A Flower To Auroville Mother 29
Nagalinga Poo(Cannon Ball Tree, Couroupita guianensis)
Rare you look with protecting serpent multi-tongued
With your leaves serrate in secret guarding
With your fruits in unkempt dangling steadied
With your bold bole outspread in eyeful watching...
All for what oh, perianth pink and red and yellow
Ah, that secret of a cosmic whorl around an axis
In your salving heart so moist centered to glow
Yes, yes Nagalinga, Shiva..Truth of vast cosmos..
And no wonder you're the flower for the Lord
Scented from the providence special and ritual
Soft and soothing lofty for heart and mind
And all surrender, no wonder to you so habitual
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-70
Purple passion flower(Maypop
Passiflora incarnata)
Like Shiva, rays air flown
Passionate gently swaying
Dulcet breeze transmitting
Purplish passion wide blown
You're such o' dear flower
Viney perennial and cosmic
Pristine patterned dynamic
Complex blossoms just super
It's to adore your heart
Fragrant centered serpent
Hooding the cosmic secret
Like Cannonballs protect
Still more adorable willingly
Your fruit juicy succulant
Watching big leaves serrate
As you flower waiting eagerly
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Secret Heart
Thanks to [email protected] for these lyrics.
Secret heart what are you made of?
What are you so afraid of?
Could it be three simple words
Or the fear of being overheard
What's wrong?
Let her in on your secret heart
Secret heart, why so mysterious?
Why so secret, why so serious?
Maybe you're just acting tough
Maybe you're just not bad enough
What's wrong?
Let her in on your secret heart
(Bridge) 2x
This very secret you're trying to conceal
Is the very same one you're dying to reveal
Go tell her how you feel
Secret heart come out and share it
This loneliness, few can bear it
Could it have something to do with
Admitting that you just can't
Go through it alone?
Let her in on your secret heart
Let her in on your secret heart
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Secrets, Truth and Lyza
Secret keeps Truth locked away,
Even though Truth wants to get out.
Secret knows better
Than to let Truth out,
Especially with the evil Lyza roaming around
Lyza wants to twist and contort Truth
Until she is no longer recognizable.
Secret is usually more dark and devious
Than protecting of her little sister,
But she will not let Truth or her self
Be a pawn in Lyza’s game this time.
So Secret keeps Truth hidden.
Because we all know,
Almost every dark secret,
Especially ones manipulated by lies,
Has a little truth behind it.
poem by Leah Michele
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My Heart is Shiva's seat!
My heart is Shiva's seat
Shiva is my heart-beat
see my efforts success meet
I surrender to Shiva's feet
my enemies, Thrisool will beat
Shiva arranges my life neat
poem by Elangovan Selvapperumal
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The Lord Of Seasons
And space is the Lord of tangled tresses
Of an unending arena of darkness
Waving hither and thither mirthful effulgence
Of whose hearth born the sextet sparklers
And this terra-ball of heavens
Extending a sextet set of hands
Acceded to the sextet sparklers
To caress and cuddle to a motherly bliss
And there, son of space with grace
With fulgent glow of six faces
With ardent vision of twelve eyes
With victorious valour of twelve hands..
Handsome God of hexagram arose
Chronometrically to reign over aeons
The serpent of the infinite cosmos
Its bodies and their seasoned activeness..
Sa ra va na bha va, the inscribed syllables
Centered of Om and its ripples
Devised of six dimensions
Chanted in mutiple refrains
O'mind don't you see Him of His seemliness
Annealing at His feet the elemental forces
The Lord seasoned for your heart, its seasons
Of summering, withering emotions
Of pattering, wintering feelings
Clement for your soul of peacefulness
Clement for your whole of liveliness
Shanmukha the Lord of seasons
poem by Indira Renganathan
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No Secret Friend
I have a secret friend
No it's not what you think
My friend's not a secret
Nor is the secrets he keeps
You see he keeps his heart
On the table with me
But the rest of the world
It's secrets they see
My no secret friend
wears a joker's mask
But I can see the truth
the real, the past
My no secret friend says
his intentions are true
My no secret friend says
he has feelings for me
Does my no secret friend
have secret desires
Time will tell but till then
this moment is ours
poem by Patti Wilburn
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-37
Orange cosmos, Yellow cosmos
(Kosmos, Cosmos sulphureus)
As scorching stress melancholizing
Behold, the mercy of the blesser Sun
Showering cool florets tranquilizing
Cosmic Kosmos orange, yellow to stun
And yes, I agree to the eased heart
A wallow in dulcet bright lights
Cousins wild, lush and blushy art
Darting along with in florescence
Slender stemmed leafing pinnate
Waltzing and humming appraising
Birds and butterflies to affiliate
Friendly cosmos no doubt surprising
poem by Indira Renganathan
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In the spirit of Rumi - 23
I asked My Beloved
How may I know the secret
of being a perfect Sufi,
insan al-kamil,
a perfect Friend of God?
My Beloved said
You will never in your life be sure;
and that is just how it should be;
that way, you will be safe in Me;
instead, seek always where My secret might be found:
as you walk, look closely at all of nature;
every flower, every tree, every lake, every cloud,
every bird, every animal;
look closely at them, to see
if they hold My secret;
as you walk down the street,
look into the eyes of each human being
to see if they know My secret in their heart;
listen to every sound and every word
in case My secret hides within them;
or in the scent of roses, or in the taste of food;
go to sleep with this question on your lips,
wake with this question in your mind;
and though you will never find the answer,
one day the question shall cease to be a question
and become the song which you have always known.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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My Oak Tree
My taste for love is what I long,
The secret so full and free
My heart of love beats every day
Because of this Oak Tree
The beauty of its leaves, we seldom admire
Oh Creator Lord to thee
How foolish our paths would have been
If it wasn’t for this Oak Tree
How quickly this seed germinated
Our eyes could hardly see
I treasured every moment
Beneath this Oak Tree
As little children we play and hide
How sweet are those memories to me?
The games we played, the jokes we shared
Beneath this Oak Tree
I would never forget this Oak Tree dear
For she is very dear to me
It matters not how grey I get
For my Mother is that Oak Tree
I watched this tree as the leaves got dry
The limbs begin to break
I fell to my knees, and begged the Lord
“Please don’t you this Oak Tree take”
Lord, if this tree should bend its head
I dread that day to see
May time give way to that glorious day
When we meet in eternity.
poem by Troy Brown
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-101
Neelambal(Blue water lily,
Nymphaea nouchali)
Vellambal(neytarkilanku,
Nilofar, Romanian White
Nymphaea alba)
SivappuAlli(Red Water Lily,
Nymphaea rubra)
All Alli as known here
Common yet so special
Lot more special here
But Neelambal especial
Adorable white for Vaani
All red for ornate Laxmi
And for whom is Neelambal
But to Shiva in special
Many petaled red or rose
Rubra round-leaved toothed
Wide leaved and fan-veined
Alba white yellow-stamened
Notable Neelambal beautiful
Broad-leaved veins notched
Blue-petal-charisma eyeful
Soft centre yellow-torched
Natural is no flora trivial
All Allis are so spiritual
So much so also medicinal
That is the pride celestial
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Perumaal 1-6
This Perumaal series is about the 108 shrines of Lord Vishnu
This is not a translated work of hymns but poetry mine with samples of mythological reference
Out of the 108 shrines,106 are earthly pilgrimage spots and the final two are heavenly abodes
which can be reached only by highly devout ascetics and celestial beings
Reference- '108 Vainava Divyadesa Sthala Varalaru ' by Dr.Vainava sudaraazhi A.EthirajanB.A-Karaikudi-Published by Sri Vainava Sidhanta Noorpadhippu Kazhagam
1 In rippling bliss where Thee recline
Where Thou feet blessed Kaveri washes
Where from Vibhishana stayed Thee on
Ranganayaki where with Thee gracing
To Thou abode that of Srirangam
That holds Thine maxim of pasurams
Hey, Ranganatha, vision I surrender
2 Delighted where Thou feet lotuses illume red
Where the vedas in awe of Thee
Thou blessed Alwar Thiruppaanaar where born
Where with Kamalavalli Thee bestowing
To Thou abode that of Thirukozhi(Urayur)
That Brigumuni where to Thou heavenly posit bows
Hey, Azhagiyamanavaala, vision I surrender
3 Beheading Brahmma swerved with curse Shiva
To Thou Poornavalli begged where for food
Alwar Thirumangai in praise Thou where sang
In ablution Thee where with flowers Nagalinga
To Thou abode that of Thirukarambanoor
That bears Brahma, shiva and Thee blissful
Hey Purushothama, vision, I surrender
4 White Thou fulgency where glows
Vedas reflecting Thine white where fulgent
At Thy feet Perialwar, Alwar Thirumangai where rest
Shanpakavalli where with Thee blessed Sibichakravarthy
To Thou abode that of Thiruvellarai
That bears mounted glow, Thine gracious Varaaha
Hey, Pundarikaksha, vision, I surrender
5 Of Thou shape where shaped up love
Blessed Manduka, Valmiki where in Thou bliss
Nectarous vantage where in Thine
Where with Azhagiyavalli Thee blesing
To Thou abode that of Thiruanbil
That bears boundless love Thine
Hey Vadivazhagiya Nambi, vision I surrender
6 Benevolence, benevolent Thou persona where art
Oblation Appam Thou mercy where propitiated
Amused Ubamanya where with Thine Appam
Indiradevi where with Thee favouring
To Thou abode that of Thiruper(Koiladi)
That cuddles child Ubamanya with Thou hands
Hey, Appakudathan, vision, I surrender
poem by Indira Renganathan
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pink Azalea
Early on an April day
In the land of morning calm
Azaleas bloom pink
At sunrise with a bright salaam They bloom alone
Around a quiet place
Where men, animals and insects
make little havoc of rat-race Azaleas are no Cosmos flower
Standing by the roadside
Flirting, giggling and cheek-rubbing
Against passersby, so dignified
They only bloom pink
Like maidens' heart, so purified
Breathing free fresh air
In the morning glow, misty-eyed
They drift upon the river
Getting neither wet nor dried Azaleas refuse to be tainted
By evening glow on the west-side
Mellowing into a pink shade
Beneath the sun at eventide
poem by Kim Unsong
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Bakula
O'Bakula, Bakula
Tell me
Your secrecy why sri Krishna
His Bansuri played under your canopy
Whilst you shedding your drizzles
Gathered the cows in gentle breeze
Tell me
St.Sambandar why under your shade
To marry assured Sangili Nachiar
Whilst you murmuring in gentle sway
Played concealed Shiva in your shadiness
Tell me
Temple lords all choose why you
In tranquility seated by your side
Tri-faceted turned why even Lord Muruga
At Elangi in your courtship importunate
Tell me
Your medicament exercised why to luxuriate
Usage of barks, flowers, fruits all yours why
Prized ethereal your gardenia why
Blossoms yours laced into laurels why
O'Bakula, Bakula
Look, handful mine your aromatic blossoms
To open up here truth of your heavenliness
Sunny-tiny, their celestiality wafting fragrance
Speaketh of trees five of providence
'Sandhanam, Mandharam, Karpagam, Parijatham
With Devatharu their evil fate suffered
Be out of demonism sought they to Shiva
Blessed then into one Bakula tree all five
Up His words seated at Thiruvotriyur
Shiva in shadiness beneath the Bakula tree'
O'Bakula, Bakula
Firmament so is your mother factual
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Fallen Petals
for one thing i do not know the name
of this sea flower falling from a very lushy
tree whose leaves reach to the sands
as though kissing salt and silence
it is a big flower with pink lines
following the sides
the stamens are long and
scented like a woman with perfume
on her hair
alone in the night she walks
towards a cave
of cascading desire and there
he is waiting naked
the flowers keep on falling
the petals crushed
the night is silent
and well scented
the shadows fuse and then
they were lost in total darkness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pink Flowers.
Do not text me or think otherwise
I am just picking flowers from my garden.
Last evening I picked a red rose but
Wow! It proved to be too red for my date
Today I visited the same garden
The only flower I found was a white rose.
Where is my favourite pink rose?
This morning I cycled to the market
Sure, to buy my date a pink rose
But the only roses there were yellow and purple.
Tried to enquire where I could get one
But no one knows where to find.
Went to my flower vendor but nowhere to find
Where will I get my pink rose for my date?
Tomorrow, I'll travel far and wide
Only to get this precious pink flower
And if I succeed, my date will be happy
And my heart will find a solace rest
Amidst the residue of love petals
Just with the pink flower petals.
Where will I get my Pink rose flower?
(Dedicated for my pink flower date)
poem by Aron Lelei
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A leaf for hand in hand
i can tell the neighbours
not to shout, scream in the night hours
throw their rubbish this side of residence
but the leaves from his trees
i sweep with resignation that
they at least allow me to potter around
to communicate in a certain, tender, soft manner
with the quiet neighbours
the echoes of my sweeping
the leaves blown by the wind
to settle in my garden, my porch
the only encroachment i do not bother
bring up to each other
as i gather the yellow leaves, shrivelled leaves
into a hill for my lmatch
the birds twitter, the next door children chuckle
their mother peering over the fence with
some fruits in her hands
the fruits that help us meet heart to heart
with an uneasy sweetness in between
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Yellow Ribbon On The Old Oak Tree
who can forget the yellow ribbon
on that old oak tree? tell me.
tomorrow, i shall wear my yellow cap
my yellow shirt, my yellow brief,
my yellow pants.
my jaundiced eye, my golden yellow ring.
tomorrow, in my country, the sky is yellow.
all steps lead to the yellow brick road.
all fruits are ripe and mellow and yellow.
Tomorrow, the country is yellow.
Yellow for integrity, Yellow for change.
Yellow for justice. Yellow for truth.
One day more, and the sun shall rise
Yellow as ever.Yellow forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Reservation For One
This is my tree, my tree, my tree,
My one lone tree, pear tree,
It grows, overflows, it grows it’s fruit,
Alone, only for me.
If I could go to a far-away place,
With just me and my tree, pear tree,
I’d pack my bags, my bags I’d pack,
I’d pick up my bags and flee.
There’s nothing at all, no nothing,
At all, that films me more with glee,
Than those globes, those globes,
Of precious fruit in my tree, pear tree.
I sit beneath, beneath I sit,
Its laden canopy, I polish it’s leafs then,
Set a table of fruits,
Of wine, and bread and brie.
This tree, my tree, could feed the world,
Find me a wife and camaraderie,
It’s powers, it’s powers are vast but I
Can’t pass on its secret sadly.
I’d tell the world, the world I’d tell,
If they weren’t all so hungry, you see.
But my fruit, my fruits, my laboured.
Fruits, I grew only for me, for me,
No none are as hungry as me.
poem by Suzanne Louise Bishop
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