Peace

The Sun, The Moon, The Earth

Poems

Phases: A Collection of Poetry

A phase is defined as any stage in a series of events or a process of development; while we all go through different phases in life, at times we either forget to notice or simply become fearful of transitions, inadvertently being ignorant about the fact that this phenomenon is universal. In this short poetry collection, the blogger has attempted to capture this subtle yet powerful phenomenon – phases that are observable in every journey undertaken.

Here are the next three poems –

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All hail the majestic fiery sun! Hail, hail!
[Source – Pixabay]

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The Sun

Glorious in this self-sacrificial act,

The sun spins silently on its spot

With an eye open and an eye closed,

Partly seeing the planetary drama and

Partly observing its blind burning core,

Loving-living the old eclipsing folklore.

Never out of tune or shying away

From that routine rotating pathway

As if in meditation and at peace,

Granting us our lives at lease.

*

We assume Time is standing still

Because of our sun’s steady will.

It is but a phase like the earlier ones

Where life played a different game and had won.


Moon-lover one, waiting for moon lover two.
[Source – Pixabay]

*

The Moon

Like a wave gushing its way through

The barriers and entering our hearts,

The Moon loves playing the darts,

Winking, listening and inspiring like a true

Poet in practice, moonlight as ink

Together the moon-lovers drink.

Such is the friendship between the seekers

And the moon; safekeeping promises and secrets,

Along with a lonely soul’s rising hope

Of fulfilling a decorated dream and Co.

*

And this personification of moon into a friend

And a secret keeper, holding hands till the end

Is another phase, another image of the moon;

Quiet, calm, disciplined, it’s coming out soon.


The awesome dancers, all hail the trio! Hail, hail!
[Source – Pixabay]

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The Earth

On a great grand gargantuan pilgrimage,

Orbiting its way, the same old and unique,

Transforming, adjusting with every coming phase,

Our Earth, our only home, this blue-green maze,

Gravitationally inclined, time-space bound,

Nurtures with freedom the beings found

Inhabiting its being, its vision, its dream;

Rhythmically revolving, rising, but never asleep,

Timed its timing with Time, the Earth

Listens earnestly, abiding by the unknown.

*

How forgetful are we, who are just a phase,

A passing reality on the way to its pilgrimage…

We appear to be short sighted and too eager

To conquer the unconquerable, our planet, our nurturer.

*


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Paper-Light-Lemon-Fresh Stories

Laymun – Short Film Analysis

Paper – light, white, bright,

Wrinkled, crumpled and creased,

Torn into pieces without a thought,

A kid’s fighter jet airborne, that

In raining season turns into a boat.

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Paper – how different are we from it?

Shape-shifters, cerebral fools,

Taking two crude steps

Forward, backward, learning, unlearning.

Our ephemeral paper-life folds

To build a castle with battlements

That burns on its own.

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Paper-life – light, white, bright,

Wrinkled, crumpled and creased.

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The film’s official poster.
[Source – CatherineProwse.com]

Wars fought for peace have nothing to do with peace as in the very end the avaricious intentions and deceits also win along with the just, powerful ones. All this after crushing many innocent souls.

Yes, life is a cycle of chaos and calm, and we do evolve. We evolve because of the unsung kind-hearted simple folks continue to work no matter what.

Just like the protagonist in the short animation film titled Laymun (directed by Catherine Prowse and Hannah Quinn; original compositions and sound design by Kalle Jurvanen) who continues to revive the spirits of the Syrian public traumatized by the unending war; she gifts the residents in that area with lemon plants, trying to refresh and enliven their war-sick eyes.

The lemon’s yellowness and its leaves spunky greenness transforms the cracked walls into a brave embroidered piece and beautifies the broken windowsill.

Soon the war frenzy returns without any shame, aerial bombing the city, shattering the gardener’s nursery; she manages to escape.

Bowed but not defeated, she boards the bus that will take her maybe to a better place.

Seeing a little girl, who is sitting next to her, crying and clinging to her mother for comfort, the gardener takes out the only lemon that she had, scrapes off its skin and gives it to the little girl.

The sweet fresh smell of the lemon makes the little girl smile.

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Laymun” zest is vital for living.
Image by Yousz from Pixabay.

What a beautiful film this is! The gardener in her gentle manner wins over the war, albeit, she continues to struggle. She thus becomes the unsung kind-hearted hero who contributes in bringing change.

“We didn’t want to oversimplify the issues we were depicting in the film and offer a neat, unrealistic ending, but we wanted to offer a note of hope. We found the idea of a lemon seed being taken with the protagonist at the end offered the perfect balance of a possible new start for this character but also a sense of precariousness: would the one lemon left in her city have a chance to grow into something better, or would it perish?”

Catherine Prowse and Hannah Quinn.

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Paper boat, paper world, paper life.
[Source – Pixabay.]

Surely nothing could have highlighted the ephemeral human life better than the usage of paper animation/ cutout animation, quietly mocking the idea of wars, the profitable victory of one over the other… as if they are immortals.

The light-spirited-jumpy smell of any citrus fruit, its taste cheers up a sick one, especially one who has motion-sickness, this age-old remedy is known to all, it has travelled via the “oral culture” routes.

And so has the stories of bloody battles, clashes and bloodshed… we have learned from our mistakes, we have!

Let the paper-light-lemon-fresh stories carry the tales freely.


A Must Watch Short Film –

Laymun – A powerful example of the magic of storytelling.

Read Chelsea Lupkin’s review of Laymun here. Complement it with the true story of the last gardener of Aleppo that inspired the makers of Laymun here.


Check out another write-up on a short film titled One, Two, TREE here.


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God is a Belief

Satchitananda – Existence Consciousness Bliss.
Image by Bessi from Pixabay.

Eyes that can see the divine,

Ears that hear the bliss,

Voices that utter a name –

Allah, Vishnu, Shiva, Jesus

Waheguru, Parvardigar, Eloah, HaShem –

Witness the power that is the same.

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God is one, present everywhere

Like an atom unseen in the air;

Passion for the one supreme,

Searching the pious dream

That every holy book reveals,

Takes us to the ultimate truth and peace.

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Fine belief this is that we all

Have nurtured since antiquity,

For it unifies, it gives us courage;

Its cursed crusades aren’t a lie

And yet the belief only multiplies;

A believer sees the God inside.

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Omnipotent, Omnipresent, Omniscient

This glorious idea assures the devotee

Of support, of comfort, of being home;

In this grand scheme you’re not alone,

A guide walks by your side – this belief

Shows the seeker an end they hope.

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The mystical power, that is the universe, listens, call it life force, dark matter or god, it depends on what you believe…
Image by Leonardo Valente from Pixabay.

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The Truth is Pale Blue and its Apparent Size is Equal to a Dot

Pale Blue Dot by Voyager 1 Space Probe.
[Source – Wikimedia Commons]

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet

Whose hands can strike with such abandon

That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living

Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness

That the haughty neck is happy to bow

And the proud back is glad to bend

Out of such chaos, of such contradiction

We learn that we are neither devils nor divines  

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This excerpt is from a refined piece of poem by Maya Angelou which shared then and is sharing still the truth.

We all call a pale blue dot in this magnanimous universe our home, and then we forget. For what else can it be if not weak memory that we repeat the same blunders and invite catastrophes?

We are full of contradictions, we are the chaos, we are neither devils nor divinesand yet we are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world. Why?

Because we can think, we can create, we can sing and dance, we can understand the science behind everything, and we can write a poem to share with everyone A Brave and Startling Truth.

Because deep down all each one of us want is peace. Yes, but only if we remember… if we remember to think.

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When we come to it

We, this people, on this wayward, floating body

Created on this earth, of this earth

Have the power to fashion for this earth

A climate where every man and every woman

Can live freely without sanctimonious piety

Without crippling fear

When we come to it

We must confess that we are the possible

We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world

That is when, and only when

We come to it.


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Read Maya Angelou’s beautiful poem, A Brave and Startling Truth here.

Know more about our planet, the Pale Blue Dot.

My inspiration for this post – A Brave and Startling Truth: Maya Angelou’s Stunning Humanist Poem That Flew to Space, Inspired by Carl Sagan and Read by Astrophysicist Janna Levin (a fabulous article written by the fabulous Maria Popova).


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Firdaus

Agar Firdaus bar ru-ye zamin ast, 
Hamin ast o hamin ast o hamin ast

Translation – If there is a paradise on earth, it is this, it is this, it is this.

This Persian phrase written in reference to Jammu and Kashmir, India, is attributed to the great Sufi musician and poet, Amir Khusrow.

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Nature painted in full lustre
The hues of love
It is peace above
It is peace beneath
And the Dal Lake, a mirror
Chinar leaves, fallen ones,
A paint brush’s twists
Chirping, joyous children
On the footsteps of a temple
Now stand quietly somewhere hidden
Sharpness of bullets are measured
By dripping bright red blood
The aura of a single truth
And the nature’s imprint,
Will engulf it all at the end
And the Paradise will rise then.

Oceanic Waves by Cody Hooper https://www.codyhooperart.com/

Lord Jagannath’s Eyes

Lord Jagannath by Vrindavan Das.
[Source – fineartamerica.com]

One eye says that the play is on.

The wheel of Time moves ceasing for none, winning over oceans, mountains, the sky, the wind and the fire.

People crowd to clench forms and beliefs, together they build and destroy. They wait to gauge for more and what is better.

Look now, how they shine, bright like fireflies, honest to the core; look now, how they lure, how they trick the tricksters, how they slay a man’s soul.

Speak not, for they are at work, cross-legged monks, meditating on what is less; speak not, for you will fail to express how chaotic is the chaos.

Rising high is the music of unity and harmony; falling face down is the corrupt, fake cry of every rigid mind.

Knowing the beginning, waiting for the end, it walks, it lingers, we walk, and we linger.  

Tala Pattachitra, Palm Leaf Painting – Odisha’s ancient art form.
[Source –
ethnicpaintings.com]

Second eye says that it is all absolute bliss.

There is no Space or Time and it binds none; the ultimate end and the ultimate start merges with the absolute existence.

Flowing in a silent music, dancing always, the ripple reaches the centre.

The Brahman breathes; formless, it is of the colour peace.    

Lord Jagannath’s eyes are the universe we see and the universe we can’t see. The happy devotee who bows, who worships, who sings, who gazes gets mesmerized by one of the universes, and by Lord Jagannath’s smile.

Our million eyes find a million revelations in Lord Jagannath’s eyes.

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Lord Jagannath, Lord of the Universe.
[Source – harekrsna.de]

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Both!

Feature Article
In Bloom.
[Source – Pixabay]

‘Kaun Buddha Si?’ (Who was Buddha?) by the wonderful Punjabi Poet Amar Jyoti.

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Who was Buddha?

Whose tale is it?

It’s left for you to decide;

Whether of Yashodhara or Siddhartha

Who repaired to the peace of jungle

Leaving Yashodhara behind

To bring up Rahul

Congruent with the royal

Customs and traditions,

Who made the glittering glass-house of her life a ruin

Behind the portals of a palace,

Where the seasons didn’t change,

Where life resided in silence,

Where her sight turned into an unending path

Waiting for Siddhartha.

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And when he returned from the quiet of the peaceful abode

As Buddha the wise,

Who was the wise one,

Siddhartha or Yashodhara?  

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English translation of the Punjabi poem by Jagriti Rumi.


Yashodhara, a princess, was Prince Siddhartha’s wife, who was born on the same date and year as that of her husband. According to a Chinese legend, Yashodhara had met Siddhartha in their past life where she took a promise from him that they will be husband and wife in all their next births.  

This beautiful poem asks a simple question and gives a concealed answer. Quietly it is telling a forgotten story, forgotten but real, real and empowering.    


The journey inwards was taken by both, Siddhartha as well as Yashodhara. While one left the world of attachment behind, the other stayed in the midst of it all and grew like a lotus. In waiting for her dearest, in bringing up her only son, Yashodhara knew trance, living every moment and trusting herself, comprehending spontaneously.  

After she met the enlightened Buddha, after her Rahul became a monk, Yashodhara did what she had prepared for, she become a Bhikkhuni (Buddhist nun); then the lotus shone brightly.  

Yashodhara didn’t search for peace, she gently nurtured it within, she didn’t live in seclusion, she found herself in the celebrations. Not in a ruin, she lived in every effort of hers to learn.  

Yashodhara, which means ‘bearer of glory’, got enlightened not once, but many times.    

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Buddha with Yashodhara and Rahul 
[Source – speakingtree.in]

To read the original poem (in Gurumukhi), please click here.


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Night Jasmine

Night Jasmine or Parijat

Six petals in sync
With orange centre as link

Adorned with white peace
Singing with the trees

 
Fragrant, pure and polite
Holding the divine light

For it begins at dusk
And greets all at dawn
 
Resting on the leaves              
Or on the path, it weaves
 
A true reflection
Of perfection.
 
Photo courtesy – Google 

Buddhahood

The place where the embodiment of peace, Gautama Buddha, found enlightenment was recently shaken by bomb blasts. The holy Bodh Gaya shrine became the target of those who believe in destruction. The government has started the probe and they are confident of finding the culprits. Meanwhile, the Buddhists are back to chanting and praying, back with the Lord himself.  

Such blasts cannot stop what Gautama Buddha started. He commenced an inward journey; a journey to find oneself, to realise the inner self and hence attain inner peace. What the confused and angry minds cannot understand (and may never understand until they end their confusion and calm down) is that what Buddha taught and left behind is not stored in a shrine or in a scripture or in any physical form.

What he left is eternal and universal. It is in nature and it is nature. It can only be felt and realised and not be touched with bare hands. It is everywhere and in everyone waiting to get recognised.  

The ones who stubbornly want to fight don’t know that Buddha is in them too. Buddha is in all of us; when we act purely, correctly and truly the Buddhahood shines in us too. How can something so powerful be destroyed? How can something so true be crossed? We mere mortals can never do so; our futile attempts will only look ridiculous.  

You need not worry about any evil in this world; all you need is to reach the state of Buddhahood, to let it shine in you. Radiating light everywhere you’ll then fulfil the purpose of being you.


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The Circle

Peace within.
Image – Pixabay.

We need to listen. We need to understand.  

Calm yourself, close your eyes. Meditate. A vibration hits you. A circle is formed and your closed eyes can see it; luminous circle at the centre, full of life.

Don’t allow your mind to trick you and take you on a sensuous ride. Be wholly in that centre. Feel it.

Realise it and you’ll come to know the vastness of the universe, the music that the silence plays and the serenity present in every colour.

This experience will make you sublime.

You’ll then have a bit of universe, a bit of silent music and a bit of every colour in you.  

At peace, you’ll make peace.  

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Meditation is one of the greatest arts in life – perhaps the greatest, and one cannot possibly learn it from anybody, that is the beauty of it.

It has no technique and therefore, no authority.

Jiddu Krishnamurti

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