Long Foothill Poems
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5. Bless thy mind blossoming to the degree of all these, brimming ashore
the fullest hymn, in the innermost shrine, pearls of wisdom and adore
Cleanse thy impurity, bless them a glow
Beauty, may the diva touch the unborn heavenly , beyond the creation
Awaken, prepare
for the gallant cause, intrepid
Do good to others, be active, make them sure and certain
Bless thy mind blossoming to the degree of all these, brimming ashore
the fullest hymn, in the innermost shrine, pearls of wisdom and adore
reach to the souls soaring higher in the flight in assonance
to remove the impediment of the voyage
Calm and placid a reach, to beseech humbly
thine speechless impeccable trochaic
The foothill and the fragrant Jasmine, make them a humble duo
be praiseworthy, be praiseworthy
be praiseworthy
Bless thy mind blossoming to the degree of all these, brimming ashore
the fullest hymn, in the innermost shrine, pearls of wisdom and adore
Eight (gahan kusum kunja majhe)
O'er the Eden grief, solitary floral, she. myriad, myrtle
a soft croon of oblivion, the harp of the wind, weaverbird humming thistle
Overcoming the fear, verses as they weave beyond subtle murmur
Soulmate, a windcatcher, come along, fly on, o fly on!
The sky blue innocence a morn and my morning dew
the heart song a love blossoming in the river song, unsung
The bright eyes and the rest with the fallen tranquil, endeared a dear gaze
Hold the step and come along the greenery, my first try, dwell in togetherness
the thistle sundried, bless the time, fragrance and abundance plethora
the pleasure of sound, the warmth, they weave unsung
the moonlit eve pouring elixir
the promise of a morning song, along in the long
the color stroke in diva, they sprung, one by one
in million, and more, unsung beyond the troubadour charm
an Esperanza and solitary she in company of trochaic along
Jasemine blossoming in hue a morn, dear born! Sing along
Lo and behold my reverie, my seasoned soy
the churned delight of the sunlit zeal
a sweetened cuddle as the moonlit innocence
warner is she, transitory as she sang and wills on unison
Come along the oblivious morn, a song a lull, a hymn croon
we will sing and the song wills on whence the sculptor time
the foothill and a tear and smile
the anonymity of a penname, so shall they bond, beyond!
Bhanu Singher padaboli
Eight (gahan kusum kunja majhe)
On a dusty and narrow path dwarfed by the enormous
redwood trees, which have conquered all of the soft-blue sky;
I walk and I'm astonished by the tallest of them all!
Winter has left and the snows begin to melt away, to invite a lovely butterfly
to perch on wildflowers like aspens and mountain daisies swaying at the foothill;
and right beyond them, granite cliffs gloriously shine like those
northern mountains' peaks dabbed with spring snow;
oh, yesterday they were invisible to the blinking eye!
I stroll underneath groves of sequoia and white fir, and see myself really small;
and these giant trees encircling me, will lament how they shiver when they're cold,
and sad when battered by the storm; how they'll strive for lack of space and sunlight,
but wildfires may cause destruction and leave this forest barren and arid! I fix my glance
upward, and I start spinning and whirling in the stylish manner of an experienced dancer,
and they spin along with me, in a soft crescendo, never falling down with an awkward thud!
I continue walking and admiring the majestic view of a creation, too inspiring and sublime,
which was hidden from these very eyes...to make their discovery more exciting and fun!
Who hasn't seen the redwood trees in my forest? Come along and satisfy your curiousity;
these trees have more stories to tell more than a victorious warrior galloping his horse away;
and for decades, they have seen greedy hands cut them down without regard or mercy...
depleting nature of its internal richness, and when it rains, floods corrode its terrain!
Imagine what the earth will become without any of these, adorning it with a variety of colors;
look closer, some of them are covered with thick lichen, others show a cinnamon,
hard bark, so protect Nature with your best ability and be rewarded with amazing results!
A forest, which displays its wild and natural beauty, is a treasure like my redwood trees!
Entered in Constance La France's contest, "A walk to remember"
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Number 5 Tagore web -ontor momo
5. Bless thy mind blossoming to the degree of all these, brimming ashore
the fullest hymn, in the innermost shrine, pearls of wisdom and adore
Cleanse thy impurity, bless them a glow
Beauty, may the diva touch the unborn heavenly , beyond the creation
Awaken, prepare
for the gallant cause, intrepid
Do good to others, be active, make them sure and certain
Bless thy mind blossoming to the degree of all these, brimming ashore
the fullest hymn, in the innermost shrine, pearls of wisdom and adore
reach to the souls soaring higher in the flight in assonance
to remove the impediment of the voyage
Calm and placid a reach, to beseech humbly
thine speechless impeccable trochaic
The foothill and the fragrant Jasmine, make them a humble duo
be praiseworthy, be praiseworthy
be praiseworthy
Bless thy mind blossoming to the degree of all these, brimming ashore
the fullest hymn, in the innermost shrine, pearls of wisdom and adore
Copyright © Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2025
These vast plains of steadfast savannahs
Haunt me joyfully with the silent hissing tune
Of the setting sun, smiling at the
Sashaying clouds of low skies, and ogling select woods.
The earth is brown here (snuff-brown, I insist),
And with the courage of humble humus soil
Into whose fecund wombs the fattest disciples of yam —
Each tuber a testimony to nutritious creation —are nursed.
Need I guess correctly the mating time of sorghum — in the rains
Or in droughts?
Millets keep decent trysts with their kind,
Aping the pullulation of scattered corn, tomatoes and cactus,
And peripatetic weeds, and all other refractory modules of tillage.
Anointing breeze is wafted by the league of seasons,
The illustration of grazing cattle, and singed
Hirsute peaks of knolls near totems hoisted by
Ancestral masters —on foot and on teething caravans.
The pasture, gold-trimmed, reaches the edge of the world,
And glitters with the power of mirage.
Within you, you belabour the point of nostalgia for mind’s
Aging peace fluttering in the distance, a faint, glistening ray greasing
The elbows of noontime.
Large, mourning boulders jilted by jealous streams serve as tour guides,
Deflecting pirouetting spectrums that harass the eyes as you ascend northwards . . . .
Welcome, Rover!
This is Northern Nigeria,
The foothill of God.
I stumbled on a hovel in the woods
Dug in a foothill roofed with mossy shakes.
Inside, its furthest wall was made of stones
Piled high to make a chimney and a hearth.
Two stovepipes served as draft to bring in air.
No window spent what little warmth there was.
Who built this cell and for what purpose built?
If navvies built some shelter from the cold,
Then why not near to any railroad tracks?
A two day hike from any farm or town,
It made too far a lovers’ rendezvous.
Was it to help someone who’s lost survive?
Unlikely as it was, it might have been,
But only those who know to look can see
So meadowed as it is in growth and slope.
Opposing thumbs can easily unlatch
Its door inviting all who enter in
And equal welcomes guest or ghost alike.
Of all my acquaintances or even kin,
Or those that fall somewhere between;
My most preferred Texan that's ever been,
Is my good friend and buddy, Shirlene.
I've known this woman for many years,
She's grown closer though years were lost.
On her behalf i have silently shed tears,
Which was part of a lost friends cost.
But now frequent visits we have arranged,
We sarcastically bite and tease for sure.
We reminisce those years when not estranged,
She's a bond for which I've found no cure.
If I searched all of Texas from foothill to plain,
In my mind no one else could fill the bill.
So why waste time if there's nothing to gain?
Shirlene stands alone atop the highest hill.
Bhanu Singher Padaboli
Eight (gahan kusum kunja majhe)
O'er the Eden grief, solitary floral, she. myriad, myrtle
a soft croon of oblivion, the harp of the wind, weaverbird humming thistle
Overcoming the fear, verses as they weave beyond subtle murmur
Soulmate, a windcatcher, come along, fly on, o fly on!
The sky blue innocence a morn and my morning dew
the heart song a love blossoming in the river song, unsung
The bright eyes and the rest with the fallen tranquil, endeared a dear gaze
Hold the step and come along the greenery, my first try, dwell in togetherness
the thistle sundried, bless the time, fragrance and abundance plethora
the pleasure of sound, the warmth, they weave unsung
the moonlit eve pouring elixir
the promise of a morning song, along in the long
the color stroke in diva, they sprung, one by one
in million, and more, unsung beyond the troubadour charm
an Esperanza and solitary she in company of trochaic along
Jasemine blossoming in hue a morn, dear born! Sing along
Lo and behold my reverie, my seasoned soy
the churned delight of the sunlit zeal
a sweetened cuddle as the moonlit innocence
warner is she, transitory as she sang and wills on unison
Come along the oblivious morn, a song a lull, a hymn croon
we will sing and the song wills on whence the sculptor time
the foothill and a tear and smile
the anonymity of a penname, so shall they bond, beyond!
........................................................................................................................
Bhanu Singher padaboli
Eight (gahan kusum kunja majhe)
Song: Gahan Kusum Kunja Majhe
Artist: Avik Deb
I live atop a foothill to mountains of the Cascade Range
and people here keep to themselves whether on busses or on trains;
from my back porch are lights a big city can be seen;
and the blissful aroma of Tacoma remains endlessly lingering.
Strange men and women drive so many different cars, backed up on I-5;
quiet shameful waste of natural resources and an utter waste of lost time—
Displaced in such crowded chaotic madness;
eyes reveal a hopeful truth behind bloodshot sadness.
I can also see such a sight from my front yard,
where tens' of thousands' drive to work very, very hard;
a not so big surprise when homeless men floating that-their sign,
witness cars turn away cheeks denying wrongs with you and too I.
And hope remains prevalent above all other fear; all alone—
So long as we give all our love every day; too each, we call home...
1-05-17
Milton, Washington (United States of America)
A Sonnet contest about where I live, by Silent One...
#literature
Charano Dhorite Diyogo --- A Tribute to Tagore Geetanjali
#literature
A foothill moment got lit up underneath my colander, himalayan she
I beseech thee, have mercy upon me
Throughout life and mortality, through all strife, in glum and glee
I will shelter thee! My innermost me!
A foothill moment got lit up underneath my colander, himalayan she
I beseech thee, have mercy upon me
The yearning of the fallen vibe, unbridled a natural bliss to slowly thrive
My endless ponderance and clueless journey for my shrine
You will have your pearls glowing, one by one!
Better not to wander in a mayhem, to mourn for bygone, to love that strong!
The yearning of the fallen vibe, a natural bliss to slowly thrive
My endless ponderance and clueless journey for my shrine
A foothill moment got lit up underneath my colander, himalayan she
I beseech thee, have mercy upon me
The unquenchable thirst of a desert that traces back an oasis
Live there for a time, to gather beyond!
Once the decisive destiny will find the defined
The fallen will also live on!
I have found my solace, as the clutch released me, from a confined
With me in thou , in thy nature of divine vow
Adore me in acceptance in thy embellishment
A foothill moment got lit up underneath my colander, himalayan she
I beseech thee, have mercy upon me!
Geetabitan.com (since 2008)
Charano Dhorite
Lyric & History
Lyric and background history of song Charano Dhorite Diyogo
Song of Rabindranath Tagore
Musical composition and background history of the song:
Parjaay: Puja (104)
Upa-parjaay: Prarthana
Taal: Ardha Jhaptaal
Raag: Bhairavi
Written on: 1914 (3 Jaistha 1321)
Place: Ramgarh, The Himalayas
Collection: Geetimalya
Swarabitan: 40
Notation by: Dinendranath Tagore
Notes: This song was composed on 17th May, 1914 at Ramgarh Hills near Nainital.
15th May, 1914 was Debendranath’s 97th birthday. Prabhatkumar Mukhopadhyay, in his ‘Geetabitan Kalanukramik Suchi’ has expressed that this song might have been composed with the memory of this day at the back of His mind. On the sixteenth annual celebration held on 11th Magh at Jorasnako Thakurbari He had sung this song as the morning-prayer.
February, 2025