The Muse…

“Sometimes I say to a poem,

“I don’t have the strength
To wring out another drop
Of the sun.”

And the poem will often
Respond

By climbing onto a barroom table:

Then lifts its skirt, winks,
Causing the whole sky to
Fall.”

Khwāja Šams ud-Dīn Muhammad Hāfez-e Šīrāzī, The Gift

The Lord of the Caves

Looking for your light,
I went out:

it was like the sudden dawn
of a million million suns,

a ganglion of lightnings
for my wonder.

      O Lord of Caves,
if you are light,
there can be no metaphor.

~Allama Prabhu

Allama Prabhu’s poetic style has been described as mystic and cryptic, rich in paradoxes and inversions (bedagu mode), staunchly against any form of symbolism, occult powers (siddhis) and their acquisition, temple worship, conventional systems and ritualistic practices, and even critical of fellow Veerashaiva devotees and poets. However, all his poems are non-sectarian and some of them even use straight forward language.[21] About 1,300 hymns are attributed to him.[2]

Breasts

 ~Breasts – By Kutti Revathi  (English translation by N Kalyan Raman)
Breasts are bubbles, rising
In wet marshlandsI watched in awe — and guarded —
Their gradual swell and blooming
At the edges of my youth’s seasonSaying nothing to anyone else,
They sing along
With me alone, always:
Of Love,
Rapture,
Heartbreak
 
To the nurseries of my turning seasons,
They never once forgot or failed
To bring arousal
 
During penance, they swell, as if straining
To break free; and in the fierce tug of lust,
They soar, recalling the ecstasy of music
 
From the crush of embrace, they distill
The essence of love; and in the shock
Of childbirth, milk from coursing blood
 
Like two teardrops from an unfulfilled love
That cannot ever be wiped away,
They well up, as if in grief, and spill over
 

 

Bathtub in Belfast

Years later we’ll remember the bathtub
the position of the taps
the water, slippery
as if a bucketful of eels had joined us …
we’ll be old, our children grown up
but we’ll remember the water sloshing out
the useless soap,
the mountain of wet towels.
‘Remember the bathtub in Belfast?’
we’ll prod each other –

~by Sujata Bhatt “Love in a Bathtub.”

~The final flight

The Swan Will Fly Away All Alone,
Spectacle of the World Will Be a Mere Fair
As the Leaf Falls from the Tree
Is Difficult to Find
Who Knows Where it Will Fall
Once it is Struck with a Gust Of Wind
When Life Span is Complete
Then Listening to Orders, Following Others, Will Be Over
The Messengers of Yama are Very Strong
It’s an Entanglement with the Yama
Servant Kabir Praises the Attributes of the Lord
He Finds the Lord Soon
Guru Will Go According to His Doings
The Disciple According to His

~~~~~

Ud Jayega Huns Akela,
Jug Darshan Ka Mela
Jaise Paat Gire Taruvar Se,
Milna Bahut Duhela
Naa Jane Kidhar Girega,
Lageya Pawan Ka Rela
Jub Howe Umur Puri,
Jab Chute Ga Hukum Huzuri
Jum Ke Doot Bade Mazboot,
Jum Se Pada Jhamela
Das Kabir Har Ke Gun Gawe,
Wah Har Ko Paran Pawe
Guru Ki Karni Guru Jayega,
Chele Ki Karni Chela

The Wait…

I desire you more than food or drink.
My body my senses my mind
hunger for your taste.
I can sense your presence in my heart
although you belong to all the world.
I wait with silent passion for one gesture
one glance from you.

~Rumi