A Way of Life
on a pilgrimage,
to pay homage,
devout come to take a dip
despite the chill
to wash off their sins...
at the bank of Ganges,
chanting mantras
recited by the sages...
looking solemn
and serene
unmindfully, going
back to the same
old routine...
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Guarded Religion
five buddhists chanting mantras down the hall
a young black man in the door way
tension in the atmosphere
I long to understand
why with such fear,
the entrance is guarded
and why with great hope, I've been misled
I demand to enter
I spew anger
with relentless screaming
confusion streaming
impatiently I push my way through
only to find
on the other side
no chanting
no buddhist monks
only me in eternal darkness
disappointed, I leave
not a word to the door man
with deepest regrets
I look back
to see the chanting
and the monks
in total isolation
the stern man...looks past me
God... Where Are YOU?
Searched for HIM near and far
in temples, mosques, churches and vihars
Browsed Gita, Bible and Quran
peeped into the pages of Vedas and Purans.
Questioned the learned ones, scholars and sages
journeyed in this quest sacred places.
Meditated seeking HIM in lap of the Himalayas
Praying for HIS presence through chanting of mantras.
Sages and savants, answers, could'nt satisfy me
my hunger for HIM, felt, beginning to betray me.
Finding of God particle raised my hope
soon to vanish by another stroke.
Instrumental in forming the Universe, it was revealed
but who made this particle, mystery yet to be unveiled?
Arn't we the God particles in the true sense?
What use this universe without inhabitants?
Eureka! I have found HIM within myself
HE is in everyone, bother to seek within self.
He is in us, in every human being
in good deeds, love, service & pious thinking.
So why search HIM here and there
Universal love marks HIS presence everywhere.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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A Fascinating Pilgrim-Centre(Haridwar)
The Ganges was flowing
with a face furious
and the tides were looming;
We paused to have a holy dip.
We put our right foot into water,
and took it up feeling dead chill;
Smelling danger from within,
“ We already bathed at Rishikesh”,
some of us said and put on clothes.
But some local boys dived into the river
and swam to the bank with ease.
Holding the chains tight,
We dipped and felt as we had all
comforting effect to our body and soul,
and failed not to murmur
the name of the goddess, Manasa Devi.
Walking on the long bridge
across the holy Ganges
seeing her alarming face,
journeying in trolleys
to worship the goddess
at Her abode on the Siwalik hills,
marveling at the tributaries
of the mighty Ganges,
is a solacing experience
in our birth on this earth.
People set afloat
leafy boats with flowers
and a lit lamp put on each,
on the sacred river after dusk
and see them till they go off,
saying prayers to the goddess
for blessing all of them.
People of farther planets
will amaze at the glowing lamps.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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On Hearing One Reciting Verses Of Callanan
He recited Gougane Barra and the outlaw of Lough Lene
And my thoughts went back the long gone years to my school going days again
When our teacher recited those verses to us from the pen of a Cork born bardic man
The one whose bones rest in distant Portugal Jeremiah Joseph Callanan.
The poems of J J Callanan will live forever more
And are recited far distant from green old Erin's shore
A true poet of the people though he died poor and young
And he was one of genius and his songs are still sung.
The poet and hedge school teacher his poems known far and wide
And greatness is a thing of him that can never be denied
He recited his verses in village and in town
And even in his too brief life Callanan knew renown.
He recited Gougane Barra and it took me far away
To the school house room in Millstreet happy memories with us stay
When our teacher recited the poems of Callanan 'he was showing his years in gray'
Back in the nineteen fifties and that's going back many a day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Varanasi
Religious and cultural centre, holy city Varanasi
A revered shrine at bank of holy river Ganges.
Founded by God himself, Lord Shiva's adobe Kashi
Religious and cultural centre, holy city Varanasi.
Bathing in Ganges purifies soul and remits the sin,
Dying in Kashi ensures, obtaining the final release.
Religious and cultural centre, holy city Varanasi
A revered shrine at bank of holy river Ganges.
***
Morning mantra hymns make you feel in heaven,
Ghat, temples and festivals, are icons of Varanasi.
Sacred river, sacred place; Hindu's great pilgrimage
Morning mantra hymns make you feel in heaven.
The city has given birth to many great personalities
Great souls Tulsi, Kabir, Ravidas lived in varanasi.
Morning mantra hymns make you feel in heaven
Ghat, temples and festivals, are icons of Varanasi.
***
Varanasi is the city, where Budhism was founded
Sarnath, Budhist's holy place, is too in Varanasi.
First sermon to his disciples Budha here sounded
Varanasi is the city where Budhism was founded.
Glorified by creation of great music and literature,
Classical folk culture, music, craft and philosophy.
Varanasi is the city where Budhism was founded
Sarnath, Budhist's holy place, is too in Varanasi.
***
Triolet form
(C) S. D. Tiwari
sdtiwari1(at) gmail(dot) com
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Rippling Childhood Memories
Rippling Childhood Memories
Melvin Banggollay
Sitting in solitude in the bank of a river
I behold waves to keep coming back
Gently kissing the shore long and forever
With their murmuring songs like flashback
While cool breeze rippled the serene water
With sweet memories just like a while back
When I used to play in this pristine river
Along with childhood friends on the block.
When I gaze the surface of the serene river
I saw smiles of swimming kids like ducks
Merrily playing as they build castle’s tower
along the river’s shore but waves took them back
with splashing moves from the naughty players
playing and throwing mud from the river bank
but at a distance I behold two young lovers
Building a castle of their own fortune and luck.
Who’s that, well that was me and girl of my life.
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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Down To The Sea
I went down to the sea
to wash my sins away
I went down to the sea
to cleanse myself of lusting after revenge
of guilt slinging
of lying when speaking
of not having the courage to speak the truth
of turning my back when I should have stood and faced things
I went down to the sea to wash my sins away
of neglect of others
of those I hated upon
cursed silently
of times I threw anger in someone's face
abused the weak
and those who couldn't fight back or whom were mute.
I went down to the ocean shore
to sink beneath the waves.
But the sea rejected me
sending me back
to make things right
laying me prone on the shore
amid the seaweed.
The ocean said
'My waters are pure
and cannot be despoiled by those
seeking to drown themselves in me.
No, come back after you have
made amends
and done the work you need to do
and then my sparkle waves
will greet you
as a child
who's come home
to play in my sweet eddies.
Come back after you have made yourself clean
and worthy of my ocean-tides
my river flows
my welcoming, swift currents.
You are made mostly of my waters
and then thus
coming back
we will be joined again
properly.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Abode of Gods...
Sun filtering warmth
Through Silver Oak trees,
As I lay
Resting my head
Against
The trunk….
Only sound
Of Holy Ganges,
Gurgling in the vicinity…
Birds paying
Homage quietly
From the top of tree…
In God’s abode,
Hrishikesh
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Swim
Put your head on my shoulder baby
Things can't get any worse
Night is getting colder
Sometimes life feels like it's a curse
Bridge:
I can't carry these sins on my back
Don't wanna carry any more
I'm gonna carry this train off the track
I'm gonna swim to the ocean floor
Chorus:
Mmmmm
Crash to the other shore
Mmmmm
Swim to the ocean floor
Children killing children
While the students rape their teachers
Comets fly across the sky
While the churches burn their preachers
Bridge2:
We can't carry these sins on our back
Don't wanna carry any more
We're gonna carry this train off the track
We're gonna swim to the ocean floor
(chorus)
Let the water wash over you
Wash it all over you
Swim to the ocean floor
So that we can begin again
Wash away all our sins
Crash to the other shore
Mmmmmm
(bridge)
(chorus)
(bridge2)
Crash to the other shore
Swim to the ocean floor
Mmmmmm
song performed by by Madonna from Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moon's Pilgrimage...
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Across The Sky To Praise
The Maker and All His Wondrous Ways
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Rises High, In Grace
Yet, Still In A Humble – Pilgrim’s Place
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Will Not Betray
All The Moonlight, GOD Lets Display
Tho’ She Moves In His Cosmic-Stage-Play
From His Theme-Theatre, She Will Not Stray
My Pilgrimage … Thru Deep, Dark Space
With Silver-Wings and Beams, I Chase
The Unknown and Known Questions Raised
Will Be Answered, When The Maker Says …
My Pilgrimage … To Touch Heaven’s Face
That Beauteous, Elusive, Mysterious Trace
Borne At The Blessed-Beginning’s Base
My Pilgrimage … Takes Me There To Pray …
My Pilgrimage … Takes Me There To Pay –
My Vows, My Voice, In Vesper-Vase
As This Moon, Is In Harvest – Phase
And Beams Brighter Now … Tho’ Slanted-Gaze
… The Moon … Glowing Ochre-Gold Or Silver
The Moon … Is Making Pilgrimage, Remember
The Moon … Is Trying To Help Deliver
Lost-Souls, Who Can Not Find … Moon River …
… Moon’s Pilgrimage … Keeps Steady Pace
Even Climbing Thru Dense, Cloudy-Lace
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Is Like A Dance, That Sways
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Into The Night’s Embrace … …
(… and A Pilgrim’s Lips, Will Bring An Eclipse Soon –
In A Pilgrimage – Across The Moon …)
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Penniless is sinless
Philanthropists wash themselves of their guilt.
Devotees of the deities wash themselves of their sins.
Guiltless and sinless, one will die unheard.
26.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Let People Shed Tears or Fears!
I am a soul, I am a soul,
I am not having anything foul,
Even in my dream!
I am neither a reformer,
nor that spiritual master,
I Know almighty
Is in my heart always,
If something reforms,
Let it reform naturally,
I am neither a God,
Nor that great man!
I can blind my eyes, and I can deaf my ears,
Then why can't I be dumb,
This is not your place,
You need not change anything Ramdas,
Just shed tears in prayer,
Shut the mouth, and let your mind weep before,
The almighty sitting on throne of your heart,
If you see pollution and corruption,
Sit and meditate for incarnation of Krishna,
Even if krishna can't do any thing,
When his own men fell for their foolishness,
Even Jesus excused people crucified him,
Let the fools do sin and wash their body Ganges,
Not to purify them,
Just sufficient to pollute Ganga!
Let people go to temple, churches, gurudwaras, basdis and mosque,
Not to pray,
But to wash their sins,
Not to shed tears of love,
Just shed fear of death
just to shed their fear sin or save their faith,
Who am I to ask?
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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What We See
I saw him from a distant
Walking through the streets
His eyes sparkled with a kind of absence
Only seen in dreams
As though I was watching
Those phantoms seen only in dreams
Yet in the daylight he was walking
His bright ebony skin gleaming
Under the weight of a large white cross
Suddenly so unremarkably strange
Yet he was as real as the day
Unfolding before me
Returning back onto the streets
In repitition
A ritual
A journey
Some have only dreamt this
Strange pilgrimage
To the heart of an urban mecca
Returning
MANTRAS
Walking between two worlds
Without waking
And what we see in the silence
yvette smith april 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Abode Of Peace
Chanting God’s hymns proceed on right path;
Being fearless, truthful, devout derive mirth.
God assassinates the monsters;
Contents devotees’ desire.
Help the poor, destitute day and night;
Deriving God’s bliss live with delight.
God helps the poors day and night;
He is omniscient, omnipotent Almighty.
O devotees, help the poor patient;
Chanting hymns live with merriment.
God is our father;
Is our Director, Operator.
God bliss showers on the innocent devotees;
Chanting hymns women, men derive delight.
God attracts all devotees;
Is an Eternal Brook of Delight.
With his desire Earth is beautiful;
Singing devotional songs poets remain dutiful.
God helps all innocent creatures;
With profound love contents their desires.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Almighty
Chanting God’s hymns proceed on right path;
Being fearless, truthful, devout derive mirth.
God assassinates the monsters;
Contents devotees’ desire.
Help the poor, destitute day and night;
Deriving God’s bliss live with delight.
God helps the poors day and night;
He is omniscient, omnipotent Almighty.
O devotees, help the poor patient;
Chanting hymns live with merriment.
God is our father;
Is our Director, Operator.
God bliss showers on the innocent devotees;
Chanting hymns women, men derive delight.
God attracts all devotees;
Is an Eternal Brook of Delight.
With his desire Earth is beautiful;
Singing devotional songs poets remain dutiful.
God helps all innocent creatures;
With profound love contents their desires.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Our Sins
our sins are like stars
shining through the night
and so i will not lie to you
neither should you about
the sins we shared that
wake us up after a sound
sleep when we start to
wash our dirty faces.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sinful Duet
our sins are like stars
shining through the night
and so i will not lie to you
neither should you about
the sins we shared that
wake us up after a sound
sleep when we start to
wash our dirty faces.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Worship
I saw that
Old man
Offering
Prayers
To the
Mother
Goddess
Amidst
The chanting
Of the mantras
The observance
Of the religious
Rites, rituals…
And fragrance
Of the incense,
Not forgetting
Lighting of the
Holy fire.
In between
The yajna
Whenever
He got those
Little breaks,
When the purohit
Found himself
Busy with all and
Sundry…
The old man
Never missed
A chance to berate
His wife, before
The audience,
Pulling her on
Every little
Thing she might
Have done a-miss
While arranging for
The Puja.
He had forgotten
She was as old
As he seemed to be,
She was frail and feeble,
Her body ridden with
Arthritis.
He remembered
He was the
Man of the
House and so
Had every right
To pick on his wife,
Whose eyes brimmed
With tears, being sneered
By him before the
Onlookers.
Yet, as every
Subservient
Wife does,
She kept quiet.
Her silent tears
Didn't move
The old man.
He continued
Worshipping
The mother goddess
Unperturbed by his
Wife's state of
Unfolding misery.
I kept wondering
If the goddess
Would accept the
Prayers of this
Ardent devotee
Who's trying
So many ways
To appease her
From day long
Fasts to endless
Sacrifices of
Money, time
And animals…
All for this
Stone idol of a
Deity.
Yet, this devout
Hindu doesn't
Respect the
Living and
Breathing…
Grihalakshmi
Of his home and
Hearth.
(Theme: Hypocrisy)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Forgive Me God
(after Solomon Ibn Gabirol)
Forgive me God and set me free from punishment,
forgive my sins that are so numerous.
Remember me, for the sake of Your love
and even where Your decree has been set,
forgive and see my longing for You.
Wash away my sins as human frailty,
and lead me back to Your company.
[Reference: 'His Ilness' by Solomon Ibn Gabirol.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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