Where South China waters churn heavy and wide,
A widow rose up with the ocean's own tide.
No emperor’s decree could govern her hand,
She ruled forty thousand across sea and land.
Her laws were of iron, her word absolute—
No plunder unshared, and no thief with his loot.
With hundreds of junks bearing canvas of red,
The empires of Europe beheld her with dread.
The Qing and the Portuguese launched their attack,
Yet her fleet in the bay drove the battle-line back.
She outfought the crown and she outmaneuvered the state,
Till they offered her peace at the emperor's gate.
She surrendered her sails, but retained all her gold,
A pirate supreme who grew peaceful and old.
Though dynasties crumbled and admirals fell,
The terror of Canton lives on in the swell.
You came and lingered into my life so early
Through recitation, you dwelled upon me
You played a big role in my stage of growing up
When I learned many poems to gesture
Innocently, I was joyfully seated on your lap.
Appreciation to your splendor promptly started
At young age, rhymes easily retained in my head
If sometimes I needed to share some ideas at school
And reflections on bible verses at churches
Mostly were expressed in rhymes… so fun, so cool.
At teen age years, when I’d an infatuation or crush
My scribbled short rhyme poem was sent in a rush
One of those boys sent me back his reply
My joy was flailing high for it was love letter in rhyme
After a year or two, I found out, a song of Air Supply.
Ever since I was in the field of my profession
You’ve been a great help as I impart skills, my vocation
I’ve compositions for my children’s choral recitation
Written in English and in our own language
For our class, campus programs and competitions.
My dearest poetry, you’re my best buddy
In all seasons, you’re here for me
To light my path, giving powers or energy
My forever gratitude for your company
You’re my precious gift from our God, Almighty.
there's
no degree of heartache
that I have not endured
among the quiet years
have I retained the rewards
of a bad religon-
nevermore can I say
that which remains contrary
to the full awakening
of a birthing conscience-
bearer of truth
that dwells beyond the inscriptions
of hidden prophecies withheld-
knowing that in truth
its light bears its own isolation
to those who unveil it
Mandeville
decay of form diminishes focus
though vibrance infused by bliss is retained
what is, is and so there’s nothing to do
presence is at peace, poise unrushed, unfeigned
Oh we do love the game called cricket
That’s played on a grassy turf wicket
But with 10 mills of grass
It requires more ass than class
Just don’t buy a day 3 ticket.
It was a brief Boxing Day Test
One unlike all the rest
Without twists and turns
We’d already retained The Urn
It would only last 2 days at best.
Bradman’s turning in his grave
For the grand old game we couldn’t save
The game we once loved so well
Has turned into a sport they play in hell
What was once a king is now a slave.
It’s with a heavy heart I say unto you
Goodbye, auf wiedersehen and adieu
Test cricket will never be the same
We just witnessed the death of the game
Bazball’s bastard child finally came through.
Thoughts of Paradise,
Now regained,
Now re-imagined,
Now re-named,
Now forever retained.
A patch of bare ground now redeemed,
to be be re=generated,
Now re-planted,
Now rejuvenating.
All thanks to an awesome lady and her dog,
Rejecting all negativity in this space,
Now re-generated,
To encourage the growth of plants,
That cry out for,
Spontaneity, joy, happiness,
And kindness,
Now to be re-established,
And thoughts of paradise,
Now re-imagined,
Now re-named,
Now forever retained.
Certain habits are ingrained
From when you were a kid,
So though you’re grown, they’ve been retained
For things you always did.
Like if you’re sloppy or you’re neat,
Your age won’t likely change it
And if your diet leans towards sweet,
The years won’t rearrange it.
If you’re quiet, maybe shy,
It’s rare that you’ll outgrow it
And once a bully, you might try
To change, but you will blow it.
We learn when we are very young
From others we are seeing
And those we closely live among,
The varied ways of being.
And slowly we adapt and find
What self we’ll be presenting,
How others see what in our mind,
Which we can’t help preventing.
A Body—kept its Custom still—
Though Tenant fled the Room—
It rose at Dawn—performed the Will—
Yet carried not the Bloom—
The Eyes—retained their vacant Watch—
As Windows—shut to Light—
No Guest arrived—no inward Touch—
To animate the Sight—
The Heart—continued—faithful Drum—
Its Duty—to persist—
But beat upon a Hollow Home—
Where Spirit was not missed—
The Lips—rehearsed remembered Words—
By Habit—not by Fire—
As if some distant Echo stirred—
A long-forgot Desire—
O curious Fraud—this Living Form—
That mimics what has fled—
A Clock—still wound—defies the Storm—
Yet knows itself as Dead—
And who shall mark the Subtle Hour—
The Soul—untied its Thread?
No Thunder cleaves—no sudden Power—
Just Silence—thee Undead—
Forced to learn at record rates.
How much expertise
is retained?
The July 4th 1776
U.S. Declaration of Independence,
viewed by Abraham Lincoln
as the moral standard
to which the country should strive,
contains the quotation,
'All men are created equal,'
however, throughout his life,
George Washington, a Founding Father,
owned and managed over 577
enslaved people at Mount Vernon,
and still retained 123 slaves,
on his (4th March 1797) death,
some 20 years 4 months
after the country's birth.
He had decreed the unfortunates
were only to receive manumission
upon the (May 22nd 1802) demise
of his wife, the first 'First Lady', Martha,
who, acting partly out of fear
the individuals might hasten her death
to secure their freedom,
released them January 1st 1801.
Once, the 'Land of Opportunity',
now, known as, 'Land of the Free',
lie and deny from the top down...
it is, and always has been, the 'Land of Hypocrisy.'
Ask a quirky bee not to fly,
Vibrating wings always deny,
Go my queen and don't be shy,
No one asked you for any reply.
The bees turns and hummed in solace,
let me get going in natural grace,
Possibly left alone in the race,
A very few retained the equity in pace,
Others opted out in silent disgrace,
Many are getting ready to replace.
Oh! Pardon me to leave the place,
Far away is the beautiful floral space,
It teaches me to be humble and kind,
By brilliantly healing my body and mind.
By the altar, old age drops
In pain, grieving's.
Arms out, as to draw strength from
In praise, icons.
For these pathetic reasons
No child does pray.
Blessings received; and retained!
Unknown to whom
Cares not to know! Through its own
Innate nature.
A glad heart. And what pure
For it does stay.
By grace divine, the truth is known,
as realisation full blown,
which though imbibed, is not ingrained,
unless our consciousness we hone.
As long as we’re to ego chained,
deluded that our heart is stained,
the freedom we seek is denied,
thus light of Self is not retained.
Thought of attainment put aside
and fears nurtured to God confide,
that thus reclaiming our essence,
in our heart’s core we may reside.
Ego veils our luminescence
opaquing Self’s effervescence,
so simply feeling, not thinking,
light bursts forth as our quintessence.
Head and heart with bliss beats linking,
space flickers as though it’s winking,
whence we don’t imbibe but become,
living light of Self unblinking.
Feel within Divine Mother strum
harp of spine, birthing a bliss hum,
in continual renewal,
God’s gong of Om, the cosmic drum.
Divine magnetism the fuel,
silence exits life pulse dual,
wherein poised we become the flame,
with Self the prize, heart’s crown jewel.
For awareness of Self to be retained,
in as a permanent flicker-free flame,
detached from dream forms and our heart unstained,
dwelling in peace thus, is our soul’s sole aim.
What’s imbibed must be assimilated,
as an embodiment of our being,
light that is constantly radiated,
from clutches of ego, presence freeing.
Unless we see God alone everywhere,
in life’s pulse dual, we’re in delusion,
thus breath by breath we must remain aware,
of the Self in this world of illusion.
Recognition, seamless and absolute,
is ours if our will remains resolute.
I am grateful for having retained the eyes of my childhood.
For how often they have helped me to see
the world…the way it was created
the way it is meant to be.
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