Tuesday 2 June 2009

Thrushes Chirp in Russet Maples

PROUD PHILOSOPHY proposed to Poetry pure,
Coaxing, cajoling her to serve him as his Queen.
Reluctant, she succumbed; hair-dragged to his lair,
Lured and bedded behind his mental screen.
Uneasy waged their wedlock, heavily hard to share
Her fairy fancies with his rigid thought machine.
Divorce seemed certain, until from who knows where?
Fourteen lines of metre, meandered on the scene.
Philosophic sonnets solved their crisis soon
To knit ideas with verses in a subtle form.
He shone as Sun, she swanned as silver Moon
Reflecting wisdom, in stanzas, heartfelt, warm.
They seized the avid reader like a thunder storm,
Philosophic sonnets were now a cultured norm.

Myrobalan of the Magih

I GAZE clearly at the palm of my hand,
I see a crystalline nectarine fruit,
I hear Orphic strains hymned by silver flute.
Let’s dance wildly to an ecstatic band,
Get drunk on spirit scalding fire, fanned
By September’s blissful breeze. Deep at root
Of my etheric heart lies an emerald shoot
Of the Primal Sage from an antique land.
That’s the myth of Magi’s myrobalan,
Sacred as frankinscense, red rose, mandrake,
Solomon’s Lily, of which the Holy Lamb
Of God, praised for his dear disciple’s sake,
In immortal words, as part of God’s great plan,
Neither toil nor spin, for I AM THAT I AM.

*A sage said “It’s easier to see the Self than this
Myrobalan I hold in my hand”

Nightingales Moan Midst the Nasturtiums

LOVE shines in soft summer evening light,
Arms outstretched, embracing all with grace,
Yea-saying here, in Earth’s bleak and jagged place.
On crumbling walls of inner courts of sight
The Sage sees daylight even in the dead of night.
Dawn’s blood streaked gold scatters clouds apace,
Spears of glory pierce God’s infinite space
Of massive nature; grace, beauty, love and might.
The plaintive sob of amorous nightingale
Throbs for his beloved with poignant song.
He know his faith in her will never fail,
And they’ll lie breast to breast before too long.
When even dark night falls, his joyful tongue
Hymns harmony, echoing love’s eternal tale.


RUBY red amongst women, fiery gem,
Self luminous, radiant, glowing all alone,
Emblem of Beauty, a blazing crimson stone;
I’m not fit to lift your garment’s hem.
You’re the rose, root, shoot, fruit and stem
Of Love; beaming rays from your burnished throne,
Bright beacon enlightening ev’ry boundry known.
Scotch the demons of my mind, destroy them!

Consume gross ignorance in vestal fire,
Crucify me in your crucible of gold,
Wax wrathful as the vengeful Gods of old,
Cleanse dark dross from murk of worldy mire.
Queen of ardent zeal, grasp me in your hold,
I throw egotism upon your blazing funeral pyre.

Roar from the Roof Tops

ALL is very well! to unfold exactly as it should,
Let it roar from the roof tops, all bold seekers tell,
That power which knows the way is truly good,
All is very well!

To rouse sad sleeper from his dream – ring the bell
Of Truth; All is One, non dual! For aeons stood
This beacon lamp to light our gloomy shaded dell.

As green willows grow so sweet in silent woods,
Foolish fear ends. Firm faith tolls the death knell
Of ignorance, for all to wake, who wish they could.
All is very well!

Dive Deep

WHO truly am I? The profoundest question isWho,
Am I? The ultimate, most urgent quest, before I die.
How sad to fly from the body in doubt: who are you?
Who, truly am I?

It’s indeed an easy task to turn and look; a true
Yearning to learn the wherefore, whether, what for, and why
Of I. To dive deep into the heart is our Master’s clue

To live, and be wholly free from dismal care and sigh,
In the Self, of boundless bliss, celestial saphire blue,
Who, truly am I?

Liberty Bell

BE carefree, in an effortless thought free state, dear friend;
Live released from rigid imprisoned mind; That’s the gate
To Liberty! From tiresome strife to gain all goals, the end.
Be carefree.
All tense struggle to reach an aim before it is too late
Creates conflict. To you, an urgent message I now send
Let go of imperious ways, just be quiet, and wait.

So through the golden gate to Freedom, gently wend,
Your tender path’s ‘not doing’, dwell in peace so great,
Rest and mend in a tranquil, unsought place, dear friend;
Be carefree.

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