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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Related quotes
Saving grace for M'ladyAnn Beard
Moonlight on the water glowing gently. As the tide out flowing
leaves silver traces on the sand. I think that now I understand,
the feeling of serenity. Which quickly flooded over me.
From being lonely and depressed I felt as though I had been blessed.
Bathed in the Goddess’ radiance I was given a second chance.
To be who I was meant to be, that peaceful night beside the sea.
I can recall it vividly. It was a peak experience
I still hold her in reverence.Although I have no evidence.
to prove to you my words are true do not feel that I need to.
Unless touched by the Goddess’ hand you simply would not understand
So I began my life anew because the Goddess bid me to.
The goddess cares for her children, she gave me confidence again.
I know that I can make the grade I face the future unafraid.
19-Dec-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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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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Goddess Of Love
(shes okay)
(shes okay)
(hey)
(shes okay)
(shes okay)
(hey)
Goddess of love
Goddess of love
She never slows down
And she cant get enough
The goddess of love
The goddess of love
Shes holding her heart to the stars above
She cant afford dreams
And her clothes are old
She cant afford hope
Wouldnt be so bold
But shes holding his heart
And she wont let go again
Shes a femme fatal
Well thats what they say
But she knows he couldnt love her
Any other way
Cause shes holding him now
And she wont let go again
Yes, shes holding him now
And she wont let go again
Goddess of love
Goddess of love
She never slows down
And she cant get enough
The goddess of love
The goddess of love
Shes holding her heart to the stars above
She never slows down
And she doesnt play straight
Just cruising around in her own sweet way
But shes taking her time
And hes gonna get fooled again
She learned about life
Til she wished shew were dead
So she treats that guy like a hole in the head
Can you see him now
Hell never get lucky again
Goddess of love
Goddess of love
She never slows down
And she cant get enough
The goddess of love
The goddess of love
Shes holding her heart to the stars above
The goddess of love (x6)
Heart and soul
Shes the goddess of love as she covers the gorund
She looks just great and she never slows down
And shes holding his heart and she wont let go again
Yes, shes holding his heart and she wont let go again
Oh, shes holding his heart and she wont let go again
Yes, shes holding his heart and she wont let go again
Oh, shes holding his heart and she wont let go again
song performed by by Omd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Artemis
Goddess of the Moon
For the Wolves to Howl.
Goddess of the Woods,
For the Creatures to Prowl.
Goddess of the Animals,
For the Earth to Love.
Goddess of the Hunt,
For Stalking the Dove.
Goddess of Child Birth,
For New Life to Come.
poem by Savannah VokinsNoyes
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Through A Peek-hole
From high up on the hill
Goddess Durga oversees
The three intercepting canals
And the mighty river
Tears of an ancient
Personal sorrow
Flow into the river...
The surrounding hills
Jutting into the river
Stood mute witnesses
To those dark shady nights
Absorbing the muffled
Helpless innocent protestations
Why did the Goddess
Prefer to turn a deaf ear
Contrary to her image
Of squelching the evil?
Night after night
The much favourite sky
Would take an awkward bow...
Decades of flow
Didn't seems to change anything!
Everything's just the same;
The canals and the river and the Goddess
Only the hills look a tad arid
The sky continues to cling to the hills
But the tears of a personal sorrow
Now flow into the sea
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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On the banks of a river....! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Some marigold flowers,
Incense sticks, a match box;
And an earthen diya with wick
In a bowl made of dry leaves
Held together by twigs;
I stood at the banks
Of mother Ganges in Haridwar,
After paying change
To the young boy
Who put it together for me
At that morning hour.
I lit the wick and incense stick,
And holding it in both hands
Walked towards the river bank
And put it in the lap
Of the river, watching it
Join other such offerings,
Made by devotees and kin
Of loved ones gone
A long time or just
The night before.
It was a trip
Long overdue,
To say final goodbye
To my ma and dad,
For I was not with them
When they breathed their last
For reasons beyond my control
Of which they had no clue.
I felt sad,
And missed them bad.
One day feeling desolate
I shared my grief,
Loss and longing
With a dear friend.
Ever compassionate,
She held my hand
And said, let go
As the soul feels in earthly bondage,
Let them rest in peace.
That day in the last week
On that day in the last week of December,
I sat at river bank
Watching the turbulence…
Sun light scattered on
The bouncing waves
Northward bound,
As if the river knew
Where it was going.
Somehow I felt calm
To see it in motion
As I took some water
In my cupped palms.
Ever since, I know
They live in me
At all times
As sure as I know
I am alive as I breathe.
Now I wonder
Why did I grieve
For so long?
We built memories
To last a life time.
I
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Naked and unashamed.
We dance sky clad beneath the moon.
The Goddess’ wishes to fulfil.
In gratitude for every boon
The goddess grants us as she will.
We celebrate fertility.
As did our forbears long ago.
Restoring the vitality
the earth requires. This we know
because the Goddess tells us so
She taught them as she teaches us
the Rituals that we need to know
Our dance is not lascivious
We circle always deosil.
The same direction as the sun
as we obey the goddess’ will
We mean no harm to anyone.
To cause no hurt; this is our law
All witches must strive to obey.
The basis of our sacred lore
for those who worship her today.
Though we must worship secretly
and hide ourselves from public view.
Perhaps one day we will be free
To worship as we wish to do
Monday,02 August 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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On the banks of a river...! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Incense sticks, a match box;
And an earthen diya with wick
In a bowl made of dry leaves
Held together by twigs;
I stood at the banks
Of mother Ganges in Haridwar,
After paying change
To the young boy
Who put it together for me
At that morning hour.
I lit the wick and incense stick,
And holding it in both hands
Walked towards the river bank
And put it in the lap
Of the river, watching it
Join other such offerings,
Made by devotees and kin
Of loved ones gone
A long time or just
The night before.
It was a trip
Long overdue,
To say final goodbye
To my ma and dad,
For I was not with them
When they breathed their last
For reasons beyond me,
Of which they had no clue.
I felt sad,
And missed them bad.
One day feeling desolate
I shared my grief,
Loss and longing
With a dear friend.
Ever compassionate,
She held my hand
And said, let go
As the soul feels in earthly bondage,
Let them rest in peace.
That day in the last week
0f December,
I sat at river bank
Watching the turbulence…
Sun light scattered on
The bouncing waves
Northward bound,
As if the river knew
Where it was going.
Somehow I felt calm
To see it in motion
As I took some water
In my cupped palms.
Ever since, I know
They live in me
At all times
As sure as I know
I am alive as I breathe.
Now I wonder
Why did I grieve
For so long?
We built memories
To last a life time.
I
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Hail to you!
Victory to you, O Most Auspicious One, O Abode of Sublimity and Eternal Delight! O Goddess of Freedom, O Triumphant One, We salute you!
O Embodiment of our National Life-Force, O Goddess of Freedom, Of Virtue and Prosperity Supreme Queen you are!
In this darkness of Slavery, O Goddess of Freedom, Alone gleaming in the sky A bright and Shining Star you are! O Goddess of Freedom, You are the blush that prospers, On cheeks as soft as flowers, On flowers as soft as cheeks! You are the Radiance of the Sun, the Depth of the Ocean, O Goddess of Freedom, Without you their worth is naught!
You are the Liberation from the Cycle of Birth and Death, O Goddess of Freedom, hailed as the Supreme Soul By the Yogis of the Vedas you are! All that is most supreme and noble, So very magnificent and oh, so very sweet, O Goddess of Freedom, All your companions are!
Soaked in the villain's blood-You are! Worshipped by noble men-You are! O Goddess of Freedom, The entire Creation surrenders unto you! Life is to die for You, Death is to live without You, O Giver of Boons, We await the time when you shall Clasp Our Motherland to your bosom! O Goddess of Freedom, O Triumphant One, We salute you!
Even Lord Shankar covets Our Himalayas, The Mighty Mountains of Terraced Snow, O, why does it not please you to sport here? Why O, why do you forsake the bountiful Ganga? Her stream, glowing like the moonshine, Is not it a worthy mirror for even the Apsaras?
O Freedom! What did you lack in this Golden Land? Is there not a fresh Kohinoor bloom for your braid each day? Here is The Bounteous One, Our very own Motherland, Why O, why did you push her away? O, why did your Motherly love of old wither away? O, so anguished is my soul! For she is now but a slave to others, Why O, why did you abandon her so, Answer me, I pray! O Goddess of Freedom, O Triumphant One, We salute you!
[Translated by Anurupa Cinar]
poem by Vinayak Damodar Savarkar
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0006 Saraswati
The name means
wisdom. Perhaps
we should leave it there. For
the human mind loves
to bring the heavenly
down to earth; then bury it:
maybe not wisdom, did they say –
who worships wisdom in these foolish days?
Maybe a goddess then?
We’ll name our greatest river
after her; that will help men
to remember wisdom
which flows from heaven
to the tops of the unreachable snowed
Himalayas, flows down and nourishes
the earth that nourishes the seeds
that yield the plants
that bring life to men
who meet together on her banks
and build a whole Harappan
civilisation – so, look –
she’s wisdom, and a goddess, and river bringing life itself
and so she’s in the heart
of every Indian.
so far, so good; but then –
was it anger in the heavens,
that made the lovely goddess
lift her veil across her face?
conceal her wisdom? Was it
that men forgot to honour her?
Or was it some tectonic plate, slightly tipping,
that turned the fertile Sindh and Rajasthan
into deserts? And the river Saraswati
first became not a river, but
a line of pools, needing the yearly
tribute from the rains of mercy,
brought by men’s sacrifice? And then,
finally disappeared?
and so the goddess of wisdom
who is eternal wisdom
and a river, is now
the goddess of the wisdom that’s
no longer seen so gracefully flowing there; invisible.
Maybe this purdah
is more dignified; we know she’s there,
if we honour her enough
and need her.
The story is not over, though:
the satellites have photographed
her ghost; a veiled figure seen
slipping out in the cool half-light of dawn,
waterpot on shoulder; she knows
that deep underground, her wise water
waits in stone caverns beneath the earth
these 3,500 years; to be drawn on
by wise engineers, to drink again
with awe, with gratitude, or thoughtless…
Wisdom waits,
living a life so deep in poetry,
in metaphor,
wisdom, goddess, water. How
she must love to live
lightly veiled in silken speech,
quietly in the heart, like
metaphor itself.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Visit to Orcha: A visual exploration
River and tree look on morning town
And on the bridge and men and women
With loads of firewood from the forest
A bare-bodied man has sun on face.
Off the bridge a wizened old man
With saffron cloth drying on river rocks
Bends exquisitely with age and beauty.
A woman in red bathes on the river bed.
In the distance is the bank and history’s spires
On the bank a woman pours water in river
From a steel pot in oblation, to the sun.
As the sun glistens on the shaken river
River beats rocks in soft steady rhythm.
Men stand on the river frozen in time
Joyful women hide on the river’s rim
Waiting to burst forth in celebration.
A holy man stands tall on the rocks
Drying a red loin cloth, his hair mat loose
A boy silhouette crouches near the holy man.
On the tall mound sits the crooked holy man
Against the brilliant morning sun, waiting
To be captured on somebody’s digital lens.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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Transference
Thousands dip in the Holy Ganges
And emerge clean
Making the holy waters filthy
Like the sewage from a drainage
This transference leaves
Many a holy place, unholy
poem by Valsa George
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The River Path
No bird-song floated down the hill,
The tangled bank below was still;
No rustle from the birchen stem,
No ripple from the water's hem.
The dusk of twilight round us grew,
We felt the falling of the dew;
For, from us, ere the day was done,
The wooded hills shut out the sun.
But on the river's farther side
We saw the hill-tops glorified,--
A tender glow, exceeding fair,
A dream of day without its glare.
With us the damp, the chill, the gloom
With them the sunset's rosy bloom;
While dark, through willowy vistas seen,
The river rolled in shade between.
From out the darkness where we trod,
We gazed upon those bills of God,
Whose light seemed not of moon or sun.
We spake not, but our thought was one.
We paused, as if from that bright shore
Beckoned our dear ones gone before;
And stilled our beating hearts to hear
The voices lost to mortal ear!
Sudden our pathway turned from night;
The hills swung open to the light;
Through their green gates the sunshine showed,
A long, slant splendor downward flowed.
Down glade and glen and bank it rolled;
It bridged the shaded stream with gold;
And, borne on piers of mist, allied
The shadowy with the sunlit side!
'So,' prayed we, 'when our feet draw near
The river dark, with mortal fear,
'And the night cometh chill with dew,
O Father! let Thy light break through!
'So let the hills of doubt divide,
So bridge with faith the sunless tide!
'So let the eyes that fail on earth
On Thy eternal hills look forth;
'And in Thy beckoning angels know
The dear ones whom we loved below!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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A Prayer
What difference Oh, Lord of the Goddess
Thither, hither You and soul mine
Alone alike in concealment-secrecy...yet unmet
To bridge is to work and I work
In vain to your abode of a sullen spark
Hither Enigma, thither dogma and this drama
Long, long for how long Oh, Lord of the Goddess
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Varanasi
Amongst the filth
the sweet sound of the flute player
carries through the heated air
and everywhere,
down the Ghats
at sunrise,
the pilgrims gather
along the sacred river Ganges;
devoted to life,
birth and death.
Here in ancient Varanasi
against the backdropp of temples centuries old,
the soul of man
finds its own way home
amongst the filth.
poem by Diana Rosser
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Goddess Durga - Prayer
Goddess Durga! O My mother!
you, the invincible power!
you are strength of deities
you destroy all the fear.
Goddess Durga! O My mother!
you, the mother of universe,
It's you who takes care of it
and removes glooms of hearts.
Goddess Durga! O My mother!
universe is just your fraction,
You are the absolute of
creation, operation, destruction.
Goddess Durga! O My mother!
without you life is no meaning,
Whoever remembers you
you arrive for their wellbeing.
Goddess Durga! O My mother!
we're thankful what you given;
Keep away troubles and pains,
let your kindness be remain.
Goddess Durga! O My mother!
be kind to accept our prayers,
Let always be your compassion
for blissful living of your creatures.
Goddess Durga! O My mother!
let your world always be radiant,
Stay to protect everyone
everywhere and every moment.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Fire Goddess.
I am the fire goddess.
The one you tried to kill,
But did not succeed.
I am the fire goddess.
The one that never lingers,
Just goes ahead and riots.
I am the fire goddess.
The one that is thought to be evil,
But you misjudge my greatness.
I am the fire goddess.
The one with endless power.
The one with immense power.
I am the fire goddess.
The one that ruined his life.
I am the fire goddess.
The one that is ruining her life.
I am the fire goddess.
The one that will ruin their lives.
poem by Normal Girl Normal World
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Take The Water To The Mountain
Take the water to the mountain;
Take the river to the sea.
Let the forest be salvation
Long before it needs to be.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let your body flow upstream.
Let it cascade off your shoulders;
Be the body of your dreams.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let the sun shine on your ground.
You decide your every movement;
Let the water to the land.
Take the water to the mountain;
Cross the great divide of love.
Give to nature all you can give;
Let the mother know your heart.
Take the water to the mountain;
Lets become alive again.
Holy water, holy mountain,
Holy river, holy tree.
Pica!
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take The Water To The Mountain
Take the water to the mountain;
Take the river to the sea.
Let the forest be salvation
Long before it needs to be.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let your body flow upstream.
Let it cascade off your shoulders;
Be the body of your dreams.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let the sun shine on your ground.
You decide your every movement;
Let the water to the land.
Take the water to the mountain;
Cross the great divide of love.
Give to nature all you can give;
Let the mother know your heart.
Take the water to the mountain;
Lets become alive again.
Holy water, holy mountain,
Holy river, holy tree.
Pica!
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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