Discourses Poems

Who Am I?

When people call me an atheist, 
I just nod my head. 
But never invite any hostility with them.
Perhaps, they haven’t ever seen me in a house of worship.
They may think so.
I puzzle when the same people say, “God is omnipresent.”

Some call me an agnostic.
Even then, I hardly respond.
Perhaps, they haven’t ever found me engaging in religious discourses.
They may conclude thus.

Whenever I express anything seeking clarity about cosmic order,
They won’t stop and call me a sceptic.

To be called a theist; shall we have to go on bestowing hymns?
No scripture has expressed it the only way of attaining Moksha.
What about Ben Adhem?
He urges to enrol his name in the list of those who love their fellowmen.

When everything is His manifestation,
Am I not a part of it? 
What is real spirituality?
To me, it’s an endless quest to realize oneself.
Who am I?

Consciousness

Within the dark mystery of evening,
he listens to two interchangeable discourses 
One the gentle persuader, the other, life's ultimate blamer. 
Troubled by these seething exchanges, 
both conscious and unconscious currents resound,
As the master's inner thoughts boom,
pounding into  trails of indecision
with wired quizzes on his mind.

In silence, he weighs dark and light perspectives-
question left unanswered in the din
of reflection, 
and through gradual flow of spontaneous musings, 
Logic nags his cerebral strains-
scientific, structured assessment of matters which do not really matter...

Somehow, amid the debate where reason pauses with the fragile voice of instinct, the heart remains silent 
offering gentle hunches revealing the
wisdom born from honesty,  truth...

Slowly, this inner prompting arises 
as the master in quiet introspection 
realizes: the mind can lie , pride is ego- based ...but the heart,  can it in conscience cope with deceit?

SELF WITHIN

least not
there are subconscious discourses 
O! God The King of the Worlds
Your peace is veiled

definitely
the heart get overthrown
and the mind keep on wandering

and the tale of sorrow
is still drifting afloat

Pastor At the Pulpit

spiritual discourses
address lower mind
offering not flavour
of bliss magnetism 
that ignites our form

therefore silence
is the best teacher 
requiring release of
ownership of thought
thus exhuming ego

awareness animated
poised in the void
entwined with existence 
breaks the mirror
invoking Holy Spirit

To My Son

Son, let your mouth strangle silence - 
The silence that breeds pushovers
For profitless is the burden of a caged tongue
When spikes in thy bottom doth lodge. 

Son, let not the bubbling discourses,
Of the raucous raconteurs
In cold blood, butcher your hardihood 
For rhetoric is just but the flailing of the tongue. 

And, Remember, O son, the ways of the wise;
That gold lies snug in potted jaws,
And a little chatter cocktailed in a little hush,
Make amity in the depths of humanity.

My English Textbook

You're awesome to read,
For all to say not to be greed.
Enriched with emotions and feel,
Bring the inspirational zeal.

Teach us unity in diversity,
Even about film's creativity.
Comedy, tragedy and fantasy
Blended in tons of quality.

Grammar, glamour and humanity
Incited on environmental generousity.
Discourses as the methodology
To deal with the child's ideology.

Teacher as the sculptor of scripture
Carving the citizens of Indian structure
Just thanks cannot be complete
But to learn a bit of English.

'Our world through English'
My English tension to vanish.

For Mind To Set

It happens to have dark parts to light 
With its understanding sparkling so bright 
Amidst other attracting convictions
That seem so true nonfictions
To be nailed in stark crucifixions 

Sections in section of different segments designing discourses of reasonable patterns 
Have to consider the utility of a take for better usage 
Running around the inner open space to enslave the heart 
And enrich its promotion after  preference must have taken over others 

Many things may nag the navigational key of your concerns 
And place you hanging between confusions of choice with less coverage-
A very tight view in logical reasoning for been smart 
Presents cute challenges accepted every second projecting mindset outcome

Ghazal of a Tired Man

With your teachings, tired tunes I’m tired, 
Hauling its harsh import, I’m tired.

Not with my frugal fate, it’s fine, 
Your rating jewels as jade, I’m tired.

By your discourse, a bit iffy,
Karmic fate of if-then, I’m tired.

By your sermons that seem dated,
Scolding, berating me, I’m tired.

Do deeds, expect no fruits, you say,
Of such tired homilies, I’m tired.
___________________________________
Ghazal |01.12.2021| despair
Poet’s note: There are numerous channels on television bombarding religious discourses, even a god channel, all heavy stuff, somehow making some listeners burdened with undue guilt. Here’s the desperate cry of one such man.

Genocide Party

Persuasive orators deliver
fiery discourses
messages rendered meaningless
for what can be said or heard
when no one listens

Generations of fertile minds
now give rise to contempt
disillusioned by empty words
poisoned with empty promises

Like parasites
unbalanced minds distort truth
destroying all hope for reconciliation
democrats, the party of genocide

Philosophing About Time

It so happens that when the eyes cry
    the memories fall like petals of time...
    Impetuous at this hour, discourses
     the silence.
        Oracles of aged papers,
       become thoughts and fly the most
        noble winds carrying ultimatums ...
         Maybe time remembers
        that is the right time to
        stop a little
        dye all the moments
        and throughout the universe, 
        stop all the torments ...

Sandwiched By Lies

Sandwiched by the lies spread through your body
what would it look like if you saw it as whole
whole like a loaf of bread...sliced front to back,
sections missing when the chef goes hunting
vagaries of form light on the moonlit night rhythms of fireflies 
positively negative impressions prejudice our eye’s glance of plus or minus
defining an outline of shadowed presence barely known here at all
danced through the trees, enraptured by outline’s disguise she appears and disappears... swaddled whole groves stand at attention awaiting orders 
underground rivers moving slowly in time shape the insistence of land
illusions of spatial bound threads harmonize irregularities of mind
consequential prattling pervades discourses of old guard and new
Queen’s knight to black Bishop...strategic placement instructs magic’s game
In the name of...all that is and has been...no longer forever more.

It's Not About Horses

IT’S NOT ABOUT HORSES
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS



There Is a Truism That to a Few Is Known
Search Deep the Archives Were it Is Sown

"AIN"T A HOSS THAT  CAN'T BE RODE
 AIN"T NO MAN THAT CAN"T BE THO ED "

Fools Will Proceed with Mundane Discourses
Never Are Aware That it's Not about Horses

The People's King

The People's King

Sonnet 1.

Drukyul,the Land of Thunder Dragon,
The domain of existent Eden,
Divine constitution with aligned canon,
Ornated Drukpa with complete freedom
Ere thy magnanimous magnanimity I stoop,
For thou art the salt of democratic soil;
Thy magniloquent discourses flutter whole and swoop,
For the nation and people I shalt toil,
To the helm of the nation,I pay my homage,
Let Bhutan sheen nether thy empyreal reign,
Thy art of epitome of kindness,a great heritage,
A doctor of divinity,bequeathing quietude in ceaseless chains.
People's Monarch,May you live in every living heart,
Shine thy Wangchuck glory in evey part.

Copyright © Dawa Zangpo |

Note: I dedicate this sonnet to the King of Bhutan,HM Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuck to rule his Country under glorious reign.  May peace and happiness propagate to whole universe.

Sadhguru

Sadhguru is like an infinite space
Anyone who is receptive can feel his grace
He is the greatest amalgamation of 
Ancient and modern knowledge
He knows very well how to free the bird 
From the cage
He breaks our shackles of belief
He gives the people who are weary 
From the worldliness-a relief
He moves like an air
For all living beings, he cares
A quintessential among men
He dances in the rain
He is fully involved in every activity
Whether delivering discourses or playing cricket
To infinite knowledge he is the open gate
Others are Gurus
But he is Sadhguru

International Women's Day

Debates and discourses galore
Trees and rivers are worried
Cruelty and hounding are torrid
A raped morning in the shore

Kindness smiles in the water
It fondles the skin still tender
Flying sands drop by to kiss it
Restive waves come on hissing

Intellectuals in the seminar
Shopping at fifty percent
Online bonanza for women
Pious hopes in the twitters
Success is celebrated globally
Molested school girls scoff at

Flesh is what the quest goes for
Pearls of friendship is a far cry
Sharks of powers and muscles
Untamed high-rise castles

Can’t we have joint umbrellas?
To share a grief or golf stick
Sublimate our glare of control
And avoid hundreds of shipwreck? 

Discrimination will go away one day 
We will need centuries to that end
Life will be the same celebration
For men and women together
_____________________________

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