Posts tagged india

Sweet Child on the Road

Oh Atman! Oh soul!
Sweet child on the road.

Oh mother who feeds
Her family with peace.

Oh father in sky,
Can’t you hear the lowly cry?

Oh truth, oh lies
All unfolding in time.

Oh existence, oh knowledge,
Oh bliss absolute.

Oh teacher, great silence,
So loving and wise.

Oh yoga, dissolution,
Ascend material resolution.

Oh guru, pure light,
Resting easy at your side.

Oh wisdom in life
So many ways to delight.

Oh death, take me home,
Leave with grace these skin and bones.

Oh Atman! Oh soul!
Forever love this mortal stone.

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Savitri – Sri Aurobindo

I recently visited Auroville, Tamil Nadu, India for the second time, a place I find deeply inspiring.  Auroville is a community envisaged by the sage Sri Aurobindo, a place free of binds to nations or corporations.  A work in progress, a place that strives to embody a new society based on sound ethics and virtue, a positive vision of how we could live in various degrees of harmony.  

I had not read Aurobindos poetry until recently and when I did, felt deeply moved by the potency and diversity of his work. Here are two small exerts from Savitri, regarded by many as his most profound and essential writing.

 

“and he saw like one walking into a dream

some timeless beauty and reality,

the moon-gold sweetness of heaven’s

earth-born child.”

“a few can climb to an unperishing sun,

or live on the edge of the mystic moon

and channel to earth-mind the

wizard way.”

“The two longing to join, yet walk apart,

Idly divided by their vain conceits;

They are kept from their oneness by enchanted fears;

Sundered mysteriously by miles of thought,

They gaze across the silent gulfs of sleep.”

“A marvellous sun looked down from ecstasy’s skies

On worlds of deathless bliss, perfection’s home,

Magical unfoldings of the Eternal’s smile

Capturing his secret heart-beats of delight.”

Namastex

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Last Words – Theodore Roethke

Sunrise, Thar Desert, India - 26/1/14

Sunrise, Thar Desert, India – 26/1/14

Solace of kisses and cookies and cabbage,
That fine fuming stink of particular kettles,
Muttony tears falling on figured linoleum,
Frigidaires snoring the sleep of plenty,
The psyche writhing and squirming in heavy woolen,
O worm of duty! O spiral knowledge!

Kiss me, kiss me quick, mistress of lost wisdom,
Come out of a cloud, angel with several faces,
Bring me my hat, my umbrella and rubbers,
Enshroud me with Light! O Whirling! O Terrible Love!

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Hushed Monsoon

 

View from the Western Ghats - Tamil Nadu, India

View from the Western Ghats – Tamil Nadu, India

At the vanguard of life,

Captured by the stream and the essence of being.

 

In the community of bamboo clusters and

Bougainvillea clouds;

We collect flowers for compost.

Fresh seeds shower the lanes,

To reap and sow as nature dictates.

 

The garden is speaking softly

Of a greatness in effortless intention.

No thought, no goal; pure action realised.

 

Do nothing for the seasons dance along with us.

We regenerate freely with open hearts;

We can no longer leave, we can no longer stay.

 

Life is cleansed of doing and in wholeness we abstain;

Suspended in the process,

 

Transfixed by the pink moons passage

And the sound of hushed monsoon

Coming to wash it all away.

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Tapovan (A Collection) – Himalayas, India

Above Rishikesh

Above Rishikesh

Tapovan

Where the great sages

Once sat;

Where now I sit,

A humble scribble.

 

Rest with the holy men

And look to the stars.

 

Narrow windows

Of the soul,

Gleaming eyes

And begging bowls.

 

One and Many Faces

Within the calmest chamber of my heart, I found you sleeping;

Truth flowered from your eyes.

Locked in your gaze I remained breathless

And in your arms I gladly died.

 

Lost in the depths of love, guided by an inner bride,

May we merge these senses, make these revolutions shine.

 

Our silent dance now roars, engulfs all suffering;

Shatters illusory doors, floating on this conscious stream.

 

On the backs of Gods we ride, pilgrims ever set for salvation;

Beyond the temples of twisted mind, all one and many faces.

A Jungle Waterfall

A Jungle Waterfall

2

Fanned by the flame of infinite

Destiny; we are naturally cursed and blessed.

 

Hung in the cauldron of uncertainty, envy grips sincerity.

 

Crude words blot the page,

Sorrow is the cause

For the mountain orchids speak.

 

Nameless Sage

There is a formless forest guru, teak carved and polished clear;

As a tiger stalks and kills, this wooden soul would sit.

Just an old stone wasting no time at all; tendrils for toes, ascending with

Nature.  A rare breed with cloud-like constitution.

 

Given to an internal voyage, of Syrius he claimed soul form.

Now fully merged and fresh ash smeared, elephant hide wrapped tight to his ribs,

His three eyes stare at unity, directly.

 

Deep in the forest, lungs lined with early morning dew,

He talks only with tiny birds and hears of the coming rains.

Living out the depths of truth, where existence is the nectar,

A bliss filled concentration of effortless implication.

 

This heart a humble furnace, the nameless sage

Who charges the Himalayas with stillness,

A tranquil quake of focused purity.

 

Silent Song

In early day the mist has come,

Trees are stirring.

 

There is a deep well of beauty,

Still in time.

 

I hear the river fall

From the centre of the morning sun;

 

To disappear forever,

In silent, silent song.

 

Mandala Void

From out of the void,

A mandala, a body;

 

Something visible where the mind may feast

And fracture.

 

These fragments of burning candles,

The taste to realize;

Sweet mango, fresh chai.

 

White Swans

Rest easy in this celestial session,

Loving all, excluding nought.

 

All religions written in the mental sky.

When it clears, expose the vast light of truth.

 

Infinite the beatitude, god is nothing to fear.

Finer energies exist here, higher powers

We may touch; that we are.

 

Sleepless and nestled in the mothers arms.

Safe to tread the path riding white swans,

Wearing bells.

 

Here or There

Here or there; a fantastic meander,

Wild elephants in fields of sunflowers.

 

At odds with the love we are,

We are sleeping to make new days.

 

Yet all night our lamp

Still burns with grace.

The valley leading to Rishikesh

The valley leading to Rishikesh

Extracts from a collection written in Rishikesh, India, January ’14

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The Poetry of the Bauls

Bauls, the wandering mystics and minstrels of Bengal. Their branch of thought pre-dates even the Rig Vedas; for me their poetry and songs evoke all that is magical about India.

My soul cries out,
caught in the snare of beauty
of the formless one,

As I cry myself,
Night and day,
Beauty amassed before my eyes,
Surpasses moons and suns.

If I look at the clouds in the sky,
I see his beauty afloat.
And I see him walk on the stars,
Blazing within my heart.

I am returning to India in early January and ‘Riding effortlessly……’ will switch from a mainly poetry based blog to being a mainly travelling poetry blog.

Wishing you all a peaceful Christmas time and prosperous New OneX

 

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Ustad Ali Akbar Khan

“If you practice for ten years, you may begin to please yourself, after 20 years you may become a performer and please the audience, after 30 years you may please even your guru, but you must practice for many more years before you finally become a true artist — then you may please even God.”

Ali Akbar Khan

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