The Ruins Of Nalandha
Tears rolled down from our eyes
while standing on the relics
of Nalandha, where seers and monks
discoursed upon the ways for a world
without the futile war and want.
Those who sneaked in from the West,
and those who sneered at the host,
razed it and burnt the holy books.
The sky was also weeping
and we were wet, but mute,
seeing around the sites and mounds.
A secular centre met its grave
as the brutes roamed with a spirit
to kill, loot and destroy.
The remnants reveal their creed!
There the nations should meet
to cull up a common cult to all.
May love of mankind rise out of the ruins!
Excavate the minds to find
the loving – Nature God given..
The fire that consumed the books
may our unbridled greed burn!
Let our minds be monasteries
of thoughts to serve the poor.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Exhaustion
The bigots are not tired to kill
and in minds the rules of their cults fill.
The codes of their holy books
are the misleading crooks.
These books cause the blood of the poor to spill.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Shake Narrow Preachings Off
All races have their origin in one cell.
All the blacks, whites and browns are one.
Were you grown in wombs for ten months
to die early for the cause of religions
and leave the mothers to weep till their end?
Religions catch them young
and teach them obsolete imports from the holy books
and transform a cross-section of them
into open or hidden extremists.
The stocks of narrow ideas are replenished often
with false interpretations of the holy books.
The politicians take the sharp arms of religions
either to seize the throne or not to lose it
If cunning is called intelligence,
the priests in all the cults are brilliant
in shaping the minds of the young
to be martyrs for their cult.
When some countries are in political turmoil,
grown out of religious terror,
the rich people get reprieve for migrating
to nations where peace prevails.
The poor die in cross-fire
in their own mother lands.
When all religions leading to one God,
the priests make them criss-cross,
and whatever the situation may be
heads the priests win and tails the poor lose.
When the earthquakes, volcanos and tsunamis hit,
let not religion and racial animosities
disturb the peace of this earth.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Burn Those Books
I would love to believe
That education was a key
To open the jailed opportunities
I kept on comprehending
That education had by all means
Been a hero to rescue
All the captured visions
But today I turn around
And shout aloud up in the mountains
Today I come to disclose
The hidden truth
And I continue to voice out
'BURN ALL THOSE BOOKS'
I have seen so much cruelty
I have experienced the devil
All in human's body
conserved by the minds
And captivated by all their hearts
But so I never turned back from saying
BURN ALL THOSE BOOKS!
Racism, Poverty and war
But yet have all this stapled papers
Attached together to form a book
Then what could be the significancy of it?
I say put all of those in tha burning flames
Because the world is dieying regardless,
And they are very much useless
I say:
'Burn All Those Books'
poem by Anele ''The African Son'' kaPotelwa
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This is a World of …
This is a world of hierarchy;
This is a world of inequality;
This is a world of curiosity;
This is a world of ignominy!
But
This is also a world of charity;
This is also a world of purity;
This is also a world of morality;
This is also a world of bravery!
This is a world of ‘haves’ and ‘have-nots’;
This is a world of rich versus the poor;
This is a world of the powerful versus the weak;
This is a world of the ‘well-to-do’ versus the ‘downtrodden’.
This is a world of joys and woes;
This is a world of friends and foes;
This is a world of sharing and greed;
This is a world of loving and hatred.
Yet,
This is a world of inter-dependency;
This is a world of wars for peace;
This is a world of thought for others;
This is a world of common good.
This is a world of aligning with Nature;
This is a world of realizing God;
This is a world of accepting God’s ways;
This is a world of futility.
Yet,
This is a world of dreams and realities;
This is a world of accomplishments and risks-taking;
This is a world of making the world a better place for all;
This is a world of loving brethren and brotherhood of nations.
This is a world of adultery;
This is a world of mastery;
This is a world of flattery;
This is a world of mystery!
So,
Let us rethink, amend our ways;
Let us toil with a purpose for the race;
Let us keep a smiling face;
Let us spend usefully, the rest of our days!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 30-09-2010
poem by John Celes
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It is chiefly through books that we enjoy intercourse with superior minds. In the best books, great men talk to us, give us their most precious thoughts, and pour their souls into ours.
quote by William Ellery Channing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Common Sense Is Missing
Common Sense?
If it is so common,
Why is it so rarely displayed?
People who succeed academically...
Sometimes find it hard to mix
With those who are suppose to lack
A worldly knowledge and quick wit!
Those who spend their lives in books...
May have minds of intelligence,
But few know how to cook!
Or know how to hold a conversation...
Without returning an 'all knowing' look!
With a raised eyebrow...
And a half smile crooked!
And common sense is missing.
That is realized before a word is said!
There is something about spontaneity...
Many find difficult to express from their heads!
Or able to exchange...
When brains are prepared to regurgitate,
Details obtained about 'historical' ancient remains!
And common sense...
If there's any left,
Is not expected to come from the lips
Of minds so far removed, dull and shamefully inept!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
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It is chiefly through books that we enjoy intercourse with superior minds, and these invaluable means of communication are in the reach of all. In the best books, great men talk to us, give us their most precious thoughts, and pour their souls into ours.
quote by William E. Channing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A University Library
The portraits of the former
Vice – chancellors
are hanging on the walls
with looks aghast
as the young scholars
are sitting on the chairs
like stones and idols
while in their minds
some girls who are Ph.Ds in foreign culture
are roaming like gleaming heroines.
Shakespeare and Kamban,
the Koran and the Bible,
the Kural and the Vedhas
the encyclopaedias
are dusty being unmoved from the racks
as the eyes of the boys
stick to have a good browse
at the smiling faces
passing through the gates
with cyclonic glances.
If the Christian priests saw this
they will shed tears
and immolate themselves
for the Bible treated as untouchable.
The clerics swearing ‘jehadi’
will fire at these unscrupulous young
who dare to ignore the Koran.
The Hindu erudites will fly
into a rage for the insult brought on
their ancient scriptures.
If some monks happen
to see this atrocious scene
they will go by walk
from Bodhgaya to Peking in remorse
or borrow arms from Ceylon
to wage war against the youths weak.
The sanctum of the scholars
is changed into a park for hollow heads.
Those with searching minds from far off Universities
are banned from browsing the theses.
And these sons of the soil don’t secrete books there
but stole them or their organs.
They don’t take hints straining their hands
or sharpening their minds.
There are Xerox machines to duplicate the whole books
and Internet to supply what they want.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Haunting~
Today you can find her
Wallowing in cognizant desire
Her heart beats all but spent
In a lost and dying fire;
Too many hours of wasted longing lost
Once the hopeless romantic, she's now gone
Always loving the wrong ones
This her, ill-fated siren song;
Shameful needs had all but once consumed her minds eye
Only remnants of her torn heart remain
Driving her to points of hope in the sky
Only rusted memories of yesterdays pain;
Today all but covered in the dust of nevermore
Yet remembrance of her youth still tease
She remains haunted by the love of long before
These thoughts still bring her to her knee's;
By, Theodora Onken
November 23,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
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My intellectual shortcomings
He loves books
Books that he cannot buy
He gets the intellect
He gets the mind
He gets rich in time
Trusting his instincts
He buys books
That he cannot read anymore
He gets so many minds
He loses his intellect
With all regret to what
Happened, he loses his face
And wants to recover at least his eyes
By writing some of these poems.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Books up on books
Color in Black, color in white
And also in different colors
Colors were brushed in minds
Respectively be hard
Printed embossed letters
In books of epigraphy
Color in black
On Space of white
Told that is black
Black white and colors
Books up on books
Being closed near by
Dialogues having intercourse
Get soaked colors of minds
Smudged
Scabrous words
Boorish colors
In a content of
In a book
Wearing a strange cover
Not get closed
And be separated
Having filed up afar
At the library of old
On a table
Books up on books
Turn pages
Marking and conflicting
And also comparing
An empty paper
A pen
A hand with five fingers
An artist
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Spate in Persecution of Indian Christians?
Conversions come from God, the Almighty!
The ways of God are strange, unfathomable;
Christ Jesus forecast persecutions when
One follows Him on road to Calvary.
The Bible is the Word of God, most High;
The words are true and give light to mankind;
The words can work miracles in minds, hearts;
None can prevent the souls that heed His call!
A few fanatics spread disharmony;
The nation ought to ban these groups of men;
They sow the seeds of discord amidst all;
‘All Indians are brothers and sisters’ – Know.
Christians of India are Indians as well.
Why destroy churches, unleash on them, hell?
Why kill and maim the 3% of souls?
They are ready to lay down lives for God!
No one has right to kill or destroy homes;
No heinous crimes on earth go unpunished;
All minorities should be protected;
The fanatics should be booked very fast..
The floods and droughts are killing more people;
Abortions, hunger takes so many lives;
The poor are turning poorer every day;
Why destroy places of worship sacred?
The Holy Spirit will show them the way;
God will punish those who destroy churches;
All violent men will reap a violent end;
All Christians pray God ushers peace again.
The noble work of Indian Christians stand
As testimony to the love of God,
Who loves all righteous souls and sinners too;
Why kill and maim all Indian Christians? –Tell.
Are Indian Christians from another world?
They fought for Freedom and shed their blood too;
They serve to mitigate sufferings around;
Why burn them live as if they had done crimes?
The blood of martyrs has founded the Church;
All Christians wait for Christ’s second coming;
All evil-doers will be punished then, with
Hell’s pit fiery, as their eternal home.
All Christians pray that God should calm the place;
A few extremists can’t sow much discord;
Awake, O Leaders, ‘Make the land aright.’
Democracy of India can’t go wrong!
O Living God, One and Lord Jesus Christ!
Pour your compassion on the suffering souls!
Let religion not cause a deep divide
Amidst the Indians who are all one flock!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 09-21-2008
poem by John Celes
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Of all the ways of acquiring books, writing them oneself is regarded as the most praiseworthy method. Writers are really people who write books not because they are poor, but because they are dissatisfied with the books which they could buy but do not like.
quote by Walter Benjamin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Wise Men
there is a legacy, an old legacy of two books
the old books of ancient
the ancient wisdom
of two men
two wise men
with good hearts
and good minds
one by name of Luqman
and the other man
is the great porphet-king Solomon
I didn't find these two books
but I found
THe wise words
of these two men
The songs
of wisdom's book
pouring from the heaven
to the heart
the MAN with NO FAITH in ALLAH
is NO MAN
BE faithful then your illness is all gone
THere is holy obligation upon man
care for parents as they care
then be fair free from bias
upon your self
upon your men
or your enemy
you will win; then and ofter
in this life
and thereafter
poem by Sallam Yassin
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Rid Off Bigots
Harmonious thoughts alone
Could keep this earth meek and shrewd.
A secular cult will bring
peace and ease to all.
Harrowing brutish minds
with narrowing preachings are
engaged in shooting and
killing spree…..
Matured people die
maimed kids say bye.
Merging all the religions will
bury the bombs and guns at once.
Idiotic, brains will harm
and kill those who have no arms
of the whole human race.
(Harmonous….shrewd)
Millenniums two have gone;
still you sing slogans same.
When will you change and improve
in this world?
Morons will not think;
the morose will not change.
A morsel of food for which
children fight and take to guns.
Imbibe good holy truths
enoy your stay on earth
with lasting brimful mirth.
( Harmonious…..shrewd) .
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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No Cell-phones During Office Hours
‘The Rise and Function of the
Holy Man during Late Antiquity’
might sound as dry as desert sand,
or equally, excuse the pun, deserted…
but no, it holds a lively story:
the Christian world, gearing up
to tell the AD/CE world the bestest news;
the fervent, eager converts, wanting only
the time to cultivate their fledgling souls…
so where to retreat for this – the monasteries, of course..
wrong. The monasteries became compulsory
recruiting grounds for Church and for society:
a deacon needed for a distant land
to sort out heresies; an emissary
from this Christian nation’s court to that;
monks dragged out into the world
to rule unwieldy bishoprics…
administer, endlessly administer...
so the totally devout had no option
but to set off and become solitaries, hermits
further and further into the desert..there,
became holier and holier; then, accidentally, perhaps,
miracles began to be spoken of, around them;
they, half embarrassed, half amused,
accepting this as God’s strange requirement of them…
and then the wannabees and the true disciples
trekked after them; bedded down, built lodgings
for their devout B&B-ers, or
stayed to tend to the submissive saint;
consulted, questioned, hung around;
until finally, the patient but exhausted saint
took off for an even wilder place…
that’s why there are so many
monasteries in the desert lands…
meanwhile, advice from their superiors,
concerned for them, then followed them:
black out your window embrasures; put up notices
at the gate: ‘This is a silent zone between the hours
of 8 am and 8 pm’… (that should test their faith...): and
‘No talking during Lent’…
and when they trekked out to be in that sacred presence
of the truly holy man, they naturally brought gifts;
(and you can guess, there were lines which could be lifted
from ‘The Life of Brian’ – ‘I suppose a smallish miracle
would be too much to ask…? ’
It’s said that when they excavate,
those lonely hermits’ cells out in the desert are found
to be ‘like well-furnished consulting suites’…
There’s no joke like a holy joke…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The words contained in it were inspired by the Holy Spirit into the minds of faithful men, called Prophets and Seers in the Old Testament; and Evangelists and Apostles in the New.
quote by Adam Clarke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Giverny
Deep inside these old dusty walls
Theres a sacred heart, Id know this garden anywhere
She was warm, she was deep summertime
She was love itself and she was standing there
Standing close, so close to me
I closed my eyes and I could see
Giverny
And in this strange and holy place
I looked for love and found it everywhere
It was what you saw she came to see
Because of you she was standing there
Giverny
Books may burn and rain may fall
But what is here I know will last forever more
Colours change, there are no defines
She was love itself and I thank you for giving me
Giverny
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dad and Me
Inside our house you'll find crannies and nooks.
Crevices and cracks and fissures and books!
Books under the bed and on the floor,
Books around the table and beside the door,
Books on the bookshelf and surrounding it,
Books all over the house, every single bit!
Not a one of these books are non-fiction,
Different worlds are their depiction.
Fictional, sci-fi, dark and fantasy,
Horror and happy, more books for me!
Books belonging to my father,
Or belonging to me as I rather.
My father and I in bookworm heaven,
Until mum cleans up around half past seven.
She throws the books in a huff,
Says it's a mess and to clean it up!
Well dad and I try to clean,
But on the work we quickly wean
And in one of the larger nooks
You'll find dad and me reading our books.
poem by Lenore Lee
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