Who Must Go To The Shrine?
Corrupts come to the shrine.
Sinners come to the shrine.
So do all criminals.
They only need be saved.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Unseen Shrines
The shrine where only one person can reign,
That is formless, figure less, unseen but felt and ours,
It is simply elusive, safe, treasured, but monopolized,
it is formless, figure less, unseen but felt and ours.
The shrine where only one person can reign,
Light this shrine with the wick of kindness,
The kindness, the size of life long,
Oil of understanding to fuel it regularly,
As Tolerance suffocates the person in it,
Let us understand and love each other,
The shrine where only one person can reign,
Never lighten this shrine with spirited lamps,
Smoke it with Incense of weeds and drugs,
The shrine that is figure less,
The shrine that is formless,
The shrine that is unseen,
The shrine that can be felt,
The shrine that can be enjoyed,
The shrine that can be worshiped,
It is nowhere else, it is in our heart,
That is built for the person whom we love.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Ocean Of Peace
Bhagaban Shiva’s shrine is an Ocean of peace;
Devotees assemble on the Shrine, derive God’s Bliss.
Bhagavana attracts women and men devotees;
He is the Eternal Peace, a brook of delight.
Deva Deva Mahadeva loves all creatures;
He contents all innocent creatures’ desires.
The Shrine smiles with Natural Beauty;
Bhaktas enchant on the Shrine with gaiety.
Devotees chant Bhagvan’s name delightfully;
Chaste women pray Maheswar gaily.
The Shrine is endowed with fragrant flowers;
Bhagavana showers Divine bliss on all creatures.
Bhagavana attracts the distant devotees;
He is the Deity of Deities, the Supreme Soul, the Almighty.
Bhagavana’s Shrine smiles in the lap of Nature;
The Shrine magnifies the beauty of the creator.
Deepas illuminate the Shrine;
Devotees drink the nectar of love as drunkards to wine;
Women and men enchant with Divine Bliss;
Mahadeva’s Shrine is an Ocean of Eternal Peace.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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OCEAN OF LOVE Vavroovahana Patra
Lord Jagannath’s Bada Deula is an Ocean of love, delight;
Devotees surrender on Bhagavan’s feet with gaiety.
Bhagaban attracts all devotees of Earth;
Puri, the Vaikuntha on Earth is a brook of mirth.
All the Deities adorn the temple-shrine;
The devotees drink the nectar of love as drunkards to wine.
Brother Valabhadra, sister Subhadra adorn the altar;
The temple is an Ocean of Nectar.
Monsters become devotees on the Shrine;
Criminals become saints drinking the nectar of love’s wine.
Sinners pray jagannath to cross the Ocean of tears;
Bhagavan pardons the sinners, fulfils their desires.
Deities and devotees sing the Glory of Jangannath;
He is an Ocean of love, peace and mirth.
Jagannath is the Generator, Operator, Director of all creatures;
Showering Peace contents all Bhaktas’ desire.
Chanting Bhagavana’s name poets derive salvation;
Depicting verses enjoy the beauty of creation.
Bhagavan is a friend of innocent creatures;
He is the Director of this vast Nature.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Shavara Shreekhetra Vavroovahana Patra
Shavara shreekhetra smiles at Koraput;
Serenity pervades with delight.
Sanctity attracts the devotee;
Solitude enhances gaiety.
Silence reigns in the temple shrine;
Shrine is a nectar to devotees as drunkards to wine.
Steps by steps devotees proceed delightfully;
Spectacle of the temple attracts devotees gaily.
Stream of love flows on the shrine;
Silently devotees drink the nectar as drunkard’s wine.
Sanctified shrine’s women after Deepa’s light on the altar;
Sandal’s fragrance enchants all creatures.
Sun beam Kisses the shrine delightfully;
Soul derives Eternal Peace gaily.
Spring plays in the Shrine enthusiastically;
Saintly devotees chant Jagannath’s hymns gaily.
Sky is transparent, blue, beautiful;
Sanctum sanctorium endowed with flowers is mirthful.
Smile of devotees is a Brook of Purity;
Sisters and Brothers chant God’s hymns with gaiety.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Moloch
Old Moloch walks the way tonight
On Flander's poppied field,
Where foe meets foe in steel and might
And never one shall yield.
Old Moloch of the fiery shrine,
Deep in the throes of pain,
Cries for the bleeding anodyne
Of flesh of youths again.
Heart of my heart went out tonight,
Where Moloch holds the way,
To lads of brown and black and white
Who blazon Freedom's day.
Tear down the shrine of Moloch there,
From crimson field and glen,
Tear down the shrine of Moloch where
It shames the hearts of men.
poem by Joseph Seamon Cotter
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The function of religions
I belong to my religion
To belong to the people
Who are with the religion.
I remain with a fixed sect
To remain with the people
Who remain with that sect.
I identify a shrine
To identify myself
With those visiting the shrine.
The people of the religion,
Not the ideal of the religion,
Is my motive to follow.
The religion wants my membership.
The sect wants my participation.
The shrine wants my attendance.
Neither they nor I am strict
That the ideals be pursued
As the idols are worshipped.
How can then the religion
Reform and refine the human
Other than consolidation?
06.0.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Gupteswar
Saivapeetha Gupteswar attracts devotees day and night;
Devotees assemble on the shrine with delight.
The shrine smiles endowed with blossoms and flowers;
Bhagavana Shiva contents all devotees’ desires.
Gupteswar is the Deity of Deities;
All devotees smile with delight.
Shavaree Sings the Glory of Gupteswar;
Bhagavana loves all creatures.
God attracts all devotees on Earth;
Devotees dance, chant God’s name with mirth.
Enjoy Mahashivaratree delightfully;
Chant Shiva’s name gaily.
Shrine of Gupteswar is surrounded by mountains;
Beautifully flows tiny fountains.
Fragrance of wild flowers pervades in the air.
God Shiva contents all devotees’ desires.
Shivalinga is prayed on the shrine lapped by mountains;
Purified, sanctified is the environment.
God blessth all innocent devotees;
Is an Ocean of Delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Υμνος αυμνος
O Thou whose image in the shrine
Of human spirits dwells divine;
Which from that precinct once conveyed,
To be to outer day displayed,
Doth vanish, part, and leave behind
Mere blank and void of empty mind,
Which wilful fancy seeks in vain
With casual shapes to fill again!
O Thou that in our bosom’s shrine
Dost dwell, unknown because divine!
I thought to speak, I thought to say,
‘The light is here,’ ‘behold the way,’
‘The voice was thus,’ and ‘thus the word,’
And ‘thus I saw,’ and ‘that I heard,’—
But from the lips that half essayed
The imperfect utterance fell unmade.
O Thou, in that mysterious shrine
Enthroned, as I must say, divine!
I will not frame one thought of what
Thou mayest either be or not.
I will not prate of ‘thus’ and ‘so,’
And be profane with ‘yes’ and ‘no,’
Enough that in our soul and heart
Thou, whatso’er Thou may’st be, art.
Unseen, secure in that high shrine
Acknowledged present and divine,
I will not ask some upper air,
Some future day to place Thee there;
Nor say, nor yet deny, such men
And women saw Thee thus and then:
Thy name was such, and there or here
To him or her Thou didst appear.
Do only Thou in that dim shrine,
Unknown or known, remain, divine;
There, or if not, at least in eyes
That scan the fact that round them lies,
The hand to sway, the judgment guide,
In sight and sense Thyself divide:
Be Thou but there,—in soul and heart,
I will not ask to feel Thou art.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Omnipresence
Men and woman pray God hither and thither;
He is omnipresent everywhere.
A real devotee derives the bliss of Almighty;
Concentrates on the benevolent Deity.
God is omnipresent in the atmosphere;
Blessth the devotees, contents their desires.
Is omnipresent in the distant firmament;
In all devotees penetrates rays of merriment.
A real devotee sees God everywhere;
God blessth him with Divine power.
Assassinates criminals, antisocial, monsters;
Protecting devotees administers all creatures.
Man derives peace chanting hymns day and night;
He is an Ocean of Delight.
Man prays God on the temple-Shrine;
Real devotee drinks the nectar of Divinity as drunkards to wine.
O Devotees! Come! Chant honeyed hymns on the Shrine;
Drink the nectar of sweet name as drunkards to wine.
Derive the bliss of Almighty;
Like on Earth with Delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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God
Lord Jagannath is the Eternal Truth;
Is an Ocean of mirth.
God Neelamadhiva is the cause of human birth;
With his desire beauteous looks the Earth.
Lord Jagannath, Brother Valabhadra, sister subhadra smile on the altar.
They content the desires of all creatures.
Purusottamdhama Smiles with Deities;
God attracts devotees day and night.
Beautiful looks the sanctified shrine;
Devotees drink the nectar of love as drunkards to wine.
Offer light and fragrance in the morn;
Beauteous is the vernal dawn.
Devotees chant hymns delightfully;
Women devotees surrender on God’s feet gladly.
Criminals become devotees;
Chanting God’s name derive peace, delight.
God’s temple shrine is a Heaven on Earth;
Devotees drink the nectar of Divine love, mirth.
Waves of Bay of Bengal sings God’s glory day and night;
Lord Jagannath is the Generator, Operator, the Almighty.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Mother’s Lap Vavroovahana Patra
Mother Mangala is Deity;
Penetrates rays of Gaiety.
Is an Ocean of Delight;
Evaporates life’s plight.
Mother shows the right path;
Is a Brook of mirth.
Tranquilises the devotee;
Is the Almighty.
Fragrance of Shrine Kisses the devotees;
Devotees dance with delight.
Cuckoo sings delightfully;
Sun ray kisses the shrine gaily.
Mother’s altar is a brook of nectar;
Devotees drink, content their desire.
Devotees smile gaily;
Children play delightfully.
Moon beam kisses the shrine at night;
Mother penetrates rays of delight.
Laps sons affectionatively;
Poets derive Divine Bliss gaily.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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In My Soul
In
my soul
there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque, a church
where I kneel.
Prayer should bring us to an altar where no walls or names exist.
Is there not a region of love where the sovereignty is
illumined nothing,
where ecstasy gets poured into itself
and becomes
lost,
where the wing is fully alive
but has no mind or
body?
In
my soul
there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque,
a church
that dissolve, that
dissolve in
God.
poem by Rabia al Basri
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No Recidivists
No recidivists
When clever Dr Guillotine
perfected his humane machine
for executing criminals.
It was accepted straight away
as being a much better way
of executing criminals
The state made no apology
for using this technology
for executing criminals.
The product of a brilliant brain
He was convinced it caused less pain
when executing criminals.
The guillotine’s not used today
It was a most effective way
of executing criminals.
Though not regarded as P.C
I think it proved effectively
that executing criminals
Ensured they did not re-offend
Results on which we can depend
by executing criminals.
You may see this as cruelty
Some states do not as you can see.
They still execute criminals.
10-Feb-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Sacred Shrine Vavroovahana Patra
Sacred Shrine of mother Bhandara Gharanee attracts devotees;
Solitude reigns on the shrine providing delight.
Sanctified devotees surrender on mother’s feet;
Serenity of the temple allures devotees with delight.
Simple women, men offer light on the altar;
Silent devotees offering fragrance of incense stick content desire.
Sanctity of the shrine entices chaste women delightfully;
Solitary poet chants mother’s hymns devotionally.
Spring plays on the shrine enthusiastically;
Sanctum of sanctorum smiles with the Deity.
Sandal’s fragrance provides devotion, gaiety;
Saints chant mother’s hymns with delight.
Sages meditate on the altar day and night;
Singers sing mother’s songs with delight.
Sisters and brothers enjoy the beauty with pleasure;
Showering blossoms of blessings on devotees fulfills desires.
Students pray mother for education;
Stream of her bliss flows from the creation.
Sky is transparent beautiful;
Smile of mother encourages devotees to be dutiful.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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A New Hymn for Solitude
I found Thee in my heart, O Lord,
As in some secret shrine;
I knelt, I waited for Thy word,
I joyed to name Thee mine.
I feared to give myself away
To that or this; beside
Thy altar on my face I lay,
And in strong need I cried.
Those hours are past. Thou art not mine,
And therefore I rejoice,
I wait within no holy shrine,
I faint not for the voice.
In Thee we live; and every wind
Of heaven is Thine; blown free
To west, to east, the God unshrined
Is still discovering me.
poem by Edward Dowden
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Devotion
As a priest of dedication and devotion
My life is gorgeous, complete and emotional.
The monks climb the ladders of faith,
And my life feigns a disorder, always bold.
The monk enjoyed his life when cold
But the shrine I build for my prayer is gruelling.
The shrine is gold, fully old and never shining,
Like the precious thoughts so pretended.
We save our time and find some space
For serious worship but the monks are fully told.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Mother’s Temple
Vavroovahana Patra
Mother Mahalaxmi attracts the chaste women, goldy devotees;
She provides rays of delight.
Her shrine smiles in the lap of Nature;
Endowed with fragrant lotus Mother contents real devotee’s desire.
Mother’s temple dazzles with various coloured lights;
Her shrine is a perennial brook of delight.
Mother’s temple dazzles beneath the blue sky;
In real devotees mother penetrates rays of gay.
Sanctity, purity, tranquillity pervades in the air;
Mother fulfils poets’, devotees’, innocent chaste poor women’s desire
Poet derives profound pleasure;
On the solitary shrine, contents spiritual desire.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The Skinflint
The skinflint saved his policies,
The skinflint saved his plugs,
The skinflint saved his first house keys,
The skinflint saved his mugs...
The skinflint saved his chewing gum,
The skinflint saved his rope,
The skinflint saved his small toy drum,
The skinflint saved his soap...
The skinflint saved his worn-out shoes,
The skinflint saved his clothes,
The skinflint saved his tubes of glues,
The skinflint saved his bows...
The skinflint saved his dated files,
The skinflint saved his drapes,
The skinflint saved his airline miles,
The skinflint saved his tapes...
The skinflint saved, yes, on the whole...
The skinflint saved so well?
The skinflint never saved his soul!
So God sent him to Hell...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Dedication To Christina G. Rossetti
Songs light as these may sound, though deep and strong
The heart spake through them, scarce should hope to please
Ears tuned to strains of loftier thoughts than throng
Songs light as these.
Yet grace may set their sometime doubt at ease,
Nor need their too rash reverence fear to wrong
The shrine it serves at and the hope it sees.
For childlike loves and laughters thence prolong
Notes that bid enter, fearless as the breeze,
Even to the shrine of holiest-hearted song,
Songs light as these.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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To Shakespeare
Most tuneful singer, lover tenderest,
Most sad, most piteous, and most musical,
Thine is the shrine more pilgrim-worn than all
The shrines of singers; high above the rest
Thy trumpet sounds most loud, most manifest.
Yet better were it if a lonely call
Of woodland birds, a song, a madrigal,
Were all the jetsam of thy sea's unrest.
For now thy praises have become too loud
On vulgar lips, and every yelping cur
Yaps thee a paean ; the whiles little men,
Not tall enough to worship in a crowd,
Spit their small wits at thee. Ah ! better then
The broken shrine, the lonely worshipper.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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