Bless Me Such Thousand Births, O God!
i stand like a speck with dreamy eyes
beneath this wide dome of sky
carpeted with ashen clouds
with nothing to impede my vision-
around me cool winds surfing
i am slowly drenched by soft drizzles
of melodies from distant spheres and heavens
in strange languages in soothing voices
and i spin slowly with outstretched arms-
o god! bless me such thousand births!
-s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Related quotes
A Speck Of A Speck Am I!
a speck of a speck am i!
&
a speck of a speck am i
underneath this vast dome of sky-
no millionth of a second
without changes around me;
activities incessant, both silent and noisy-
every moment new, every moment fresh;
to one who has searching senses
and penetrating vision
no end to wonder, no way to boredom-
the clouds speak in silence
the blue hugs you close
the green kisses the cheeks
the flowers communicate in colours-
endless arrays of universes
shout at their high-pitched silences
crying for our ears and attention
through mind-boggling distances-
o man, be alert and tune yourself
to the unheard voices
and keep your spirit ever in joy!
&
chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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O What A Climate Today!
o what a climate today!
o where is the sun that squeezed dry my blood into sweat so long?
the day unusually rolls up and sets aside the sparkling quilt of the sun;
and the ashen clouds have spread their thin mats all over the skies
and the cheerful winds on joyful feet spread happiness everywhere
on top of all, as a crowning glory, there is a dreamy rain -
no, i cannot call this rain, or a misty fall, nor a soft drizzle-
it is of dreamy drops, here and there, distanced by long seconds,
and tossed far and wide by the sprinting and sporting wind,
sending shivers of thrill into the streams of blood
and giving birth to spontaneous expressions of ecstasy;
it is a rainless rain, raining joy and dance -
the light is cool and gentle and not hurting;
it is the winds that create the festival of joy
and spray laughter that bubbles up amidst the flowery trees-
o what is the language of the flowers and leaves?
are they one and the same or different?
o how i wish to speak their noiseless language!
today i could venture out into the open even at 4 p.m.
with no risk of burning my soles and skin;
today my dance is not on flames but on flowers-
the sky has bid adieu to the sweating sun of june;
at last i find the sun of the moon or the moon of the sun
high above on the western skies, harmless and half-sleepy;
the nature today has painted everything in mild colours,
drawing hearts out into the open to the bliss of the seasons!
where else in the universe except on this lovely earth
could i get this solemn bliss from the elements of nature?
i will be born again and again on this beautiful earth.
--s.chandra kalaadhar [18.06.2012/ monday /aani 4/nandhana /4 p.m.
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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A Song Of Spring
The Spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly,
Under a snood of hodden grey.
The black and white for her array,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where is her green that was so gay?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Unto a world too sick for May,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where are the lads that used to play?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
She has no heart for holiday,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
The trees are out in Heaven they say.
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up our way.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Sleep
I
slowly the ponderous doors of lead imponderous
pushed by a wedging force unthinking opened
how like a cloud I floated down the dim green air
unthinking of the soft violence of odorous winds
the falling plaint of hidden violins
and eyes
following
II
doors unto doors unfolded downward
and I was like unto a sailing ship
stern downward sailing on a dim green sea
unmindful of the rich push of flowery winds
the melting voices of far seraphims
and arms
following
III
slowly the ponderous doors of lead imponderous
lowered above my head in absolute slow closing
quiet as a shadow on a dim green wall
I rested in my dark and ivory vault
the violins were no more nor eyes nor arms
hours on hours
following
poem by Bravig Imbs
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After The Fire
After the fire is over
After the ashes cool
After the smoke is blown away
I will be is for you
After the stillness finds you
After the winds of change
All that is good and true between us
This will remain the same
Slowly, slowly
We turn the pages of life
Growing, knowing
It comes at quite a price
After the fire is over
After the ashes cool
After the smoke is blown away
I will be here for you
After your time of wondering
Along this lonely road
There will be many voices calling
Mine will say welcome home
Slowly, slowly
We turn the pages of life
Growing, knowing
It comes at quite a price
After the fire is over
After the ash is cool
After the smoke is blown away
I will be here for you
I will be here for you
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Greatness In My Smallness
when i stand at the centre of the inverted bowl
of the immense sky as a speck of dust
i feel elated that i had the real measure of me
in the scheme of the universe, undressing all my arrogance;
but when i raise my head to gaze into the blue heavens
and the dark skies littered with star sprays
my heart swells as expansive as the limitless heavens
with mysteries of the universe raining into me in thick showers
journeying millions of light years on tireless wings
bearing the message of love and oneness of souls
though they are gigantic and i, a miniscule of a miniscule.
yes i enjoy this greatness when i realize my smallness!
-s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Nine Voices
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
On a beach
North africa
Nine tribesmen stand alone
Waiting for a distant call
Waiting for the world to answer
Thru' the night of a thousand stars
Encircled by the light
They began to sing a new song
Of forces that surround us
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
When the sun came up they sang
As the perfect calendar says
Each had the power of people
Speaking new languages
They gave forgiveness meaning
New ways of letting go
Each child is born for greatness
With forces that surround them
This voice
This dialogue
This voice
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
His voices
This dialogue
This voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nine Voices
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
On a beach
North africa
Nine tribesmen stand alone
Waiting for a distant call
Waiting for the world to answer
Thru' the night of a thousand stars
Encircled by the light
They began to sing a new song
Of forces that surround us
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
When the sun came up they sang
As the perfect calendar says
Each had the power of people
Speaking new languages
They gave forgiveness meaning
New ways of letting go
Each child is born for greatness
With forces that surround them
This voice
This dialogue
This voice
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
His voices
This dialogue
This voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When You Are Touching Me Softly..
when you are touching me softly
with your closed eyes drenched in love
o my love, you are touching my soul
deeply inset in your heart!
-s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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A Lazy Afternoon
Beneath a blue summer’s sky
I lay in a thick carpet of grass
looking at the wispy clouds,
as they slowly drifted pass.
I became lost in that moment
and was absorbed by the day.
A warm breeze kissed my body,
which took me further away.
I was floating in the heavens
whilst birds sang their song.
This was a vision of paradise,
as sure as the day was long.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Egypt
Fantastic sleep is busy with my eyes;
I seem in some waste solitude to stand
Once ruled of Cheops; upon either hand
A dark illimitable desert lies,
Sultry and still -- a zone of mysteries.
A wide-browed Sphinx, half buried in the sand,
With orbless sockets stares across the land,
The wofulest thing beneath these brooding skies
Save that loose heap of bleachèd bones, that lie
Where haply some poor Bedouin crawled to die.
Lo! while I gaze, beyond the vast sand-sea
The nebulous clouds are downward slowly drawn,
And one bleared star, faint glimmering like a bee,
Is shut in the rosy outstretched hand of Dawn.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Sleep In My Arms Lullaby
The somnolent skies have ceased seething, for day's nearly through
And the winds echo whispering thoughts of returning to you.
The heavens throb, pulsing and bleeding in crimsons, once blue,
Their passions, like flames, fill my veins as you pass into view;
The breeze holds its breath as you touch and embrace me anew
And smouldering clouds withdraw, blushing, and paling their hue.
The twilight is painted with wandering dreams of your charms
So close your eyes slowly and slip into sleep in my arms.
The pendulous moon appears, sweeping the fog from up high
Distilling the drops into notes of a hushed lullaby,
The quivering tunes unfold tales which amaze, mystify,
The stories they tell reflect love as revealed by your sighs,
And tremulous stars fling a fire that fevers the skies,
Their fury is burning, alive in the depths of your eyes.
The twilight is painted with wandering dreams of your charms
So close your eyes slowly and slip into sleep in my arms.
The desolate shores moan, seduced by tempestuous tides
Which flow in the rhythm of flesh as our senses collide,
A quiet explodes from the stillness of night amplified,
A lingering kiss bids adieu till the morning breaks wide
When roosters come conjuring dawn with voluptuous pride
Enticing the sun into scything the night, starry-eyed.
The twilight is painted with wandering dreams of your charms
So close your eyes slowly and slip into sleep in my arms.
poem by Terry O'Leary
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Swing Your Wings
the clouds goes down and the night slowly
sees the moon, where the crickets sing
there melodies that invites our eyes to gently
close beyond the limit of every dancing leaves
on the Tree
slowly, goes slowly the heart move not to break,
but to show the harmony off beyond compare;
watching the glittering sky, capture every twinkling
glance of the Star, makes the whole world goes
round
mind of the coolness of the night, wake me up, until
brevity respect my warm body, settle down my whole
whispered heart for the never ending day will be
your Forever as I live …
poem by Antonio Liao
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Lament (O how all things are far removed)
O how all things are far removed
and long have passed away.
I do believe the star,
whose light my face reflects,
is dead and has been so
for many thousand years.
I had a vision of a passing boat
and heard some voices saying disquieting things.
I heard a clock strike in some distant house...
but in which house?...
I long to quiet my anxious heart
and stand beneath the sky's immensity.
I long to pray...
And one of all the stars
must still exist.
I do believe that I would know
which one alone
endured,
and which like a white city stands
at the ray's end shining in the heavens.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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My Heart Yearns For Melodies
my heart yearns for the melodies
that move in glistening streams skirting me
into which to slowly immerse myself
tasting every sweet word of the creation
with half-closed dreamy lids
in the solemn silence of the starry night
on the banks of the flowing time
gently fanned by the soft breeze.
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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These Are Ever My Favourites!
These Are Ever My Favourites!
The cool fluffy clouds that rush in
Out of nowhere to fill the skies
Just at the sight of the full milky moon
To passionately plant kisses on its cheeks
Are ever my favourites of nature!
All species of birds with numerous notes of calls
That unfurl their coloured wings
In enchanting styles of their own
And circling in brisk flights minding ever their tasks
Are ever my favourites of nature!
The great mountains towering into the skies,
That are the prides of the earth,
Sloping gracefully in their dreamy blue coats
And in the charm of the meditative silence
Are ever my favourites of nature!
Millions and millions of green trees
Though with thousands of wayward branches
Yet possessing an ineffable heavenly charm
Surpassing even that of a temple tower
Are ever my favourites of nature!
The ever flowing rivers with many a voice,
Many a flow and conversing in many a dialect
That adorn both sides of banks
With ornaments of green smiles
Are ever my favourites of nature!
All kinds of flowers and leaves
With innumerable shapes
And unparalled fragrances
Generously showering beauty
Are ever my favourites of nature!
From the friendly breeze
With its gentle touch as it whispers
To the biting chill winds of north
All families of winds in all of their moods
Are ever my favourites of nature!
All the tunes and beats
And melodies and monotony
Of the showering arrows of rain
From the dark complexioned warrior clouds
Are ever my favourites of nature!
Both father and mother
Who rain love reading our minds
And guide us judging our faculties
And shape us as responsible folks
Are ever my favourites of god!
My children at eight a.m. daily commotion
Waving their loving hands with verve
And cheering 'ta..ta, mom and dad! '
As they fly fast with bag load of books to school
Are ever my favourites of life!
-S.Chandra Kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Ritual Union
The sun splits open, spilling an orange rust,
And it corrodes the distant horizon.
The settling clouds of thick ashen dust
Hover above the motionless ocean.
The warm air rises, blowing time away
With the lingering shadows of the past.
The shoreline crumbles in the gentle sway
Of erosive waves and haze overcast.
Lighting halves the sky. Then, thunder whispers
In a language of long-lost memories.
The glowing embers cool in the vespers,
In the ebbing tide of these reveries,
And light slowly fades into its stream
As if it were nothing more than a dream.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Prognosis
Did you foresee it? It was coming.
The freaked guilt of failed attempt
to get yourself kissed by a flame in the
androgynous temptation of dark.
One legitimate delay in dying of moon’s
tears? The weather had fizzled out during wild
winds and the summer was slowly starting a
whispering campaign against the clouds.
My enemy for sweet revenge will not
halt the attack.A bouncing vision will
start the fire engulfing the singing
trees of drenched art. The floods of intimatcies
were coming.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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Clouds
Clouds i look up to you
When i need a view
To take me away
From what's left of this play.
You gathered, swelled with rain
As she faded from view
And cried to drown my pain
As i bathed in you
And wished you'd taken me along
When the moon turned blue
As a sunset stole my song
I just mimed goodbye- adieu
And hoped she saw the sadness in the skies
As i watched the fading sunlight in her eyes
Within my mind, when love was kind.
Clouds the only pillow on which to sleep
Forever
In soft embrace to keep
Her memory safe, untouched
At sky, like love i clutched
As clouds sailed slowly by
And far below i so slowly die.
poem by Kevin East
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An Epiphany In The Car
The gathering black clouds-eerie feeling-
spread over blue sky, putting me in a pensive mood.
Not long after, dark clouds commence
raining and slowly seceded from the rest and leaving
open to view, a silver disk setting in distant west.
Being overcome by flaring orange- red
then and there, the sun falls into the warm arms
of the fiery glow.
Looking into his face, hints of grey down the side that,
seemed to further the water flow down window panes and eyes:
Childhood days were recalled from distant memory of
walking out the sun right into the cool rain.
Too, raindrops on window sounded like Momma's ever whipping tune:
'I told you…beat, beat, beat...not to play in the rain…beat, beat, beat…
'OUCH, 'her lyrics and beating continued hours, it seemed.
Still, we sat in car looking out on the rain, I felt the warm
sunsets and the years of Momma's missed presences.
Closing distance between then and now, still in awe, of blazing
sun to the right, clouds raining tears from distant sky on my left,
and with much effort futhering my own sunset.
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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