Peacocks and Nightingales
Danseuse peacocks frequently assembled
Under an arbour of a banyan tree
And enacted among themselves their skills.
Each came with mind and eye set on
Its feat and went with no notice on others feet.
Melody queen nightingales often gathered
Upon lush branches of a banyan tree
And recited among themselves their skills.
Each came with mind and ear set on its tone
And went with no effect from others’notes.
Peacocks and nightingales for dance and music
Aren’t good audience; it must be ducks and doves.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Banyan Tree
Banyan tree, banyan tree
that century old banyan tree
standing grandeurly for us to see
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Cool breeze passing through
seeking blessings of banyan tree
branches shaking in approval
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Glassy green with majestic trunk
touching the earth, not breaking free
shelter home for different birds
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Yellowish streaks, some with reddish tinge
welcome every season with a glee
symbol of eternal life
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Shedding leaves, like tears falling
a grandfather lamenting on its knees
new plants cuddling around
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Lord Buddha became its buddy
meditation was the only key
peace you get underneath
that is why it is banyan tree.
Banyan tree, banyan tree
wish fullfilling, it is banyan tree
just pray here and let you see
Banyan tree, banyan tree.
A life giver and just for free
Banyan is my national pride
preserve these at any cost
don't commit a homicide?
God blessed us with banyan tree
heat absorbing banyan tree
has healing powers this banyan tree
banyan tree, banyan tree.
---- X -----
copyright/Children of Lost God/Tribhawan Kaul
All rights reserved
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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To less skilled audience
Peacocks should not dance before peacocks.
They should dance before cocks.
Cocks should not dance before peacocks.
They should dance before ducks.
25.09.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sonnet- Nature Is Wonderful
A Banyan sapling's growing on the wall;
From near the drainage-pipe, luxuriantly;
Astonishing the people near-by all;
Its trunk looks almost like a mini-tree.
Look how, the leaves appear so verdant, stiff;
The aerial roots are three metres in length;
The tree looks gorgeous as if on a cliff;
And everyday, God gives it greater strength.
Bless'd is the Bird who spat the Banyan-seed;
Thanks to the water o'er-flowing from tank;
'Tis photo-synthesis, soil-less, indeed;
It cant grow fast like ones on River-bank.
But if the roots manage to reach the ground,
The tree will live a thousand years, ‘Tis found.
poem by John Celes
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Ultimate Wish
touch by the romantic desire
my fingertips are on fire
allow me to write a few
love, very little I know
so show me what it is
with your warm embrace
whisper to me please
music to my ears.
would you mind a walk under the moonlight
when weather is good and time is right,
down the Waikiki beach, by banyan tree
barefoot by ebbs and flow of the sea
you could hear the drum beat from the Outrigger,
dimly lit, we could sit by the beach
soaking our feet to rest
we can talk, all night long
as we listen to the lovely songs
poem by Manonton Dalan
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The peacock’s dance
I gave hugs to the kids of colleagues
So that they would in turn give mine their hugs.
Also I went to give hugs to the kids
In return for the hugs my kids have got.
How lovely my kids are in others’ arms!
I bask in the false glory built around.
Such glories are built on mutual concerns
And on the obligatory comments.
Participants as the only audience,
Merits are weighed with mutuality,
Unlike the audience other than participants.
Peacocks judge peacocks’ dances reciprocally
Unlike other birds watching peacocks’ dances..
23.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Banyan Tree
O you shaggy-headed banyan tree standing on the bank of the pond,
have you forgotten the little chile, like the birds that have
nested in your branches and left you?
Do you not remember how he sat at the window and wondered at
the tangle of your roots and plunged underground?
The women would come to fill their jars in the pond, and your
huge black shadow would wriggle on the water like sleep struggling
to wake up.
Sunlight danced on the ripples like restless tiny shuttles
weaving golden tapestry.
Two ducks swam by the weedy margin above their shadows, and
the child would sit still and think.
He longed to be the wind and blow through your resting
branches, to be your shadow and lengthen with the day on the water,
to be a bird and perch on your topmost twig, and to float like
those ducks among the weeds and shadows.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Y.. Tree of Life
The tree of life
It has a branch
A money making branch
The bigger the money making branch
The more comfortable our life
But if the money making branch
Is the only branch
On our tree of life
It is such an ugly and unstable tree.
A prayer and devotion branch
Will stabilize the tree of life
Let it be a real big branch
On your tree of life
But if only two branches on a tree
Imagine how ugly it would still be!
So let there be branches
Of Affability and Charity
Of Cheerfulness and Friendliness
Of Gentleness and Honesty
Of Humility and Compassion
Of Spirituality and Wisdom
Of Courage and Hard work
With these branches present,
It will carry soon the lush greenery
Of love and job satisfaction
And soon enough, the tree of life
Will bear the fruits
Of peace of mind and happiness.
A wonderful tree of life I wish you
with many fine branches
and lots of greenery and fruits.
poem by Aufie Zophy
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Flickering Lust
The mind creates
withdrawn to its own pleasures
a green thought
behind the banyan tree
behind the flickering lust
-R.K.SINGH
poem by R.K. Singh
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Coo coo coo
Coo coo coo
somewhere here and there
At my mango tree somewhere
At my neemtree somewhere
At my banyan tree somewhere
At my bael tree somewhere
Somewhere somewhere somewhere
Coo coo coo.
This song is yours
This song is mine
This is our song
We all are here
This is ours
Our life is here.
Coo coo coo
Everywhere I wander
Wonder and wonder
unable to move but stay
Here I am with my
Lost time and space hay.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Thyrsa Of The Rocks
Thyrsa comes to the mount spring;
fresh water in the jug to pour;
the nightingales are there and sing,
her untamed feelings to soar.
Thyrsa fills her heart with notes,
her songs lyrics make foliage dither
for this pain takes no antidotes,
the singing nightingales spell hither.
And as the lyrics rise to heavens,
and render modes of the wind,
palms join with his name engraven
on her betrothal golden ring.
He left her world with a promise;
one Sunday they 'd meet in church;
thus she waits for a mail's notice;
the roads daily, her eyes search;
Next to the spring rock Thyrsa waits,
and recreates her wedding feasts;
wraiths around her dance with fates,
for five eons they fiddle, in mists.
One of the ghosts dances more aptly,
as she gropes her heart and loves;
Thyrsa of the rocks mentates raptly,
her golden ring and two white doves.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Domination Of Black
At night, by the fire,
The colors of the bushes
And of the fallen leaves,
Repeating themselves,
Turned in the room,
Like the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind.
Yes: but the color of the heavy hemlocks
Came striding.
And I remembered the cry of the peacocks.
The colors of their tails
Were like the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind,
In the twilight wind.
They swept over the room,
Just as they flew from the boughs of the hemlocks
Down to the ground.
I heard them cry -- the peacocks.
Was it a cry against the twilight
Or against the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind,
Turning as the flames
Turned in the fire,
Turning as the tails of the peacocks
Turned in the loud fire,
Loud as the hemlocks
Full of the cry of the peacocks?
Or was it a cry against the hemlocks?
Out of the window,
I saw how the planets gathered
Like the leaves themselves
Turning in the wind.
I saw how the night came,
Came striding like the color of the heavy hemlocks
I felt afraid.
And I remembered the cry of the peacocks.
poem by Wallace Stevens
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Lover's Gifts XXII: I Shall Gladly Suffer
I shall gladly suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house,
if only in some happy future I am born a herd-boy in the Brinda
forest.
The herd-boy who grazes his cattle sitting under the banyan
tree, and idly weaves gunja flowers into garlands, who loves to
splash and plunge in the Jamuna's cool deep stream.
He calls his companions to wake up when morning dawns, and all
the houses in the lane hum with the sound of the churn, clouds of
dust are raised by the cattle, the maidens come out in the
courtyard to milk the king.
As the shadows deepen under the tomal trees, and the dusk
gathers on the river-banks; when the milkmaids, while crossing the
turbulent water, tremble with fear; and loud peacocks, with tails
outspread, dance in the forest, he watchers the summer clouds.
When the April night is sweet as a fresh-blown flower, he
disappears in the forest with a peacock's plume in his hair; the
swing ropes are twined with flowers on the branches; the south wind
throbs with music, and the merry shepherd boys crowd on the banks
of the blue river.
No, I will never be the leader, brothers, of this new age of
new Bengal; I shall not trouble to light the lamp of culture for
the benighted. If only I could be born, under the shady asoka
groves, in some village of Brinda, where milk is churned by the
maidens!
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The skills that we have are the actual magic skills - not the performing skills. We have to separate those. But the actual skills that make the tricks work, we don't get to use again.
quote by Penn Jillette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Muse India dance
I love to see muse India dance
Wonderful scene to witness by chance
Such an occasion never come even at once
When peacocks open the feathers to dance
All such comments enhance my vigor
I stand to gain many things with honor
I believe in love and spread the message
Whether I am liked for or blamed for age
Such wonderful things never occur
When I feel elated and make very much sure
Love must find its way in any form
I smile and resign without any harm
Love is always meant for and very pure
Only thing I for one must be very much sure
Where one he is heading and what is the aim for
Nothing wrong if one takes step to explore
I saw sweet cuckoo on tree
Making it beautiful with rhythm to feel for free
What a great moment to see two peacocks dance?
Early in morning when I happen to see Muse India by chance
Love has made inroad with triumphant win
Such response is nice to be seen
After all one makes to understand
Divided we fall and united we stand
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Doves And The Tree
what i first see are the doves hovering on the tree
they are many and the tree looks as though its leaves are plenty
for one thing
the doves when they hover
they hover together
as a flock
and when they leave
they also leave together
as a flock
and the tree can do nothing about it
and thus it happens
the doves all left at the same time leaving the tree to the truth
of its existence
it has no leaves at all this summer
when hot is really hot in here
when all the doves fly away together
the tree
looks like the thin, worn fingers of a very old man
opening, stretching to the skies
praying for mercies
and what about it God?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Old Banyan Tree
An old banyan tree,
Sign of strength and unity,
Her roots grow thickly.
poem by Spiritual Seeker
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The silent eyes
Lying on a cot
Under the banyan tree
Deep in thoughts
The frail old poor man
Who had not eaten
For two days
Had nothing else to do
Except asking himself
What else should I do?
The silent eyes
Ready to shed tears
Were speaking loudly
Without any noise
Expressing
The anguish of the
Broken heart and
Worried mind
Praying to god
Oh lord,
Please relieve me of
My miseries
I can't bear them
Now
27-02-2012
259-170-02-12
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Music
May I begin with music
It soothes my heart and mind
Surrounding me with melody
I feel lost in time
The melody so sweet
The inspiration high
With just a few notes
As the music goes by
Music can touch our lives
And bring about the rain
Music is a healer,
That can alleviate the pain
Music is for any emotion
That can fill your mind
With happiness or in sorrow
In music you can find
Whatever you are feeling
Let the music embrace
Let the pain run right through you
And the tears run down your face
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Get The Trees Wedded, Be Blessed
Carrying on with the wedded dolls
Once all were we kids
Had we any to disclose
The dolls to wed reasons?
What the reason sparrow marries crow
Pongal blessings we how borrow
Just tradition that custom perpetuates
Logic have we any to discourse?
And drive the drought wedded the donkeys
Thrive by the thought myriad ways
Why they taught old years' sentiments
Do ask we our immeasurable doubts?
Laugh off and shirk, don't we?
Yet get the trees three wedded
Sure we be blessed
Peepul to neem, peepul to banyan
Ceremony like man and woman conjoin
Matters not who to whom the matrimony
Spin around the trees breathing in the air free
Myth doeth guide us warded off evil
Lores fill with babies women fertile
And thank then the air the neem
Purifies, consecrates to gleem
True, this and that of the tree whole
Fit with humans properties medicinal
Born under the shade of a banyan
Like Krishna kids celestial in sworn
Root to top of banyan
Help cleansing toe to head pollution
Tree of wisdom the peepul
Envisioned the sages aerial
Curative qualities peepul's natural
Enlightened Buddhas many on earth eternal
Plant them, grow them friends
A pharmacy of nature in abundance
Get them wedded; Their myths and lores..
Let be; Let be too their medicinal scores
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Bikku under the Bodhi Tree
yogi under the banyan tree
yogi under the bodhi tree
bikku under the banyan tree
waiting for release
bikku in blissful nibbhana
yogi in extinguishing moksha
Penniless poet under the tenement roof
Jazz organist under the pavement sky
Struggling novelist under the Riviera blue
Russian ballerina under the American umbrella
Apprentice painter under the Sistine Chapel
Sculptor Underground
waiting for the agent's call
burning Anne Frank manuscripts in an air-raid fire
singular melodies drowned in the descending drone
Kafka writing without a morrow
van Gogh dabbing his tormented palette under the Arles sun
Sartre turning the Nobel Prize down for teenage girls
Siddhartha abandoning his body's palace for the people's pain
the common man unable to abandon his workload family
bikku under the bodhi tree
his body shrivelled under the saffron robe
his begging bowl filled by karma-earning hands
the last trichinosis-filled moksha meal
bikku rising on a thousand-petalled flower
bikku piercing through the cakras' splendrous colours
bikku on a burning pyre
(©: T. Wignesan 1992 & April 29,1997, Paris, from the Sequence/Collection: 'Words for a Lost Sub-Continent' and in the collection: longhand notes (a binding of poems) ,1999.)
poem by T. Wignesan
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