although me heart is colder still,
You live on in my dream.
So shut my mouth, erase my words,
My fragile mind did do.
And for some time, a short short time,
My life was mended too.
Among those hills i found my love,
I found my missing tune.
And through it all you were there,
You knew the final rune.
That completed the story of my life,
And tied it all to you.
But as we know no love can last,
Against nature's feud.
So the snow and ice of winters past,
Melted into rivers.
And flowing south they stole my love,
So now i cry alone.
poem by Anne Harkonen
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Bunker Soldiers
Trained bodies in coordination
Is that a better way for bunker soldiers
But its a nicer way to spend a war
On lava beaches and sandy seaside
The rusting bodies are surplus now then
We never taught them how to fight like that
The objects exercise is so compulsive
Its not a better way but it still suits us
Id give up rice fields to fight like you
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Its not a better way
Though we are here to stay
Well that might seem ok
Waves of people
In strange directions
Its no use talking
Theres no decisions
They gave up houses to be refugees
The mud in ditches is over their knees
The sand bagged trenches are over our heads
This kind of warfares become hide and seek
Though khaki uniforms are universal
Your propaganda is losing appeal
Id give up rice fields to fight like you
Id give up rice fields to fight like you
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Its not a better way
Though we are here to stay
Well that might seem ok
song performed by by Omd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Show me
Show me the place
where we lived once
when the earth was still young,
before man’s hand
like a sickle went over it
and chopped until woods
disappeared totally
and deserts appeared in places.
Show me the fields, marches and hillocks
where animals at a time was carefree
before the rifle
sounded without end
and mines, factories, buildings
and rail tracts harassed the earth
and everything yielded
to steel and concrete.
Show me the blue sky
that at a time was pure
and now is full of smoke and ash
and water that fell sparkling
as rain from the air
and brought life
and could wash everything clean
and now eat
while it falls filled with acid.
Show me the streams and rivers
where at a time there were healthy fish
that could bring water to fields
and where children for the fun
could jump in
and now are filled with sewerage,
poisons, minerals
and garbage that drifts everywhere.
Show me seasons
that comes on their time
and now every day
is winter, summer and spring
while life
pass much too quickly
and the hand of man
for ever are mowing out the earth
and a day might come,
when the earth
becomes man’s own
place of damnation.
poem by Gert Strydom
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