A Flower To Auroville Mother-31
Brahmakamalam, Nishagandhi
(Orchid cactus, Jungle cactus,
Night blooming cereus, Dutchman's Pipe)
(Epiphyllum oxypetalum)
Who knows, may be she's on a penance..
In silent bloom in nightly spiritual exile
To self hers alone known of her presence..
But I hunt and wait in all her secret while
In eerie hours rising slender her u-neck
Bearing seemingly her musing closed face
Awaits from its leafy platform a beck
As I try awaiting Nisha's florescence
My patience's prediction there she blooms
Flashing perfuming stunning rich all around
Like a goddess attired from heavenly looms
Bleaching my mind, heart, soul fully deterged
Spellbound! all words of wonderment retreat
Booming Bijagarba re-impregnated in awe
Symbolised therein the microcosmic portrait
A pollen forest and a spider stigma as Brahma
'Behold in repeats', decrees my conscience
I see and perceive insatiably wide-eyed
Brahmakamalam with dynamic mutiple petals!
But lo, what destiny before the Sun she's to end?
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
Les Cactus
Le monde entier est un cactus
Il est impossible de s'asseoir
Dans la vie il n'y a que des cactus
Moi j'm'pique de le savoir
Aie! aie! ouille! aie!
Dans leur coeur il y a des cactus
Dans leur portefeuille y a des cactus
Sous leurs pieds il y a des cactus
Dans l'heure qu'il est il y a des cactus
Aie! aie! ouille! aie!
Pour me defendre de leur cactus
A mon tour j'ai pris des cactus
Dans mon lit j'ai mis des cactus
Dans mon silp j'ai mis des cactus
Aie! aie! ouille! aie!
Dans leur sourir' il y a des cactus
Dans leur ventr' il y a des cactus
Dans leur bonjour il y a des cactus
Dans leur cactus il y a des cactus
Aie! aie! aie! ouille! ouille!
Le monde entier est un cactus
il est impossible de s'asseoir
Dans la vie y a que des cactus
Moi je me pique de le savoir
Aie! aie! aie!
song performed by by Vanessa Paradis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Painted Desert
[ jerome augustyniak/natalie merchant ]
The painted desert can wait till summer.
Weve played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When Im sure the rains have ended, the blooms have gone,
Everyone killed by the morning frost.
Is a cactus blooming there in every roadside stand
Where the big deal is cowboy gear won in japan?
The painted desert can wait till summer.
Weve played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When Im sure the rains have ended and the blooms have gone,
Everyone killed by the morning frost.
Is a cactus blooming there upon the northern rim
Or in the ruins of the hopi mesa dens?
You met a new friend in the canyon, or so you wrote.
On a blanket in the cooling sand you and your friend agreed that
The stars were so many there they seemed to overlap.
The painted desert can wait till summer.
Weve played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When I am sure the rain has ended, the blooms have gone,
Everyone killed by the morning frost.
Was a cactus blooming there as you watched the native boy?
In flagstaff trailer court, you wrote the line:
He kicked a tumbleweed and his mother called him home where the arizona moon met the arizona sun.
I wanted to be there by may at the latest time.
Isnt that the plan we had or have you changed your mind?
I havent read a word from you since phoenix or tucson.
April is over will you tell me how long before I can be there?
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No one is useless
Cactus is full of thorns.
Rose is a real charm.
Cactus guards in fence.
Rose has in it a defense.
Rose must not scorn
The cactus for its thorn.
15.04.2001, Vijv
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Such, Silence Was Spiritual..
Such, silence was spiritual
Spirituality was so silent
Seated amidst 'Supremacy'
Highly high above me
Like a lotus above mire
Mind and soul somewhere apart
Eyes and ears all elsewhere...
My big-eyed gaze gazing..
His semi shut eyes tranced
Engrossed wholly of the limitless
Floating upon beyond earth's spheres
A great discovery he 's rejoicing..
Here, what am I, a tiny bit trivial
Drowned ever in tearful unsolved enigma...
So such, wonderment raised my soul
In inqusition to follow his march
A march towards the summit of silence
Upon the mounts and dawns of silence
Along the streams of silence
Along the scented florescence of silence
Along the immortal bliss of silence..
Could only be a watcher me silent
Watching my soul marching spiritful
On and on steady until someone nudged me..
Interrupted was me alone, not his vigil
For he was the Buddha teaching in silence
Succor and solace in huge silence
Such, silence was spiritual..
An experience at a buddhist monastery
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Flower of Cactus
You could not ask for,
And I dared not offer you,
the small inglorious flower of cactus.
Instead I brought you tulips and roses,
to fill our lives with transient happiness.
In the darkness we hid our face.
Thus passed years,
Times we shed silent tears,
For having not dared the most precious -
A small inglorious flower of cactus!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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I have learned the difference between a cactus and a caucus. On a cactus, the pricks are on the outside.
Cactus Hostess, Her Dialogue
you may sit
as we welcome you
mr. honored guest
but all we have
is a cactus chair
you may sleep
but all we have is a cactus bed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Devi Saraswathi
Hidden nucleus of universal logos
Hidden spark of cosmic muteness
On earth in white descends
Impelling sapient intelligence
Ravishing godliness is pacific
Peaceable goddess is terrific
Prudent Saraswati is dynamic
All-knower Herself is nectar cosmic
Unto the abode of Saraswati
The essence of primordial Aditi
Prevalence of erudite cognitivity
We in perception in great anxiety
Souls blest of the Goddess we are
In the pools of omniscient star
Creation sans knowledge is on bar
Also Brahma sans Brahmi is on bar afar
Bijagarba the womb of speech
Herself Saraswati out to preach
Bharati of eloquence none to match
All the gods for Saraswaty to in leach
Purity of truth seated on white lotus
Ruiner of vanity the swan-Goddess
Mind and intellect on her veena harmonius
Avarice away by Her blessings..
Cerebrating the mind, its abyss
Not to dismay and regress
Implore by the primal access
For Her mercy unto the wisdom-Goddess
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Impatience
How can I wait until you come to me?
The once fleet mornings linger by the way;
Their sunny smiles touched with malicious glee
At my unrest, they seem to pause, and play
Like truant children, while I sigh and say,
How can I wait?
How can I wait? Of old, the rapid hours
Refused to pause or loiter with me long;
But now they idly fill their hands with flowers,
And make no haste, but slowly stroll among
The summer blooms, not heeding my one song,
How can I wait?
How can I wait? The nights alone are kind;
They reach forth to a future day, and bring
Sweet dreams of you to people all my mind;
And time speeds by on light and airy wing.
I feast upon your face, I no more sing,
How can I wait?
How can I wait? The morning breaks the spell
A pitying night has flung upon my soul.
You are not near me, and I know full well
My heart has need of patience and control;
Before we meet, hours, days, and weeks must roll,
How can I wait?
How can I wait? Oh, Love, how can I wait
Until the sunlight f your eyes shall shine
Upon my world that seems so desolate?
Until your hand-clasp warms my blood like wine;
Until you come again, oh, Love of mine,
How can I wait?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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How spiny the cactus raised itself
how spiny the cactus raised itself
into the desert
how red the sand
burnt under the mid-day sun
how scorched the scorpion moved
across the red sand
and in that silence
a sudden whirlwind blows
a red, red cloud of sand
from the dunes rises
how spiny the cactus raised itself
into the tempest:
and yet
and yet
the tempest was subdued and fell
as happened long ago and now
and still
and spiny the cactus raises itself
into the desert
and the red sand
burns under the mid-day sun
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Ode to my dying Cactus (Rough Draft)
Oh my most enduring cactus!
With more thorns than my years!
I shall water you for the last time
It shall be with my tears!
I recall the joy you gave us!
A representation of love’s endurance…
(And the ferocity it may bring)
I vividly remember, when my senile
Grandmother placed you by the
Light switch, and mother, In a fit
Of anger over some lost remote,
Or sheer grumpiness, smacked
What she thought was the switch!
She screamed so loud, you would
Think the claws of hell had impaled her heart!
And I remember the hours put into
Removing your teeth from her
Palm, consoling her, soothing her agony-
Yet we never blamed you, dear cactus!
Only ourselves.
You did not ask for much
(In fact, it didn’t look like you wanted much either)
Just a place to stand, a pot to grow in,
And a once and a while accidental high five- how do ya do?
You lived in front of numerous light switches
Slept often by the handle of the microwave
Even made your way into our bathroom once!
(I’d rather not speak of that one)
But ode to you, my dying cactus,
Ode to each and every thorn!
Ode to the memories you left us
For you depart at morn.
poem by Lazarus Knix
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A New Horizon
Once my heart was stolen
And I thought my mind was gone along,
Like a flower without pollen,
I found myself singing a sad song
Desperately navigating in the dark,
I looked for sanity, I looked for the light,
Unaware that in a new journey I embarked,
To seek a new horizon and highlights
Now, realizing it was my destiny,
I let life takes its own course,
Knowing that nothing lasts for infinity,
I face reality without any remorse
Happily, with a new mind and heart,
I found the secret to fully enjoy my life:
"From my past I must forever depart
And never again my destiny defy"
©All Rights Reserved-2011
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Miracles Of Transformation
place lived in could be
a harsh barren dessert
where sudden sand storm
can strip our life to bone
God hides great serene
beauty in strange places
to teach hope in inspired
miracles of transformation
there is incredible serene beauty written...
into mysterious timeless dessert places...
once a gardener asked God for two gifts:
a beautiful plant with colourful flowers,
and a butterfly to flutter about the flowers,
to add beauty to his small potted garden:
the gardener excited waited for his flowering plant...
the beautiful butterfly he believed God would give...
the gardener prayed for forty days and forty nights:
God observing devotional faith answered his prayer;
presented him with a cactus plant and a caterpillar;
are you surprised because the gardener asked for,
a beautiful plant with amazing colorful flowers,
yet God answered his prayers with a cactus plant?
God knew the needs of the man’s faithful heart:
secrets written into his patient appreciative soul;
the gardener knew the secret ways of dessert life;
for many days the gardener thanked God for this gift,
of sacred life; to add beauty to his small potted garden:
at dawn dust all hours between; the gardener thanked,
God for the wisdom glory of this special gift bestowed:
soon the cacti bloomed with amazing colourful flowers,
and in the place of the caterpillar there was a beautiful,
stunning butterfly, to flutter about the colourful flowers:
God told that gardener old a new spiritual message.
God said “I will send my only begotten son, to be
born as flesh, like the caterpillar I gave you on the
cactus plant, to walk in the world; my man of faith”
God said “My child how you wondered,
what had happened to the caterpillar?
From where did the butterfly come? ”
God said “This mystery of life I wrote into creation”.
“I envisage transformation from your body of clay
into a body of light; as a miracle as meaningful as
the journey of a caterpillar; for my son will pass
through metamorphosis death into resurrected life!
This journey is my undeserved gift for the seed of Adam!
Original Sin will be defeated through this sinless sacrifice;
of my only begotten son; who will defeat the sting of death!
accept this ransom sacrifice my child as reconciliation;
through the blood of my son to resurrection in heaven.”
that gardener old, knew the cactus plant was the cross;
metamorphosis death was the tomb; flowers the message,
blooming in the world, through work of Holy Spirit; who
spread miraculous testament, the butterfly transformation,
resurrection of Jesus Christ; clay into restored body of light:
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Who Dreams Multiple Mysteries?
would you believe phenomenon if I told truth
I dream multiple poems those I wake to write
message meaning manifestation set unique
perfection I dream yet awake forget cannot
write as if bliss cosmic mysteries cannot exist
within woken world where other values egos
rule within materialism which places no value
on spiritual enlightenment evolution struggles
on hidden universal mysteries never fear seek
out research into missing dark matter enter an
unknown unseen dimension hidden existence
know I wait until you join search cosmic unity
behold bliss wonderment which awaits there
would you believe miracle if I told seen truth?
unknown unseen dimension hidden quantum existence
behold bliss wonderment awaits exploration observation
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Name!
I am a rose and don't like my pose,
Pictures of mine gross and cross,
I want to change into another to admin:
Single petal or multi petal jasmine,
Mostly white in color, fit to be the cloud,
Float in the sky during happy hours,
Cry like a baby with unfulfilled desire,
So I don't want to be the jasmine.
How is the orchid in the deep jungle?
What a life with only one offspring,
Must wait for that for many months,
Though lots of color with exotic fragrance,
Orchid is also not my choice to hide and disguise.
Sticky sunflower may wait for her Knight the Sun,
Soaking Lotus may sob and smile floating for fun,
Birds of paradise and flame of forest,
Not fragrant hibiscus of various shades,
Lilies are beautiful but have soft stems,
All these are not my choice to hide and disguise,
When in different shroud, would I bloom differently?
When in different stage, would I be too wise?
What cloak do I wear, my in born ignorance,
And the acquired intelligence emerge,
As the rainbow after the slight drizzle,
should I choose a Name for me as a puzzle?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Good times, bad times & my cactus Christmas tree
My first Christmas tree, thirty years ago
Upon my arrival in Las Vegas
Shall always be remembered so,
As one of my greatest
My pickup truck was my home
My refuge and my castle
I was totally, absolutely alone…
But… it wasn’t such a hassle
I drove into the desert one day
To see what I could see
And lo and behold beside the road
Found my perfect Christmas tree
It was a three inch tall cactus
All attitude, prickly and brash
And I proudly installed it
Upon my ol’ trucks dash
I used cigarette cellophane
As tinsel you see
Stuck tight to the spines
Of my lil’ Christmas tree
Many times it fell off
My prickly lil’ friend
When I would start off too fast
Or career round a bend
Though small, and deceptive
It was easy to find you see
Usually stuck quite painfully
Upon my bony right knee
It was all I had that christmas
And I was lonely you see
Just me and my ol’ pickup truck
And my cactus Christmas tree
Childhood memories are nice…
But the one I’ll most remember will be
The one in which, all there was in my world
Was just me…my ol’ pickup
And my cactus Christmas tree
poem by David Whalen
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The Formless Brahma Has Incarnated As Krishna
Krishna awoke;
Yashoda was enraptured to see his face blooming as a lotus that captures the rising sun's first rays. Taking off the coverlet she said, 'awake, darling boy, awake, your loveliness makes me swoon your bewitching face is like the full moon seen through the sea's foam when it was churned for nectar.'
He for whom the Shrutis say 'not this, not this? whose name is chanted by Brahma, Shesha and Shiva that Formless Brahma has taken birth in Braj, in human form, so 'tis heard.
poem by Sant Surdas
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Those 6 hours of solitude
No.104, Dated: 31-May-09
Those 6 hours of solitude
Those 3 words “See you later”
Goes right across my heart
Feels the world has come to an end
Still I wish we would never go apart
That one dreaded word “Bye”
I wish I could just make it disappear
Though it always follows with a “Hi”
Its appearance is so austere
This world would again be dry
With my destiny, I fought and argued
Why do I need to face this again
Those 6 hours of solitude
Staring the ceiling, while I lie on the bed
I paint you in my imagination
Yours eyes are closed, your lips are silent
But there’s a subtle revelation
I could hear you breathe; I could feel your warmth
You lie beside so motionless
I keep staring at your face for the next 6 hours
You just make me so obsess
All of a sudden my dream breaks again
And I wish I could get your gratitude
I wish you realized how much I love you
Just to avoid those 6 hours of solitude
poem by Sumeet Mukherjee
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-7
JaathiMalli, pichi, (Jasminum grandiflorum,
poet's jasmine)
What secret in slender heart laid
I wonder when you bud streaked red
In blooming retort denuded all hide
Tickled incensed you diffuse from shed
What secret in slender white laid
Wonder again when you seem wishy-washy
In bidding hurry hiss 'most aroma preyed'
Pinched faded to vanish slushy sloshy
Hmm..I sigh, wish you here again back
Wonder, back creeping high afresh anew
Leafing through your leafy six-pack
Smiling fragrant petaled five all true
poem by Indira Renganathan
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To the evening primrose
There’s a flower that blooms snow white,
that only unfolds its petals at night
as if its been charmed by the magical moon
while it hides its face in the daylight.
Its beauty is only known
in times of darkness, when it comes to its own.
You remind me of it,
while I only get glimpses, see you bit by bit
while you do display great loveliness,
display a secret air, when you daily retreat.
But tonight there are stars in the sky,
while in the garden I catch your eye.
poem by Gert Strydom
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