River Tamasa: Philosophy of Life
Wandering over several woods wide,
never wavering astray
by illusion of any gorge,
surmounting many an impediment
in my life limpid,
never deeming darkness
as a distress,
never thinking light
to be a delight,
for a remote way
ahead I’ve continued to forge
with my head humbly bent.
Gratifying every bank-dweller
with offering of water,
fruitfulness of my birth
I’m realizing worth.
* *
(Tapasvini,4/11)
*
[Translated from Gangadhara Meher’s Oriya epic-poem ‘Tapasvini’, by Dr. Harekrishna Meher]
poem by Harekrishna Meher
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River Tamasa: Philosophy of Life
Wandering over several woods wide,
never wavering astray
by illusion of any gorge,
surmounting many an impediment
in my life limpid,
never deeming darkness
as a distress,
never thinking light
to be a delight,
for a remote way
ahead I've continued to forge
with my head humbly bent.
Gratifying every bank-dweller
with offering of water,
fruitfulness of my birth
I'm realizing worth.
[Translated from original Oriya epic-poem ‘Tapasvini' By Dr. Harekrishna Meher]
poem by Gangadhar Meher
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The Ambrosial
Verily I'm a drop
of the ocean of nectar.
Shunning the ocean I had risen up
in the firmament afar.
Coming down now
I've joined the ambrosial flow
and towards the ocean
ahead I'm in motion.
If I evaporate therein
on the way by the heat of sin,
in the form of dew later on
I'll descend below.
With the nectarean immortal flow,
I'll mingle in the ocean.
[Translated from Gangadhara Meher’s Oriya Poem ‘Amrutamaya’, by Dr. Harekrishna Meher]
poem by Harekrishna Meher
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The Ambrosial
Verily I'm a drop
of the ocean of nectar.
Shunning the ocean I had risen up
in the firmament afar.
Coming down now
I've joined the ambrosial flow
and towards the ocean
ahead I'm in motion.
If I evaporate therein
on the way by the heat of sin,
in the form of dew later on
I'll descend below.
With the nectarean immortal flow,
I'll mingle in the ocean.
[Translated from original Oriya Poem ‘Amrutamaya' By Dr. Harekrishna Meher]
poem by Gangadhar Meher
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Dweller On The Threshold
Im a dweller on the threshold
And Im waiting at the door
And Im standing in the darkness
I dont want to wait no more
I have seen without perceiving
I have been another man
Let me pierce the realm of glamour
So I know just what I am
Im a dweller on the threshold
And Im waiting at the door
And Im standing in the darkness
I dont want to wait no more
Feel the angel of the present
In the mighty crystal fire
Lift me up consume my darkness
Let me travel even higher
Im a dweller on the threshold
As I cross the burning ground
Let me go down to the water
Watch the great illusion drown
Im a dweller on the threshold
And Im waiting at the door
And Im standing in the darkness
I dont want to wait no more
Im gonna turn and face the music
The music of the spheres
Lift me up consume my darkness
When the midnight disappears
I will walk out of the darkness
And Ill walk into the light
And Ill sing the song of ages
And the dawn will end the night
Im a dweller on the threshold
And Im waiting at the door
And Im standing in the darkness
I dont want to wait no more
Im a dweller on the threshold
And I cross some burning ground
And Ill go down to the water
Let the great illusion drown
Im a dweller on the threshold
And Im waiting at the door
And Im standing in the darkness
I dont want to wait no more
Im a dweller on the threshold
Dweller on the threshold
Im a dweller on the threshold
Im a dweller on the threshold
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meher Tu Muje Par Karde
meher tu muje par karde,
kore kaagaj se ek kahani bANADEY....
chupte chupate chale uff ye julffe tere gugraniya...
hey suruat jo tuje hey pani ki....
meher tu muje par karde,
kore kaagaj se ek kahani banade..
tere aarzo karu me tere khwaba ko me saja loooo..
tere pooja karu ya tuje sajda karu....
ye jo kahi nahi wo aaj bhi hey, tere rog ashique ka....
meher tu muje par karde,
kore kaagaj se ek kahani bANADEY..
poem by Sandeep Jahaal
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Fine Face with Five Flowers: Gita-Govinda
These lips of thine really bear similarity
with the beauty of flower Bandhū ka.
O Self-esteemed Lady!
Thy comely cheeks compile the lustres of Madhū ka.
Manifesting the beauty
of blue lotuses, thy eyes are very lovely.
The stature of Tila flower, thy nose bears.
Thy teeth, O My Dear!
spread the radiance of Kunda flower.
Serving thy fine face with these five flowers,
the Flower-shafted Love-god Cupid
conquers the entire universe indeed.
poem by Harekrishna Meher
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It Has Always Been You - Pt5
Part 5
Then I remembered that name mentioned just a short while ago
and thus made some effort to find out more as I needed to know.
I came across and even bought a few books relating to that name,
thus began another chapter in my life which wasn't quite the same.
What I began to read was the culmination of all that had come before
and by maintaining a steady discipline realised incredibly much more.
My expectations and joy increased so much so in what I had found
all else meant nothing to me, it seemed, coming across Holy ground.
The words I read were so beautiful, loving, very profound and true
I was dumbfounded to realise they were coming directly from You.
The books I read were by and about a person called Meher Baba
whose name in english was translated as 'Compassionate Father'.
In actual fact He never wrote those books at all as such
but dictated the words on an alphabet board in his clutch.
He would spell every word out to one of His close ones patiently,
by pointing to each letter in the words, moving His finger quickly.
His close one would then record what was 'said' each time by Him
for the benefit of those who would come later, such was His Whim.
He did not write or speak during the greater part of His life,
communicating with silent gestures, not even having a wife.
The words that He 'spoke' were of the highest wisdom and Love,
bringing down Divine Truth, with which to awaken us, from above.
He confirmed and corrected what all the others said about You,
knowing more than the others did, but also respecting their view.
His was the highest philosophy that's ever been described by hand,
by anyone before or since, in this world, anywhere inscribed on land.
He was The One I was always looking for everywhere to find
You were really Him being the latest Unique One of The Kind.
He was also from the same league as Zoroaster, Rama, Krishna, Buddha, Jesus and Muhammed, but appearing this time around called Meher Baba.
poem by George Krokos
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Baby, the Divine Form
Behold the effulgent form of divinity
in the soft figure of a child,
which is endowed with pure,
white and beautiful teeth.
Verily in the mortal world,
the child forms heavenly bliss,
the fruit of conjugal figures.
In the lucid river of child’s body,
overflows the cheerfulness
of lovely love-creepers.
Sweet smile of the child is splendid
having indistinct utterance of syllables
and so an object of ever-remembrance.
In the lovely lips shine delicacy and lucidity.
Sarasvati, the Goddess of Speech,
spreads her nectareous jingling,
graceful, faultless and rich.
Auspicious divinity and purity
lightly and delightfully
dance in the utterance of the child.
Music, unread and unknowingly attained,
flows in the cries and gaieties of the child.
In the child, who bears
a miniature form of Cupid,
the god of love and beauty,
there abide guilelessness and swiftness limpid.
In every limb of the child,
reigns the guileless comeliness
sprung from the creation
of the omnipresent Supreme Self.
In the ambrosial abode of child’s figure
scintillate innocence as well as sagacity.
Effulgent appearance of divinity
one can obviously observe
in the delicate form of the child.
poem by Harekrishna Meher
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Fragrance of Mother Earth
The Sun has risen in the east.
Fragrance of Mother Earth
will spread all over the world.
The fragrance of Mother Earth,
The perseverance of Mother Earth,
The consciousness of Mother Earth
and the thoughts of the land of arts,
all these will spread all over the world.
Food maintains the figure.
Oil causes smoothness.
In the lap of Mother,
abundant are the gems and precious jewels.
Dame Nature has bestowed air and water for all.
With the efforts of the human being
various kinds of crops are yielded.
Excellently charming are the rivers,
sylvan sites and brooks.
Fragrance of Mother Earth
will spread all over the world.
Summer, Rain and Winter
are the empirical experiences of this life.
We, the companions in joys and sorrows,
shall sing together the lilt of delight.
Dhol, Niś ā n and Ghumurā –
These enchanting musical instruments
encouragingly discard all dizziness.
The black-bee in the form of mind
rejoices humming over the flower
of colourful sentiments.
So marvellous and beautiful
is the creation of the Creator.
Fragrance of Mother Earth
will spread all over the world.
O Brothers and Sisters!
Wake up. With concentrative mind,
We’ll make our life blessed
by performing good deeds for the society.
Great strength is in the body of the youth.
We’ll keep the glory established
by accomplishing activities
in the path of righteousness
for the well-being of the country.
Salutations at the feet of our Mother India.
Our humble prayer at the feet
of the Mother Goddess Mā ņ ikeś warī.
Fragrance of Mother Earth will spread all over the world.
Our humble prayer at the feet of our Mother.
The thoughts of the land of arts will spread unfurled.
Fragrance of Mother Earth will spread all over the world.
poem by Harekrishna Meher
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by Aisha Patterson
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Poem.
I do not like the silly poem,
I do not like the angsty poem,
I do not like the ridiculous poem,
I do not like the damned poem,
I do not like the cheesy poem,
I do not like the random poem,
Or the epic poem,
Or the dandy poem,
Or the long poem,
Or the short poem,
Or the stupid poem,
Or the rude poem,
Or the useless poem,
Or the wordless poem,
Or the poem poem,
Or the poem poem's daughter,
Or the word, Poem,
I like the story.
poem by David Carter
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Our Eyes
Our eyes
are limpid
drops of water.
In each drop exists
a tiny sign
of our genius
which has given life to cold iron.
Our eyes
are limpid
drops of water
merged absolutely in the Ocean
that you could hardly recognize
the drop in a block of ice
in a boiling pan.
The masterpiece of these eyes
the fulfillment of their genius
the living iron.
In these eyes
filled with limpid
pure tears
had failed to emerge
from the infinite Ocean
if the strength
had dispersed,
we could never have mated
the dynamo with the turbine,
never have moved
those steel mountains in water
easily
as if made of hollow wood.
The masterpiece of these eyes
the fulfillment of their genius
of our unified labour
the living iron.
Translated by Taner Baybars
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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My Head
My head is 'whirring',
A poem is 'stirring',
Inside my mind
Which is resigned
To producing nothing
Except some 'cussing'.
My head is 'clanging',
A poem is 'hanging',
In mid-air somewhere,
And Oh, I do care
To get it out.
Without a doubt!
My head is 'lifting',
A poem is 'shifting'
About, and ready
To come out steady,
And with some luck,
Will not get 'stuck'!
My head is 'clearing',
A poem is 'nearing'
Completion now,
And now somehow,
I feel a conclusion
Is no longer an 'illusion'.
My head is 'delighting'
A poem is in 'writing',
Clearly written,
And now I am 'smitten'
With composing again.
Can I be 'SANE'! .
poem by Ernestine Northover
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Evolving, Constantly Changing (For Jan)
i look deep
into the depths
of my soul...
behind the doors
long closed,
darkness layered
in darkness...
before there were words!
i see stones, wind,
and great bent trees.
and their voices sound
like mine!
evolving,
constantly changing,
molded by light
and desire.
what have i become?
what will i become?
time,
an illusion,
drops of water
clinging to the leaf.
evolving,
the hand unseen,
the face deeply ingrained!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Beyond
It has three parts:
1) Body poems: hand in the darkness, eye in the darkness, mouth in the darkness, nose in the darkness, teeth in the darkness, legs in the darkness, belly in the darkness, forehead in the darkness, fingers in the darkness.............etc
2) Body machine: I am not a human being, I can fly! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
3) Sky poem: I am writing the alphabet 'KA'(meaning 'dance') in the sky or vacant sky.
I make this poem from performance to performativism poem.
You can perform my poem now! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Have vital life! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Song Of The Dark
When it rains darkness
we beg refuge in an iridescent dream, and
we don't know that
after having a plunge into the colours of the painter
how does the night change into blue?
The night flees hearing the soft footsteps of light;
rushes into the nooks and corners -
spreads to the hollow spaces;
a few holes pierce the souls
travelling through those
it moves to another direction -
Is that path dark too?
Is there a bottomless
crater of darkness
that moves from one illusion of light
to another?
Does there too
the darkness draw
delight the way
we draw pleasure from our
wanton sadness? And
overflow with our
iniquity; and
lose all residual words
in the entwining net of great verses.
Wounds in the souls
go deeper each moment; and
life in between the day and night
like crawling and swaying shadows -
Moves from one direction to the other;
second to the third,
third to the fourth,
fourth to the fifth; and then
to the whole universe; and
like this, onto a limitless direction.
Life keeps crawling on the knees silently
from one lair to the other;
from one corner of the universe to
the other corner -
Even the souls start sobbing
and there at the God's column-less
palaces;
darkness looms over the sparkling stars;
waiting for the chance to assault, and
reaches those lands where
hearts cultivate
and minds blossom in flowers!
Poem by: Naseer Ahmed Nasir,2008.
Translated from Urdu into English by Dr.Bina Biswas
Copyright(C) Naseer Ahmed Nasir, All Rights Reserved.
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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Life's Dance
In truth, I could live without you,
But that wouldn't be a life worth living.
Since you've been away,
My head went astray,
And I don't know what to do.
I can't sleep at night,
Getting up doesn't feel right,
Because I know I won't see you.
There is no promise of tomorrow,
But there is the promise of today,
Which will not be spent in sorrow or wishing my life away.
Instead it will be spent thinking,
Thinking about if I get the chance,
How I will spend tomorrow,
Dancing with life's dance.
poem by Mystykka Mysterious
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Vestigia Nulla Retrorsum
O steep and rugged Life, whose harsh ascent
Slopes blindly upward through the bitter night!
They say that on thy summit, high in light,
Sweet rest awaits the climber, travel-spent;
But I, alas, with dusty garments rent,
With fainting heart and failing limbs and sight,
Can see no glimmer of the shining height,
And vainly list, with body forward bent,
To catch athwart the gloom one wandering note
Of those glad anthems which (they say) are sung
When one emerges from the mists below:
But though, O Life, thy summit be remote
And all thy stony path with darkness hung,
Yet ever upward through the night I go.
poem by William Gay
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A Poem Begun In Darkness
A POEM BEGUN IN DARKNESS
A poem begun in darkness
Waits for morning light -
It knows the light will bring hope -
It understands that when a new day begins outside
Inside too there will be light-
A poem begun in darkness
Knows somehow it will end in light -
Better Light than Darkness
Better Hope than Fear
Better a new world
Than one which is waiting to die
poem by Shalom Freedman
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