Let us not keep our secret,
secret any more!

Thousands have read your poem,
from your tributary, they have drunk.

So I am re posting once more
to remind grandmother,
so many
you,
adore.

I will not stop
till ten
thousand new admirers
have you paid homage.
then I will
              post it again.


~~~~~~
Oct 6, 2013
The Banyan Tree (A Tribute to Sally)
I am a man, grandfather to four.
Adherent to the same religion,
Poetry.

Breathing through mine eyes,
Exhaling carbon words,
That with time and pressure become
Poems, verbal musical notes upon life.

Each motion, from tiny to grand,
A capsule of expression,
That if examined under microscope,
Familial DNA, interconnected tissue,
Discovered, tho logic says,  
Time and distance render impossible.

But this is a diamond
This is a writ to be slipped
Upon the finger, the heart, the essence,
Of the only Banyan tree I have hugged.

This poem but a fig,
In the cracks of kindness,
The crevices of caring,
It has slow germinated.

You dear, Sally,
My host,
A building upon I can lean,
When wearied spirits uproot
My surficial composure.

Your seeds carried from east to west,
By a fig wasp, a bird unknown,
An ocean voyager, of indisputable vision, strength.

This seeded messenger, word carrier,
Supplanted in me, and your pupils,
Whose very names breathe poems,
In others too, like me and so many,
Seeds to become new roots, but you,
Our Host official and forever
Planter of trees of loving kindness.

You already know with love and affection,
I call you Grandma Sally,
And when you ask, beseech,
I cannot refuse.

Together we will will banish the sad,
Acknowledge we, that life's ocean,
A mixture of many, even sad, a necessity.

But I promise that will turn it into
Something simple, something good.
For you have asked and I answer you
Right here right now - your wish,
My objective, deep rooted like you,
Like an old banyan tree,
Your roots spread far, spread wide.

So some eve, when to the beach, to the sky
You glance, smile, no matter what, troubles dispersed,
For the reflection of you, seeds, full fledged trees now,
Bending skywards, in search of your rays of expression,
Your maternal wisdom rooted, spread so wide, globally,
All over this Earth, is visible from your
Beloved Philippines.


---------------------------------------
In her own words..

I am a widow,
with five remarkable granddaughters....
all beautiful, intelligent girls.
It is such a waste not to write....
each morning that unfolds is filled
with things to write about....
the people, the birds,
the trees, the wind,
the seas,
everything we set our eyes on,
they are all
poetry in motion.
Life itself is poetry,
I always have pen and paper within reach.
My past experiences are a
never-ending source
of ideas and words for my poems....
I shall write until time permits me,
"til there's breath within me."
-------------------------------------------------
A banyan (also banian) is a fig that starts its life as an epiphyte (a plant growing on another plant) when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree (or on structures like buildings and bridges). "Banyan" often refers specifically to the Indian banyan or Ficus benghalensis, the national tree of India,[1] though the term has been generalized to include all figs that share a characteristic life cycle...
Like other fig species (which includes the common edible fig Ficus carica), banyans have unique fruit structures and are dependent on fig wasps for reproduction. The seeds of banyans are dispersed by fruit-eating birds. The seeds germinate and send down roots towards the ground.

The leaves of the banyan tree are large, leathery, glossy green and elliptical in shape. Like most fig-trees, the leaf bud is covered by two large scales. As the leaf develops the scales fall. Young leaves have an attractive reddish tinge.[6]

Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. The original support tree can sometimes die, so that the banyan becomes a "columnar tree" with a hollow central core. Old trees can spread out laterally using these prop roots to cover a wide area.

The Banyan tree is dying, the little boy exclaimed

Who would believe him though?
It was not just a tree but a legacy,
A witness of generations.

The Banyan tree is dying, the farmer complained

Many a hot afternoon
He had sought its shade
What an inconvenience.

The Banyan tree is dying, the priests shouted

The holy site had led to
Many days of profit
And few days of satisfaction

The Banyan tree is dying, no one did anything

Time withered its branches
Termites ate away the roots
And the trunk fell like a giant.

The Banyan tree is falling, the workers cried.

Work to be done
Land to be cleared
Nobody cares.

In the pursuit of happiness I walked the roads,
I stopped at milestones, leaned on posts.

I saw a flock of birds in flight,
Rings of gold.. an orb so bright.
I looked around at mountain walls,
The raging sea, white frothy falls.
I looked up at the sky serene,
The valley lush a summer green.
Banyan trees with leaves  bedecked,
Gulmohars lined with blossoms red.

Faces walked engrossed in streets,
A touch, a nod when eyes would meet..
Saw hunger, anguish, weary eyes,
Sorrow, terror, shock, surprise,
I saw the tears of loss and grief,
Faith, resilience, resolve, belief.

I heard the laughter of a child,
I saw the magic of a smile.
A hug, a kiss, a warm caress,
A helping hand that love expressed
I felt the cord of love that binds,
Hearts across the world and time.

I found happiness in little things,
In nature that surprises springs..
His art, the colors that I saw,
That left me breathless, full of awe,
Happiness in that special touch,
In smiles, laughter, that gentle brush.
In kind words that wonders do,
In love that breathes life anew.

In all things that I could see,
I knew happiness begins with me,
Within me what I see or do,
The trail of thoughts I send to you.

And happiness is what I found,
When happiness was spread around.

There, in God’s country, the benign ruler
Had promptly burst out of the earth’s bowels.
A sea of coconuts smothered, sultrily,
The most unwilling moss-painted houses
The banyan raised its feet high enough
For hundreds of creepy monsoon-creatures.
The journey  began in silver slanting rain
Waiting for streaks of pure white sunshine
To crawl through upright areca nut barks.
As the telephone wires went up and down
A floating bird quickly froze in the sky.
First the coconut fronds ran to the hills
Then the chilly plants , go red in the face
Inside, they of the uncertain *** beat the wind
Out of their joined palms in forced cadence.
The floor-mopping boy under our large feet
Looked with money-wetness in his brown eyes.
The train went spluttering for lack of puff
While gravel stones hit its forbidden parts.

how many generations can
lay with you in your bed?

Matriarch Mama,
honorific due you,
title earned, not learned,
and now a teaching PhDs  of
Matriachal Science

let us have tea,
a tea party in you garden,
and the granddaughters
dressed in their church finest,
running noisy but that's ok,
mass is over, and the party
is now a backyard affair

me, a recorder,
standing in the corner,
invisible observing,
leaning on that old banyan tree,
smile playing on
my eyes,
counting
cousins daughters sisters,
and best of the best,
grand babies wilding in their Sunday finery,
even seeing
invisible fathers standing beside me,
but espy only one

Matriarch Mama,
sallying forth,
gunslinger of poetry,
nobody messes with Sally,
she is the brood defender,
poetess not
of the day

she is a
generational inscriber,
an author of a
gene pool of life's best,
her existence,
from heaven, sent a manna,
to feed-across-time
just one family,
an ordinary,
if such there was,

**Matriarch Mama

a rain is falling,
on the crack’d earth

a rain is teasing,
on the dancing us

how do we return this present,  
this overwhelming love,
endless kisses you shower,
in your every drop

a rain is calling,
on a thunder drum

a rain is singing,
come, ye all come

look the well is swell,
bare earth rustle green again,
how an elusive peacock cries
out the rain's endless names,

a rain is bending,
the mighty banyan tree

a rain is chasing,
cobra, ants and bees

how the sea rages in anarchy,
its heart is majestic today

cling of old things vanish,
in a flowing disarray

a rain is falling,
on the cracked earth

a rain is teasing,
on the dancing us

O Buddha, the gold vein of thy sermon of mercy ran through gloom-gorged, rocky hearts, and illumined their darkness.

Thou loftiest soarer of renunciation's skies, beneath thy God-lifted eyes, the kingdom of sense-comfort, the rivers of gross greed, the vast and lust-scorched deserts of desire, the tall trees of temporal ambition, the cactus plants of prickly world-worries—all melt into invisible smallness.

Buddha, the arc-light of thy sympathy sought to melt the hardness of cruel hearts. Once thou didst save a lamb by offering thyself in its stead.

Thy solemn thoughts still silently roam through the ether of minds, searching for ecstasy-tuned hearts. Seated beneath the banyan bodhi tree, thou didst make a solemn tryst with the Spirit:

    "Beneath the banyan bough,
    On the sacred seat I take this vow:
    Let derma, bones, and fleeting flesh dissolve;
    Until the mysteries of life I solve,
    And receive the all-coveted Priceless Lore,
    From this place I shall stir, never, nevermore."

Thou symbol of sympathy, incarnation of mercy, give us thy determination, that we may seek truth as doggedly as thou didst. Bless us, that we may be awakened, like thee, to seek remedy for the sorrow-throbs of others as we seek it for ourselves.

From: Whispers from Eternity
A Book of Answered Prayers
1949 Edition

I am a banyan(vatavriksha)
Standing like
The guardian figure
At the gateway of the village
Oh you thought
The champakas,rajanigandhas
Were envious of me
No,no
I am an old one
Seen some hundred summers
And winters
Children and tots
Playing merrily
In my cool shade
On a hot summer afternoon
The river near me
I daily see
Carries timelessness
Just like me
Lovers passionate
Passing on boats
Even in floods of fury
Dreaming of being
Radha Krishna
And gopis
What not
Do I see
Oh pralaya(destruction)
Did see Krishna
Floating away
On one of my leaves!
A baby ******* his toe
Untouched by any worry
My leaves are heart shaped
I do touch hearts of men
Read their minds
Some robust like me
Some weak
I wish to stand here
Endlessly
For just like holy kadamba
Under which Krishna gave gopis
Aatmananda(joy of self-conscience)
Rich with its divine glory
I am but a mere banyan tree!

if I ever were a banyan
I would have soared high
enough into the blue sky
higher than any proud eucalyptus
grounded stronger than any other root
heavier than one hundred elephants
I would have grown upward
not in meters, but a couple of miles
too outreaching and lofty for men
for that might have been one reason
for nobody to chop my trunk
for no bird to ever become homeless
for then, men would've sensed and feared
the grand weight of my life