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Category Archives: Poetry

Living and letting go


 

dewdrops

Let our lives  dance lightly on the edges of Time
Like dew on the tip of a leaf..”
Reflecting the light of love and joy
Through it’s passage brief.

Let no thoughts dull the radiance
Nor yearn to keep clinging on
Let go with grace when the time comes
And the circle will be done.

 

 

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2 Comments

Posted by on December 14, 2016 in Photography, Poetry, Uncategorized

 

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I am and I’m not .


sun-in-a-aglassI(

(Photograph taken by my friend Arun Azhakesan)

 

I  can, if I want to , capture the setting sun

And  make it sit in my glass of water

I can if I want to  give the skies a run

And  then make it sleep  inside my decanter.

 

I can , if I want to, hold the world in my arms

And sing to it a soothing  lullaby

I can, if I want to , set the sun and skies free

I can be the deep ocean and the limitless sky

 

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The stream of love


All we need is a spark of imagination
That’ll fan into a raging flame
That devours the devils of hate
Who struggle intently our hearts to maim .

All we need to soothe our souls will be
The remembrance of a shared melody
To reclaim that timeless song of love
From the surrounding cacophony.

All we need are some sprightly showers
Of bubbling smiles and outstretched hands
That awaken springs deep down below
And make gurgling streams in the desert sands

http://palestine.trendolizer.com/2016/10/sbs-news-thousands-of-israeli-and-palestinian-women-have-spent.html

 
 

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Dream Spirits-Native American Music


 

 

Listen to the rustling  breeze

Sweep across the plains

The sound of hooves in the tall grass

Of swishing tails and flowing manes

 

Listen to the long lost songs

Of   waiting earth and bounteous  skies

And to the  heartbeats  that mingled

In smiles and tears and sighs.

 
1 Comment

Posted by on June 16, 2016 in Music, Poetry

 

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Unravelled yarn


I sat  unravelling a mass of wool

As tangled as my identity.

One strand at a time, from the vicious loop

Towards a  possible harmony.

 

I am my country,

My colour , my creed

I am my gender,

My language, my breed

I am  wha t ” I” think

I ‘m what “You” see in me

A  prisoner enchained,

A  spirit that’s free.

 

I am my bones, my muscles, my cells

I am my genes ,  my chemistry

I ‘m  my  own compass to chart my seas

I’m  nothing but my destiny.

 

I am joy, I ‘m  sorrow

I am guilt, I am greed

I am what they taught me

I am what I read

I ‘m my past unfolding

I’m the seed, I’m the tree.

I am limitations

I am possibility.

I am the expanse of the  limitless sky

I’m  the mystery of the abyss  deep

I am the songs that I scribble and sing.

I am the secrets that I keep.

 

I am a poem, I’m a prayer

I’m a circle, I’m a square

I’m an island, I’m a stream

I am buried, I am bare.

I’m the cycle that repeats

I am life, I am death

I’m the silence that enfolds

My heartbeat and my breath.

 

I ‘m the bird in flight and I am  the worm

I am   the mountain and the meadow green

I ‘m the lashing  storm and the gentle breeze

I’m the seraphic being and the monster mean.

 

I am peace, I’m perfection

I’m the truth in  illusion

I’m the music in you

That sings in me.

I  dwell  in beauty

I’m Om and Ameen

I am the saint and the sinner

I’m the dawn serene.

 

 

I am and I’m not, I’m awake in my  dream

I am awareness and  eternal   bliss

I am what I am,  I’m not what I seem.

I am the kisser as well as the kiss.

 

I  am  in the conch shell

And the rosary beads

I am that  ocean

To which all rivers lead

I am questions at rest

I am below , I am above

I am the answer I seek

I am joy, I am love

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
27 Comments

Posted by on December 6, 2015 in Poetry, Uncategorized

 

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The luxury of guilt


Guilt is like scratching
The scabs that have settled to heal
The oozing blood comforts.
It’s really just pretending
That the numbness you feel
Has not forgotten the hurt.

It’s like banging your head
To say hello to pain
With the secret consolation
Of knowing to anaesthise your dread
With the inured bane
Of routine and repetition.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on November 18, 2015 in Poetry

 

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Wilderness


Sometimes the soul stiffens
Into long silent screams
And each slice of self is crushed
And each belief wrung out.

Hope cringes back in terror
And recognises itself
In all it’s vulnerability
Too small and weak to shout.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/lynzybilling/where-syrian-children-sleep#.suAXdJl8q

 
6 Comments

Posted by on November 18, 2015 in Community, Poetry

 

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