If countless waves roar in ocean of life,
Each therein born that lives, sinks unto it,
Whose bond with the rest but for flash is rife
Whilst that with ocean for lifelong is lit--
A truth, so clear and still so hard to see,
And so am I the part of Supreme Soul…
Two birds of feather dwelling on a tree,
So close and still apart-- a part and whole,
One pecking at sweet and sour karmic fruits,
A pendulum as if swinging for good,
From joy to grief were I to know no roots
With my twain O to brood in solitude
Until one day this delusion hast gone
And with it dawns from dark my life’s new dawn.
________________________________
Musings | 02.07.2026 | birds, ocean, spiritual, tree, waves, Sonnet
Note: This sonnet is in continuation from the preceding one: Him, truly mine if I know not. It draws from two verses from Mundak Upanishad: 3.1.1 and 3.1.2. Same verses are also found in Shveta-ashva-tara Upanishad: 4.6 and 4.7.
Blurred words billowing like smoke,
Coals raging still red
From preceding night’s campfire.
I try, put them in proper place
In vain as I get scorched
And the scream that comes out--
A lightning thunder strike…
That, that is the poem
I’m pregnant with,
So near birth and still so far.
_____________________
Reflections |09.03.2026| birth, fire, poem, free verse
A REFLECTION ON WEATHERING TODAY’S STORMS OF LIFE
As I awoke, the Breaking News
Was death-frightening:
“Treacherous Winter Storm Arriving!”
“Expect Single-Digit Low Temperatures!”
“Days Of Ice And More Than 6 Inches Of Snow!”
“Power Outages Are Expected!”
“Most Forms Of Transportation Will Be Affected!”
“This Threatening Storms Is Expected
To Reek Havocs Never Seen Before!”
Hearing these headlines, my heart rate
And blood pressure rose tremendously:-
Obviously, I felt afraid and hopeless.
Then it dawned upon me where I was!
Nothing here in America could wreak worse hazards
Than today’s bigoted, oppressive, political climate:-
Thus, I relaxed, got up, and prepared myself
For another day of God’s survival navigations
Through nature’s and human nature’s trials,
And weathering tribulations, preceding my
Springing overcoming of these hazards
And their oppressive wintering trials:-
Indeed, glory be to our liberating God:
For every wintering time in our lives,
He will send his springing healings:-
late on the night preceding Christmas Day
I glimpsed a ghostly shimmer on the snow
and though the moon was shining in its way
'twas something more compelling in this glow
deep in it, I could see the course of years
the strains and pains of humankind thereof
to search the dearer christening of tears
and change the flow of time to render love
my eyes were sore afraid at such a sight
and so too in my heart there grew a doubt
and yet, the beautied power of such light
had placed its peace within me and without
for there, above - redemption from afar -
the grace of heaven, shining … from a star.
(edit)
Today as ere Dhara’s alive,
So is Goddess of all Learning,
Vivacious learned seem to thrive,
Bhoj back to Earth, long live the king.
__________________________
Translation | 27.10.2025 | alive, education/learning, king
Note: To continue from the preceding verse… the king, not really dead, returns, and Kalidas, when asked, just modifies marginally the earlier verse to paint a different picture. One can note here the felicity of poet Kalidas to pen a piece extempore-- a minor twist and the meaning changes 180 degrees. Alas, the English translation cannot match it. Transliteration of the Sanskrit is as under:
Adya dhara sadaa-dhaaraa sadaa-lambaa sarasvatee |
Panditaam manditaam sarve bhoja-raaje bhuvam gate ||
Sky when with dense clouds abound,
Seeing which peacocks dance around
On tender-green-dress-bedecked a hill,
In such a stirring scene, love-bound,
Which wayfarer wistful would not feel?
_____________________________
Translation (Quintain) | 34.08.2025 | monsoon, Nature, passion, peacock, nostalgia
Note: Here is a verse (in Arya meter) from Bhartrihari’s Shringaara Shatakam (hundred verses on love and romance). Spring was dealt with in the preceding verse. The poet now paints a picture of monsoon: dark clouds surround; excited, peacocks dance; the earth is bedecked with a lush green dress; a traveller longing for conjugal bliss, feels homesick. Here is the transliteration of the verse in Sanskrit:
Upari ghanam ghana-patalam tiryak
girayo api nartita mayurah |
Kshitih api kandala dhavala
drashtim pathikah kva yapayatu || 47 ||
The very first rapper preceded
Ice-T by aeons and eons
Though his rap-a-tap-tap
never earned him lights in neon
Humbly plying his trade in forests far
from billionaire rapper stars
The woodpecker taps out his tune on trees
~ at times nearby, have a look-see
ONE Only New Years Goal for 2025 Poetry Contest
Constance La France
As we springboard into another year, I want to dive in, make a big splash, and come to the surface with a big smile on my face. For me, this will be a first ... if I can submit for a whole year. I want to lose the albatross around my waist. In preceding years I had that ugly bird caged for the first three weeks and then he escaped. For three weeks everything is tailored. I'm counting calories, running, and doing yoga. Everything is in check. The jaybird in me is singing, especially when I see the mirror. Then like Connie's work or clockwork, I fall to the chagrin of that ugly bird. Every year I'm a three-week whirlwind then become a drift. I drift off. Some crises, dramas, or love stories take center stage, and I lose focus. I fall. The curtains are then drawn. And I recoil back into my unhealthy ways, like a lollipop. And the feather one is laughing. Can I gather the willpower this time and surprise that ugly bird?
big bird go away
please stop clinging on to me
it doesn't look nice
Clenching tightly, so moments don't fade away,
As bygone days once promised to stay.
Rejoicing in every instant to its utmost,
The spectacle may ultimately end in dismay.
Mist might mask vision, obscuring the sight;
The breeze might flow over, revealing delight.
Carrying echoes all the way to eternity,
Shade takes over, preceding the light.
Birds gather in spring as berries appear;
The optimistic tree devours days of cheer.
It might be the last spring; end days are near;
Perhaps leaves will cast off another year.
Fragile they are, fleeting days of laughter,
Draining into oblivion impossibly faster.
Meticulous attempt to lock happiness forever,
It slipped from my hold as I clenched tighter.
First one in everyone knows,
Last one in the one everyone tip toes.
Thirsts something everyone knows,
Glass out for a drink but nobody passed the hose.
Is dying living forever,
Who really knows?
Breathing in fire,
Singing to see the ashen snows.
I’m trying to live until whenever,
Only the tombstone will ever really know.
Sleeping post sun rising,
Feeding trees bones as we decompose.
Nothing more Romeo than watching my eyes close,
Nothing but poetry that nobody knows,
But the smile on my face still always shows.
The smile that’s stuck in place,
The face that always stays froze.
Dial in the number you haven’t for days,
Listen to the ringing preceding the tone.
Stare out the window to the summer haze,
Go outside,
Playing in that ashen snow.
"Can you see Fred, Rita?"
Were the only words spoken.
The caring nurse said them
Whilst I was consumed
by a torrent of tears
My eyes shed with shame.
My frame was rocked by
That final breath she took
As she left my World.
I should have been strong,
My spiritual understanding
Should have held my hand
In just the way I had
mentally held hers...
tucked beneath the crisp
White hospital sheets.
Instead I had stroked
Her smooth cool forehead.
Such gentle stroking
Hopefully imparting peace
And helping remove fear.
Here was the fated comma
Preceding 'goodbye' full stop.
These were her life's
Final moments, predicted
By the doctor who had called
And advised me to come.
I hung on that doctor's words,
And dared to whisper
She should not fear death
She should just 'let go'
Her struggle, her past,
The pains she'd endured,
Her life long story
Now come to an end...
A new story just beginning.
She must have heard me.
She must have listened,
Even fully understood,
For there was no drama,
Nothing to mark the moment
Save for no new breath
following the last.
© griffonner 2022
1.)
Slept most of my life
Forget the stress
The best kind of strife is the kind kept repressed
Every guy just gotta accept we’re inclined to becoming depressed
You’ll never cry
Except if you gotta a good reason why
Keep your eye dressed
If you’re clever
You’ll keep your tears dry
I’ve wept without the fear of needing to confess.
Nevertheless
I lived the most whenever I’ve slept
You’d never of guessed
But I’m not exactly proud of whatever life I lead.
2.)
Warnings that we’re never really heeding
Forget about any of the poor examples preceding
Family mourning
Forgetting why we’re even meeting
Take the better trout
The man learning surely doesn’t even need it
The drinks now pouring
The Moët your clinging to is fleeting
Without a doubt
The Moët your clinging is just fleeting.
What a cameo in the hot harmattan eve !
Sweet soursop scents marinated with the haze
And all the other ones impasse in my qui vive .
Words became satisfying minting juice ,
Black with currents ,mingled bittersweet after
Soft like lush ripe and delicious in undying truth .
But In this colorful world of pines and apples ,
With the sour and the dapples between the toil
We will weather the rains and dry foggy nights .
In all laughter and of youthful lovers delight ,
Not of science of apples falling for clues
Nor of religion with the doom preceding the bite .
But with all hope hope from a trampled rose ,
Earnestly rooting for the hazelnuts
Swinging between the canes of sugars and beats.
As it touches the ground like a whispered prayer,
With heaven's own sacramental wine
Wholesome and pristine “
Five centimeters beneath the dangling papayas ,
under a starry night gaze with splendor
Can you see how vividly the moonlight scrawls the pomegranate.
Beneath moist soils with seeded holes !
Hold your grounds your sprouting melon
So here’s to your juice you amazing Tangelo
Hold your grounds with bunches of love .
See within those starry skies,
Beauty of binding vines,
Fluorescent meaning lies,
In its parting petals spouting lies.
A clams soft pink shell,
Glints in thousand little pearls,
They glide gracefully and swell,
Winding around the rivers swirls.
The white serpents eyes are peach,
Tempting, soft but out of reach,
High up in the turquoise trees,
It's flicker preceding a cool breeze.
The glowing fruits are unfamilar,
No beauty is ever similar,
Eating one would erase the river,
As well as the beautigul glimmer.
The grass shall sustain instead,
The roots of the waters might,
It's coming from the river bed,
And will surely set things right.
The peachy glimmer on waters shell,
Relinquishes its glow for now,
Floras torrent said go back to hell,
No calm waters at this hour.
The grass has grown in your head,
No ecosystems full without fauna,
Water fuels both now one is dead,
Powerful serpent still along a
River
Heart Gentle, Eye Mindful
On a quest
of eternity’s profoundly puzzling
silence…
Passing uncounted glorious galaxies
On a flight finding
Discoveries
in outer-space’s still expanding
Possibilities —
with dimensions unfolding
out of infinity’s appearing
at first sight, essentially empty…
But, be still and listen…
It is written,
“Faith is the substance
of things hoped for,
the evidence of things unseen…”
And believe how
from the all of non-existence,
preceding even the light and darkness…
To will creation
from the surrounding oblivion,
God rose
— with His heart gentle,
eye mindful,
and soul seeking —
To issue
The genesis of All
Life
In His image
with
The first breath/the first word…
for the contest Heart Gentle, Eye Mindful,
sponsor Unseeking Seeker
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