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Prabhu Iyer May 2
For her sundered from space and time
at the dawn of phenomenon,

not the little pettinesses of our world:

and
a portal to the unknown beyond -

the sky flaming red at dusk,
still in the lake the late summer hill
little a bloom in the bush hidden,
even shy a smile devoid of guile,

little every joy here;

Thought they,
faint of heart she was:
but every swoon carried her across
the world of the river of lights

In Her presence dawned on this
forlorn our earth -

Beauty since the beginning of time
exuberant in the hills
in the plumes and vales
and in the cruel hearts of men;

And grandeur, of the kind
unbeknown before, as the king
her father sewed up an empire vast;

And perfection in works
unknown before -
in every weave and hew;

All that men ascribed to her
father the great.
Sonia Thomas Nov 2018
There are days that my heart can't take how much pain women are having to carry in their hearts all the **** time. We hold the scars close, digging at them behind closed doors and discussing it in hushed tones.

Our homes are not ours. They're a minefield of memories we'd rather bury with our own walking carcasses.

Then maybe, we'll set ourselves on fire in the hope that maybe, just maybe, we'll be respected in death like Sati.

And then they'll say, "What a brave life she led!"

Or maybe something to the effect of, "Maybe we should have heard her screaming before she even walked into the pyre."
Prabhu Iyer Sep 2018
A father who has conquered all
that is in space,
here and among the stars
and the higher worlds,
begot Her as his child,

She of an essence beyond time:
aeons of vaster joys,
sundered now from the world
so sorely imperfect,
must yet come down here
to lead us back to the wonder
beauty of the blank spirit
the basis of all;

We can bottle up fragrance
in choicest the vials of our whim:
but released, it must fill all space, no less.

So was She the freedom
shining in the stars
flowing in the rivers that raft through the hills
in the winds that beat down the vales;

Protected, She grew in his home
among others lustred lesser
shining forth as his darling
who would keep aflame
the glory of his name;
This is the first now of the Sati cycle....let's see how this grows!
Prajakta Mhadnak Jan 2018
I was born from the ashes of fear, guilt and shame.
Cut me into pieces and I will grow separately from all the blood-spattered pieces of my being.
Freer than before.
I have those cuts hidden somewhere under my skin.
I still breath through unhealed wounds.
I still bleed every month.
I still believe in lies.
I still choose the wrong path.
I don't need your religion to believe in myself.
I don't need you to wipe my blood stains.
I don't need you to tell me what's right.
Not this time.
Burn me and every inch of my flesh will explode viciously to reborn again and again.
Fierce than before.
My blood is still boiling and running through my fresh veins.
I won't let you drown in the hollowness
I won't immolate myself
I won't give you a chance to carry my burned flesh.
I won't follow these path of illiberal rules.
I don't want you to compromise your love.
I don't want you to devour the poison.. alone.
I don't want you to suffer ..just because you are supposed to.
Not this time..
Not this time.
Äŧül Feb 2015
Oh beloved princess,
I'm just a commoner,
I just drink cannabis,
Lime & shank I have.


You are daughter of the king,
I lack any maids or servants,
You are protected by shawls,
I lack even a blanket or rug..

Get married to a moneylender,
Marry a lucky man...

I have pieces of purity,
But I'm just a commoner,
I just drink cannabis,
Lime & shank I have.


You live in the palaces,
I roam the wilderness,
You are not used to it,
I am used to roaming.

Get married to a rich man,
Marry a lucky man.

I just have purity in me,
Yes, I'm a commoner,
I just drink cannabis,
Lime & shank is all I have.


I carry on my austerity in incense,
I drink a slurry of cinders,
I tame hundreds of snakes on my neck,
I will scare you off my saturnalia.

You need a man with wavy hair,
A man with wavy hair.

My hair is dishevelled,
I am a commoner,
And I drink cannabis,
All I have is a lime & shank.
Translation of a Haryanvi folk hymn.

According to folklore, Lord Shiva tells this to his future wife Sati who was a princess that wanted to get married to Shiva.

She has things her own way in the end and marries the God.

In the story, Sati enters the fire when Shiva drinks the venom after Samundra Manthan - a tussle for the Nectar and thus sparing Shiva his life.

Sati was reborn as Parvati who in turn is a manifestation of Shakti - the energy.

Such are mythical love stories.

My HP Poem #781
©Atul Kaushal

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