Martyr

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How much greater the world would be

If there were no cause for martyrdom

Humans in power are a different race

Their insatiably flaming hunting spree

Makes truth seekers their big game

From Socrates to Jeanne d’Arc

To Bhagat Singh to Martin Luther King

The chase curiously involves all colors

 

Now the Eye is on the most coveted trophy

This blithe, buoyant, warbling Earth

All songs will stop and fire will rage

Love with glass stare will be in cage

Before the specters will hang the precious prize

There won’t ever be another “human sunrise”

 

The quote is from Alice Walker’s poem ~ Our Martyr

 

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Martyrdom / Witness @ Poets United

Bubble

photo by de jackson

 

The dancing bubbly lips

Are in constant hurry

They often forget to fill

The words with soul

The light phrases float

Enjoy their moment’s stay

Die leaving an air of sigh

Words that birth

From mighty pen

Are nuggets of gold

To live forever

This is inspired by the Tibetan proverb "Words are mere bubbles of water; deeds are drops of gold."

Posted for dVerse Quadrille 3 the word to play with is Bubble

Draupadi*

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Whoever thought

That a fire born dusky beauty

Would have such grace, dignity, love

Encased in heart

It was natural for her to wield power

But how well she knew

When not to use it

Her pearl teeth, lightning smile,

Blue lotus fragrance

Kindled fire in many a heart

Her father wanted a son

Of sacrificial fire

To avenge his fury

Her father had not asked for her

Yet along with her brother

Draupadi stepped out of the flaming petals

Born in full bloomed youth

Panchali, daughter of the king of Panchal

She became

Her father had locked her

In a strange marriage

With five brothers

By fate, truly, by kismet

Five exiled princes they were

Five valiant youths

Five consorts!

But happiness was at the beck and call

Of her champak petal fingers

She breathed trust and harmony

She was the sky
To her beloveds

Exiled life with the sun, moon, stars and forest ended

With the kingdom, returned, layered evils

She reduced her foes to ashes

But not before she paid the price

Of being violated in court

Being disrobed while her consorts sat

Hanging their heads in shame

Having lost the power to speak up

Having seen her all five sons slain

Through the passage of

A bloody war among kith and kin

Though she was the stormy inspiration

To her husbands in the battlefields

She always kept the flame of forbearance,

Self esteem, forgiveness, compassion

Bright in the dark hours

She still lives in the breath of Nirbhaya**

In all corners of the Earth

 

 

*Draupadi is described as the Tritagonist in the epic The Mahabharata. According to the epic she is the fire born daughter of Drupada the king of Panchal and also became the common wife of the five Pandavas. Wikipedia

 

**meaning fearless girl, also referring to the paramedical student in Delhi who was gang raped and later succumbed to her injuries in spite of her brave fights.

 

Posted for Sanaa’s prompt Myth @ A Dash Of Sunny

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Sharing it with Poetry Pantry #290 @ Poets United

Marriage

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In the morning

To drink a steaming cup of love together

During the day

To be the rock in the sun and storms hand in hand

In the twilight hours

To see in each other’s eyes of the starlit dream on the night shore

 

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Marriage @ Poets United

32 sq. ft.

My Shrine

This space of a room

On the second floor

With a wooden door

Opening to a terrace

And with a small glass window

An entry way

To a strip of the blue sky

Waits for me

Every dawn and dusk

I know

               

My deities dwell there

They are my family members

Cutest of them is my baby Gopala*

I bathe him

Feed him

Dress him

Daily

As incense sticks spill fragrance

I take my seat on the asana**cross legged

With eyes closed

 

The shrine showers silence to the mind

Stopping slithering thoughts

To rare hood

Their fading fangs

Make room

For the Name of God

The Name***calms me down

I wait for the deity

To step on my lotus heart

This room is my refuge…….

 

 

My Gopala

 

*Gopala is the baby form of Lord Krishna. Since it’s a baby it needs to be taken care of just as a baby in the family

**asana is the mat for praying

***The Hindus practice Japa which is a spiritual discipline involving the meditative repetition of a mantra or name of a divine power. Wikipedia.

 

Posted for dVerse Poetics - Room With or Without a View

Love / 14 Feb

                                             

Courtesy: Google Images

These words come to me when I think of love

I see kaleidoscopes of teens in street

Wearing courage, smile they flutter and flit

Drunk in honey words, pairs of cooing doves

 

Devi Saraswati* and the Saint above

Indulge, smile, bless making hearts to be lit

These words come to me when I think of love

I see kaleidoscopes of teens in street

 

Many firsts happen on the Day of Love

Living in a cloud cuckoo land is sweet

For the enlightened hearts there is no pit

That key of prudence not all of them have

These words come to me when I  think of love

 

 

Form: Rondel

 

*Devi Saraswati is the goddess of learning, enlightenment and knowledge.  In West Bengal,Saraswati is worshipped on Vasant Panchami, a Hindu festival celebrated every year on the 5th day in the Hindu calendar month of Magha (about February). Hindus celebrate this festival in temples, homes and educational institutes alike. Wikipedia.

The day has become the Bengali Valentine Day. Specially the school and college goers are in ecstatic mood with no studies and all friendship(!).

Source

 

Posted for Sanaa’s Prompt Nights ~ To Love Would Be Sublime

“Tonight, I want each and every one of you to close your eyes and write the first thing that comes to mind when you think about Love……”, Sana says. I did just that.

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Also sharing with Poetry Pantry @ Poets United

 

Winter Skips Bengal

             

courtesy: google image

Mischievous is truant winter

With its feet ready to drop out

Pursing its warm lips in a pout

Runs the errant child of Nature

El Nino is its dearest peer

Holding hands they joyfully shout

Mischievous is truant winter

With its feet ready to drop out

Green parrots now are in despair

Date palm sap forgot to drip out*

We failed to meet its needs no doubt

So it flees and elsewhere loiters

Mischievous is truant winter

*In winter a slit is made into the date palm tree for the sap to drip out and collect into a pot to be made into jaggery by heating (During summer the heat at night makes the sap rancid and alcoholic).This is known as Nolen Gurh in Bengal, a winter delicacy. But this year we almost had a warm December and topsy turvy weather because of El Nino.

 

Posted for dVerse MTB; The Rondel

Nolen Gurh, courtesy   ; google image