Lord, send some love and send some light
Take my burden away tonight
I come to Thee, a broken sight
Fill my heart with hope, make it bright
In Thee I trust, in Thee delight
This time around make all things right
I surrender all, it's Thy fight
11.09.2026
(For the weekly challenge - write a poem with exactly 7 lines)
Foul tempest wind dost beset thy slumber,
its rain doth drain and dampen to stupor.
I rithe at thy great agony's bequest,
haunted by frightening reminiscence.
'Still the torrid pleas of thy soul!', I cry.
Thunder does naught to distill the shrill screams.
Lightning drenches me in thick vulgar sweat;
heart racing, mind pacing, fervent unrest.
'Will I e'er see a brighter morn than this?';
for foul tempest has consumed most my years.
But just then, when all seemed undone, foregone;
rain culls, clouds lift, and a rainbow now dawns.
09.02.2026
('Resist the devil, and he shall flee')
('I have set my rainbow in the clouds...')
—A Sonnet of Departing Eyes—
When thou wert gone, the populous world rang,
yet all its clamour fell beyond my ear;
the brazen noon beneath its burden sang,
while silence gathered where thou wert not near.
When I praised thy laughter, flowers raised their flame
And bent towards the wind, enquiring of thy name;
their petals searched the road thy footsteps crossed,
as though each bloom could read the shape of loss.
Then once thou turnedst back, and from my breast
my breath withdrew before thy departing eyes;
again thou lookedst—and the earth, possessed,
seemed tinder strewn beneath the waiting skies.
I would have burned the world to make thee stay—
but it remained the world, and thou wert away.
—The Geography of Tears—
I know not where thou art, nor whence thy breath
re-enters me—yet when thy name is spoken,
my guarded blood, that had outworn its death,
breaks rank, and bears thee through the sluice unbroken;
whilst all the world proceeds, and engines grind,
some secret firmament within me alters,
and tears, more treacherous than the mind,
unseal the place where distance fails and falters;
I seek thee not in roads, nor years that flee,
but where remembrance, stripped of its disguise,
becomes a country having none but thee,
whose borders vanish inward through my eyes—
for absence loses all jurisdiction there,
and thou arrivest where my tears declare.
—A Sonnet—
Come, consecrate my silence with thy sigh;
Lay lucent fingers where my shadows kneel.
Unfurl thy hush until the stars comply,
And teach my doubting pulse what angels feel.
Unbutton midnight from my haunted bone;
Pour moonlit ardour through each hidden seam.
Make every secret I have never known
Awake incarnate in thy sovereign dream.
Let thy gaze blossom through my mortal clay
Till every wound remembers it was seed;
Breathe me so deeply out of yesterday
That Time itself forget the word proceed.
Belov'd—love me beyond love's farthest art:
Leave Heaven homeless, dwelling in my heart.
I’ve seen no flowers feigning a false grin,
Nor birds that with a cheerless face e’er croon,
Nor trees that fret in vain loss of lush green,
Dolphins depressed, nor weary waning moon,
Reindeers devoid of all their self esteem,
Polar bears that cannot take it easy,
Wild cats worried on a fuzzy vague whim,
Laid-back they live easy as waves in sea,
In peace as they practise a lifelong Zen
Of ducks that meditate whilst swim at ease….
Alas, he whose mind’s puffed-up seems but man,
Never at peace, how so fair wafts the breeze.
Smug at the crest of Creation’s long chain,
Beware O man, head over heart’s thy bane.
__________________________ ______
Reflections | 03.04.2014, revised July 2026 | bliss, men, mind, moon, peace, Sonnet
______________________________
A faint light begins to appear on the horizon before the sun rises visibly. It is the chariot of sun arriving to herald dawn. A magical happening occurring every day that almost goes unnoticed. But look at the horses that pulled the chariot. They feel, credit goes to them to bring about demise of darkness and breaking forth of light of the day. (Horses symbolize sense organs and the mind minding them, a domain of ego claiming credit for all that happens). The truth is: it is the soul/atman that enables all of it. A voice within seems to say….
_________________________
Hold thy hyped horses
And feel not like a proud frog
Through diurnal courses,
Everything gets laid as logged,
Howl not, thou art but a cog.
_______________________
Musings | 23.05.2026 | day/dawn, darkness, horse, light, sun, Tanka
Thou art God's Gift: thou wert born by HIS Grace,
He hath been with thee while growing in life,
Though thou walked thro' thorns and spikes, He hath been with thee.
Thou wert a tiny-tot when entered a play school,
Thou uttered alphabet and numbers, and were taught rhymes,
Thou hadst slept in thy tiny snug couch,
Thy eyelids winked that pronounced infantile babblings.
Thou entered class One and learnt child-like language,
God in Christ JESUS showed a ladder unto thee to soar high,
Each step thou climbed up hath been fruitful,
Thou learnt God’s Grace while soaring high.
Having reached the milestone of school learning, thou prayed unto HIM with Thanksgiving.
Thou stepped onto the milestone of college learning for Biotechnology,
Thy travel for four years taught thee what life is,
Thy efforts begot fruit to soar high above,
And He hath lifted thee high above the pedestal of life,
And yet thou hast to grow in His Plan and glorify Him.
Now thou art crowned with B.Tech.graduate degree,
And it's His design in thy life on earth and cross more milestones.
Thou will step up the ladder with His Guidance only to glorify Him.
And it's every good soul's prayer unto HIM.
Where For Art Thou, Thy Sun That Dwells Within
when the Embers of Night Shimmer and Make Haste to the wind,
and the Sacred that resides to the Flame no more
no longer dancing with the Stars, Insignis and Cold
Blaze Forth than through the Ashes, No More, No Less
through the Clouds and Veils where Bonfires Dwell,
and the Great Light will Shine in Prominentia again
through the Dust shall come the Dawn, no more in Lament
Burn Bright Yet Again, those Feathers Ever Illumined in wrought
for where there is Hope, we shall Raise a Torch Aloft
Thy bite upon my mind, so playfully
With thine quick wit, e’en I dwell on silver,
Alas, I spill my lines delightfully,
For thee.
Wit begets wit, and thine tongue-stained purple,
For that tongue of thine – without mine ears,
Simply will dance and prance in circles,
But I know,
Thy joy in being heard lies in thy beauty,
If dull rhymes fail to convince thee of me,
Then I’ll die happy, dueling such a cutie,
Not delicate,
Yet still as soft as breath upon thy throat,
Challenging, aye, but a purposeful note.
Let me drink my love,
Let me drink from the cup of thy love ,
Let me caress your wide, sexy chest as you get drunk my love
I pull you near to me
Take off your clothes and you seem restless
I kiss your lips and you kiss mine too
We chase breath as we share it
We lay naked on the floor my Love
Let’s make love tonight
On this cold, winter soft-touched Belgian night my Love
Cold today…
As you whisper to my ears my Love
We hug love , so that I can give you warmth..
Your body and mine are one tonight
“The stamp, the mark, the officiation
Of a love so true
Come and laugh among thy leaves
My father approves of you”
I saw him in my dreams
And Mary, ever so fair
He sang to her each night
His heart he was to bear.
And she whispered, “I’ll forgive you.”
“For all you say and do”
and all these dreams of mine,
You’ll keep them, they’ll be true
She was sitting on the branches
High up, laughing, hidden in the leaves
She told the boy, “Come up, and climb my fathers tree”
In my fathers tree, there are many branches. Plenty of room
He’ll sit opposite from her, and they’ll talk about the moon
They’ll reach out their fingers, and the two will almost touch
Oh, the art of almost
They love to test their luck.
You reach too far, you plummet
You plummet and you rot,
You’d be just another, fallen apricot
She whispered gently “climb my fathers tree”
If your head gets too heavy, you’ll snap the branches
But if your chest gets too heavy, you’ll lean onto me
Fehu bestoweth golden hope
Uruz doth endure battles through strength
Thurisaz provoketh strife and guardeth my rose
Whilst Anuz communicates with divine length
Raidho pursueth journeys of measured rhythm
Kenaz illuminates creative spiritual knowledge
Gebo granteth gifts as infinitum
As Wunjo doth harness harmony in a college
Hagalaz transformeth with tempests and chaos
Nauthiz, by resistance, takes constraint
Isa blossoms in stillness, as iciness plays on
Yet, Jera rewardeth cycles of harvest in haste
Eihwaz endureth death, resilience, and rebirth
Perthro revealeth mystery and knowledge
Algiz defendeth with steadfast and mighty girth
So, Sowilo shineth in sunny sparks of voltage
Tiwaz upholdeth justice, making a leader
Berkano bringeth fertility with new beginnings
Ehwaz uniteth partners and team seekers
For Mannaz exalteth communal incentives
Laguz floweth as a stream to raise intuition
Ingwaz concealeth fertile power and energy
Dagaz breaketh visions from night imprisoned
Whilst Othala preserveth heritage in memories
A pregnant Nun
in rural France
long cloistered
and alone
While crowned in light
from high above
she kneels before
the throne
Her vows intact
as rumors grow
she lives beyond
the fray
And hears a Voice
from deep
inside
“Unto Thy Name They’ll Pray”
(1st Book Of Prayers: October, 2025)
thy worldith isith thy canvasith.
thy painterith thy paintith.
thy poetith, makeith thy poetith.
thy worldith thy endith.
chickenith jockeyith.
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