Best Ghats Poems
How I weave fancies around my dream date
If time could satisfy some of my whims,
I would, like a sprightly fawn, hop and jump
Jubilant, jocular, joyous, and juvenile!
Between the departing day and the descending night
If it suddenly rains as a bolt from the blue
With no umbrella to shield our heads
How I wish to walk with you
My hands twined around your waist,
With no one else but only you and me.
When the sun hides behind the Western ghats
Bleeding red and waxing pale
How I wish to ramble hand in hand
Along the seashore under the canopy of the sky
Sharing silent thoughts and counting the waves
Lost in our private world, just you and me!
On a bright clear day when the Southern Bay
Like a voluptuous maid lies draped in blue
And its placid surface dotted with sailing boats,
How I wish to get into one
And drift afar to some unknown destination
With no one else but you and me
Somewhere in a sheltered nook,
Screened from the buzzing crowd with a river winding by
And the clear waters snoozing on the white sand,
In a small, sequestered cottage,
Where nightly winds flute on the windowpanes
How I wish to spend a night with only you and me
There as we stand in a tight warm embrace,
When your hot breath falls on the nape of my neck,
And as you pant with passion and call me ‘My love’
How I wish to get enrobed in your mystery
And sail down to the abyss of an unknown experience
When nobody else matters, but only you and me!
…………………………..........................................
Feb.7. 2023
~ Placed First~
My Dream Date Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Categories:
ghats, beautiful, desire, dream, love,
Form:
Free verse
The ghats,grey serpents in green thickets
cool and moist, dampens restless midgets
There ,in a hotel ,in the lushness of the tropic's crown
are trees mighty tall with neat flights of stairs hanging down.
stood perched on trees, a cabin each of uneven logs
with wooden planks hand-polished to parqueted floors
A large cypress cot,an inviting bed ,the sensuous Umrao-Jaan
on canvas overhead, glowing in hues from a crystal pan
white porcelain figures, lovers dancing on mantle;love lounges,
windows open to wild flora , a few ripe mangoes hanging in bunches
On the rails ruddy jasmine vines flaunt little white stars
antique bamboo lanterns at the door , happy to be ajar
warm aroma from oils of wild-herb toiletries exude
wanting a trickle on the heated hearts' pursuit
cute candles whispers roses and jasmine in the air
nothing more, the imp of the mind feasts on love in the air.
on the small balcony , the cool breeze of the underwoods caress
In this tree-house,bask in nature...at its best to soothe five senses.
Categories:
ghats, nature, travel, tree, ,
Form:
Couplet
On a hazy day, in the mid of the jungle
through the dense rain forest, we trek;
Where astounding waterfalls spread smoke
and the various birds sing melodious jingles
Swaying lofty trees filter the sunlight,
cause the shadowy effect inside ;
They do sieve worldly sounds and impure air
and so the serene surreal ambience stays there
The recent rains flattened some tall trees
but equally granted the unique mushrooms;
Though the route is really tough and rough
the fragrance of the fresh rains embrace
Those lush green fungi on the rocks
do try too hard to block our walk;
Rustling the leaves, snakes move to bush,
discerning the scene, the poor rats ambush
Oops, these leaches suck my blood
and my shoes often stuck in the mud;
Our signposts are those largest footprints
of the giant elephants and trails of these tiny ants
Dreamlike journey it is, to meet imaginary animals;
Our target is to encounter those ethereal creatures
that we often hear and see in comics and animation films
but other than those animals we have seen so many things
Lion tailed macaque, Nilgiri tahr,
Great hornbill, Indian Giant squirrels
and the other colorful birds that are rare
look cuter than those unreal creatures
Trancelike travel inside the jungle
make us behold the real beauties;
Finally reached the plain grass land,
where the sun leers amid the blue screen.
The footsteps we trace, not just taken us to the plain
The tranquillity they offer, help us perceive the heaven
It's the great hike that raises our energy levels
It's the toughest trek that weakens our stress devil
May 26 2021
For the contest Writing prompt- dreamlike by Constance La France
Categories:
ghats, animal, beautiful, heaven,
Form:
Free verse
It was celebration of the Panguni Pongal for the sixth day
People assemble before the Goddess Kaali, to pray
Big sand pot is full of water
Below is a stock of wood, set to enter
Water is set to boil, with high fire
Everyone sets eye, with a desire
From the boiling water, steam shall flow
Due to high heat, water shall overflow
Waiting all along was the priest
With a face, as if he is the angriest
He pumps towards the boiling pot, to charge,
Among the devotees who witness in large
With margosa leaves, he drenches his bare hand
Standing with bare foot, over the raw sand
Lifts his hand with boiling water to spread,
Only over his bare body, to spearhead
Again and again until the water pot becomes empty
None shall feel over him, pity
Bare body of priest now looks as normal
Though he withstood steams of thermal
Never anyone seen any boil
Nor none attempt to foil
To witness, you may become uncool
Until you watch the face of priest, as cool
Celebrated at Peraiyur since ancient time
With passage of time, never became dime
Truly an entertaining festival to express,
The true divine power of the goddess!
NOTES :
(Margosa tree =a large tree of the genus Melia (Melia Azadirachta)found in India. Its bark is bitter, and used as a tonic)
(Peraiyur = A small town under the foothills of the western Ghats of South India in the Madurai District)
(Panguni Pongal= a harvest festival around the first week of April month)
Above Poem is adapted from the eBook "NONE TO MATCH! NOR TO MARCH!! AND OTHER POEMS ON GOD" by Mr.V.MUTHU MANICKAM. Copyright is reserved.
Categories:
ghats, adventure, celebration, cool, devotion,
Form:
Couplet
Huge heaps of fire gaze at me from far,
the flaming maws marking time.
I smell its smoke, holy smoke, rising;
Its classic smell, leaching through
Its perfumed camouflage.
And piles of wood stacked up like
disappointments, big and small.
Little men hover, powerless as moths.
Hungry cows circle the fires
like brides, the matrimonial fire.
Galaxies of the gods
blazing at the altars of the ghats.
One eats up ghee, the other human fate.
Upon towers of grief, the aviation lights
Pundits sit stamping away
travel papers in Sanskrit.
Not far away, gurus sell Sanskrit
to English-speaking clients.
I am blank.
No fear. No love or hate either.
What else could be in there.
Is there at least some last desire left?
And I find, of all things, hunger, in there.
Hunger for food
But hunger is death also.
Yes, death, the last in desire. That is the finding.
That is going to be the verdict too
Mruthyuna eva idam aavrutam aseet ashnaayaya.
Death, the very first void,
Death, the hunger, with its mouth of fire
The death that gnaws at everyone’s gut.
‘Ashanaaya hi mruthyu’.
Notes:
Mruthyuna eva idam aavrutam aseet ashnaayaya : all this was covered by death that is hunger
Ashanaaya hi mruthyu = Hunger is death indeed.
This is from Brhadaranyaka Upanishad. ‘In the beginning, there was nothing. By death was all this covered. Or by hunger. For, hunger is death indeed’.
Categories:
ghats, death,
Form:
Free verse
BIASED
THE LIFE HAS BEEN RUINED
LIKE AN OLD MANOR,
THE ALFRESCO HAD TURNED
INTO SIRROCO OF LIFE.
IT HAS GIVEN ME THE
MASOCHISH OF LIFE.
IT HAS BEEN RUINED LIKE
GHATS OF GANGES
BY PREACHERS WHO ARE
FAKE TO THE WORLD.
THE LIFE HAS ANGINA
WITH BOULEVARD OF
NO FUTURE.
THE BELL LOST ITS RING,
AMETHYST LOST ITS
COLOR,
I HAVE BAD PIEANO NOTES
ON MY FINGER.
THE COLOR OF RAINBOW
IS BIASED,
LIKE ME.
WHICH HAS NO REASON
TO CHANGE.
THE FEEL IS GIVING
ME COUP DE GRACE
EVERY MOMENT OF LIFE
AGAIN N AGAIN.
Categories:
ghats, depressionlife, lost, life, lost,
Form:
Pilgrims and vagrants throng its Ghats
Beggars, seers and mendicants all,
Shrill peal of bells, the chant of hymns
And waters holy do enthrall.
Shiva’s trident nudges the soul
The Dhamak Stupa stands forlorn,
Their speak of legends distant past
Of antiquity long bygone.
Come chant and sing a Vedic verse
Do prostrate at the altars high,
Know Moksha will then beckon you
From pyres lit where corpses lie.
Pray walk across its ancient lanes
Inhale the scent of wood and smoke,
Its din and dust will soon embrace
Your senses with its blessed cloak.
This mystic land its hallowed air
Bathes all men with its pious smear,
Here mortals come to breathe their last
For doors of heaven opens here.
***********
Categories:
ghats, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Crimson saris, silk
Woven with threads of gold,
A dancer's graceful sway,
Reflecting ancient lore,
A turban's vibrant hues,
Sun-baked earth, spice-scented air,
Desert whispers tales,
Of caravans afar,
Carvings deep and bold,
In temples, ancient stone,
Echoing centuries old,
Stories yet untold,
From the Himalayas' snow,
To Ganges' holy flow,
A sacred, mystic show,
Diversity unfolds,
Ghats, where souls ascend,
Prayers to deities blend,
The fragrance of incense,
Mystical events unfold,
Bhangra's rhythmic beat,
A joyful, vibrant heat,
Dancing in the street,
Celebrations complete,
From the bustling city's hum,
To villages' quiet drum,
A world within a sum,
India's soul, profound,
Flavour's bold and bright,
A culinary sight,
Spices, herbs, and light,
Taste of day and night,
A thousand faces smiles,
Across landscapes, miles,
One nation, mixed styles,
India's spirit, which beguiles
A symphony of sound,
Stories whispered around,
Diverse and ever-bound,
India's soul is profound.
Categories:
ghats, society,
Form:
Free verse
Now burns the stillness of thoughts.
Be my enemy.
Ants are running out
of the eye.
Nightmares:
I am collecting the ashes from
the burning ghats.
The steps to the lake are disappearing
in the blood of moon.
The dogs-
are carrying away a half-burnt leg.
It stinks
stinks
the whole river, all night
all day.
Don’t shut the window
I am crying.
•
Tin man was walking on the sea
of words.
He did not want to utter F………out.
The hirsute triangle
pops up, every time
you close your eyes.
All night he was dreaming
he had become inert, like a corpse.
Can you start a salvage chemo ?
So that I can levitate in emptiness
and meet
my arithmetic
midway like cherry blossom
falling, yet not falling.
You will never understand me.
I was waiting for the night
beyond the sky
beyond the stars.
•
The stigma
the style.
No pollen wants to land on your cherry
Stainless shirt waves a white flag
to stop the war.
I am not a cherry picker
in a moonlit night
undressing the smile.
It is for you, the next life
a little wee
if I don’t come back
from the sea of carnage
pure as a fish.
Satish Verma
Categories:
ghats, art,
Form:
ABC
Originating, like crystal drops, from Gaumukh glaciers,
Colorless, like frank-innocence, later, gleams and glitters;
Mingled with Bhagirathi; melt in Alaknanda, great,
Flows flawlessly as though baiting and defeating the fate...
Vishnu, the supreme, in his dwarf Brahman incarnation,
Took two steps, myths say, with an absolute confirmation;
To cross the universe; when treading the stern step second,
World got holed; thence, Ganges, heavenly-goddess, did descend...
===
Quencher of thirst! Giver of life! Meal of mind and body!
Oxygen source! Coolant of flesh, and blood! Antibody!
Haven of water creatures! Guard of great agriculture!
Source and strength of Mohenjo-daro, Harappan culture!
Greatness of Hindu traditions! Zenith of Hindu faith!
Place of pilgrimage! Entrance to the heavens after death!
Symbol of faith, hope, civilization and mental health!
Absolution of misdemeanors! Harbinger of health...!
===
When I see the Ghats, yet, where dead are burnt in Holy pyres,
Half-burnt bodies eaten by dogs and eagles and vultures;
Like half-fry meat, munched, then, by carps, mullets, and catfishes,
Rest swept away to seas as though fulfilling last wishes...
Abandoned bodies, like sharks, during pandemic, floated,
Not one, two but tens and hundred; as though river flooded;
Though life-taker, the Ganges, is like mother, life-giver,
River named, most holy, on earth, is, perhaps, no other...!
17 December 2021
Categories:
ghats, death, life, river, water,
Form:
Rhyme
At the bank of holy Ganga, a revered shrine,
Religious and cultural center, Varanasi.
Chants of ‘Har-Har Ganga’ grant blessings divine.
At the bank of holy ganga, a revered shrine.
Bathing in Ganga remits the sin malign,
Founded by Lord himself, Shiva’s abode Kashi.
At the bank of holy ganga, a revered shrine,
Religious and cultural center, Varanasi.
***
Morning mantra hymns make you feel in heaven,
Ghats, temples, fests are icons of Varanasi.
Dying in Kashi ensures final release obtain.
Morning mantra hymns make you feel in heaven.
Birth to many great souls, the city has given,
Tulsi, Kabir, Ravidas lived there in Kashi.
Morning mantra hymns make you feel in heaven
Ghats, temples, fests are icons of Varanasi.
***
Priests perform aarati morning and evening,
lamps are lit and offered the Ganga prayer.
The moment becomes spiritual and stunning,
Priests perform aarati morning and evening.
Special rituals carried with mantra chanting,
Echoes of brass bells and the conch shells are rare.
Priests perform aarati morning and evening,
lamps are lit and offered the Ganga prayer.
***
Varanasi is place, where Budhism was founded,
Budhist’s place Sarnath is too in Varanasi.
First sermon to disciples, Budha here sounded.
Varanasi is place where Budhism was founded.
Great creations of art and literature hounded,
Classical folk culture, music and philosophy.
Varanasi is place where Budhism was founded,
Budhist’s place Sarnath is too in Varanasi.
- S. D. Tiwari
Categories:
ghats, places, religion, religious,
Form:
Triolet
i make ready myself for an insult
and chest pain, keeping unshorn hair like nettles
on contours, to take unknown turns for restoring
the clouds on moon-blue hills, spreading the water colors
on trees; someone inside the shrine was making
turbulence: yellow room has the footprints of
a naked fakir, after the apocalypse, who walked eyes closed
on the burning ghats, his rags are now worshipped,
the later years found the darkness
glowing in the furnace of propped up body
by roses,roses all the way, he tells the
hanging man, how tall were the poles, with song
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
ghats, art,
Form:
ABC
Trading the sweetness, a rainbow
on icefalls, you will come back on rocks
and drink the elixir of death.
A fantastic dream of soap bubbles in a tumbler,
ejecting the inky grief on the transparent glass.
The pink goddess of wealth
will descend again in your bowls. Brassica
will decide the future of grass.
The moon ride has become cheaper in cans
like sardines, unethical but sleeping with god.
Thongs were visible on steps of bathing ghats
for the benefit of bullfighters. Gibbons
indulging in aerial bombing. Comfortable
in groves jacarandas were smiling.
Unlike you I smelt the dried flowers
between the pages of history
to meet the shadows on the walls of time.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
ghats, art,
Form:
ABC
Trading the sweetness, a rainbow
on icefalls, you will come back on rocks
and drink the elixir of death.
A fantastic dream of soap bubbles in a tumbler,
ejecting the inky grief on the transparent glass.
The pink goddess of wealth
will descend again in your bowls. Brassica
will decide the future of grass.
The moon ride has become cheaper in cans
like sardines, unethical but sleeping with god.
Thongs were visible on steps of bathing ghats
for the benefit of bullfighters. Gibbons
indulging in aerial bombing. Comfortable
in groves jacarandas were smiling.
Unlike you I smelt the dried flowers
between the pages of history
to meet the shadows on the walls of time.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
ghats, adventure, allegory, angst, animals,
Form:
gradients
vivid, humbling
I was collecting a bit of myself
reading anatomy
of animality
spawning the hidden eggs
flecks of echos scarring:
reconnecting to starry night
I could not hold my enrged otherself
and the homely smell of gunshots
orchestrated to send a message of
mayhem – for optic illusion
the reptiles have broken
the law for an oceanic boat
collecting the golden fish
on the burning ghats, streetscape
full of falling leaves and
bloody wings of black crows
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
ghats, adventure, allegory, angst, animals,
Form: