Conversing with the Self
Saturday, May 7, 2022
Sunday, April 8, 2012
POEMS
I
Far away my father thinking of me
Sometimes sad-lonely seats; and writes
Of me; sketches my picture
As I am an enlightened being, his dreams!
Would I discover in them
My petty existence? Palpable
May I, but dreams beheld
Certainly be high, to walk towards is my cherished aim!
I know father thy bliss is with
And from above heaven’s grace
Then what needs beneath
Than, my humble efforts.
(Sept 4, 1995)
II
Years and days elapse
Putting in heart
Posy of memories smiling with flowers
But latent thorns in girt in
Saying, for thy deeds;
But I have no time to smell
The incense and the smarts
I have my way after pulsated time
To search whose angels were they?
Peeping in our mind what has stolen they?
Is our shadow, to present before the Lord?
O heart elapsed time,
Are thou really Lord’s angel
Then tell my Lord my humble words
Words not justifying me or my deeds
Put before him as I am
Put all the ills I have done
But forget not to present His Name
That I spoke unwittingly with my fathers’ praying
That, that spark ignited by gloomy life.
(Sept 15, 1994 Later revised)
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Years and Days Elapse
Poems by Mukund D. Malve
Years and days elapse
Putting in heartPosy of memories smiling with flowers
But latent thorns in girt in
Saying, for thy deeds;
But I have no time to smell
The incense and the smarts
I have my way after pulsated time
To search whose angels were they?
Peeping in our mind what has stolen they?
Is our shadow, to present before the Lord?
O heart elapsed time,
Are thou really Lord’s angel
Then tell my Lord my humble words
Words not justifying me nor my deeds
Put before him as I am
Put all the ills I have done
But forget not to present His Name
That I spoke unwittingly with my fathers’ praying
That, that spark ignited my gloomy life.
Mukund D Malve
Teacher
What is teacher to me? light house in rough sea and storm
And his candid words, a lamp burning bright at home
A gardener who guides each seed to flower with heart and care
Who clears the fog and pours the pearls of ken bare
And teaches me to walk horizon of earth and skies
And teaches me to talk of truth that lives and never dies;
Who teaches me to remember not mere words but the thought
And teaches me to act on my own and not make me his work wrought
Gives me ample space to grow beanth his willow
And when grown, to give me the shadow of skies becomes bare
A sacrifice ...so utter ...else who could dare?
Innocence.
Innocence is a bliss
it is a gift, far precious to cherish
or to yearn for;
appears tiny but
it is not brief...
It is like a sea for a fish
or a sky for a bird
it is a horizon upon which knowledge will dawn
it is a trick, a child’s gun, that makes dictator a pawn
it is of a heart
devoid of arts
seldom it is known in present
and looking back heart resents
for allures the unlived past
and the present miseries cast
but when the net will be pulled
on a seer’s saying
you would see again
the cherished wealth
don’t be glad with it alone for they are dead fishes
for ocean is the heart…and plentiful the heart cherishes!
Know not how the flowers blush
I see oft and sweet sense in me rush
That's another flower, my mind glows
In response, oh, but hidden who knows?
Let it be unknown, sunken, hidden deep
Hades' emblem, among the hustle of sorrows, a holy peep!
O you mutable glory, live and give thy fragrance
and fear not of living and dying death
now thou the red dappled symbol of faith
in the world of annoyance!
Life is beyond words
Remember this, know and open lips
to utter and be thankful
if it beams in a few words;
What does a poet have?-
Strange, obscure blossom of words
Strange and obscure?
perhaps being untimely
perhaps beyond the daily routine
yet have truth and beauty
not like possession but as life;
obscure then?- for ungauged.
A strange measure of being known;
born as thistle or calf
alive as a thorn or wolf
and dead as stone
all measured... what a way to know
What a flow or procession of birth, life and death
as if were only visages
as if were only images
without inner silken link of breath!
Recluse
I
Vision,vision of thistle crown,
Thistle cries,
And of a heart
That woos, and never dies.
Nor seen, but I do hear
The aches, touching the horizon,
touching the skies
resounding in my ear
and my eye in vain spies
The aches divine;
Gently surpass
Caressing the pain
Caressing the doubt vain
Yet not disturbing the flaw;
For you know
Our journey
Ourselves have to draw.
II
Recluse thou were
Among men, gods and angels
Recluse to passion and intelligence vain
Thou, indeed a heart
In desert land, a green oasis
A mansion of mercy..
below thy father’s waging skies.
Eachbond and its each shuffle of vain yearning
Muffledmy heart, but oh I in glares of embers cry
And know not, what’s burnt, what is burning
Indistinct,shudders and nothing I descry.
III
Heaven’scrown thou wear not
Andwears our thistle crown
That tells thou of misery, pangs and
Of shrine pure lapped in sand.
Othou divine, troubled and caught
Inmercy, that lightened and drizzles down
Withthy father’s thundering, a ruthless frown
Ohbut received here the rain
Rainon ever thirsty desert ground
Everygain received here unheard
Likethy thistle cries
Live and eternally dies
In broken hearts and homes of ours.
http://www.ehitavada.com/news.detail/paper_type/10/news_id/227465/date/2013-05-26
Another poem published in Sunday Magazine of The Hitavada
Town
Town....s silent town
Aches and pain, still a throng
No one wears the crown
wayward ways, weary and long
cease in the arch of festive town
Songs and rapture and lively cadence of breath
And midday shadow touch the dancing feet
Hearts gay and why..why in mind seethe?
A vision infused, and tender eye meet
Languor, else loose the flippant meaning of breath
Midday shadow touch their feet
Shadow and the shallow
And light retreat
And in the dark cavern erected the gallows
For one more lamb, God's lamb to greet
An enigma carved in the temple of the town
An enigma for an endless being
And a sage warbles in his tattered gown
A song of wrath, a song of seeing
Ears vain, eyes slept, to earthly heart a vain frown
Selfless, helpless burn he
Cirrus in the glowing sky
All tearful life drawn and be
An agile spirit and roam the high
looking down to bush flower blushed even on scree!
Parch of the day
In mid night too
And a life grey
where time melt and flew
Making a refrain of dark and day
Happy, happy are they
of their glowing station
And gladly muse and say
'All all raptures shun
In the heart of May
By Mukund Digambar Malve
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)