loveliest soul
Love, Nature, poetry, Spirtual

A Believer

Me a speck of dust

insignificant particle 

May be a believer or 

may be not….

Yet here I am…,

here I am with

topaz rays of the

glorious Sun on my 

malformed face.

Azure brook flowing

gently through my

blistered feet.

Fluttering of crushed

leaves, music to 

mine ears.

Buzzing of bees, melody

of  fallen florets.

Beats of mine unborn in

the womb of violated

Earth

May be a believer

or may be not…

Yet here I am.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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wind's tale
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Legend, Nature, poetry, Spirtual

A Wind’s Tale

Started at 3 pm to look for morality,
Hours minutes pass by,
Walking waiting sleeping
But road to morality seemed long
On the curvy path few are busy,
Some in slumber, some don’t 
really care…

My guardian angel texted ” do not disturb”
Keep on marching, keep on trudging 
Perhaps one must ask what is the way
Met a wasted drunkard 
Stretching on the cracked pavement

Taste this nectar from the gods
You will find what you seek
I too was once like you
Follow the direction of the wandering wind
Swaying, dancing, howling 
It knows what you look.

Seven days and seven nights,
Chased the promiscuous wind from coast to coast.
Shrieking, screeching it leap up to me
With a licentious laughter…
Here you come finally like many,
Did you know ,I was cursed long ago.

To screech and sing in darkness,
For my promiscuity banished long ,
To consummate with hollow vacuums
To make love to woods in the dark,
For my crime, as she said
Two casual tears trickled down her gaunt cheeks
I dared to love thunder under the nose of clouds.
For which exiled to perpetual nothingness,
Fornication is a blasphemy in the book of creator.

While I yell, cry in empty voids,
Thunder is gracing the blue sky.
Morality is the privilege of very few
It’s the luxury of those who dwell in sky
As final words were said, thunder growled in the sky ,
Lighting struck on the nearby tree,
Scared and naked she vanished into woods.

Tanya Shukla

Open Kitchen
Love, Obituary, Spirtual

Divinier

Today a melancholic evening ,  I decided to

take a walk in pristine white snows wearing 

gloomy leather boats trudging heavily on

 eerie icy paths leaving  behind a

place once called home

 

While on way, I am met by a withered skeletal  

tree standing his  ground despite the havocs

 caused by ice and water  waving at me with

his trembling Parkinson’s  branches, 

grinning at me in a peculiar

fashion of  old men. 

 

Crescent moon shining like a soothsayer’s  

crystal it’s whites reflecting the whites of

snow prophesying , that moment of

redemption is near  revealing a 

vision through it’s translucent 

lights

 

A puny little squirrel trails  along  may be

looking for some company  chirping about the 

the loveliness of weather while nibbling

on a decayed nut, playing 

hide- seek with me.

 

Northern wind like a nagging aunt blowing 

here and there doing her wintery chores, with

careless locks of snowy flakes on her forehead

poking in my affairs and blocking

my way ..

 

Exhausted sat at the banks of a frozen creek,

from behind a mist a limping shadow in pale

moonlight comes forth,  I realize he is the deer

I hit last year with my silver car, his large

kohl eyes penetrating mine, in an act of 

forgiveness he gracefully allows me to

share his space, 

 

The  gloom nestled in me dissolves, I know

on this evening I am touched by the

diviner as I went home

carrying the nut! 

 

 

 

Silence
Love, Nature, poetry, Spirtual

Shooting Star

The day  I pass on and become a shooting-

star, disintegrat into million 

dazzling particles

 

Think of me an anonymous vision 

who came and went on

 

A mundane dream who lived well and 

relished all the bounties 

 

An unveiled phantom who roamed the

narrow aching streets as the

northern lights,

 

A faint glimmer who flickered when 

the winds were harsh and the 

tempests raging

 

At twilight when withered wax had 

deliquesced, I a  common vision

simply melt down ..

 

 

 

 

 

Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Love, Nature, Spirtual

The Loveliest Soul Of All!

One fine day, the prophet of love summoned his four apostles to bring forth,

the most lovable soul, the emissaries laughed for bestowing upon the task so

basal” how difficult it would be?” Grinned the one with an air of disdain but

with the task in hand and the urgency of the prophet, the four proponents glided

in opposite directions to search for the soul  loveliest of all!

 

First encountered a lover embracing his beloved vowing to lay his humble life

for love, the apostle heavy-hearted flew back after making a note, the second

apostle came upon a man of who held an expensive banquet in the name of immortal

love, having made a note too he soared back on his winged clouds to the prophet.

 

The third prophet had a rare rendezvous with a blind poet, writing love ballads on

dry leaves, the apostle had tears in his eyes and feeling assured  he met the most

lovable soul in the world, went back to the prophet. The last apostle wandering whole

day in vain discovered a farmer delicately burying a little pomegranate in moist soil

 

Bewildered for the apostle has never seen such sight went close and heard “my poor

baby pomegranate couldn’t breathe onslaught of storm anymore,” the apostle went

back to prophet disappointed for not meeting the lovable soul he bet. Each emissary

narrated shares of their soul’s glory, after a patient hearing, the prophet proclaimed

the humble farmer burying his pomegranate fruit of having the soul loveliest of all!

 

 

 

 

cacophony
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, Self-Help, Spirtual

Cacophony Of Sounds

Silence fills you
like nothing else
a need, an addiction
a compulsion
Let the seconds,
minutes, hours 
be infused with-quietness 
draw the blinds of heart
rejoice in tranquility
of poise contractions
stillness of fleeting moments
freeze the much
pervasive solitude 
pause the endless cacophony 
of incoherent sounds,
of million thoughts. 
Let our hearts
become the shrines
of calmness and serenity
those who fear silence 
will not go so far.

prophet
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, poetry, Self-Help, Spirtual

The Prophet

Met a wise man once,
Not a chiseled, silver beard monk,

But a weathered limping man.
A prophet he started to narrate a tale,

Not a saga of god and ablutions
Nor sordid scripture of poverty around

Standing majestic on the banks of holy river
He whispered softly in my ears

listen to the melody of the flowing water
Touch the humility of the trees

Feel the burden of the Mother Earth
Enjoy the seven colors of rainbow above

Tell me about God, if you a saint?
Mischievous he started to laugh,

So he spoke the words of wisdom,
A hypnotizing  look and calm demeanor,

God painted on the canvas of nature
A beautiful portrait of you my child

The first word of God is Adam,
The last word of Adam is God

God can not exist without man,
For creation is the master of creator my lord.

Stupefied I stood on the holy bank,
As prophet knelt and kissed my hands.
 

 

 

 

feminine, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Legend, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, sensual, Spirtual, woman

Final Liberation

The exquisite hope diamond ring that was

tightly wrapped around my shaking finger,

is it enough to keep me chained or do you

think I stayed for a few golden jewels?

You can very well tie me with the,shackles

of your heart’s desire and lock my yearnings

in an embellished magical lamp and seal it

with an Indian pearl. But are the ruby and

topaz strings strong enough to tie my soul to

some wooden vows? Has any sorcerer ever

been able to trap a soul? My soul has been

emancipated long before you were born it 

flew across many deserts, crossed many

channels and soared much above the azure

skies. And for my wild heart, you can scribble

many criss-cross lines with a marker of your

desire.Could any illusionist ever conjure up 

the strength to tame a heart? The profanities

that you hurl at me are no longer the cause

of my woes. I no longer feel humiliated

when you mock at me with a grin on your

handsome face or call me a whore or an

unstable lot. Much before you since centuries

men have called me different names and

temples and shrines haves offered me

several offers of redemption and even tried

to chastise me in the holy waters of sacred

rivers. But while pundits and priests were

performing fire rituals for the purification of

my sinful flesh my soul was busy consummating

with the hollow winds and erect trees on the

moonless nights. My spirit paid ablutions

and offered few locks of raven hair as a

sacrifice to the  Goddess of Earth, Gaia and

my soul just soared higher and higher

after being blessed with the final liberation. 

feminine, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Love, Nature, poetry, Self-Help, sensual, Spirtual, woman

Old Oak Tree

From my heart extends  the dark

dry branches, trying to ooze their thin

heads out, longing to embrace the

old oak tree standing alone.

Patiently waiting for the winds of

autumn to strip him naked, before

he goes for a long hibernation in the

silvery snow flakes. The branches of

my heart eager to  coil around his

withered ancient moldy bark

The many grim moonless

nights, when I would lay in his hollow

lap as he stretched his wrinkled branches

to run across my tangled hair to adorn

it with saplings of leaves and embrace

me tight in its gigantic roots, showering

me with his many benevolences, purifying

my soul of sins of generations with

a delicate touch of chastity on my bosoms

For I love him with all my heart, I just love him!

And  he always loves me back.

Numerous silent tears that I shed as it held,

me high on its shaky branches,

Branches like a silver beard of an old

prophet, his yellowish green leaves

 whirl like a Sufi-Darvesh on the

Melody of golden flute of hollow winds.

A final good-bye to him before he

 is exiled to the remote lands of winter.

A final  cry till we meet again

he with his younger leaves and I with an

older heart but one day I know I’ll

merge in his roots forever, till then

I’ll pray in the shrine of my tears and

wait for his safe return. 

Tanya Shukla