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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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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You Have Placed Chill In My Heart
Take me to the desert
Where there's got to be
A whole heap of nothing
For you and me
Take me to the desert
Take me to the sand
Show me the colour of your right hand.
Love is a temple
Love is a shrine
Buy some love at the five and dime
A little bit of love
From the counter store
Get it on credit if you need some more.
I'll the figure of your disgrace
A criss cross pattern upon your face
A woman's just too tired to think
About the dirty old dishes in the kitchen sink.
I wish I was invisible
So I could climb through the telephone
When it hurts my ear
And it hurts my brain
And it makes me feel too much
Too much too much too much.
Don't cut me down
When I'm talking to you
'Cause I'm much too tall
To feel that small.
Love is a temple
Love is a shrine
Love is pure
And love is blind
Love is a religious sign
I'm gonna leave this love behind.
Love is hot and love is cold
I've been bought and I've been sold
Love is rock and love is roll
I just want someone to hold
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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You Have Placed A Chill In My Heart
Take me to the desert
Where theres got to be
A whole heap of nothing
For you and me
Take me to the desert
Take me to the sand
Show me the colour of your right hand.
Love is a temple
Love is a shrine
Buy some love at the five and dime
A little bit of love
From the counter store
Get it on credit if you need some more.
Ill the figure of your disgrace
A criss cross pattern upon your face
A womans just too tired to think
About the dirty old dishes in the kitchen sink.
I wish I was invisible
So I could climb through the telephone
When it hurts my ear
And it hurts my brain
And it makes me feel too much
Too much too much too much.
Dont cut me down
When Im talking to you
cause Im much too tall
To feel that small.
Love is a temple
Love is a shrine
Love is pure
And love is blind
Love is a religious sign
Im gonna leave this love behind.
Love is hot and love is cold
Ive been bought and Ive been sold
Love is rock and love is roll
I just want someone to hold.
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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 Shrine To Elvis
She asked me if I had the time
To see her lounge-room Elvis shrine
In her 30's – kinda cute
We drove to her place in my ute
The house was on an acre block
Fibro front porch parking lot
Her daughter – young and tartly bland
Was pregnant from a one night stand
Her son – now twenty - moved away
When the drugs consumed him and they say
He’d hit his mum a hundred times
For objecting to his cocaine lines
But Elvis’ shrine stood resolute
With pics of Elvis in gold suits
He is my hero she then said
While inviting me into her bed
He was a man that knew his way
I'd sleep with him most any day
But now he is in lame’d heaven
You must do this – so please pretend
And croon his songs while we make love
Me on my back while up above
Resplendent on my ceiling tiles
Is more of Elvis and his style
I looked close at the Elvis shrine
His hair his pout – this look not mine
I asked her why she loved The King
She softly said that anything
Was better than the life she led
So when with men within her bed
She had to dream that it was him
Who hugged her kissed her slid within
A mirror ball then caught my eye
While hound-dog played on her hi fi
I felt like a human sacrifice
A feeling i found none too nice
At this I drove off in the night
Something didn’t seem quite right
I look like Buddy Holly see
Not like her Elvis – that ain’t me.
poem by David Keig
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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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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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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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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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Sonnet to -----
Ah no! my love knows no vain jealousy:
The rose that blooms and lives but in the sun,
Asks not what other flowers he shines upon,
If he but shine on her. Enough for me,
Thus in thy light to dwell, and thus to share
The sunshine of thy smile with all things fair.
I know thou'rt vowed to Beauty, not to Love.
I would not stay thy footsteps from one shrine,
Nor would I bind thee by a sigh to mine.
For me -- I have no lingering wish to rove;
For though I worship all things fair, like thee,
Of outward grace, of soul-nobility;
Happier than thou, I find them all in one,
And I would worship at thy shrine alone!
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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Be My Icon
(lebon, rhodes, cuccurullo)
Ill follow you
Ill wait for you
You know theres no escape from me
Youre more than wallpaper
In my room
I write you letters
And bring you gifts
Im going through all your trash
I love you so much
I keep your cigarette butts
Now is the time to come out
Come out of the shadows
No need to be scared
Youre gonna be so happy
I built you a shrine
Now you can be my icon
Im out on the edge
Theres no way back inside
All my friends are gone
They didnt understand me
It makes so much sense
Its no coincidence
Just you and I alone here
And I need you
Oh
How many hours have I stared at my face
In the mirror
I get worried sometimes that the image will shatter
No need to be scared
Youre gonna be so happy
I built you a shrine
Now you can be my icon
No need to be
Scared
Now you can
Be my icon
I know this is real
Believe it
We belong together
What ever happens
Youre gonna be with me
Forever
Be my icon
You will be my icon
Be my icon
You will be my icon
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Incense
Think not that incense-smoke has had its day.
My friends, the incense-time has but begun.
Creed upon creed, cult upon cult shall bloom,
Shrine after shrine grow gray beneath the sun.
And mountain-boulders in our aged West
Shall guard the graves of hermits truth-endowed:
And there the scholar from the Chinese hills
Shall do deep honor, with his wise head bowed.
And on our old, old plains some muddy stream,
Dark as the Ganges, shall, like that strange tide —
(Whispering mystery to half the earth) —
Gather the praying millions to its side,
And flow past halls with statues in white stone
To saints unborn to-day, whose lives of grace
Shall make one shining, universal church
Where all Faiths kneel, as brothers, in one place.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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