"chaya" poems
Maa ki mamta ko dekh maut v
aage se hat jati hai
gar maa apmanit hoti
dharti ki chaati fat jaati hai
ghar ko pura jeevan dekar
bechari maa kya pati hai
rukha sukha kha leti hai
paani *** kar soo jati hai
Jo maa jaisi devi ghar ke
mandir me nahi rakh sakte hai
wo lakho punya bhale kar le
inshan nahi ban sakte hai
maa jisko v jal de-de
wo paudha sandal ban jata hai
maa ke charno ko chukar paani
Gangajal ban jata hai
Maa ke anchal ne yugo-yugo se
Bhagwano ko pala hai
maa ke charno me jannat hai
Girijaghar aur Shivala hai
Himgiri jaisi unchai hai
sagar jaisi gahrai hai
dunia me jitni khushboo hai
maa ke anchal se aaye hai
Maa kabira ki sakhi hai
maa tulsi ki chaupai hai
meerabai ki padawali
khusru ki amar rubai hai
maa angan ki tulsi jaisi
pawan bargad ki chaya hai
maa ved richao ki garima
maa mahakavya ki maya hai
Maa maansarovar mamta ka
maa gomukh ki unchai hai
maa parivaro ka sangam hai
maa rishto ki gahrai hai
maa hari dubh hai dharti ki
maa keshar wali kyari hai
maa ki upma kewal maa hai
maa har ghar ki phulwari hai
Saato sur nartan karte jab
koi maa lori gaati hai
maa jis roti ko chu leti hai
wo prasad ban jati hai
maa hasti hai to dharti ka
jarra-jarra muskata hai
dekho to dur kshtiz ambar
dharti ko sheesh jhukata hai
Mana mere ghar ki deewaro me
chanda si murat hai
par mere man ke mandir me
bas kewal maa ki murat hai
maa saraswati lakshmi durga
ansuya mariyam sita hai
maa pawanta me ramcharit
manas me bhagwat geeta hai
Amma teri har baat mujhe
vardaan se badhkar lagti hai
he Maa teri surat mujhko
bhagwan se badhkar lagti hai
saare teerath ke punya jaha
mai un charno me leta hu
jinke koi santan nahi
mai un maawo ka beta hu
Har ghar me Maa ki puja **
Aisa sankalp uthata hu
Mai dunia ki har maa ke
Charno me ye sheesh jhukata hu.....
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
It is simply being at a still point, where silence speaks volumes.
Where guilt turns to tranquility and I can trust to risk
or risk to trust, either way, it doesn’t matter.
It is a matter of perspective, I can dare to dream,
of a Wondrous Journey and when I dream,
without fail, I am greeted by Chaya,
mystical Goddess of the shadow.
She reviles wisdom of the shadow.
in the shadows are rainbow colors.
She brings forth, essence of Black.
For background and contrast.
Then magically splashes
the essence of Green,
and everything
GLOWWS ! ! !
My little Chimera steps out from behind a giant fern
and holds my hand, in anticipation of the journey.
Chaya holds a finger to her lips and says,
“The Whisper sunset is near” I am Red.
Again she raises a finger to her lips,
“Listen for the Whisper - Twilight
The Dream Catcher,
it is what makes
the magic fun
and fancy.
Angel’s Breath and Dragon Tears,”
Chaya explains while
Scintilla the Necromancer
dances along the creek ,
and she SPARKLES.
A giant bumblebee
hovers to watch
SO SURREAL
Then everything just bursts and fades into the mist.
What happened to the magic? Where is Chaya?
"Chaya went into the eye of the storm"
The voice from within says
“Where is Scintilla?” We ask
“Scintilla dances in heaven now”
The voice within echoes
The Wondrous Journey
is over,‘til twilight
tomorrow when
I DARE TO
DREAM
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
trying to find the meaning of life,
when this is what i realized.
i was finding my purpose outside,
possessing all the worldly pleasures i eyed.
missed in the scavenger hunt,
the longing of my loved ones.
trotted the earth to find happiness,
a ride away was a friend fighting loneliness.
in the desperation to hear 'Good Job',
i got used to the late night hobnobs.
miles away, waiting for a call, was my mother,
wanting to know if i had my supper.
life was perfect with no trouble,
guess i was living in my own bubble.
came the time of a long lasting intrusion,
and suddenly, all desires felt like an illusion.
jolted by this surprise,
wondering if we'd survive.
i started to face the reality,
only to find that my existence was a fallacy.
all that matters in life,
is for us to recognize
that
we're nothing without the support of our dear ones,
and it's time to appreciate and cherish everyone.
ghanghor andhera chaya hai,
bas aapki yaadon ne
umeed ka diya jalaya hai
baki toh sab bas moh maya hai.
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 2:26 AM UTC
Ninety-Three Daughters of Israel
a Holocaust poem by Chaya Feldman
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
We washed our bodies
and cleansed ourselves;
we purified our souls
and became clean.
Death does not terrify us;
we are ready to confront him.
While alive we served God
and now we can best serve our people
by refusing to be taken prisoner.
We have made a covenant of the heart,
all ninety-three of us;
together we lived and learned,
and now together we choose to depart.
The hour is upon us
as I write these words;
there is barely enough time to transcribe this prayer ...
Brethren, wherever you may be,
honor the Torah we lived by
and the Psalms we loved.
Read them for us, as well as for yourselves,
and someday when the Beast
has devoured his last prey,
we hope someone will say Kaddish for us:
we ninety-three daughters of Israel.
Amen
In 1943 Meir Shenkolevsky, the secretary of the world Bais Yaakov movement and a member of the Central Committee of Agudas Israel in New York, received a letter from Chaya Feldman: "I don't know when you will get this letter and if you still will remember me. When this letter arrives, I will no longer be alive. In a few hours, everything will be past. We are here in four rooms, 93 girls ages 14 to 22, all of us Bais Yaakov teachers. On July 27, Gestapo agents came, took us out of our apartment and threw us into a dark room. We only have water to drink. The younger girls are very frightened, but I comfort them that in a short while, we will be together with our mother Sara [Sara Shnirer, the founder of the Bais Yaakov Seminary]. Yesterday they took us out, washed us and took all our clothes. They left us only shirts and said that today, German soldiers will come to visit us. We all swore to ourselves that we will die together. The Germans don't know that the bath they gave us was the immersion before our deaths: we all prepared poison. When the soldiers come, we will drink the poison. We are all saying Viduy throughout the day. We are not afraid of anything. We only have one request from you: Say Kaddish for 93 bnos Yisroel! Soon we will be with our mother Sara. Signed, Chaya Feldman from Cracow." Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, Chaya Feldman, daughters, Israel, washed, cleansed, pure, purified, immaculate, 93, ninety-three, death, God, prayer, heart, covenant, Torah, Psalms, Kaddish
Mar 13, 2020
Mar 13, 2020 at 5:14 AM UTC
Shikwa to bas ek bahana tha...
Tujhe mera dil hi jalana tha...
Kashish ranjish yun banti gayi...
Kehne ko to ek fasana tha. ...
Pal Pal tujh par hi lutana tha
Meri zeest se yeh hi karana tha
Meri rooh par chaya hua tha jo
Saanson ka wohi tarana tha
Teri chaah ko apna banana tha
Meri koshish ka woh nishana tha
Teri zid ka zarb magar mujh par
Jo pada to bas qatilana tha...
Nibha lo rasm e kafan ki ab
Anjaam e wafa yun sikhana tha....
Bejaan sa **** yun pada hai ab.....
Ke "Ain" e arz hi ab thikana tha....
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 7:00 AM UTC
I get off the bus to Richmond
and Chaya's waiting for me.
She's dressed in red and white
and her blonde hair is free flowing.
How was the journey?
Long, but worth it.
Bit like life, then.
Sometimes.
She smiles
and we walk
through the park.
I know a café
we can go for a drink
and bite to eat,
she says.
That'd be good.
So she takes me
to this café
on the other side
of the park
and we sit down
and a young girl
takes our order
and walks away.
There's a new group
called the Rolling Stones
played here recently;
they’re good.
I'm an Elvis fan myself,
but I think my sister,
Alma, has a record of there's.
She takes out a cigarette
and offers me one;
we light up
and she puts
the packet away.
These guys play
bluesy rock;
the lead singer's
quite a character;
got his autograph.
Our coffees come
and we sip in silence
for awhile.
How's your work?
I ask.
Steady; I have a few
acting bits.
How's your work?
Boring, but it pays me ok
and keeps me
fed and watered.
What do you do
when you're not working?
I write.
Write what?
Plays and short stories.
Have to read them sometime;
especially the plays.
Not up to scratch, yet.
I look at her hair
and wish I could touch it;
run my fingers through it,
but I don't of course,
I just gaze at her.
Am I that interesting?
She asks
Yes, you are, pretty.
She laughs.
No one has called me
pretty before,
maybe pretty boring.
No, you are;
your lovely blonde hair,
those eyes of yours,
your figure.
She smiles.
Well if you say so, Baruch;
but my father says
not to get too
above myself,
but to be who I am.
We finish our smokes
and coffees
and walk on back
through the park
and lay on the grass
under the warm sunshine.
A brass band
is playing over the way.
People pass by;
kids calling,
laughing.
She lays on her back;
I lay beside her;
feel her next to me;
my body alive
to her presence.
I'm off next week
to Scotland;
got a part in a play.
I look at her.
That's good;
how long for?
As long as it runs;
it's only a small part,
but Daddy says
it all helps my craft;
I’ll write when
I’m back in Richmond.
I feel a sense of sadness,
buy joy for her,
mixed.
I want to kiss her,
but feel it might not
be the right time.
I lay there studying her
as she talks on
about the play;
I think I love her,
but cannot say.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
Soren,
Sharp teeth, bloodshot eyes,merciless hisses and punches at those who annoys you and those who doesn't. I wonder what made you into this callous, mutilated goliath . I wonder who broke you. I can sense a hint of tenderness between your teeth when you think of something. Tell me. Let me shape you into something more you.
Chaya,
I heart your cream-like smile but I know you're screaming inside. It's not your obligation to be nice and fluid all the time, here, step across the line.
Juno,
Monday mornings, whatever mornings, you're always collapsing in the streets, neon lights RINGING and WHEEZING behind your eyes. I know you dream of death, dream of halcyon days. But it's time to quit hard candies and soft acid, it's time to quit the things that could poison you. You're supposed to be Lily, not Lilith.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC