To cradle of light

To cradle of light
27 November 2020 
Courtesy pinterest.com
 
Mind’s tendrils
nailing the target
course reset
no regret
The hand on my heart measure
of pulsing leisure
  
Within eye
the whispering trees
build gardens 
of morrows
bridges of new intentions
my bosom crosses
  
The journey
a flight within reeds
Ticking clock 
awaits none
Elementary treasures
growing from the shrubs
  
Untangling
sister’s weaving spun
through the heat
that melts all
A riddle for mind to fall
A tale to recall
  
Adventure
the soul has begun
within joints
it anoints
hands drawing cardinal points
spaces the eye seeks
  
The light flows
within my body
It quivers
in rivers
messages it delivers
to cradle of light
  
Messiah Project - Region Of Darkness, Cradle Of Light 
Reading of the poem: 

A goodbye to royalty

A goodbye to royalty
20 November 2020  
Courtesy pinterest.com
Dwindling spot of light
sinking in the skies
Ebb of the sun’s rays
  
Wane moon rises high
Dribble of silver oozing
a stream runs through night
  
Reflux of the breeze
Bubbles of air in river
Flow of the current
  
Three weave the stories
Their fingers points of flux gush
with oncoming rush
  
The stars now retreat
The winds drop on rising tides
The throngs flood the gates
  
Drift in the bees’ hive
A goodbye to royalty
stages in decay

Reading of the poem:
Azam Ali - Ritual

Written in the context of Ronovan Writes weekly Haiku challenge using the words “ebb” “flow” and their synonyms. For rules and other contributions, follow this link https://ronovanwrites.com/2020/11/16/ronovan-writes-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-332-ebb-flow/

Music flooded head

Courtesy Min Jae Lee on pinterest.com
 
Music flooded head
13 November 2020
  
In the beginning
the rhythm set to basic
primordial human
  
Melodies renewed
Frontal lobe early signal
of evolution
  
Healing sounds soothed soul
Leading out of deep caverns
where darkness fought light
  
It mends in two keys
reconciling opposites
the rift now repaired
  
Prime numbers plotted
a pathway to fixing scores
for blindness to treat
  
First light restored sight
Reviving sounds tickled ear
Music flooded head
  
Reading of the poem: 
Imagine Dragons - Believer 

Written in the context of Ronovan Writes weekly Haiku challenge using the words “first” “heal” and their synonyms. For rules and other contributions, follow this link here https://ronovanwrites.com/2020/11/09/ronovan-writes-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-331-first-heal/

Humans united

Humans united

2 October 2020

Clad in iron frame

weary from the highs and lows

the traveler weeps

`

The separation

sum of all our misgivings

undulating pains

`

Look into my eyes

see the rivers of my soul

piercing into black

`

Unchained, flying free

a bluebird sings in my mind

melodies that haunt

`

From dead plains they rise

the songs of togetherness

echo of the Love

`

We come together

Breath of you through Heart of me

Humans united

`

Reading of the poem:

HUMAN’s Musics – A film by Yann Arthus-Bertrand / Composed by Armand Amar

Invoking the Mother

Invoking the Mother

26 July 2020

Courtesy amino apps

 

She had seen it in a dream as vividly as she was now seeing the sun shining outside. It was time for the Mother to come fully into this Earth and accomplish her work from the inside. It was time for her to purge the Earth so that balance may be restored on a higher plane than what could be achieved in the present state of affairs. Mother had always been a patron of the innocent and the weak and although she presented a terrifying face to her adversaries, she reverted back to her more gentle nature when the battle was over and she was faced only with the innocent. She was a force of destruction as far as evil was concerned but maintained her motherly attributes as far as the innocent were concerned and so far too many innocent had been suffering.

 

The Mother needed a vessel to carry her consciousness and she had carefully prepared for this for several years now. The vessel needed to have a segmented mind where part of the consciousness of the Mother could be downloaded while the rest of the mind could house the consciousness of the vessel itself. She was willing to be that vessel and had meditated using the kundalini technique in order to split her own mind. Although this had been painful and not without its consequences, she reflected that it would all be worth it once the Mother was there. The Mother’s consciousness, even though in part, could only be stored in nine fragmented parts of the vessel’s mind with the vessel’s own mind dwelling in the tenth part, which is why it had taken her years to reach that level of fragmentation and dissociation without totally losing her sanity.

 

The tools used for the ceremony to invoke the Mother to complete the downloading of her consciousness into her were not unlike those used to invoke the Marid except that there was no need for a protective circle and the candles used were red and black. The red represented the blood or primordial life form and the black represented the void from which all consciousness derived. There was already a fragment of the Mother inside a part of her consciousness and this guided her in disposing the red and black candles around the circles of aging blood also known as menstrual blood and those of fresh blood from her pricked finger. She sat naked amid the circles with the trident marked in blood on her forehead and the same marked in blood around the area of her navel and started the chanting. Soon the Mother would appear and all the evil on the Earth would slowly start to disintegrate. It might take its time and would probably take its toll on her but at the end it would all be worth it.

 

Most powerful Shri Kali Sahasranama Stotram | 1008 names of Kali Maa | श्री काली सहस्त्रनाम स्तोत्रम

The taste of ripe mangoes

The taste of ripe mangoes

4 July 2020

Courtesy quora.com

 

It used to be one of her favourite moments in childhood. They would sneak out of the house and run across the fields to the point where the mango groves began. They would hide at the extremity of the fields waiting to see if the guardian was there and if he wasn’t they would step into the grove and steal some ripe mangoes. It was usually a boy they called Thengai who used to climb the trees as he was used to climbing coconut trees and had a good foothold. His name Thengai which meant coconut came from not only because he climbed coconut trees but also because his hair combed down in a shell shape manner made the top of his head resemble a broken coconut shell.

 

Thengai would climb like a daredevil any tree in the mangrove and if the guardian was spotted he would be able to clamber down in no time often surpassing them as he ran towards the fields. Little did they know that the guardian always made a show of chasing them but slowed down if he got too close because he never actually meant to catch them. There would be no use indeed of catching them as the mangrove belonged to their family although they did not know it. In fact, almost all the lands around the houses up to the neighbouring city belonged to her family. Unaware of this, the children including her used to run like their life depended upon it, holding on tightly to the mangoes packed in their shirts or dresses, when the guardian chased them.

 

Later on, they would stop in the fields and put the mangoes together. They would then divide the ripest mangoes amongst them for eating on the spot and leave the greener ones for later. It was usually she who got the greener ones as her grandmother was very skilled at making mango chutney with the green mangoes. Once the bottles of chutney were ready, her grandmother would give her a basket of these to distribute around the neighbourhood. The neighbours respected and loved her grandmother not only because of this type of small kindness but also because she gave the lands to plough to the neighbours and only asked for a small share of the crops as compensation. People considered the grandmother as the main village benefactor.

 

She used to love going to the village and spending a part of the summer there during the summer break when her father did not yet have his holidays. It was all wonderful until that fated summer when everything had changed. She had not witnessed it herself but she often had nightmares about it and would wake up in the night trembling. For a long time after the incident, nobody had gone to steal mangoes from the mangrove. The villagers would talk about it in hushed tones when they thought the children were not around. Thengai had been riding the tractor of his father next to his older brother when he had slipped, and the tractor had mauled him before his brother could stop the giant wheels.

 

Some children had started going back to steal mangoes the next summer and one of the children had volunteered to take Thengai’s place as the picker. When they passed by her grandmother’s house she kept the door tightly shut and did not respond to their stage whispers calling her out. She could not bring herself to accompany them like she could not bring herself to eat ripe mangoes anymore. It was as if the mangoes’ ripe insides were like Thengai’s and for a long time the idea of eating them seemed repulsing. She also could not bring herself to distribute the mango chutney among the neighbours anymore and had grown sullener by the day. At the end of that following summer, her father decided to make her spend less time at her grandmother’s house.

 

Long after she had grown older and found out that the mangrove was theirs, she still would not accompany the children to the mangrove during the short breaks she was at her grandmother’s. She had started eating her grandmother’s chutney again, but nobody had offered her anymore ripe mangoes given her clear revulsion to these. One day, as she was walking through the fields, she found herself in front of the mangrove. The guardian was there and he seemed now a wizened old man. He looked at her and made as if he were going to chase her, but she laughed so he laughed too. He went towards a mango tree and reaching out pulled a ripe mango off the tree which he then offered her, slicing it in the middle. His face was wise and kind and she wondered how they could have ever felt afraid of him. She took the mango almost in a second state and bit into it. The taste of the ripe mango was heavenly as it mingled with her salty tears. She smiled up at the old guardian.

 

Kahlil Gibran – On death

Centuries of gifts

Centuries of gifts

13 June 2020

Courtesy pinterest.com

 

Walk with me

in meadows of green

I am witch

of the land

The time is but creeping sand

passing through fingers

 

Death lingers

on the land’s outskirts

Body hurts

as it breeds

swallows fears that it yet feeds

Dichotomy’s stance

 

The shining

Magic awoken

from my heart

to my hands

They give and don’t make demands

Centuries of gifts

 

Reading of the poem:

Antaeus – Kyrie

A heron looked on

A heron looked on

8 June 2020

Courtesy pinterest.com

 

The pond was icy

Surface a thin pane of glass

Like mirror it cracked

 

The gap extended

Glistening scales gleamed within

Their presence promise

 

A heron looked on

Slowly the surface did break

The fish would come through

 

Reading of the poem:

Written in the context of Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Challenge using the words Break and Glass. Words and rules consultable here

 

Stive Morgan – Magic Travel

When the light dies out

When the light dies out

7 June 2020

 

Light is love

Darkness breeds the hate

We translate

Emotions

Anger is a reckoning

Of the love waning

 

Northern star

Life is within you

Embracing

Nothingness

I feel it your soft caress

Piercing through the veil

 

Hold me close

Within your bosom

Love to flout

All about

The darkness tends to blossom

When the light dies out

 

Reading of the poem:

Quinn – I will believe

Like doll on a shelf

Like doll on a shelf

30 May 2020

Courtesy Stefan Gesell

 

Icicles

Playing with my tears

Uprooted

From the trees

Falling they put soul at ease

On weather’s arrears

 

The water

The heart deranges

Fraying path

Through the veins

Its wake the mind estranges

Seasons of our pains

 

In their light

I renewed myself

No longer

Prone to flee

Circumstances that shook me

Like doll on a shelf

 

Reading of the poem:

Eurythmics – Here Comes The Rain Again (Freemasons Remix)