"darshan" poems
Mumbai is rich, Mumbai is poor.
Mumbai is fast, Mumbai is slower.
Little bit sweet, and little bit sour,
Sometimes it’s hot but not too more….
Mornings are energetic and evenings are electric.
Noons are lazy but Nights are crazy
And any one you ask he always say “M busy”
Dude, life in Mumbai is not so easy
There is lot of Masti with little bit of Maska
Welcome to the city that can’t live, without Bollywood Chaska
From cooker whistles to the traffic jam horns,
From steaming tea kettles to breaking nut-betels
From telephone rings and doorbell brings.
There are people connecting through Blackberry pings
Where there’s little time to spare for kids
People here spend their lives on bids
Here you actually pay your travel fare by meter
But milkman mixing water is not a cheater!
Sev puri and bhel puri are all Mumbai chaat
Relishing it with spicy chutney is no easy art
From pop-corn to ice-cream, all sold on cart
Mumbai o Mumbai, you’re always close to my heart
Where local trains usually run on time
And violently rushing for a seat is not a crime
Here 3 PM for lunch and 12 AM to dine
People face hardships, but still say “it’s fine”
From Mt Mary in Bandra to Mumba Devi in Town
And ISKCON in Juhu to Haji Ali in Mumbai’s Crown
Faith runs deep as the Arabian Sea
But people don’t hesitate to pay early darshan fee.
Marathi, Punjabi, Gujarati and Bengali
Everyone forgather celebrate Id and Diwali
Holi is colourful and Christmas is cheerful
Spend some time here and your life will be un-forgetful
Billionaire to baggers, all found in this city
Be careful dude, this place is a bit witty.
Overall this dream-world is huge but pretty
Mumbai o Mumbai you’re wonderful city.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
HIMALAY SE GANGASAGAR TAK DEV MUNI GAN KARATE SWAGAT BIN TERE DARSHAN APURN TIRATH VINATI HAI MA MUKH MOD MAT . NIT SNAN DYAN AARATI, SARASAWATI KI VIDA PUKARATI. MANAV SANG JALCHARO KO BHI TARATI KYO AB SANSE HARATI.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 9:13 AM UTC
The Ganges rushes in
torrents from my eyes
and threatens to sweep me
away
it’s been four lonely years
Sai Krishna
I wait in the foothills of Mount Kailash
the sun and the moon wait with me
the earth has ceased its wild spin
and the stars have lost their merry twinkle
O Swami what we wouldn’t give to gaze
once more into your lotus orbs
Sai Krishna
mountain peacocks with bright plumes
chant Your name
and silver tongued nightingales perched in
high branches sing of Your
divine exploits
the empty jhoola is adorned with garlands
and sweet rose petals
Blue skinned Lord
You alone are the source of
Bliss
Grant us Your divine darshan
cuddle close to us
tonight
http://www.sairapture.com/krishna-madhava.html
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC
My sun
Light of my day
Star of my world
So far yet near
You bring me joy
You warm my soul
My sol
My morning call
My prayer to you
My salutation
My bija mantra
Surya Namaskar
Namaskar
Ardha Chandrasana
Padangusthasana
Surya darshan
Purvottanasana
Adho Mukha Svanasana
Shashtanga Dandawat
Bhujangasana
Adho Mukha Svanasana
Surya darshan
Padangusthasana
Ardha Chandrasana
Namaskar
r ~ 9/15/14
For my good friend Pradip's call for a sun poem.
(Poem by Pradip Url : http://hellopoetry.com/poem/856652/write-me-one/)
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
High above the Holy River Ganges
where the water flows like Brahman itself,
is an ancient cave, a place of sacred pilgrimage.
Entering silently, our small gathering
sat together, meditating here where the great
sage himself transcended in deep samadhi.
Wrapped in warm shawls, dhotis and saris,
eyes closed gently in the stony half-light.
Early hours had seen us awake, readying
for this auspicious day, and the sleepiness
of a little child began to overtake me.
With that same innocence, a childlike feeling,
I curled down into a woolen bundle, asleep
in the inner depths of that holy, dark place.
Sleep was sleep, and not sleep,
as awareness shone within me.
Limitless akasha unfolded inside me now,
and the ground where I rested expanded
into that same unbounded, cosmic space.
From far beneath the cool, damp earth,
a radiance travelled into my small frame.
Renewing energy suffused and blessed me.
Bowing in my heart, I touch the lotus feet
of Maharishi Vashistha. His darshan
shines on into our present day, and
throughout all of Ved Bhumi Bharat.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 12:16 PM UTC
Beloved
I yearn night and day
each blood tinged second
for the intravenous
of Your intoxicating Presence
like ripe, ruby grapes crave
to be tread and pressed into
the drunken bliss
of holy wine
Like the cow maiden Radha
and Princess Mirabai
pine for their peacock plumed
Blue Lord’s
rapturous darshan
Like Magdalene’s tears rolling
down her love soaked cheeks
seek only to wash and kiss
gentle Jesus’ celestial
Lotus feet
Like the great scholar Rumi
scouring the desolate streets
of Damascus
searches for even the
faintest echo
ghostly glimpse
of his beloved
God mad vagabond
Shams of Tabriz
Like my breath liberated from this
time bound, earthly form
soars free, unfettered
a shooting star
exploding into the
chaotic brilliance
of Your perfect Love
Your incomprehensible, pristine,
pure, primordial Peace
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
like a monkey at a temple
I want an immediate response from the world
my brother-in-law fights the same depression
he turned into a Cowboy
I stayed an Indian.
Back in Queens I see a man across the street
he's in an Andy Capp hat and twead coat
he used to hem my pants (he's retired now)
he knows my thoughts but doesn't recognize me unless I say hello first
see that girl on the stoop, the one with her hair veiled over her face, staring at her iphone as to a shrine
I've seen my mother-in-law bow down like that at Meher Baba's Samadhi
I should not have been watching her take darshan
in front of her Lord - in supplication - she folded into herself like a napkin
on the way back, we stayed at the Leela and had a lot to drink before we flew home
I wish she knew how lucky I felt being with her - praying and drinking
but last night she called and couldn't remember a thing
it pains me she is losing her memory
I had to repeat again and again, 'yes, I have your ticket and passport'
or 'remember we flew in together and now we are going back'.
so naturally our conversations return to her growing up on a farm in Virginia; the second oldest to four brothers, her swimming in a creek and charming all the boys, and leaving home at seventeen to dance with Margaret Craske in New York City (how she loved Miss Craske).
she married a priest who crusaded for the poor in the Lower East Side; pregnant with her first daughter (and me, having the saving grace to have married that daughter) she met Meher Baba - a meeting that changed her course and late in life she became a Psychologist (a PhD at 74!).
her natural graciousness was born of the wild flowers of Machair (her people are from the Hebrides),
her love of dance, now transposed and expressed in a light and buoyant outlook, made all a fools mimicry disappear like morning vapor on a Maharashtrian plateau ...
my fortune seeing that.
one day she will forget me and the world and not come back
or when she does we will have a certainty of meeting once before.
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
Mighty Varuna
God of the Sea
and sub-marine spheres
You visited me
mounted on Your strange dolphin
ancient makara dragon
Sacred, secret eyelids
of evening
flash open
cresting across the cobalt
horizon
Our ship gently rocked
softly cradled
wind and wave
whisper Om
From fathomless depths
You gush forth
bedewed
in ocean jewels
and seaweed
Varuna
with colossal form
hewn of surf and stars
I beheld
Your awesome darshan
and tasted the salt spray
of Your breath
My heart is forever
a garland of
pearls afloat
at Your
white-capped
Celestial Feet
*Paste the link below:
www.sairapture.com/sea-god-dream-03012015.html
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 10:18 AM UTC
My heart smiled
no... giggled like a giddy
gopi maiden
all day long
Last night
during the star drenched
nocturne hours
my darling Sai Giridhari
blessed me with His euphoric darshan
O the scent of Sai
the mandarin robed form
curly mane and probing eyes
clings to me like a rare perfume
overpowering all sense of
ego and separate identity
that undiluted bliss
very essence of Self
Presence of God
Sai Nandalala
under nightfall’s luminous cape
I run madly to the edge of my dreams
searching for my beloved
drunk on the nectar of Your Name
I swoon Body, Mind and Soul
into Your.....................
Infinitely Waxing Embrace
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 12:16 AM UTC
Sai Ram
I lean on the strength
of Your name
1000 times
a million times
Swami grant me
Your golden hued darshan
Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 7:46 PM UTC
A constellation of orchid blooms
with violet flame wings
and star white hearts
descended on my
bedroom altar this evening
This was part of a birthday gift
from my beloved hubby
the orchid is a symbol of perfection,
natural elegance, love and luck
Every time I gazed at the
auspicious, stunning flower
I lit up with smiles
it was so beautiful
and Swami's portrait
at the center of my sanctum,
indeed at the center of the universe,
also flashed a dazzling smile
What shall we call this beauty Swami?
Sitara....
Sitara you are so fortunate to have
the Darshan of
Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai Baba
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 8:09 PM UTC
it takes a minuscule bit of paper to start fires that burns down whole forests
One of the main features of Yoga cara's philosophy
is the concept of Vijayapati-matera. According to Lambert
Schmidt, the earliest live figure of this period is found
in chapter 8 of the Sad think ocona formula, which, unfortunately,
is found only in translations of Tibet and China
that differ in x and meaning. Bir is represented
as a response to wisdom. A question asking if images or symbols
are those that are the sources of communication *
are different from each other, individually or individually.
Buddha says it is no different, because the images
are Vijayapati-Mara. The text confirmed that this also applies
to common sense products. In relation to the existing sources
of Sanskrit, the word appears in Vishathiha's Vialatha
in the first verse, which is an element of the idea, says:
Vyapatimatram Vyattad Ardh Ardh Bhabhayath Yath
Taimikostasta by Sundaradhari Darshan is in this world
as Vijayapatima because it is its own. You have an infinite object,
such as looking at unmarried hair on the moon, like things
like cataracts. "According to Mark Cedars, Vassbundu means
that we only know
the images or the psychic influences that describe themselves
as external things, but" in fact, there is no such thing out of the mind. "Asaga Mahanasthangarh's classical skill word is not the root of Sanskrit over Tibati: this representation is Vijayapati-Maater's representation because it does not fit the meaning of abuse T ... as a dream,
even without something / element, in my mind, all things / things
like visions, sounds, flavors, flavors, tindibels, homes, forests,
soils and RMS / mountain images, and there is not yet something /
things to exist in that MGG 11.6 is sometimes used as the synonym
of "Sitar only", which is also the name of the school written
by Swrithasan, the first form of the word is in excellent form,
which states: o: Whatever is related to this world, Trittaku
has no mind or thought: * cittamatra, why? I imagine things,
how they look
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 2:35 PM UTC