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Path Humble Dec 2017
The Capitol of My Heart


Psalms Chapter 137 תְּהִלִּים

א  עַל נַהֲרוֹת, בָּבֶל--שָׁם יָשַׁבְנוּ, גַּם-בָּכִינוּ:    בְּזָכְרֵנוּ, אֶת-צִיּוֹן. 1 By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
ב  עַל-עֲרָבִים בְּתוֹכָהּ--    תָּלִינוּ, כִּנֹּרוֹתֵינוּ. 2 Upon the willows in the midst thereof we hanged up our harps.
ג  כִּי שָׁם שְׁאֵלוּנוּ שׁוֹבֵינוּ, דִּבְרֵי-שִׁיר--    וְתוֹלָלֵינוּ שִׂמְחָה:
שִׁירוּ לָנוּ,    מִשִּׁיר צִיּוֹן. 3 For there they that led us captive asked of us words of song, and our tormentors asked of us mirth: {N}
'Sing us one of the songs of Zion.'
ד  אֵיךְ--נָשִׁיר אֶת-שִׁיר-יְהוָה:    עַל, אַדְמַת נֵכָר. 4 How shall we sing the LORD'S song in a foreign land?
ה  אִם-אֶשְׁכָּחֵךְ יְרוּשָׁלִָם--    תִּשְׁכַּח יְמִינִי. 5 If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
ו  תִּדְבַּק-לְשׁוֹנִי, לְחִכִּי--    אִם-לֹא אֶזְכְּרֵכִי:
אִם-לֹא אַעֲלֶה, אֶת-יְרוּשָׁלִַם--    עַל, רֹאשׁ שִׂמְחָתִי. 6 Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I remember thee not; {N}
if I set not Jerusalem above my chiefest joy.
ז  זְכֹר יְהוָה, לִבְנֵי אֱדוֹם--    אֵת, יוֹם יְרוּשָׁלִָם:
הָאֹמְרִים, עָרוּ עָרוּ--    עַד, הַיְסוֹד בָּהּ. 7 Remember, O LORD, against the children of Edom the day of Jerusalem; {N}
who said: 'Rase it, rase it, even to the foundation thereof.'
ח  בַּת-בָּבֶל,    הַשְּׁדוּדָה:
אַשְׁרֵי שֶׁיְשַׁלֶּם-לָךְ--    אֶת-גְּמוּלֵךְ, שֶׁגָּמַלְתְּ לָנוּ. 8 O daughter of Babylon, that art to be destroyed; {N}
happy shall he be, that repayeth thee as thou hast served us.
ט  אַשְׁרֵי, שֶׁיֹּאחֵז וְנִפֵּץ אֶת-עֹלָלַיִךְ--    אֶל-הַסָּלַע. 9 Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the rock. {P}
Aneesh H Jan 2020
You are not what you have been, or are
You are what I have remembered you as-
A carefully curated assortment of
memories
Preserved in my very own imagination
Kept alive within myself
Nourished by a soulful of emotions
Nothing in this world is constant, ever. Our bodies, mind...nothing. Our associations, relations with family members, friends and others are also not constant. Like a wave it the intensity, meaning and purpose rises and falls.

This poem is not attributed to a specific person, or memory. 'Thee' is a generic pronoun that I have chosen to allude to everyone who has had a contact with me, at some point of time or the other.

In short, nothing is permament, except every memory solemn or trivial.
Shiv Pratap Pal Sep 2019
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Th­is poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled " कौन है वह" published in Hindi Literary Magazine 'Himprastha' in July 2010
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­Who stitched the moon and the stars on the sky sheet?
Who filled the *** of the earth with such a huge ocean?

Who grew the colorful flowers in the courtyard garden?
Who brought different kinds of creatures in the forest?

From where the butterfly hovering on the flowers came?
From where the beetle flying around the roses came from?

Who taught the birds to twitter such sweet sound notes?
Who made the cuckoo sung a melodious song from neck?

Where the force of gravity in the earth did came from?
Where the water in the flowing rivers did came from?

Who inhabited so many living creatures in the deep sea?
Who made the birds flew even at the height of the sky?

Who gave the cuckoo a sweet and the crow a husky tone?
Who gave heat to the sun and a cold shade to the full moon?

Who gave light body to the ant and a heavy body to an elephant?
Who gave wisdom to the wise and much wealth to the greedy?

Who plated the mountain peaks with multiple layers of snow?
Who made the diamond mines in so much depths of the earth?

Who filled the clear waters in the chest of hard rocks?
Who induced the innocence in the small little children?

Who is he? How is he? who made such a beautiful world
He is GOD, self-proclaimed, who made the whole world

He has no end and has no beginning, he is omnipresent
All this is God's Illusion. This is Illusion of the Almighty

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कौन है वह ?
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अम्बर की चादर पर किसने टाँके चाँद सितारे
धरती की गागर में किसने भर डाला सागर

उपवन के आँगन में किसने रंग बिरंगे फूल उगाये
जंगल  के प्रांगण में किसने भांति भांति के प्राणी लाये

पुष्पों पर मंडराती तितली भला कहाँ से आयी
फूलों पर मंडराते भौरें भला कहाँ से आये

पक्षियों को कलरव गीत किसने है सिखलाया
कोयल के मधुर कंठ से किसने गीत गवाया

पृथ्वी में गुरुत्वाकर्षण का बल कहाँ से आया
नदियों की बहती धारा में जल कहाँ से आया

सागर की गहरायी में भी किसने जीव बसाये
अम्बर की ऊँचाई में भी किसने पंछी उड़ाये

किसने दी कोयल को मीठी, कौए को कर्कश वाणी
किसने दी सूरज को गर्मी और चन्दा को शीतल छाया

किसने दी चींटी को हल्की और हाथी को भारी काया
किसने दी ज्ञानी को बुद्धि और लोभी को भारी माया

पर्वत के शिखरों पर किसने हिम कि परत चढ़ाई
पृथ्वी कि गहराई में किसने हीरे कि खान बनाई

चट्टानों के सीने में किसने भर दिया निर्मल पानी
छोटे-प्यारे बच्चों में किसने भर दी नादानी

कौन है वह? कैसा है वह? जिसने सुन्दर जगत बनाया
वह तो प्रभु है, स्वयंभू है, जिसने सारा जगत बनाया

आदि न उसका, अंत न है, सर्वत्र वही तो छाया है
यह  तो  माया  है प्रभु की,  प्रभु  की   है यह सब माया

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Let's Find Out, Who is HE?????
I feel happy the more I look at you,
But while looking at you,
I also receive pain times two,
Because I remember that I can't have you.

As long as I am happy to see you,
I don't care how many knives will cut through.
I don't care if I'm not the reason for that smile of yours,
As long as I see that it is yours,
It will still be the greatest view.
My bunnyyy
Nat Lipstadt May 2019
late May, “sheltering in place,”
the perfection of the day, a descendant
of thousands of years of predecessors,
the elements in concert, expert-wise in the ways
of coordination of sky, wind and ocean caressing
to make poems come so easy, just breeze pluck ‘em

but this heart lies heavy in the noisy stillness,
for one intercept repeats itself,
all ready already, wrote of that, many times prior,
all the parimutuel betting/writing combinations
user exhausted, each one shouting, too late,
you wrote that in such and such a place, in a time,
vague recalled under a name since forgotten

eyes are the poem title generator random,
but all asterisked, seen that, done that,
wrote that, passages that are passengers
trying to hop aboard without paying,
the fare is no fair, and the style gone quaint,
no one wants to read the regurgitated,
my rapacious pen^^^ has stolen them back anyway

my pen now, flat on desk, good only for grocery & scratching off
my countless to-write, to-do lists,
but poem writing conspicuously absent,
this my last until, my corneas transplanted, my heart-ticking
to the beat of someone else’s drumming, but, no wisdom confession,
not what I expected from my retiring “freedom days”

did my share, and periodically one of you reminds me,
of the oldies, and the semi-smile that whispers across my drying lips
says did I write that, see the place + time denoted,
saying yes, here is proof of the when and where, and hints even
of the why, but the whys and wherefores, all crossed off,
the run is over, was a good one, but this time pride will not go
before the fall, for here it is springtime and the spring in the step,
does not launch more than an inch, ground bound, and when,
you no longer can soar, it’s time to say no more

and my old friends come to sing me to rest,
Joni reminds me I have no river to skate away on,^
my feet can no longer fly, lyrics like old honey, stuck no pouring,
Bobby closes my shop, with a young man’s prophecy,
knowing it is the hour that my ship has come in...
and though my moment is in this second, perfection, thinking,
peace to you all, remembering that peace is an unceasing changeling,
my piece is spoken, been trying to leave but this is it,
“it’s all over now baby blue”^^



“Oh, the time will come up
When the winds will stop
And the breeze will cease to be breathin'
Like the stillness in the wind
Before the hurricane begins
The hour that the ship comes in”^^

Shelter Island
Memorial Day Weekend 2019
Doth look not in my eyes,
for thy image
You won’t see thine beauty,
but tears.
Look in my heart—
You wo’nay see a broken glass,
—but thee.
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