My Dad, Your Matchless Legacy !
my dad!
it was you who took me by my hand
daily during my boyhood age
amidst star-folks of the night space
and lighted introductory lamps
to spread the rays of friendship amongst us!
the 'dawns'
in which ' Ushaa ', the angel strolls with hues in hand-
the' evenings '
in which the hues meditate in golden sunset moments-
the ' rivers '
in which the sweet babble over pebbly bed is ever heard-
the ' water falls '
in which the far off ' om ' chants are ever raised-
the ' flower gardens '
where there is ever the drizzle of fragrance-
the ' east '
where there is the unfailing chariot festival in mornings-
the ' birds '
the hymns- singing winged devotees-
the ' winds '
that perform rural dances in coconut groves-
the 'green fields '
where rolling rollicking ecstasies dance-
all these and other beauties
you blessed me as ' friends '
even in my boyhood days!
and planted the seeds of ' poesy '
carefully in my tender heart!
today this has grown as huge banyan trees
are they not, all these, your matchless legacy
o.. my dear dad?
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Related quotes
Angel Kisses
I don’t know what an angel looks like
I don’t even know if they have wings
But I know when I need a reminder
Something wraps around me and sings
It’s the wind in the trees
Makes me pause for a moment
And it’s singing to me
Invisible hand brushing my cheek
Angel kisses to remind me
Everything is okay
Angel kisses and suddenly
I remember what I’m here for today
It’s my chance to love you through this
Daily dance and pass along to you
Some angel kisses
When I think about all I have to do
It’s hard to even know where to start
A day late and a dollar behind
But I try to play my music with heart
It’s the language of the birds in the trees
Floats me up for a moment
And it’s singing to me
Grabs my heart, takes my hand, close my eyes, I feel the..
Angel kisses to remind me
Everything is okay
Angel kisses and suddenly
I remember what I’m here for today
It’s my chance to love you through this
Daily dance and pass along to you
Some angel kisses
I wish I could keep those
Gentle reminders
How do you stay peaceful?
Let me be kinder
Angel kisses to remind me
Everything is okay
Angel kisses and suddenly
I remember what I’m here for today
It’s my chance to love you through this
Daily dance and pass along to you
Some angel kisses
poem by Patricia Genetos
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Negro Speaks of Rivers
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
poem by Langston Hughes
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The Negro Speaks Of Rivers
I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
poem by Langston Hughes
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Far North In The Green Fields
Far north in the green fields of old Lisnaboy
Just learning of Nature I used to enjoy
The warm winds of Summer from the south did blow
And young birds chirped on bushes and trees and hedgerow
And the meadows scented sweet of the newly mown hay
In July in Duhallow in a place far away
From this Southern Land that I live in today
Where the father of time has left me looking gray
Fond memories of a happy boyhood I retain
And in fancy I visit the old fields again
But the mentors of my young years with the dead do now lay
And all of those I grew up with walking slower today
But in memory the swallows above the fields fly
And the cuckoo he sings in the warmth of July.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Seeds of the Day.
The Moon...?
The loving eye of the Night!
The Sun...?
The majestic march of the Space.!
The Clouds..?
The dream clusters of the Skies!
The Winds..?
The friendly hands of the Nature!
The Water..?
The blood of the Greenery!
The Trees.?
The Earth's signature of victory!
The Birds..?
The Mind's chariot of flowers!
The Sky..?
The mighty shrinkers of the Macrocosms!
The Stars..?
The seeds of the Day sown
In the fields of the Night!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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The Trees
I know: to the trees, but not to us,
Perfection of the life is given, whole.
And on the Earth – the sister of the stars –
We live in exile, while they do at home.
In latest falls, in sad and empty fields,
The red-brass dawns and amber-clad sunrises
Teach to the hues, dissolved in thinnest films,
These people – green and free forever masses.
Moses exists among these oaks, tall,
And Mary, too – among the palms for ages …
Their souls send to the others quiet calls
With waters, run in darkness, void of edges.
While polishing and brushing stony gems,
And grinding rocks, the springs babble in a chore:
They sing a song, or mourn a broken elm,
Or praise the leaves, which dressed a sycamore.
Oh, if I might be ever blessed to find
The place, where, lost of singing and bewailing,
I would rise silently up to the heaven height
For the millenniums, unending.
poem by Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
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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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Mango Grove
Dark green canopy
Of mango trees
On terraced fields
Traverse
In the month
When trees
In romance blend
Butterflies of all hues
In jocund mood
Bright sunshine
In shadow of thick clouds
Buzzing bees
Swaying with gentle wind
Spread fragrance
Of sprouting buds
Below
The field
Covered with
Carpet
Lush green.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Old Idea Of Choan By Rosoriu
I
The narrow streets cut into the wide highway at Choan,
Dark oxen, white horses,
drag on the seven coaches with outriders.
The coaches are perfumed wood,
The jewelled chair is held up at the crossway,
Before the royal lodge:
A glitter of golden saddles, awaiting the princess;
They eddy before the gate of the barons.
The canopy embroidered with dragons
drinks in and casts back the sun.
Evening comes.
The trappings are bordered with mist.
The hundred cords of mist are spread through
and double the trees,
Night birds, and night women,
Spread out their sounds through the gardens.
II
Birds with flowery wing, hovering butterflies
crowd over the thousand gates,
Trees that glitter like jade,
terraces tinged with silver,
The seed of a myriad hues,
A net-work of arbours and passages and covered ways,
Double towers, winged roofs,
border the net-work of ways:
A place of felicitous meeting.
Riu's house stands out on the sky,
with glitter of colour
As Butei of Kan had made the high golden lotus
to gather his dews,
Before it another house which I do not know:
How shall we know all the friends
whom we meet on strange roadways?
poem by Ezra Pound
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The Playful Breeze's Pleasant Acts
The playful Breeze touching me softly passes on;
Tells sweet tales in hush-hush voice in my ears;
Removes all my weariness with its healing hugs;
Calls me to close my eyes to sing my dear melodies;
Plucks all my stresses to toss away off its way;
To every tree it does have a story full of joy;
The peepul tree laughs heartily clapping its million palms;
The neem tree tosses up its bushy boughs bursting forth in glee;
Enjoys on the swings of sky-scrapping coconut trees;
Plants sweet kisses on the lips of all tiny blooms;
Dances merrily clasping the hands of tender creepers;
Carries on its back the blissful loads of colourful birds;
The green fields are in ecstatic thrills of swirling joys;
O the Nature is in absolute joyeverywhere today;
Hey folks! of your house-prisons do rush out all;
Let us do jolly jigs on riverside sands with the Breeze!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Water Chariot
Sky lies inside the Sky
Welkin lies inside the welkin
Carried away by
Water Chariot
Sun lies inside the sun
Moon lies inside the moon
Carried away by
Water chariot
Mountain lies inside the mountain
Hill lies inside the hill
Carried away by
Water chariot
Womb lies inside the womb
Life lies inside the life
Carried away by
Water chariot
Green inside the green
Breath lies inside the breath
Carried away by
Water chariot
Shore filled and slept,
To him
Water chariot
Like this…
Ascent the water chariot
Passing with elegance
Unattainable sun
Smiling moon
Chattering stars…
Grown Hill, Frazzle Rock
Planted Trees, Blossom Flowers
Adoring bees…
Radiant dhub grass
Young male-female
Grown-up, languish, perished
Dread umbrage vanished
Delighted milestone
Passed, this Water chariot
Sally pleasure trip …
This Life’s chorus
Rotating carnival
Even for Midge
Its own share…
This way…
Ascent the water chariot
Pass with Splendor.
poem by Kavitha Rai
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Vernal Spectacle Vavroovahana Patra
Vernal Breeze blows delightfully;
Birds fly, twitter gaily.
God blesses devotees peacefully;
Devotees pray God devotionally.
Women devotees go to Shiva’s Shrine;
Beautifully kisses the sun Shine.
Devotees drinker the nectar of love as drunkard’s to wine;
God Shiva is the path shower, Director of Mine.
Spectacle of God’s shrine allures devotees;
I women, men plays waves of delight.
He blesses devotees with health, wealth;
Devotees are optimistic with mirth.
Vernal hymns reverberates in the air;
God fulfils devotees desire.
Nature is a Beauty;
Poets chant hymns with gaiety.
God loves devotees;
Devotees pray with delight.
Fragrance of flowers brings inspiration;
Beauteous is God’s mysterious creation.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The Bird Watcher (Part 1)
I plod through the leafy woods
The shadowy, coolly rain forest at the dale
Harkening the spellbinding tunes of trills
Watching the vividly coloured pretty fowls
Echoes of those feeble (But aloud) chirrups twinging me
Of those little birds I encaged in my early ages
Were all tremulous and dolorous sobs, but
Misapprehended unto chant sweet songs of rollicking
Encaging the birds is remorselessness
To set all those confined birds free, now I wish,
To let them spread their wings beneath the skies
And dry out their invisible tears in the fresh breeze of the freedom
The red and blue Macaws, the Golden Pheasants….
The birds of passage,
The settlers for the time being,
Blossom the trees with lurid variance of colours
The Green Turacos, the red Robins
And the tall milky Flamingoes with pinkish limbs
Creeping in the marsh and organizing their eats,
Deceive me the marshy land to be an enchanting flowerbed
Golden slanting rays and long shadows
The contrasting beauties of the forest
And the humming of swaying trees in the breeze
Embellish to the beauty to the trills & chirrups
May 11-2009 (Hawiyah - Saudi Arabia)
poem by Nooruddeen Mathilakathveetil
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Still Summer Melodies
What a glorious morning!
The sun's brightly shining
The trees we see from the window-sill
Don't move, they stand still.
A nice yellow kitten
Amidst the trees hidden
Watches vigilant a swallow
He'd like to follow...
Green bushes well-trimmed
Freshly watered they seemed
To spread their fragrance
We breathe around the space.
From that wooden flute
No longer mute...
A sweet melody can be heard
Enchanting us and every bird.
September,2011
poem by Maria C. Costa
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Those Deliverance-Craving
Absolute reality
Has got a million wings!
Salvation is not
In any holy, specific destination,
But in devoting
Every pulse of life
For those
Who have destined
With no destination.
Oh, dear poet(s)
Keep adding
Fragrance and Hues
To this blessed planet
With your
Pulsating shoots
And sanctifying myrtles.
Let those deliverance-craving
Immerse in your (our) blessed
Verse-Rivers!
poem by Tajudeen Shah
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Little Angel Live Forever
Little angel live like a star
Shine like a star, Laugh like a twinkle
Stand in the sky and show the path
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a water
Accept the others faults, clean your own faults
Flow through the plains and quench the thirsty
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a fire
Warmth the people when they are cold
Control yourself and give the comfort
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a wind
Flow through the places and touch the people
Go through the flowers and spread the fragrance
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a sky
Open your heart widen like a sky
Let the little birds fly in it
Little angel live forever
Little angel be like a tree
Help the humans and help the earth
Let the little birds rest in your branches
Little angel live forever
-o-
poem by Bhavani Polimetla
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Light Day and Night
A golden rain falls down
A golden dawn
A golden age
At last a Angel appears
She dreamt ever so sweetly
The rain comes down
Like a song
An angel plays a harp
A bird dances
And Joy is echoing
In the footsteps
And the shoes are running
As if with wings
A round the tree
Under the sun, angels dance
In circles and all night too
A large bee is sitting
As an angel blows in its ear
A purple rose appears
An angel bows, his head
Into the silence
And on his pillow
Sleeps with tears
Of love streaming down.
A dove calls and moves
Towards the Light
All angels sing
A fog comes down
An angel sings
Three angel’s wings
Spread out for flight
An eagle flies across the sky
Sharing a nest with a diamond
An angel flies by singing
So all the trees can grow
A sun is setting
Over a deep forest
All the birds and animals
Are sleeping now
A moon comes up
And some stars
And all the world
A star is singing about joy
Of the waves on the ocean
And the fish in the sea
And the dolphins jump
And a wave is running by
As a boat has many masts
Moves forwards, backwards
A song dissolves into the mists
Like a poem that soon passes
An angel is swishing
Above and below
And now a moon looks on
A rose grows
Ever so slowly
A candle burns quietly
A snail loves to walk
On the grass in the morning
And an angel flies home in the night
This is a prayer, given to the air
When the rains come down
And the tears fall, I will be
Holding you firm in my wings
I will step in the Shadows before you
The angel’s feather blows across
The wide skies, it falls at my feet
To my surprise it intrigues me
It warms me. it warns me
That love is coming
That truth is foretold
And that I am witnessed
I am a witness to love
Angel love of feathers keen.
Light feathers wanting to be
A song that comes down
Is sung, is light
A heart reaches out this day
No Night. a dream is shared
Angel’s wings, angel’s might
And a gift is brought into being
This cannot be matched
Under heaven and earth.
This truth has been granted
And a blessing to health.
Guard it, know it well
As it sings through the universe
As an angel would sing
In the morning as birds
Watch by, two feathers fall
From her graceful wings
Messages from the departed.
Various melodies are calling
Various paths back to her heart
Love’s refined and refrain.
And in that morning mist
When all around seems filled
Future dreams are lurking, waiting
For the moment when paths
Shall cross. Their Light shall shine
The water that runs smoothly
Downhill, over grass, and weeds
And flowers, all the same
As An angel carries an urn
Filled with birds, and treasures
And messages and laughter
Her heart opens up like a flower
And her feet dance as in the snow
All the ancestors stand up in smile
A Vague moon, showers its peace
And doves flies over
As an angel starts a journey
Coming home to all things
Small and great
I listened for the heart beat
Eternal, justified, complete
In the twinkling of an eye
The Journey had begun
Life was carrying me before it
In its Arms and in its way
Towards a destination pure
And sweet and at peace
Love was my joy was my family
Nature was before me
My Justice my guide
The veils of truth were parting
Layer after layer, tide after tide
In rhythms of rain and sunlight
And warmth. was born again…
poem by Char Pattrick
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Decay
O Poesy is on the wane,
For Fancy's visions all unfitting;
I hardly know her face again,
Nature herself seems on the flitting.
The fields grow old and common things,
The grass, the sky, the winds a-blowing;
And spots, where still a beauty clings,
Are sighing 'going! all a-going!'
O Poesy is on the wane,
I hardly know her face again.
The bank with brambles overspread,
And little molehills round about it,
Was more to me than laurel shades,
With paths of gravel finely clouted;
And streaking here and streaking there,
Through shaven grass and many a border,
With rutty lanes had no compare,
And heaths were in a richer order.
But Poesy is on the wane,
I hardly know her face again.
I sat beside the pasture stream,
When Beauty's self was sitting by,
The fields did more than Eden seem
Nor could I tell the reason why.
I often drank when not adry
To pledge her health in draughts divine;
Smiles made it nectar from the sky,
Love turned een water into wine.
O Poesy is on the wane,
I cannot find her face again.
The sun those mornings used to find,
Its clouds were other-country mountains,
And heaven looked downward on the mind,
Like groves, and rocks, and mottled fountains.
Those heavens are gone, the mountains grey
Turned mist--the sun, a homeless ranger,
Pursues alone his naked way,
Unnoticed like a very stranger.
O Poesy is on the wane,
Nor love nor joy is mine again.
Love's sun went down without a frown,
For very joy it used to grieve us;
I often think the West is gone,
Ah, cruel Time, to undeceive us.
The stream it is a common stream,
Where we on Sundays used to ramble,
The sky hangs oer a broken dream,
The bramble's dwindled to a bramble!
O Poesy is on the wane,
I cannot find her haunts again.
Mere withered stalks and fading trees,
And pastures spread with hills and rushes,
Are all my fading vision sees;
Gone, gone are rapture's flooding gushes!
When mushrooms they were fairy bowers,
Their marble pillars overswelling,
And Danger paused to pluck the flowers
That in their swarthy rings were dwelling.
Yes, Poesy is on the wane,
Nor joy nor fear is mine again.
Aye, Poesy hath passed away,
And Fancy's visions undeceive us;
The night hath ta'en the place of day,
And why should passing shadows grieve us?
I thought the flowers upon the hills
Were flowers from Adam's open gardens;
But I have had my summer thrills,
And I have had my heart's rewardings.
So Poesy is on the wane,
I hardly know her face again.
And Friendship it hath burned away,
Like to a very ember cooling,
A make-believe on April day
That sent the simple heart a-fooling;
Mere jesting in an earnest way,
Deceiving on and still deceiving;
And Hope is but a fancy-play,
And Joy the art of true believing;
For Poesy is on the wane,
O could I feel her faith again!
poem by John Clare
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To Avis Keene
ON RECEIVING A BASKET OF SEA-MOSSES.
Thanks for thy gift
Of ocean flowers,
Born where the golden drift
Of the slant sunshine falls
Down the green, tremulous walls
Of water, to the cool, still coral bowers,
Where, under rainbows of perpetual showers,
God's gardens of the deep
His patient angels keep;
Gladdening the dim, strange solitude
With fairest forms and hues, and thus
Forever teaching us
The lesson which the many-colored skies,
The flowers, and leaves, and painted butterflies,
The deer's branched antlers, the gay bird that flings
The tropic sunshine from its golden wings,
The brightness of the human countenance,
Its play of smiles, the magic of a glance,
Forevermore repeat,
In varied tones and sweet,
That beauty, in and of itself, is good.
O kind and generous friend, o'er whom
The sunset hues of Time are cast,
Painting, upon the overpast
And scattered clouds of noonday sorrow
The promise of a fairer morrow,
An earnest of the better life to come;
The binding of the spirit broken,
The warning to the erring spoken,
The comfort of the sad,
The eye to see, the hand to cull
Of common things the beautiful,
The absent heart made glad
By simple gift or graceful token
Of love it needs as daily food,
All own one Source, and all are good
Hence, tracking sunny cove and reach,
Where spent waves glimmer up the beach,
And toss their gifts of weed and shell
From foamy curve and combing swell,
No unbefitting task was thine
To weave these flowers so soft and fair
In unison with His design
Who loveth beauty everywhere;
And makes in every zone and clime,
In ocean and in upper air,
All things beautiful in their time.
For not alone in tones of awe and power
He speaks to Inan;
The cloudy horror of the thunder-shower
His rainbows span;
And where the caravan
Winds o'er the desert, leaving, as in air
The crane-flock leaves, no trace of passage there,
He gives the weary eye
The palm-leaf shadow for the hot noon hours,
And on its branches dry
Calls out the acacia's flowers;
And where the dark shaft pierces down
Beneath the mountain roots,
Seen by the miner's lamp alone,
The star-like crystal shoots;
So, where, the winds and waves below,
The coral-branched gardens grow,
His climbing weeds and mosses show,
Like foliage, on each stony bough,
Of varied hues more strangely gay
Than forest leaves in autumn's day;--
Thus evermore,
On sky, and wave, and shore,
An all-pervading beauty seems to say
God's love and power are one; and they,
Who, like the thunder of a sultry day,
Smite to restore,
And they, who, like the gentle wind, uplift
The petals of the dew-wet flowers, and drift
Their perfume on the air,
Alike may serve Him, each, with their own gift,
Making their lives a prayer!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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The Gates of Innocence
Up round St John Street we walked one night, while moonlight brightly glowed,
My arm around you, yours round me, with two friends long ago.
So deep into love’s old sweet dream in moments now long flown,
And like a leaf upon the breeze my heart was not my own.
Oh the road to winning you was fraught, with quicksands all the way.
I sank and swam, I walked and ran, I wooed you night and day,
To simply hold your hand so soft, or gaze on eyes so blue,
In steep green fields at Clachanmore when I worked next to you.
But no moon nor love could quite foresee that I would wriggle free,
Against my heart, against my will, somewhat regretfully.
The roads we walked were soon to part, to sever us for ill,
To leave the Crescent we once walked, to ghosts that haunt me still.
Now the thoughts that circle round me here, they strengthen with the night.
As if the years have fallen to that young love’s breathless might,
Your eyes beguiled the doubting stars and left me void of sense,
Before the moments we fell through, the gates of innocence.
Now the moonlight shines less brightly on the lonely fields we cleared,
And St John Street is not as sweet as when I held you dear.
The friends we walked with on that night still walk together yet.
The full moon’s promise holds as true, as when we two last met.
chorus
The winds blow cold on those steep green fields
And strangers walk down St John Street
I’ve walked the crescent where love grew
Where innocence once sheltered me and you