Monsoon Dawn
your alluring siren
‘Monsoon Musings '
Indira Babbellapati
transform transplant
receptive poetic heart
into true romantic reign
moments of soul quickened
heart felt fused appreciation
breathing birthright storm stir
rain-soaked wind-blowen
veil-form lightning-fuses
light-hearted far-longing
dagger flash recognition
through third eye open
awareness netting monsoon
soft siren beautiful sensual poem
from the heart mind hand
of a beautiful image versed soul
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Monsoon Musings
…and on this
cool cloudy monsoon morning
as you strolled at a distant
horizon along the
village bunds and canals
wandered across the
native soil preparing
itself for the next sowing
i opened the door to
a light-hearted wind that veiled me
from the rest of the world
it cast an alluring net
dabbed in the perfume of late
summer flowers soaked in the
damp rain-soaked earth
the endless tidings the waves
of wind whispered
tickled me enough
on the black sky
a lightning that flashed
pierced my heart like
a dagger of desire
the so far-longing leaves
in immobilizing passion
stirred occasionally in
an attempt to shake off
the beads of satiated desire
each time a thunder rolled
i hugged your invisible presence
in a teenage glee
a distant koel cooed
probably in adieu
proclaiming that it’s
after all early morning
19jun2010
06.40hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Monsoon at peak! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Monsoon at peak
I hear a monologue-
Rain speaks…
Monsoon at peak,
Thatched roofs
Leak…
Monsoon at peak,
Corn on cob
Wins over coffee…
Monsoon at peak,
Can I go out, mother?
A child pleads…
Monsoon at peak,
A boy steals a look
At a girl soaked to skin…
Monsoon at peak,
Roads flooded,
Where is MCD?
Monsoon at peak,
Umbrellas
New fashion accessory…
Monsoon at peak,
Sun gets much needed
Rest…
Monsoon at peak,
Bathes
Foliage and trees.
Monsoon at peak
Schools closed
Children squeal,
Wish, it rains
Everyday of the week…
Monsoon at peak,
Leave your shoes at the door-
Mother screams…
Monsoon at peak,
Driver stops
To wipe the wind shield…
Monsoon at peak,
Open pavements
Home to many,
Wear deserted look …
Monsoon at peak,
Wet laundry-
Sun rise, please.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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A Poem On A Lonely Monsoon Night
Each dropp of rain
Oozing joy unbound
Contains within itself
The seed, the sapling
Followed by flowers
Whispering petals
Gushing waters
Paper boats
And damp clothes
Time for monsoon fun
If you wake up with drizzle
On your face
Cool breeze tickling
Through the pores
Verging on summer's finale
And smiling monsoon
July is a strange month
Of expectation
And disappointment alike
Longing spreads as a bed spread
On lonely monsoon nights
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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A Poem On A Monsoon Afternoon
On this monsoon afternoon
As I lie in an uneasy stupor
An inexplicable power of magic
Insulates me.
Many images float
On the thin veil of my eye
That renders the routine humdrum,
Hazy and fading
The world now is
The monsoon-sea
The Moonlight
And you.
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Monsoon
Another rain
Another unstoppable train
Does anybody could see the drain?
Being alone makes me an easy lonely
Without reason
I feel the coming of monsoon
It will be too much gray cloud
It will be too much water
Before my heart breaking drown
Another vain
Another cold friend
Does anybody could care for the grain?
Being alone makes me a little colder
Without season
I feel the coming of monsoon
It will be too much flash of lightning
It will be too much crying
Before my heart breaking frozen
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Awaited Call
Before ever we met
much did I perceive
for you revealed yourself
in thoughts and words.
When we karma cosmic met
when we were contemplative together.
Sometimes then on insightful occasion.
In quiet crystalline moments.
How could I not receptive see
heart attesting, true interior self,
for we talked, soft salient hours,
passed with decisive conversation.
Clouds parted at fleeting moments
light illuminating sweet sincere self.
Shone through momentarily. Perceptive
intuitive conceptualization. Was born.
Almost seen glimpsed felt, fleeting idolized soul,
words cannot articulate, cross, dimensional vision.
Clouds rarely part in cosmic veneration, with
revelation, comprehensive mind can envisage.
I no longer hear
soft sound of breathing
nor echo of her voice.
I am an empty vessel.
It shall take her sweet voice.
An eternity to fill to overflowing.
Until attainment I hunger
for sound of sensual words,
sweeter than siren haunting harp,
vibrant stirring windblown leaves,
or joyous song of sparkling brook.
‘Tis music of celestial choir.
I have longed constantly
for mute lost voice
to call ardent me
but you cry to me.
Only with sublime silent,
emptiness; of heartfelt soul.
I can not anymore remember
individual notes inscribing voice.
For in composed refined presence.
I am lost bewitched spellcast bound.
I embrace your serene spirit directly;
as it draws forth to join within my mind.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When my soul loves your heart.....
I have your heart within me
that keeps telling me love story every night
God has given us love as the best medicine
to purify our hearts and soul with affections
When your heart and my soul touch each other
then there is no room for sadness
When my eyes close for sleep
then my soul awakes and kisses your heart
When your heart plays music with my soul
then the melodies hover like nightingales
When your heart is longing for my love
then my soul is belonging to beautiful nights
When my soul loves your heart
then its not only what your heart for
but for what my soul lives with you heart
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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The beautiful heart
The beautiful heart
~
I would marry every word
Betroth each metaphor
If I could paint the poem
Or pen the script
To win a beautiful heart
No more the foolish blindness
For a truth is now seen
As beautiful as ever known
The joy which births the smile
The is more to learn, understand
By openly listening to all
The company of such a heart
Brings with it warmth
To ease all worries
And all that is sought
Is but one night, one chance
To see the heart open
Willing to gift an opportunity
To the marriage of words
The betrothal of metaphors
The poetic script as it were
An ode to the beautiful heart
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Poem Called Monsoon Magic!
Our foot prints
On the dark damp sands
Of last evening
Rushed upon my heart
Once again...
It rained this morning too
Somehow the monsoon rain
Didn't erase the footprints
In stead it bathed them afresh...
12 Jun 2011
21.07hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The closest friend
The closest friend
~
How beautiful the night
Where I rediscovered my heart
How your soft embrace
Those gentle lips I kissed
The warmth of your eyes
A look I shall not forget
The light in your smile
Lit my soul to the night
There where we lay together
I felt my heart began to stir
Thoughts and feelings I had forgotten
Reminding me of their presence
The feel of your touch
Made me feel a new kind of alive
You are the closest of friends
One whom I could confide my soul unto
You helped me rediscover my heart
For that I thank you
poem by Matthew Holloway
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What A Beautiful Sound
beautiful sounds
that stir the heart
free awakening soul
lift flight sky spirit
sound of river running wide unified flowing
sound of creek running downhill leaping splashing
sound of stillness crisp haunting in still mountain morning
sound of wind timeless moving over through forest trees growing
sound of whispers retracting as first soft snow flutters falling
sound of soft rain tender kissing warm earth embraces water waiting
sound of rain heavy droplets embracing dancing love symphony greeting
sound of storm clouds fast running painting sky black spiraling
sound of thunder freedom singing vibrating through poet laughing
sound of morning awaking to gentle joy of my young daughters laughing
a beautiful sound is bliss joy of young daughters happiness laughing
a beautiful sound is healthy children fed soul wonder bliss laughing
a beautiful sound is our well fed children in joy mind song laughing
a beautiful sound is God smiling with me in child mind song laughing
poem by Terence George Craddock
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This is my body
This is my body that you see
It is beautiful carved by God’s hands
Smoothened by His breaths
You will love it and want to have it
To touch and caress
To be feasted upon by the hunger
Of your eyes and thirst of your lips
To be rubbed by the coldness of your body
Seeking the warmth of my flesh
This is my body that you will first see
But there is more in me than my body
This soul that seeks your soul
This beautiful soul that seeks the beauty of your soul
The hands of my spirit reaching out to your invisible hands
They have all for years been longing to clasp
My soul longing to be with your soul
So they can be together
To be fused with each other as one
To be happy and calm and perfect
To that final place where this body
Shies away because something more beautiful
Inside it shines and glows and becomes
So beautiful in all eternity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Monsoon
Father sun isn't rude anymore
For he is in his transition chore more
Aippasi is all set at Libra's door
Farther monsoon is nearer to pour
Heigh ho sing, 'clouds are scudding forth'
Sultry souls are out to graze
In the field of showery grace
Aippasi embarks on with revenent mirth
Sunbaked earth is in quenching race
Monsoon is merry with magnified girth
Interim events illumine monsoon
Celebrated celestials marry soon
Sin-hewn demons defeated to maroon
Ravana, Narakasura slain to a festive boon
Heigh ho sing merrily 'merry merry Deepavali'
May the ignorant heart doesn't croon
But let the lit up soul tune
Monsoon thence on cloud nine rapturously
Monsoon is heaven of bliss-immune
Say so, a harp of pattering music lifely
Monsoon is dexterously good
Yet sometimes opens its monstrous hood
Thamiraparani expels Kurukkuthurai Lord
Even so spears Tharaka, Padmasura the Lord
Heigh ho sing, 'vel vel vetrivel vetrivel'
Marries happily Valli the victorious Lord
Enlights the house of earth monsoon savvied
Abashed monsoon assures to shrivel
Leaving its imprint in wintry cold
Say so 'may His fulgency our pride too quell
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The First Rain of Monsoon
In the month of May
The Summer does sway
The first rain of Monsoon
The drizzling started very soon
The weather is so pleasing
In the evening
The breeze is blowing
the leaves are hovering
At the tender touch of rain drops
Rain is good for upcoming crops
The nature get rejuvenated
Spirit of living life elevated
Water in the form of rain
Never goes in vain
Whether India, England or Spain
People wish rain to come again
Pouring in the valleys, raining in the plain
The thirsty Earth values the rain
After the rain sky is clear
The shining leaves become dear
Listen to the music of nature
New melody of every creature
Flattering of the leaves together
Soft gargling sound of water
Enjoying the rain with pleasure
Writing poem on beauty of nature
Shashikant Nishant Sharma
{Written on 12 May,2012 on experiencing the soft touch of first drizzle of the Monsoon in Delhi. The weather was unforgettable and moments cherishable.}
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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On A Monsoon Morning
on a monsoon morning
as i stroll along the shore
i see thick clouds spreading
in urgency on an innocent sea
caught unawares
she simply folded herself in
uncountable sheets of rain
not a thunder
nor a streak of lightning
sometimes it simply pours down
12jul2010
07.07hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Siren
Siren, siren, calling me from the sea,
Spill the sweetness of your words and your voice—
Spill them with such lucid fluidity
That I sink in them without having choice.
Siren, siren, sing me into a lull,
Bewitch me with your charm and your danger—
An insatiable thirst I can't control
For adventures, your lure of grandeur.
Siren, siren, slipping through my fingers
Like a formless liquid, make me submit.
You move with an air that seems to linger,
Perfumed with pleasures that seem infinite.
Siren, siren, entice the sensation
Of love within my imagination.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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More Then
More beautiful then beautiful your heart shines like the full moon bright an true a look of true happiness in your eyes a wonderous person u are a sound of your heart thump thump thump a reflection of starlight shines in your eyes the wind blows ever gently you are a blessingin disguise you have a soft sweetness in your voice anytime i hear oyu speak i melt insidemy heart races into over drive a fire burns in my soul darkness dies away inside me your smile sets me free..you are more then beautiful
poem by Dorian Suchelle
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Into the Blue Memory
This is a poem not a song...
I wrote it like that on purpose,
that's because I wanted this poem to
sing to you like if it was being sung
like an opera, I wanted this to fill
your heart with poetry and song...
This was inspired by the song
'Ghost Love Score' by Nightwish
Into the Blue Memory
By: Adam M. Snow
A child will find the way,
in a night, and in a day,
with the moment still,
waking the dreams,
glorious and free,
into the blue memory.
Redeeming childhood,
upon advent dream,
A journey worth telling,
of this soon destiny.
Angels singing broken song,
can't help but sing along.
Open eyes of blinded sorrow,
looking towards the endless morrow.
Who is she, lost and cold,
with tales of truth to be told?
Stories of journey in the blue memory,
of a destined child of light and poverty.
A siren from the deep approached him,
spoke his dreams, his memory,
mend his broken heart,
pressed out like a key,
to reign with love and all victoriously.
Will he find true love,
shining down from above?
Lighting his way,
into the ever darkening day.
Nevermore does he ache,
when he sleep, he's still awake,
longing for true love,
cold and alone he waits,
waiting for that day,
that only love could portray.
Who is he, lost and cold,
with tales of truth to be told?
Stories of journey in the blue memory,
of a destined child of light and poverty.
A siren from the sea approached her,
spoke her dreams, her memory,
mend her broken heart,
free her from her curse,
to reign with love and all victoriously.
Will she find true love,
shining down from above?
Lighting her way,
into the ever darkening day.
The world she forsake,
when she sleep, she's still awake,
longing for her love,
on this dreary night,
waiting for that day,
that only love could portray.
Together they seek,
not self-effacing nor meek,
but the touch of pure love,
to mend their broken heart.
Together they search,
for themselves once lost,
with their vowing dreams the cost,
to find, there is only one,
riding throughout the wind,
being together passed the end,
falling into the arms,
of an angel's joyous charms,
to the sight of lovers birth,
reigning down all over the Earth.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Have I Told You...
Beautiful, are you, as the flowers of the field.
Beautiful, is the sound of your voice.
Beautiful, is the touch of your hand.
Beautiful, are the eyes that speak of love.
Beautiful, is your understanding and kindness.
Beautiful, is the way you always consider others.
Beautiful, are the courage of your convictions.
Beautiful, are the silent, countless words of, I love you.
Beautiful, is the softness of your touch.
Beautiful, are the children that you hold dear.
Beautiful, is your faith, honesty and loyalty.
Beautiful, are the people, you bless with your love.
Beautiful, are you secret acts of charity.
Beautiful, is the goodness, you give to all.
Beautiful, is the way your never judge anyone.
Beautiful, is your never dreaming...that you are indeed so beautiful.
Beautiful, is your heart...your very soul.
Beautiful, is the way you have made this a better world.
Beautiful, is the helping hand, you extend to all.
Have I told you, you are beautiful in every way?
The Dark One Is Krishna
Thick overhead
clouds of the monsoon,
a delight to this feverish heart.
Season of rain,
season of uncontrolled whispers---the Dark One's returning!
O swollen heart,
O sky brimming with moisture---
tongued lightning first
and then thunder,
convulsive spatters of rain
and then wind, chasing the summertime heat.
Mira says: Dark One,
I've waited---
it's time to take my songs
into the street.