Misfortune
Inspiration, life, Love, Uncategorized

RESURRECTION

In the darkest pits

of soul lingers a

little flame kept alive by

the rays of purity.

A perpetual fire,

illuminating the grim

core, burning the

edges of stale

misfortunes…..

A lone flame standing

its ground against

cruel winds of fate…..

Assuring that heaven

is right there with-in us,

surrounded by our own hells,

and in the end resurrection 

will take place out of the

ashes of that tiny

inferno….

 

 

 

 

 

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Christmas, Legend, Love, satire

The First Coming

Adorning the scarlet crown of thorns

he graced the parched sands of 

ancient Bethlehem with legendary 

bounties of those infinite compassions.

A messiah took birth in the shanty

dwellings of the humblest shepherds,

A shooting star sighted somewhere,

It was the first tremors,those calm

                whispers and silent tears.

 He silently trudged on those impotent

lands leaving in every-footprint a gushing

fountain brimming with divine mercy

Brought down the mighty

Roman Empire  not with a saddle or sword 

but with a single drop of his blood

And when the lighting struck  

the barren lands, he humbly took upon

himself the sins of all those around,

resurrecting from his humanly abode 

It was the first coming, the most

anticipated one.

 

(Merry Christmas to all my Christian Friends, it’s my humble take on the spirit of Christmas and the legendary story Of Christ) 

Ram's arrival
Legend, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry

Ram’s Arrival (Ramayan)

The sacred sounds of thousand conch shells

piercing through the eerie silences of deafening 

decades, a mammoth Himalayan cloud bursted 

in the Northern horizons over the legendary

kingdom of Ayodhya on the banks of

fabled Sarayu River.

 

The thundering clouds wrestled, the wombs

of giant Earth quivered, the regal blue-eyed

peahens ruffled their gilded

ruby feathers;

 

The sunken plants sprouted, oozing out their

heads to catch a glimpse of the exquisite face

of Sita with a silken complexion of molten-lava

daughter of king Janka of Mithila whose

whose beauty  launched thousand

battle-ships…

 

Adorned in the victory lap of the majestic

embellished golden elephants, swimming

across the seas far-far away from the

ghostly dark dungeons of decadent

Ravana’s sinful Lanka.

 

After slaying  Ravana’s ten monstrous

heads for the atrocious sins of holding,

his young queen captive.

 

Crowned prince Rama step a foot on the lush

lands of Ayodhya, where gilded golden domes

erected bowed to salute his triumphant

arrivals, after the exiles of the fourteen

extensive summers and winters.

 

Ancient gulmohar trees lowered their laden

branches and fluttered leaves like bells of

mythical sun temples;

 

A tear swelled up in the eyes of Rama

looking at the solar dynasty of his fore-fathers

banished by his own kin, reduced to

dwell in sinister dense woods chosen

for menial chores.

 

Rama knew the challenges that lie ahead,

sufferings he must withstand, answers he

must offer, the paths he must trod while 

 keeping his ideals supreme.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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. 

Tragedy of Oedipus
Books, History, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Legend, Literature, Love

The Greater Tragedy Than Oedipus

Tragic Oedipus  wandered blind
In the bazaars of colorful Athens
Crimson blood oozing out
From  hollowed eyes
Cursing gods
For his fate so harsh 
Carrying shame of
Copulation with mother
Strong guilt  sits heavy 
For slaying, his own father
Roaming from street to street
Asking same question,
“Why was I the chosen one”
Begotten out of the cursed
Womb of Jocasta 
Doomed by abhorrent 
act of Laius
In  self pity and gloating
had he forgotten of the
little boy sodomized 
Shame horror
subsequent death
Chrysippus Condemned 
For acts of evil that men commit 
For which naive boys
And girls pay heavy price 
In his misfortune did he
think of young  Chrisypuss
Dishonored, violated
Did he not ponder upon
wickedness that men carry
Atrocities for which many
Young ones are robbed
Of single drop of dignity.
Tanya Shukla

(In Greek mythology, Chrysippus  was a divine hero of Elis in the Peloponnesus, the bastard son of Pelops king of Pisa in the Peloponnesus and the nymph Axioche or Danais. He was kidnapped by the Theban Laius, his tutor, who was escorting him to the Nemean Games, where the boy planned to compete. Instead, Laius ran away with him to Thebes and raped him, a crime for which he, his city, and his family were later punished by the gods. But over the years while studying Greek Mythology, people often remember tragedy of Oedipus but left out Chryisppus which according to me is a bigger tragedy. Many young boys get raped or sodomized but their stories never come to surface, this is just my attempt to bring Chrysippus story through poetry. who was sodomized and raped in the Greek mythology of Oedipus)

Source:

Chrisypuss, Wikipedia

 

Kubla Khan, the emperor
Legend, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry

Kubla Khan

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 
A stately pleasure-dome decree: 
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran 
Through caverns measureless to man 
Down to a sunless sea. 
So twice five miles of fertile ground 
With walls and towers were girdled round; 
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, 
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; 
And here were forests ancient as the hills, 
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. 
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted 
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! 
A savage place! as holy and enchanted 
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted 
By woman wailing for her demon-lover! 
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, 
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, 
A mighty fountain momently was forced: 
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst 
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, 
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail: 
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever 
It flung up momently the sacred river. 
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion 
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, 
Then reached the caverns measureless to man, 
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean; 
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far 
Ancestral voices prophesying war! 
The shadow of the dome of pleasure 
Floated midway on the waves; 
Where was heard the mingled measure 
From the fountain and the caves. 
It was a miracle of rare device, 
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! 
A damsel with a dulcimer 
In a vision once I saw: 
It was an Abyssinian maid 
And on her dulcimer she played, 
Singing of Mount Abora. 
Could I revive within me 
Her symphony and song, 
To such a deep delight ’twould win me, 
That with music loud and long, 
I would build that dome in air, 
That sunny dome! those caves of ice! 
And all who heard should see them there, 
And all should cry, Beware! Beware! 
His flashing eyes, his floating hair! 
Weave a circle round him thrice, 
And close your eyes with holy dread 
For he on honey-dew hath fed, 
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
 
(Samuel Taylor Coleridge, a leader of the British Romantic movement, was born on October 21, 1772, in Devonshire, England.)
Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge is my all time favorite poem. Published in 1816 it remains Coleridge’s one of the most admired poems. The poem is masterpiece as far as the language and imagery goes. Coleridge wrote it after having an opiate induced dream about the great Mongol ruler Kubla Khan and his famous palace in Xanadu. To me this poem remains a literary magic, for I’ve never enjoyed a poem as this. Whenever I read it I am transported back in the history to the magnificent and mythical palace of Kubla Khan. I hope you all enjoy this as much I)
feminine, Humour, Love, Nature, poetry

A Man Of Interest

A dream that possessed
One frightful night as I slept
Heard faint echoes and whispers
Terrified hid my face
In the fleece
Astonished saw
Shadows of mermaids
Sitting on edge
Fallen in love
With the same man
Ensuing a complex dilemma
Who will win
him over and
Be the object of
his drunk glances and
Vanilla flavored kisses

Mermaids no less than other
In looks or virtue
put forward
One strategy to defeat
the other
summon chefs of Conficious
How about “atar” from Arabia
French Petitt Gâteau or

Pearls from the basin of deep ocean
As discussing the
Sauvé debonair walked in
Unceremoniously

Time just froze
Stupefied mermaids
Out of all the one most
spoilt and bratty
With a look of disinterest
Casually yawning
Off handish uttered
I yearn a delicate
Piece of Velvet Cake
Made from Swiss strawberries

 

Lots of French wine to gulp
It down my parched throat
Hearing her, all the damsels
Thought one less competitor
As for the Man of Interest
Resolute thought damsel for velvet cake
Is the only one for me
As she appears the least bothered

And the happiest of all…

So crux my fine ladies keep smiling

Don’t fret never frown, eat your cake

Any man will be at your feet.

Men of Interest are no mystery

Any more…

 

History, Legend, Nature, poetry

Rip Van Winkle

A gentle slumber, 
On one treacherous 
December afternoon
Few drops of cheap
Sparkling Chardonnay 
Met one Rip Van Winkle
Trudging through meandering
Folds of Catskill mountains
Blabbering majesty of 
King George the great, 
Staring amusingly at the
Denim pants; cellular in 
Hands, wheeling of the 
Eagle afloat, howling of 
The winds, chirping of the 
Brook below, in semi 
Delirious state saw a
Flowing silverish beard
A foot long, smoking pipe 
Things have changed 
Wondered he, for sure 
Bygone are the days of 
Innocent laughters, idyllic 
Vacations, gone are the days
Where the only malady a 
Broken heart, only worry a 
Loaf of bread.

( Inspired from the short-story Rip Van Winkle by Washington Irving. The story was first published in 1819. Its story about a drunk drunk Dutch American who falls asleep in Catskill mountains and wakes up from slumber after twenty years after American Revolution. I was reading this story couple of months back and was inspired to pen down a poem)