Friday, 30 July 2010


"There are no mistakes" the Great Guru said,
"All that happens has been ordained by God,
For your spiritual growth! This may seem odd,
But to wake you up from your dreaming bed,
You shall by me, be very wisely led,
To Eternal Being from earthly clod.
So pray don't ever live in fear and dread,
I'll redeem you from the spirtual dead!"

Poor pilgrim plodding on the mountain way,
Became distressed because he felt no gain
Of understanding, although he tried each day,
To practice as the sacred books explain.
Then his Guru said "surrender!" my dear boy,
With Enquiry, your Real Self, you'll soon enjoy!"


There’s a huge loom of Time, in duration;
Born of Infinity, from a consummation
With Life, which has never been void of time,
While Sun and Moon as shuttle upward climb.

By weaving to and fro as night and day,
A splendid pageant of coloured display,
Strung on the warp and weft of cosmic unity.
The back of this embroidered tapestry

Is monochrome, derived from that formless One.
It’s face is multihued, radiant as the Sun,
Its tones reflected from archetypal light,
All magically absorbed, an equalled sight.

Only what’s permitted by an unseen hand,
Appears as this moving panoramic band;
A rainbow painting of the whole wide world,
Brushed vertically: each single thread is whirled

Without the dimmest dint of dull duality;
Bright Light, unique to Self, sheer Reality!
Coated with golden fleece and angel wool,
Dyed in the deepest vat of Destiny’s pool.

So does this sacred cloth, woven in Love,
Quarrel with its weaver who reigns above?
Wrapped in his Joseph cloak at rainbows’s end,
Eternal pilgrim ever loves his Mighty Friend!

Wednesday, 28 July 2010


You can't stop iron gates from banging,
Or express railway trains from clanging,
Nor men or women from acting as they do;
Because they've never posed the question 'Who
Does every action which they perform,
And why does there arise a mental storm'?
It's all ego, dear friend, that's the cause,
Man cannot do! so take a long hard pause.

A perplexed pilgrim plodded on the mountain way,
Disturbed about how to spend his 'pilgrim day',
Then Grace, an inner voice, cried from deep inside,
"Enquire into Real Self and there abide"!
He practiced what his Inner Guru preached,
Soon enlightened, Eternal Self he reached .

Sunday, 25 July 2010


Pink lotus, emblem of Hindu wisdom sage,
Greatest aid to spiritual growth for man.
If one learns their teachings and carefully scan
The practise needed in this Kali Yuga age,
An inner struggle the aspirant must wage.
Pink lotus is rooted in muddy mire, but can
Still open as a bloom of beauty better than
Known by those who're blind to God's Almighty plan.

A soul lived a life of gross indulgence,
But tired of pleasure she turned to learn
Truth necessary for her repentance,
Self Realisation to surely earn.
Her ignorance and sin were fertile ground
To turn within. True wisdom she quickly found.


Saturday, 24 July 2010


We're pink almond blossoms on the green tree of life,
We've entered a dream world of both pleasure and strife.
The Divine Sun shines on each pretty bloom as grace,
The rains of pain also shower, upon that place,
Ripening us in good time to become mature,
Then we're both strong and brave enough to endure,
The full power of Self Realisation,
Freed from fool ego's phantom imagination.

But for that graceful blessed ripening to come,
A certain sadhana needs to be done.
From blossom we transform into worth while nuts,
Freed from doubting problems, quandries, ifs and buts.
In every nut there dwells a tasty kernel,
Pure Essence of Self, blissful Life Eternal!

Friday, 23 July 2010


Love’s way is humility and intoxication,
The torrent floods down. How can it run up?
You’ll be a cabuchon in the ring of lovers,
If you’re a red ruby’s slave, dear friend ;
Even as Earth is a serf of sapphire sky
And your monkey body’s a slave to your spirit.

What did Earth ever lose by this relationship ?
What mercy has the Self showed to weary limbs ?
One shouldn’t beat the snare drum of awakening
Beneath a cosy sofa’s, comfy counterpane.

Hoist, like a hero, your flag in the desert.
Listen with your soul’s ear to the song,
In that hollow of the vast turquoise dome,
Rising from the lover's passionate moan .

When your tight gown-strings are loosened
By the tipsy inebriation of perfect love,
The victorious heavens shout, triumphantly !
And the constellations gaze down ashamed.

This world is in deep trouble, from top to bottom,
But it can be swiftly healed by the balm of love.

A free versification I have made from Rumi's Divan based on the Nicholson Literal Translation

Thursday, 22 July 2010


Since the rose has withered and the garden lies forlorn
From whom shall we breathe the fragrance of the rose?
When God is out of sight, Prophets are his Vicars,
Yet the Prophet and God are one without a second,
They are two only if you worship the bodily form
They are one for all who have passed beyond this perception.
When you look at the form your eye has double vision
Look at the eye’s light which grew single from the Self.
If ten lamps are lit in one hall each differs in form,
To see the light of each is well nigh impossible
When you stare at the fully blazing candelabra.
If you count a hundred freshly picked, ripe red apples,
They become as one when crushed in the cider press.
In spiritual matters there are no numbers or parts,
There is no false division nor any individuals.
Sweet is the oneness of the Friend with his friends ,
Clutch and cling to the naked feet of this spirit,
Forms are opposed to realisation of spiritual unity .
Make headstrong form waste away with trial and tribulation,
So beneath it you may discover unity like buried treasure,
And if you fail His bountiful grace will surely conquer.
My heart is His slave, He shows himself to our hearts,
He mends the torn and tattered robe of the Dervish.
We were single, and all from one substance without heads,
We were one substance like the Sun, knotless like water.
When that light took form it multiplied like shadows off a wall.
Smash the wall with a catapault that the shadows will crash.
I would have made these points with greater vigour
But feared weaker minds may stumble from my rigour.
The points are sharp as a razor’s edge,if you catch the sense,
So turn within and flee from this dream of a world.
Do not come without a strong shield against this keen blade,
The warrior’s sword is never afraid of execution ,
I place my scmitar in its sheath so none may mistake
The true meaning of my metaphors and discourse .

My Versification of a Rumi Poem in the Mathnawi From The Tale of the Jewish King

Tuesday, 20 July 2010


All beings yearn to be happy, always;
Happiness without a tinge of sorrow,
To enjoy a life of carefree days,
Taking no burden of thought for tomorrow.
When restless mind’s at peace in deep sleep,
What glimpse of worry, grief or despair?
So happiness lies therein, buried down deep.
How to find this treasure, awake, aware?
Ask the question, who am I, and from where?
That’s the essential means of the holy task,
Ending ego’s ‘me’ and ‘my’, that’s there.
No pleasure endures in things of this Earth,
Enquire within, who basks behind our mask?
To regain that Selfhood we lost at birth.

To regain that Selfhood we lost at birth,
First consider well the cinema screen,
To understand that, gains merit and worth.
On the screen there appears a tense drama,
The film begins and we enjoy the show.
Fire, flood, sex, death, a vast panorama;
The screen’s unchanging, but the film’s a shadow.
The simile teaches, strange as it may be,
That both seer and seen make up the mind.
On Consciousness as screen, all action’s based.
To know that is true, is the clue to be free,
A guiding beacon that’s so rare to find.
That’s the Sage wisdom by which we are graced.

That’s the Sage wisdom by which we are graced,
We’re taught the silver screen as a metaphor.
Seated in theatre stalls, now we are placed,
To proceed with clarity and enquire some more.
The bright theatre lamp is the light supreme,
Illuminating both actors and the scene.
We see stage and the play only by light,
Yet when action ends, the lamp remains bright.
Just as woven cloth and its colour white
Are never, ever perceived as apart,
So when mind and light both unite,
They form ego, knotted and bound in the heart.
Of all that we’ve ever learned since birth,
That’s the high wisdom proclaimed on Earth.

That’s the high wisdom proclaimed on Earth,
How to make mind to merge in its source?
Only by enquiring with all of one’s force,
The central question regarding its birth,
The ultimate scrutiny of “Who Am I”?
As thoughts froth forth like waves on the ocean,
They’ll all be slain by such introspection,
Unveiling the Self, the lost inward eye.
Pearls lay buried on the deep ocean floor,
Attracting divers to search for this goal.
Holding their breath they plunge to the core
Of the ocean bed, for the pearl oyster’s soul.
To gain this gem in the heart’s sacred place,
Just seek for the source where mind is based.

Just seek for the source where mind is based.
You travel alone on a mystery train;
By this metaphor we’re comfortably placed,
To travel by providence free from pain.
So put all your heavy luggage on the rack,
Only a fool carries it on his head!
Be glad, accept the predestined track,
Rest quietly, safe at home on your bed!
Surrender in joyful jubilation!
Surrender utterly to God’s almighty will,
Surrender with total resignation,
Surrender knowing all will be well,
Surrender whole heartedly with one accord,
Take safe refuge in the all loving Lord!

Take safe refuge in the all loving Lord!
For life’s a dream and sleeping dreams are short,
The waking dream is long; both stem from thought.
The Real is beyond both this waking and sleep.
The sword of enquiry slays dream states deep,
So reaching their substratum, numinous,
The state of pure consciousness, Self luminous!
Blissfully aware, yet awake in sleep.
As the cockerel crows ready to sup,
At the roseate dawn of first morning light,
Awareness pours into the near empty cup,
Granting a moment’s taste of Self insight.
This light is the eye that forever sees,
Who can be known by enquiring “who frees?”

Who can be known by enquiring “who frees?”
The Master who lives in the cave of the heart,
Not separate from one’s Self, being the start,
Of the final search from bond to release.
The Sage appears when the soul is ready,
With strong gaze of grace he says “be aware
That God and his wisdom are already there!”
He acts as a brake to make the mind steady,
While mercy flows freely in sunshine and air,
Hindered only by our being unready.
If you come to him, meekly with an empty cup,
His grace is then bound to fill it up.
The Master’s glance is the grace of the Lord,
He cuts you free with his mighty sword.

He cuts you free with his mighty sword,
To guide you surely, on the upward way
To Self Realisation, your real birthday!
Consummation of “That” the Sage’s word,
Is “rest in the Self,” which is always heard.
In him, place great trust and affirm, say yea
As certainty! Our Real Self blazes away,
Ever surrendered to the almighty Lord,
Revealing great peace for Realisation’s sake,
Renouncing belief that a rope is a snake.
The seeker surely becomes “the great find”,
His own blissful being, the summit in kind,
This great Teaching eternally frees,
One with the Self, as the Absolute sees.

One with the Self, as the Absolute sees,
He answers all our prayers and our pleas;
We must first enter that dear sacred part,
Not the fleshy pump that throbs on the left,
But the sacred core: by being skilful and deft,
We find that on the right; is the real Heart!
By harnessing breath, being adept and bright,
We dive with great skill and all of our might,.
There dwelling in depths of our true Heart’s cave,
Lives the shining ”Unity” blazing as Self,
Pulsation of I-I, where all shadows cease.
So fixing gaze there, finally, off we stave,
Perverted, wandering, demonic mind elf,
Returning to “Self”, our birthright of peace.

Returning to “Self”, our birthright of peace,
Is knowing that all this vile body performs
Was predestined before it ever took form.
So from stress, despair and fretting, pray cease!
Our freedom dwells in our natural State,
Renouncing the “ Am The Doer” notion,
Detached from fruit of form’s puppet motion,
Yet grace can avert even predestined fate!
Be like a skilled actor on this stage of strife!
Play with goodwill the part you’ve been given,
No matter how strangely you find you are driven,
Knowing who, truly you are, in this life.
Until fate pulls down the final curtain,
Know you’re Self not body, know that is certain!

Know you’re Self not body, know that is certain!
In this Realisation, there’s no cause to leave home,
You can strive in the city, there’s no need to roam.
To change style of life would all be in vain,
For mind remains with you, until it is slain.
Demonic ghost ego, source and fabric of thought
Create body and world, whereby we are caught.
Change of place, never changed the way we behave,
Whether living at home, in a forest or cave.
There are two ways by which our bonds may be freed:
Either ask “to whom is this strange fate decreed?”
Or surrender false ‘me’ to be then stricken down,
So praying intensely for ‘my will’ to cease,
We leave it to grace, to grant us release.

We leave it to grace, to grant us release.
God will do this through the gaze of his Sage,
He sends down His messenger for every age,
To those who yearn and pray for great peace.
The Realised Sage lives on here and now,
Without confusing the Self with the mind.
Humble, compassionate, loving and kind,
Wisely profound, as his way clearly shows.
He steers the vessel of firm devotees,
Fulfilling everyone’s spiritual need.
In deep silence, he sits, with perfect ease,
To awaken those, whom his teaching well heed.
Graciously, his great glance of initiation,
Drives the mind inwards, to Self Realisation!

Driving the mind inwards, to Self Realisation,
He grants safe passage through life’s stormy ocean;
What frail soul will ever be excluded
From the presence of the holy Supreme?
No matter how depraved or deluded,
His mercy never ends, and will always redeem,
Raising the soul from the depth of depression,
To free one from the ‘I am this body’ obsession.
From passions that churn desire and aversion,
His fair breeze wafts clear equanimity;
Enmeshed no more in worldly adversity,
Never perturbed by praise nor foul enmity,
We learn that there’s the greatest giving
In knowing all are Self, and so truly living.

In knowing all are Self, and so truly living,
We thank the great Sage who is ever giving.
We praise the Lord, who leads us to his feet,
His gracious gaze is eternally sweet,
Without ceasing, he’s forever reviving,
He grants that freedom, our real surviving.
He severs the grip of bondage’s chains,
He frees the soul, where confusion reigns,
He bestows both compassion and deep peace,
He sends out his grace to grant us release.
He teaches the truth that Consciousness is all,
And Self Enquiry to raise us up from our fall.
We praise God Almighty whom is ever living,
This crown of my verses is our thanksgiving!

To regain that Selfhood we lost from birth,
That’s the Sage wisdom by which we are graced,
This is the high wisdom proclaimed on Earth.
Just seek for the source where mind is based.
Take refuge in the all loving Lord,
Who can be known by enquiring ‘who frees?’
He cuts you loose with his mighty sword,
One with the Self, as the Absolute sees.
Returning to Self, our birthright of peace,
Know you’re Self, not body, know that is certain!
We leave it to grace, to grant us release.
He drives the mind inwards, to Self Realisation,
In knowing all are Self, and so truly living,
This crown of my verses is our thanksgiving!

Sunday, 18 July 2010


Am I a piano virtuoso of words,
Tinkling verbs, adjectives and nouns for all I'm worth,
Strumming a sonata of nonsensical sound?
Or is there in me a nest of pretty parrot birds,
Squawking day and night ever since my awkward birth?
But there's a secret to end this disease I've found.

All that's mischievous monkey mind my close friend,
It clouds the shining Sun of Self, my Real Being;
By diving into the Heart with all of my might,
I slay mad egotism and pronounce its timely end,
Questioning where's its source? I put it to fright,
Then arises the bliss of freedom and clear seeing!


Saturday, 17 July 2010


"Always let what comes come, and what goes go",
Said Ramana for those that strive to know

Their True Selves, the very best way they may,
Never wilt, rely on grace, pray don't stray.

To climb the mountain path is hard and long,
It's for heroes who're both bold and strong.

Self Enquiry is the great golden key,
To remove all that hides one's Self from thee.

The Guru guides and sets the sadhana,
So best surrender to Bhagavan Ramana!

Tuesday, 13 July 2010


Remove that dark black cloud hiding the Sun
Of Self, shining there, the everlasting One.
Best done by following our Master's teaching
Which is practice, not mere verbal preaching,

Self Enquire! Pose the question who am I?
With persistence and make proud ego die,
To reveal the Self in all its glory,
And end another dream, another story.

Surrender is the devotional way,
It entails yearning for a greater day.
Lay foul ego at the Sat Guru's feet,
Abiding in the Heart, rest there replete,

Then all, my friend, will fare so very well,
To spare one from another life aproaching hell.

Monday, 12 July 2010


Joyous jubilation is the jester's song,
Sweet tonic to right all doleful wrong.
From the heart it rings a happy chime,
And rescues mind from dull despondent time.

So roar from the roof tops with all ones might,
God's shines from His heaven and all is right!
Bury mad melancholy in a deep black hole,
And much sooner we'll save our wretched soul.

Laughter makes us loose our worry and care,
So unbutton our coats and let down our hair!
The world's not a place for shame or for woe,
That's the quick route to hell that we know.

'Row row row the boat gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily for life is but a dream'!
So the message for each golden girl and boy,
Is find true love and laughter, in warm hearts of joy'!

Sunday, 11 July 2010


As for myself, my poor body's now so weak
It shakes while walking; my mind will speak,
But grown very dull; while all Vedic Mantras
Forgotten. Age has overtaken shastras,
My eyes are dim, although clear in yoga,
I remain ignorant. O Sad-Guru Ramana
Save me!,

Wantonly inflated by pride of being
Lord of all the senses, the mind fails in seeing
Its true Lord seated in the spiritual heart.
Looking on life as the ultimate part,
I have not achieved the Goal. Alas! then
Sad-Guru Ramana, shall Self be Realised when?
Save me!

The world which was so pleasing always
Perished. Yet the miserable mind stays
And runs after sense-pleasures alone.
O Ramana Bhagavan, I haven't yet known
Or realized the Supreme Brahman adored
By the few. Life is lived in vain, I'm floored.
Save me!

Saints are sustainers of society's hands.
Philo says 'Households, cities, countries, lands,
Have enjoyed greatest happiness and peace,
When an enlightened Sage has taken lease
Of the good and beautiful. Such great men
Not only free themselves, but all, so then
Save me!

The true sages possess the inner joy,
Peace, free of circumstance cannot cloy.
Happiness independent of outer things,
Beyond forms of social life, their heart sings.
They strive for fulfilling the Divine in the world
For the good of all, God's aim they've unfurled!
Save me!

A free versification of a Sanskrit Poem by Ganapati Muni

Thursday, 8 July 2010


After many years of diving and plunging
Into innermost being, the spiritual Heart,
Holding breath with attention, and lunging
Deep down into one’s dear sacred part,
There’s accumulation of nadi churning,
Leading to discomfort and a certain pain.
The price to be paid for inward turning,
Probing for Ego's source again and again.
To sever well, the aweful granthi knot,
One must dive and plunge an awesome lot!

As he stands in his skiff and his body hurls,
The fisher boy holds breath and dives down deep,
Such is the effort he makes to earn his keep,
In order to gain the precious oyster pearl.
This is a great secret of Atma Vichara
As taught by Lord Bhagavan Sri Ramana.

Thursday, 1 July 2010


It would be good if one could write a perfect verse
Of Truth; a poem which expresses the reverse
Of falsity and delusion. Man is trapped in illusion,
Vast populations dwell in massive confusion,
Because of a dire disease called egomania,
Stretching from the Arctic down to Australia.

Symptoms of egomania obsure Real Being,
The Knowledge of True Self without realy feeling,
The pure bliss of consciousness awareness grace,
Realising 'That' as one's own original face,
Not the one we see in the silvered mirror glass,
That idolatry is one through which we must pass.

The way to achieve this more blessed sacred state,
Is by Self Enquiry, before it is too late.
We enquire within through attention 'Who Am I?',
And persist resolutely before we die.
Then the perfect Poem is unveiled to be you,
One's own pure loving Self. 'That' is really true!