You May Have Obtained Nama
You may have obtained nama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
Lord resides within you, but you couldn't discern him;
You wander aimlessly thinking him to be afar;
You calculate about the One beyond the calculations;
You limit the Illimitable
And in this state of twoness, you count your futile beads!
You may have obtained nama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
You try to be Harijan without having Hari!
How can pangs of hunger subside by a bash of hollow words?
How can throes of separation subside by mere donning of ascetic clothes?
It is like the futile roaring of rainless clouds!
You may have obtainednama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
You think you have become harijan by merely singing lord's praises,
You try to rival a swan, when your deeds are those of a crow!
The lord will indeed disregard you!
You may have obtainednama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is barren like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without groom!
Says Narsinh, only he is worth our obeisance,
Whose mind has dissolved into the formless;
In whom the delusion of the world of differences is shattered
And in whom the flame of renunciation is resplendent.
You may have obtained nama, but without Rama
Your title of Vaishnava is like a cradle in a childless home
Or a marriage procession without the groom!
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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Related quotes
Rama
The Day That Kausalya Does Not See His Face
She is restless and sad so her heart does race
Every person speaking she thinks it is her son
She calls out His Name Rama Rama dear son!
She goes about her work her mind is on Rama
What a fate have I to be separated from Rama
Let no Mother suffer this and part with her son
What a sacrifice this is to have God as my son!
I am a Mother like any other who raised her son
I wished for Him the very best like a human son
Did not wish even for a human son to leave me
How can I bear this separation of Rama and me?
He is the best in the world for me and for you
Taking His Name they will have salvation true
I don't need anything in this world ever to gain
Rama dearest please show me your face again!
poem by Ashoka Harichandan
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Hare Rama
Soaked in the tears of this home
Memories grind me into my bittered life.
Earlier days were lively in full bloom.
But soon got into this rancid life.
I was not the home minister, but
In the production of babies and dishes.
Not considered to be a prestigious post.
Unprofessionally professional was my status.
Cutting vegetables for curries and sambar
Grinding black gram and rice for dosas
Ooh la la la, for everyone at home, other
Than me finding no day for my own wishes.
Age has put me on the altar today.
Children ask me about wasted talents why?
What shall i say? that i sacrificed?
Or have i been a coward?
Ere shaken my mortal, chanting Rama Rama
Shall be the best resort to replace the wasted.
So Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Hare Rama!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Hari Chrishna
People with light orange cloaks
comes pass in a jolly procession.
There are two hitting drums
and one sings over a loudspeaker horn
and I see a few
getting rattling noises out of cymbals
that makes the people
on the sidewalk stand still
while the small group of people
draws attention and pass.
It’s a shrill “hare krishna hare krishna
krishna krishna hare hare
hare rama hare rama
rama rama hare hare”
that goes right through you
and I wonder
what the strange words
are exactly saying
and I hear how the drums
keeps the earthly rhythm
and it’s like a street circus
that disappears in the distance
while they disappear behind buildings.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Seeta, a pity.
Seeta, you are a noble lady,
So chaste, so modest and so graceful.
Rama is your noble lord,
So virtuous, so chivalrous and so truthful.
Ravna is your bitter lover,
So passionate, so devoted and so lustful.
Rama waged a war to redeem you.
Ravna laid his life to retain you.
Rama loved you, as you are his wife.
Ravna wanted you for what you are.
Rama tested you by fire.
If you failed, what would be your fate?
Can Ravna do so, if he were in Rama’s shoes?
Love of Rama is conditional
Love of Ravna is categorical.
Rama loves you; Ravna devours you.
You are second to none to Ravna,
Who lost everything for you and
Who could do anything for you?
Have not you committed a sin
In being the cause for killing a loving dog?
The love for keeping chastity,
More than you love for Rama,
Weighed on you to reject Ravna.
The love for your chastity,
Rather than his love for you,
Weighed on Rama to own you back.
Ravna’s love for you is pure.
He desired you more than Rama did.
You would have lived more vividly
Had you met Ravna first and married.
Instead, you were at loss to earn a sin.
I pity you.
06.06.2002, pakd
[Based on the Hindu Epic
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Lord Is His Devotees' Slave
Whatever is a devotee's
caste, clan, family, or name,
Rama's love for him is the same.
Beggar and king
are one to him.
Say, of what caste could be
Brahma or Shiva?
Rama will never abide
in the egotistic man's heart
therefore his slave, Suradasa,
has abandoned pride.
Rama was born in the Raghu clan
Krishna found his home in Gokula.
Words fail to tell of
the Lord's love
universal, all-embracing;
Dhruva was a Kshatriya,
Prahlada a demon and Vidura the son of a maid:
yet the Lord gave them his supreme love,
Krishna washed the devotees' feet
at the Rajasuya.
The Lord is the slave
of his devotees
age after age.
The tongue can't relate
his countless deeds.
Says Suradasa, the Puranas and Vedas
are witness to these.
poem by Sant Surdas
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Sri Rama Jayam
Evokes chanting of my 'RamRam'
Picking up Pavalamalli flowers at 6a.m
A good day ahead
My regular counts of SriRamajayam
After a hectic kitchen record at 9.30a.m
Inking out in words in a note book
And on a day of submission...
'Before pooja almirah supporting me a mat-seater
My concentration grips Rama better
Although bossing over my anger to fade out
As the maid keeps sweeping
Dust from the broom splattering
Without a divine heart for the sacred book
I say sorry to Rama
Chuck out myself of the room
To make coffee for the lady-broom
And give up not; I further continue with Rama
Sitting in the chair in the porch in silence
A while later hubby next glances
Brunch ready?
Rush to the dining table
Hubby relishes his pappads crumble
Hmm.. I say sorry to Rama
Back to pooja almirah
Sit up to pursue Rama
But oops, a phone call
Daughter! And hubby is hysterical
Me too driven towards grand-son's prattle
Forget myself and quite unaware
But soon conscience pricks
Work be soon finished for Rama's blessing looks
Should submit it to the Lord
I say sorry to Rama
Sit back to my writing
Lunch time past; Yet mind not skipping
Write and write on
Rama must be invisibly looking at me
My hope, Anjaneya recommends me
By 4p.m complete my work
March on to the temple
Hand over my book so humble
Pray with closed eyes
Finally blessed with ' prasadh' when awake.
But lo, the wrapper to shake
A piece of Ramajayam-paper...
I look at the Lord so puzzled
But He, smiling as He ever has stood
poem by Indira Renganathan
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At the Altar
Now to take away your life –
Devour your soul afresh upon
The birth of every dawning day
– The spawn of sun and earth –
As of the way Prometheus lost hepatic flesh –
He stole fire! You stole gropes
And f*cks of me; so suffer thee!
Oh yes, perspire! Drizzle down the beads
Upon that crimson, blotchy skin –
I see the once cocksure pose, my man,
Is wearing terribly thin.
Indeed, an absence of repose
Discloses thumping in your chest –
Irregularly rhythmic – like the humping
(When you thought I was a body to molest) .
No more! my little man, for I shall wrest
The living essence from your
Paling, quivering form! –
You’ve had your gentle calm
Before the rumblings of the storm!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
marriage marriage marriage marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage marriage marriage
marriage marriage marriage marriage marriage
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Embracing impotence[A]
Sexual partners are hard to get;
Porn in the net is free for all.
Premarital sex is a crime;
Seeing porn all the time is within.
Addicted to seeing pictures,
Men develop an inability
To be turned on by girls in person.
Failure in bed after marriage
Is the matter of concern for both.
Guilt cripples him; hunger drives her out.
Childless, marriage heads to wreck.
Then mind is set to seeing only porn
And refuses to see the real partner.
It is the self inflicted impotence.
24.10.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Pseudo patriarchy system
The bride leaves her parental home
And adopts as hers the groom's home.
Patriarchy system is not in play.
Woman's interest is behind the play.
Woman is much possessive of her son
Who she wants to be with her on marriage.
She lets her daughter go away instead
As the tree lets its seeds go on dispersal.11.10.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On Marriage
Pessimistic views: :
Marriage is a gamble!
Marriage is a punishment;
Marriage is an evil that
Most can’t but accept.
Optimistic views:
Marriage is a gift of God;
Marriage is a blessing;
Marriage is an enjoyment,
We make the best of it.
Truths:
Marriage is so wonderful;
Marriage is so fulfilling;
Marriage is so wholesome;
Marriage is an endless love,
More priceless than all wealth!
Marriage is a way of life;
Marriage is so natural;
Marriage is the better way,
For two, to reach Heaven.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-7-2006
poem by John Celes
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From The Banks Of Ganga: V
I open my eyes
Non-light on the Ganga
Breaking into dawn
A la Kubja stood as if waiting
For me to open my eyes
Kabhie Krishna ko dekha?
Chalo meri saath!
Like a mute animal
I follow her into a chamber
Where a marble Krishna welcomed me
How long did I sit in His presence?
Hare Rama hare rama
Rama Rama Hare hare
Hare Krishna Hare Krishna
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
My own chanting
Reverberating in my ears
There flowed Ganga
In bright sunlight…
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Title
Give a title
Pursue it.
Giving title is in your hand
After giving title it is you
To go behind it.
Through this title
You are going to search truth
And the secret of truth
Though the title is
Not based on truth.
Title given on imagination
And imaginary world is not real world.
Without imagination
You can not go anywhere
You can not achieve anything.
It is your imagination
That pull and push you.
From the starting
You are wandering
With the title
You have given.
Unless you forget
All that are yours
You can not reach me.
Go not with anything.
Come to me only
Come to me in empty.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Dreaming
Happened!
I swear by the chaste vast firmament
Through which pierces into the depths of azury ocean
Whizzing like an arrow the sanguine sun
The phratric first of Ikshvaku domain
Of which notable king was Lord Rama
To whom drowned gusty in devotion like Hanuman
I was taken to recite my verses
Which when opened got drowned
Into the unfathomable mercy of Lord Rama's effulgence
Which made His whole court tolerant
That ever so makes me pursue my dreaming..
poem by Indira Renganathan
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What is marriage, is marriage protection or religion, is marriage renunciation or abundance, is marriage a stepping-stone or an end. What is marriage.
quote by Gertrude Stein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time And Ill Timed Marriage
once as time gone flows
quite quite some time ago
youth was quite young
quite young quite wise
time interactive quite wise
as individuals often are
time and ill timed marriage
a marriage unevenly yoked
are effective cures to both
a mismatch marriage will
require compromise with
heritage ideals integrity
a mismatch marriage will
consume both bride groom
leaving little elbow room
a tight rope walk is skilled balance act
a wire strung between two places
incapable of meeting in proverbial middle
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Crow On The Cradle
(from the soundtrack to no nukes; peformed live by jackson browne with graham nash & david lindley)
The sheeps in the meadow
The cows in the corn
Now is the time for a child to be born
Hell laugh at the moon
And cry for the sun
And if its a boy hell carry a gun
Sang the crow on the cradle
And if it should be that this babys a girl
Never you mind if her hair doesnt curl
With rings on her fingers
And bells on her toes
And a bomber above her wherever she goes
Sang the crow on the cradle
The crow on the cradle
The black and the white
Somebodys baby is born for a fight
The crow on the cradle
The white and the black
Somebodys baby is not coming back
Sang the crow on the cradle
Your mother and father will sweat and theyll slave
To build you a coffin and dig you a grave
Hush-a-bye little one, never you weep
For weve got a toy that can put you to sleep
Sang the crow on the cradle
Bring me my gun, and Ill shoot that bird dead
Thats what your mother and father once said
The crow on the cradle, what can we do
Ah, this is a thing that Ill leave up to you
Sang the crow on the cradle
Sang the crow on the cradle
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love is barren with out memento
Many a script,
Many a gift,
Did I present to you.
You paid me nil.
Acceptance by you,
A forbidden soul,
Itself is the token
Of remittance.
However, I want
From you a memento
To show to others
Your love for me,
Without which
What is love worth?
Give me your fallen hair.
Give me your bitten nail.
Bharata was proud of
Rama’s love by his sandals.
21.04.2002, Pakd
In the epic The Ramayana, Bharata brought the sandals of his brother, Rama, to keep them as the ruler the kingdom in the place of Rama, who, denouncing the throne, went to the exile.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Trinity Of Carnatic Music 1-St.Thyagaraja
You're lost in the ism of Rama
Leaving behind a mission of Rama
Whence a practice of euphony
Across the compass of tones
Treasuring a supernal bliss long trailed
You know the heft of the bliss?
As much as that of Rama
Ethereally coloured quantum
Your-way-caressed to melt
Into our souls abundantly scaled
Your realm of scales, mode of melodies
Credence of pristine musical perseverence
Whole spirit alone with Rama
Ineffable elation of a doctrine for salvage
How am I to accost?
Guru? swamy, rishi, poet, writer, father?
You're the immortal, empyreal adept
Permeated and permeating intranssient
A cult of popularism for soul-liberation
How else be acclaimed than 'Nadabrahmam'
And 'Nadabrahmam' alone
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A marriage is a procession in which the cross goes first.
By The Bivouac's Fitful Flame
BY the bivouac's fitful flame,
A procession winding around me, solemn and sweet and slow;--but first
I note,
The tents of the sleeping army, the fields' and woods' dim outline,
The darkness, lit by spots of kindled fire--the silence;
Like a phantom far or near an occasional figure moving;
The shrubs and trees, (as I lift my eyes they seem to be stealthily
watching me;)
While wind in procession thoughts, O tender and wondrous thoughts,
Of life and death--of home and the past and loved, and of those that
are far away;
A solemn and slow procession there as I sit on the ground,
By the bivouac's fitful flame. 10
poem by Walt Whitman
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