108 SONNETS FOR AWAKENING AND SELECTED POEMS

My new Poetry Collection entitled 108 Sonnets For Awakening and Selected Poems has just been published and is available on Amazon UK and .com

FLOOD OF BHAGAVAN'S GRACE

One swims and dives deep in a temple tank,
 Walks in a fearful, empty jungle wood,
 Climbs a mountain peak where fresh air's so good;
 Pick pretty blooms by a river bank,
 But we don't know how to give You thanks!
 All one needs to do as one truly should,
 Is worship your lotus feet to be understood.
 You do not need to be decked with flowers,
 You're already the beautiful sublime,
 These outer forms waste many precious hours;
 The true sacrifice which is really prime,
 Is to give one's mind to the Self in the heart,
 That's all Sri Ramana asks, from the very start!

THE ROYAL GAME

On chequered squares of space and time,
Dark shadows dance their game of mime;
To slay the Self is their cryptic aim;
By sleights of mind, to heights they climb.

There sits their Chief, Black’s his name,
A proud ego is his claim to fame,
A cosmic game he’s forced to play,
Helped by his dark deluding dame.

False bishops at his feet do pray,
Marauding knights have feet of clay,
A pride of puppet pawns at rest,
His army’s poised in gaunt array.

The Lord of Light is truly blest,
The White Goddess for his Queen, no less:
With castled Sages on each side,
He waits to joust this celestial jest.

His soldiers, stately stallions ride,
Maintaining righteous order wide.
In silence, pawns withdraw and meditate,
Freed from the dream of seek and hide.

That Self wants Ego checked to mate,
The rascal fights to thwart his fate,
And kill his foe himself instead:
We’ll watch a battle taught and great.

By laws of Nature the rules are led,
The end’s perceived, pure consciousness ahead.
To wage this war in awesome glory
‘Till Black resigns; thank God, he’s dead.

After ages, growing grey and hoary,
Both lie boxed, the game was gory.
When ‘WHO’ created this sport is ready,
A new game begins again; another story!

Alan Jacobs

I AM

KNOW 'I Am Consciousness', pure, ever free
From strife. Let your ship's white sail unfurl to bless;
Be kissed by the soft breeze of love, on life's open sea,
Know 'I Am Consciousness'.

When unattached to mind and body, life is choiceless,
Free as an auburn autumn leaf, tumbling from the tree,
Blown by the breath of the breexe, to rest effortless,

To sip love's flowering scent like the bumble bee,
In the radiant rose garden of essential beingness;
That for us dear friend, is our golden master key.
Know 'I Am Consciousness.'

AT RAMANA MAHARSHI'S SAMAHDI TOMB

RAINBOW coloured saris grace this Hall,
Bending low before they stroll around His shrine,
Paying homage to their Sat-Guru Divine,
Knowing He only saw One Self in all,
And from His Nature True, never once did fall.
Varied hues of shawls form a jewelled line,
Devotees renounce there sense of 'me'and 'mine'
As they heed their Master's urgent call.

Orange, turquoise, scarlet and yellow flowers
Decorate His sacred marble tomb,
The radiance of saris and these blooms
Reflect pure Light with different powers.
Sri Ramana's sculpture sits quietly serene,
Fit emblem to wake us from samsara's dream.

DEVOTION

Bhagavan! bind me with your tight cord of devotion,
Fill  with the still cool waters of Thy holy joy
My shining challice held as mind’s precious toy.
I whom am Thy devotee trapped in worldly motion,
Place two pink tender lotus flowers as my notion
Of obeisance at Thy holy feet, never ever to cloy.
Thy fully ripened fruits of wisdom will alloy
Me with Thy healing words of fervent emotion.
Pray purify the old mansion of my bodily frame,
Thus do I perform this sacred auspicious rite,
Calling on the beauteous bounty of Thy mighty Name,
With all my ardent heart and soul and might,
I pray for the purification of my errant jiva's place,
Prepare me please to receive Thy boundless grace!

SLAYER OF THE REAL

 

Ego-mind is a wicked slayer of the Real,

So why mix with a killer who will also steal?

Why live with a devil and treacherous thieves?

So let go of ego which ever deceives

To disturb one's peaceful calm of day?

Instead of feeling happy on one's way.

Better to lock the crook in jail where he belongs;

To mix with them one does one's Self great wrongs.

Ego mind is always full of anxious fear,

So why let it slay one's Self, so near and dear?

When that habit raises up his demonic head,

Starve the wretch until it drops down dead.