Has anybody ever read Robert Frost poetry? I lived in New Hampshire at the time an I think it was Robert's son or grandson who came in to read them to us. For some reason I remember him saying he was 56. This was like 20 years ago.
My angel's looking through the glass:
The emptiness approaches house.
It quiets any sound of pain:
The roof is hit by dirty rain.
But for the worry reasons none:
I am with you till trumpet sound.
The cat is looking through the glass,
The emptiness approaches us.
It quiets every sound of pain.
The roof is hit by acid rain.
But don't you worry, dear mom,
I am your cat till Trumpet Sound.
One Year of Hinduism
- by a lost sheep in delhi :)
It was a year starting in despair,
From mantras of the Mother Goddess my life would repair.
Decades in this world I felt alone,
Yet in temples far away I am always at home.
It was a year I learned to stand up against injustice
For friends and...
A cry from the heart, that we may find our way to unity.
To remove the veils
Oh My Creator, my Love my aim,
my Passion, my service my pain.
My heart sings for a glimpse of thee,
lonely, languishing, longing to be set free.
What am I, that this longing be?
What am I, that I cannot see...
In Memory of Grandad "Rolly Gilbert" Biography - Rolly (Mpunywithal) Gilbert - Australian Dictionary of Biography
Dreamtime Part 1 (A poem in 3 parts)
Old man Elder, sitting by the fire, drinking billy tea,
reflecting on bygone years and His Races history.
There's a lump in His throat and...
This one's about my personal history:
It was only Yesterday that the village collapsed.
The oxygen in my blood has become an act of rebellion
Invisible
Devalued
Unless I inhale monoxide the hegemony scoffs
They don’t know how my mind has reorganized
Neural pathways undone and re-bridged...
Jaya Nitaai!
So, I've been putting off writing this post for quite some time now, but I thought I might as well get on with it. Throughout the course of my study of Hindu scripture as well as the works of the spiritual teachers of my school, I am constantly amazed at the brilliance, beauty and...
Its grip is strong, compelled and long,
With a slight, strange "maybe" more.
Its targets reaped are forever steeped
In the realm of hope and lore.
A stunning end, itself unending.
A path that has no trail.
Yet all of us prone to pretending
We spin that path's true tale.
Come end of run, our...