"prasad" 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
Seetaro mai akela chaand si thi wo
Foolon ka mehekta guldan si thi wo
Thi nadi jaisi aviral,chanchal
mere dil ka haal si thi wo
Ghani dhoop mai chav si thi wo
Kisi geet ki addaon si thi wo
Thi hava si mehekti, komal
Mere dil ka bhav si thi wo
Beech majhdhaar mai nav si thi wo
Khusian ka pura gaon si thi wo
Thi koyal si meethi,nishchal
Mere man ka abhiman si thi wo
Paido par wo patto waali hari bhari koi daal si thi wo
Holi ke rango mai sabse saadi ek akeli gulaal si thi wo
Thi wadi kasmiri koi
Mere geeton ka sur aur taal si thi wo
Mandir mai wo shankhnaad si,pooja ka prasad si thi wo
Baarish mai mitti ki khushboo,badal ka dharti se sanvaad si thi wo
Thi meri wo beti pyari,usse hi ghar 'harshit' tha
Mere ghar mai sooraj si,Mere ghar ki shaan si thi wo
Thi ab wo jo nahi rahi,aakhir khata kya thi ki usne
mana hi to kia tha na beta shaadi se,
Par dosti ka haath bhi to badhaya tha
Teri Bezatti toh nahi thi ki usne
Fir kyun tune usko har ghar badnaam kia
Dushman na kare,dost hokar tune aisa kaam kia
Chali gayi ab chhod ke mujhko,wo akele jeevan ki saanjh mai
Meri khushiyan,meri duniya,meri pyari jaan si thi wo
Meri pyari jaan si thi wo
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 7:46 AM UTC
A song comes out of the speeding bhogis,
Seeta is the one rendering the song.
She chants that her husband has long been dead.
Seeta has two sons, just like her ballads.
One –
Gives rhythm to her song.
Other –
Rubs a gentleman out of his siesta
And asks for a little money.
The bhogis gain momentum (Ignores the station master who shows red to stop the pacing male phallus)
Long away –
A girl lies down, lower than the rails.
**** me, **** me, she bangs her head.
I will, I will, the rails swell the train song in her ears.
Though long away,
Though have not heard the girl,
As if she has heard something -
Seeta stops singing.
And her children dash out.
Two hobos enter in –
As if to sell sizzling peanuts.
Just as to give the body a bath –
Seemingly not pleased just with the rails –
The male train jumps off,
Into the wide sea.
(Whose ****** is the sea, the breeze hums a song)
A thousand crows flutters from –
One’s previous birth,
To –
Another’s next birth.
Seeta, having forgotten all her songs –
Looks out for her kids.
Will arrive shortly, will arrive shortly :
Weary, irked and bored -
Time waits at a station.
(I did remember Rupesh Paul, who drew a simile between the rails and the *** worker’s nights, Anitha Thampi, who wrote about female trains, Latheesh Mohan, who noted down how the train stretches its back, Vishnu Prasad and his poem on the phallus, Prasanna Aryans usage: **** says the wheel and shit-shit , says the rail et al , while writing this poem)
(Translated by Sherin Catherine)
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
A young pandit
with infinity
in his eyes
smiles
When I ask
if I may pour
the holy prasad
into the roots
of the sacred
Peepal tree
The heart-shaped
leaves dance
as I approach
silk sari
fluttering
colors
They dance
before
and
after
dance
always
all is bliss
to the devas
of this lovely tree
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
She emerged like a lotus
Unsullied from the mud
A heart so pure
A handful of lotuses
And eyes, gleaming with love.
Her warm smile
Opened the petals of my heart
She appeared to my eyes
As one in the world
Yet not from it.
- Divya Prasad
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 2:04 AM UTC
The BJP has impressed me,
Welfare is their priority,
They have improved as a political party.
They used to be the capitalist kind,
Completely rightwinger it used to be,
They used to be crony capitalists.
But they have improved,
Their worth they proved,
India administrated by them will be happy.
They have made sacrifices,
Who can forget Shyama Prasad Mukherjee?
Once they know him - they can't.
Who can forget Atal Bihari Vajpayee ji,
Or the living legend, Lal Krishna Advani ji,
Or the fallen soldiers, Sushma ji or Arun ji?
We have many more leaders,
All distinguished in their spirit of Indianness,
Narendra Damodardas Modi, their scion.
They used to be plain capitalists, yes,
But now they are very different,
They are the Left of Right.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 2:46 AM UTC
My loving young blonde princess your truly beautiful your always loved cuddled held kissed and prasad by me every day enjoying our perfect moment forever together inside both of our beating hearts.
David P Carroll
Copyright
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
The mind whispers,walk the path of dharma,like Arjuna, with his bow drawn tight.
The heart replies, let me offer love into it,like Meera, singing to her Krishna through the night.
Situations whirl around me.
Like the churning of the cosmic ocean—Samudra Manthan
Where every choice pulls like devas and asuras
Tugging between what’s right… and what’s desired.
But my soul, ancient and still,speaks in the voice of Vishnu, resting upon Ananta.
Soft, eternal, and unshaken
Do what is necessary
Time moves—like Shiva in his Tandava
Moments rise and fall
Karma spins its golden wheel.
In the center of it all
Like a flickering diya in the wind
Like Draupadi with folded hands
I stood… still.
Not knowing what’s right and what’s desired.
Until something touched me
Not a voice, not a word,but a divine light
Like the jyoti of Arunachala.
The kind of light Yashoda must’ve See when she looked into Krishna’s mouth and saw the universe.
It said:
When your heart and mind stop their war and start walking together,like Lakshmi beside Vishnu grace flows into action.
Miracles don’t just visit…They begin to live in you.
When your soul accepts the leela,when it bends with the time,even suffering becomes prasad.
Even poison, like Neelakantha’s, becomes a sacred strength.
So I bow
Not in surrender,but in sacred acceptance.
I do not run after answers.
I do not ask the winds to calm.
I walk the sacred thread—that unseen sutra,woven by Saraswati’s wisdom and Sita’s silence.
That ties duty to devotion.
Lets love carry its weight.
With no need for reward.
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 2:10 PM UTC
The fairy of the ruins
Dances away to life's rythm
Chanting tales of the past
Holding together the cracks of time
Sharing her beauty with the dead
Dusting away broken cobwebs
Eternally cradling hearts
Of angels and demons alike
Seeing through imperfections
Of our flawless cores
Rising to her strength
Beautifully as ever
As if it's her only purpose
Watching over wondering eyes
And crumbling souls
Marvelling at the grandeur
Of what once was
Breathing the oldness
As a reminder of the present
Blessed are those
Who meet these Apasaras
Weaving light into our paths
Living deep within
the ruins of our souls...
And in the monuments of people we meet.
Have you ever met an Apsara so pure?
Who invokes the love we can be...
Who embraces the love that we are.
- Divya Prasad
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 2:06 AM UTC
#*The alien who is among you shall rise higher and higher above you,
and you shall come down lower and lower.
He shall lend to you, but you shall not lend to him;
he shall be the head, and you shall be the tail*.
Deuteronomy 28:43
Doctor Prasad, Doctor Prasad
You bow to a freaky six-armed god,
Yet chose to leave your native land
And worship in the U.S.A.
Your Hindu religion is rather odd—
Consider my verse a gentle ****
Those molten idols creep me out;
I'll poke you in a truthful way.
This newly-discovered Upanishad
With trident (in place of Aaron's rod)
Will show you where you need to go.
And greater light to you relay.
You bow to idols, silly sod...
I'll stomp your arrogance roughshod.
Eat the puja that you offer—
***** rupees to the dollar.
What a ridiculous façade.
You mumble, then politely nod—
Data-driven petty tyrant:
Drink from my verse's fire hydrant.
May 5, 2024
May 5, 2024 at 1:10 PM UTC