"santan" poems - Hello Poetry

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.....

0

Aug 6, 2015

Aug 6, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC

shashank-k-dwivedi

Maa - Part 2

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.....

68

"bakit 'di mo pa binuhos ang lahat?" nagtatakang tanong sa akin ni inay. inutusan niya akong diligan ang alaga niyang santan sa bakuran. "nagtira ka pa. 'di naman na kailangan," at sabay niyang kinuha ang balde na naglalaman ng tubig na galing sa kanyang pinaglabhan. walang pagdadalawang-isip at bigla na lang niya itong itinapon sa sementadong daanan papunta sa aming bakuran. sa malayang pagdaloy ng tubig, napaisip ako kung bakit ganoon na lang itapon ni inay ang tubig. pwede pa namang ipandilig iyon sa ibang halaman na nasa tabi-tabi. pero bakit hindi ko man lang din yun naisip na gawin? para nga naman hindi nasayang ang tubig. para may iba pang halaman na pwedeng makinabang at hindi ang walang buhay na sementadong daanan. oo nga naman, ang tubig na galing sa labada ni inay ay marumi na. umitim at dumumi dahil sa pinaghalo-halong sabon at mantsa ng mga naiwang alaala sa damit. kung nakakapagsalita nga lang din naman ang halaman, hindi niya gugustuhin ang maruming tubig na galing sa labada ni inay. pero hinuha lang naman ang lahat. paano kung ang mga halaman sa tabi-tabi, ay parang katulad lang din ng patubong santan na alaga ni inay... nangangailangan at sadyang nauuhaw.

0

Oct 31, 2015

Oct 31, 2015 at 6:58 PM UTC

astroaquanaut

uhaw

"bakit 'di mo pa binuhos ang lahat?" nagtatakang tanong sa akin ni inay. inutusan niya akong diligan ang alaga niyang santan sa bakuran. "nagtira ka pa. 'di naman na kailangan," at sabay niyang kinuha ang balde na naglalaman ng tubig na galing sa kanyang pinaglabhan. walang pagdadalawang-isip at bigla na lang niya itong itinapon sa sementadong daanan papunta sa aming bakuran. sa malayang pagdaloy ng tubig, napaisip ako kung bakit ganoon na lang itapon ni inay ang tubig. pwede pa namang ipandilig iyon sa ibang halaman na nasa tabi-tabi. pero bakit hindi ko man lang din yun naisip na gawin? para nga naman hindi nasayang ang tubig. para may iba pang halaman na pwedeng makinabang at hindi ang walang buhay na sementadong daanan. oo nga naman, ang tubig na galing sa labada ni inay ay marumi na. umitim at dumumi dahil sa pinaghalo-halong sabon at mantsa ng mga naiwang alaala sa damit. kung nakakapagsalita nga lang din naman ang halaman, hindi niya gugustuhin ang maruming tubig na galing sa labada ni inay. pero hinuha lang naman ang lahat. paano kung ang mga halaman sa tabi-tabi, ay parang katulad lang din ng patubong santan na alaga ni inay... nangangailangan at sadyang nauuhaw.

6

Mahamot nga sampaguita ngan pula nga gumamela Amo ine an akon una nga ginhatag ha iya Samtang ginhuhulat namon an katunod han adlaw Ngan pinalalabay an kasanhi nga kahidlaw. Pamukad han santan ngan orkidyas ha dalan Umabat ak hin ka-ipa nga makuri mapug-ngan Ha akon dughan in may ada makusog nga lukso Kasing-kasing nga natago malipayon gud hin duro. Katapos hi idoy in inalpan hin kaisog Igsusumat na ha iya an pag-abat nga mabaskog Iya na ighahalad inin espesyal nga rosas Pero adton kalipay nga iya inaabat nabalyuan hin kalas. Hi iday in may ada naman ngay an iba nga pina-uswag Mga bukad nga ha iya igin hahatag in magpakaruruyag Waray sapayan an imo rosas nga pinutos Nga im gin-inantusan tikang pa han ka biyuos. Asya an bukad nga gin kuha nalaya ngan nakarag Kay ngadto han tawo nga iya minayuyo in waray kahatag Tigdaay man gud la, waray hiya pakasabot Pag-abat nga iya gindadara tigda nala nadunot. - Caryl

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Aug 14, 2021

Aug 14, 2021 at 8:17 AM UTC

Caryl28

BUKAD

Mahamot nga sampaguita ngan pula nga gumamela Amo ine an akon una nga ginhatag ha iya Samtang ginhuhulat namon an katunod han adlaw Ngan pinalalabay an kasanhi nga kahidlaw. Pamukad han santan ngan orkidyas ha dalan Umabat ak hin ka-ipa nga makuri mapug-ngan Ha akon dughan in may ada makusog nga lukso Kasing-kasing nga natago malipayon gud hin duro. Katapos hi idoy in inalpan hin kaisog Igsusumat na ha iya an pag-abat nga mabaskog Iya na ighahalad inin espesyal nga rosas Pero adton kalipay nga iya inaabat nabalyuan hin kalas. Hi iday in may ada naman ngay an iba nga pina-uswag Mga bukad nga ha iya igin hahatag in magpakaruruyag Waray sapayan an imo rosas nga pinutos Nga im gin-inantusan tikang pa han ka biyuos. Asya an bukad nga gin kuha nalaya ngan nakarag Kay ngadto han tawo nga iya minayuyo in waray kahatag Tigdaay man gud la, waray hiya pakasabot Pag-abat nga iya gindadara tigda nala nadunot. - Caryl

21

i have held with fascination, when i was young, all of my toys. a parallel universe of marvels. imperial is the mood of these ecstasies! i remember my cheap svelte revolver back in 1998 bought from the festive bazaar in the marketplace at the dreary heart of Bocaue when i was consumed by the thought of brutal force and how swiftly, in the hands of men meant for twisting open the doors, welcome death or the metallurgy of it. i used to run off into the sunset toting my gun high with pride shunning the Sun, and the reprise of my carousals is my mother soldering in her white hands a "walis tambo" and summoning me homeward with a churlish grin on my face, triumphantly ecstatic over my rendezvous. now my gun has withstood the tatterdemalion of dog days and in one corner i felt its brokenness as it yearns to be retired early in the peak of my youth. happiness wears down like a chip on the old linoleumed floor and i tinker with it to unsheathe the grime of the unspoken stucco concrete. i placed it in a box, my black revolver, together with the toys that i once laughed with when only bliss is as simple as a juvenile love, or the easy picking of a santan over the fields where i ran off into the viridian laughing with the verdure of the world that i once knew as something so beautiful and intricate. i heard my black revolver went somewhere behind the macadamized wall where i dreamt of having a basketball ring nailed to. only i knew how to play my revolver, and now that i am caught within the heaviness of all things that mean greater than all other joys, no other days could ever surpass how i made a hero in myself mighty with the tales that i keep. good ole black revolver, 1998.

0

Sep 16, 2015

Sep 16, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC

windsor-i-guadalupe-jr

Black Revolver 1998

i have held with fascination, when i was young, all of my toys. a parallel universe of marvels. imperial is the mood of these ecstasies! i remember my cheap svelte revolver back in 1998 bought from the festive bazaar in the marketplace at the dreary heart of Bocaue when i was consumed by the thought of brutal force and how swiftly, in the hands of men meant for twisting open the doors, welcome death or the metallurgy of it. i used to run off into the sunset toting my gun high with pride shunning the Sun, and the reprise of my carousals is my mother soldering in her white hands a "walis tambo" and summoning me homeward with a churlish grin on my face, triumphantly ecstatic over my rendezvous. now my gun has withstood the tatterdemalion of dog days and in one corner i felt its brokenness as it yearns to be retired early in the peak of my youth. happiness wears down like a chip on the old linoleumed floor and i tinker with it to unsheathe the grime of the unspoken stucco concrete. i placed it in a box, my black revolver, together with the toys that i once laughed with when only bliss is as simple as a juvenile love, or the easy picking of a santan over the fields where i ran off into the viridian laughing with the verdure of the world that i once knew as something so beautiful and intricate. i heard my black revolver went somewhere behind the macadamized wall where i dreamt of having a basketball ring nailed to. only i knew how to play my revolver, and now that i am caught within the heaviness of all things that mean greater than all other joys, no other days could ever surpass how i made a hero in myself mighty with the tales that i keep. good ole black revolver, 1998.

50

The clouds are heavier than my mascara; my lashes are the weighing scales, they're pressing them down, down, now I'm feeling down, down. My eyes were the drunkest until they met with this waterfall that makes the cars dance outside my bus window. Be this north, south, east, or west; all I know is forward, it gets better there. And what do you know, I told you so; the clouds are getting thinner here, now that we're finally here. The cone trees align like constellations, the air is eucalyptus in my lungs, and the sky spread like one giant cloud that swallowed up the sun so it's still bright even if it's already about to be night. I guess the four long rides are worth the sight of these foreign horses and this patch of a pineapple field. Above me, the sea; below me, the city. The foam and fog made everything gray-blue and the landscape is a moving painting where the santan flowers are magnified and the mountains are blurred. We went up and down, hill by hill; left and right, tree to tree to be somewhere and nowhere at the same time. This hanging bridge would be more thrilling if I were to fall and start a landslide. It's getting darker and the flickering of the city is no longer in silhouette but in full incandescence like that of twinkling stars or Christmas lights 'round the park, and suddenly breathing is an amusement. Now there's a cricket and bird duet featuring the frogs and we're walking in the dark, finding our way through this maze of ilang-ilangs and moss, with the new moon as our north star, tracing our steps back while I lose vision of the lines on my paper. A little firefly leads us out, then we're back at the same yellowbell stairs from the way in. Coldness has never been this memorable and I'd always remember how the Tagaytay wind swept me off my feet and took me back to this tricycle ride, back to this bus ride, and then home to one of our many homes.

0

Mar 3, 2016

Mar 3, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC

jami-samson

The Tourist

The clouds are heavier than my mascara; my lashes are the weighing scales, they're pressing them down, down, now I'm feeling down, down. My eyes were the drunkest until they met with this waterfall that makes the cars dance outside my bus window. Be this north, south, east, or west; all I know is forward, it gets better there. And what do you know, I told you so; the clouds are getting thinner here, now that we're finally here. The cone trees align like constellations, the air is eucalyptus in my lungs, and the sky spread like one giant cloud that swallowed up the sun so it's still bright even if it's already about to be night. I guess the four long rides are worth the sight of these foreign horses and this patch of a pineapple field. Above me, the sea; below me, the city. The foam and fog made everything gray-blue and the landscape is a moving painting where the santan flowers are magnified and the mountains are blurred. We went up and down, hill by hill; left and right, tree to tree to be somewhere and nowhere at the same time. This hanging bridge would be more thrilling if I were to fall and start a landslide. It's getting darker and the flickering of the city is no longer in silhouette but in full incandescence like that of twinkling stars or Christmas lights 'round the park, and suddenly breathing is an amusement. Now there's a cricket and bird duet featuring the frogs and we're walking in the dark, finding our way through this maze of ilang-ilangs and moss, with the new moon as our north star, tracing our steps back while I lose vision of the lines on my paper. A little firefly leads us out, then we're back at the same yellowbell stairs from the way in. Coldness has never been this memorable and I'd always remember how the Tagaytay wind swept me off my feet and took me back to this tricycle ride, back to this bus ride, and then home to one of our many homes.

79

Jam tujuh pagi tadi Ibu mengetuk pintu Bunyi ketukan itu sampai empat kali terulang Di ketukan empat setengah, Pintu terbuka setengah juga “Ya?” “Mandi, Mbak.” “Pingin tidur lagi.” “Tapi hari ini hari kemenangan.” Raut wajahnya yang telah menjadi warisanku tak sedikitpun menunjukkan bahwa dia telah memenangkan apapun. Tidak seperti kebanyakan orang, Untuknya hari ini bukanlah tentang seberapa kental kolam santan yang menyimbahi santapan-santapan Bukan juga tentang berpeluk-rindu dengan orang-orang sambil sesekali bertukar kabar Lelah mengutuk dirinya karena seumur hidup merasa kalah, Aku tahu bahwa sehari saja ia ingin merasa menang. Ia sendiri tahu betul saat hari ini berakhir dan tamu berpamit untuk pulang setelah semua habis terkunyah; ia akan kembali merasa kalah. Menang atas dan untuk apa? Seribu kata maaf pun ia telan begitu saja tanpa mencerna kata tersebut keluar dari mulut siapa Tanpa adanya hari kemenangan yang dibanjiri oleh teks bersampul maaf, Hidupnya memang sudah tentang meminta maaf dan memaafkan Tak ada pilihan lain. Hanya saja hari ini sinar sendu wajahnya menunjukkan bahwa akhirnya, Setidaknya untuk dia, Harapan pahitnya terhadap ‘maaf dan memaafkan’ akan diselebrasikan; Dan seperti dirinya, lebih dari sejuta orang akan melakukannya walaupun untuk sehari saja. Kepada siapa lagi ia harus meminta maaf dan meminta dimaafkan?

0

Jun 5, 2019

Jun 5, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC

sunless

?

Jam tujuh pagi tadi Ibu mengetuk pintu Bunyi ketukan itu sampai empat kali terulang Di ketukan empat setengah, Pintu terbuka setengah juga “Ya?” “Mandi, Mbak.” “Pingin tidur lagi.” “Tapi hari ini hari kemenangan.” Raut wajahnya yang telah menjadi warisanku tak sedikitpun menunjukkan bahwa dia telah memenangkan apapun. Tidak seperti kebanyakan orang, Untuknya hari ini bukanlah tentang seberapa kental kolam santan yang menyimbahi santapan-santapan Bukan juga tentang berpeluk-rindu dengan orang-orang sambil sesekali bertukar kabar Lelah mengutuk dirinya karena seumur hidup merasa kalah, Aku tahu bahwa sehari saja ia ingin merasa menang. Ia sendiri tahu betul saat hari ini berakhir dan tamu berpamit untuk pulang setelah semua habis terkunyah; ia akan kembali merasa kalah. Menang atas dan untuk apa? Seribu kata maaf pun ia telan begitu saja tanpa mencerna kata tersebut keluar dari mulut siapa Tanpa adanya hari kemenangan yang dibanjiri oleh teks bersampul maaf, Hidupnya memang sudah tentang meminta maaf dan memaafkan Tak ada pilihan lain. Hanya saja hari ini sinar sendu wajahnya menunjukkan bahwa akhirnya, Setidaknya untuk dia, Harapan pahitnya terhadap ‘maaf dan memaafkan’ akan diselebrasikan; Dan seperti dirinya, lebih dari sejuta orang akan melakukannya walaupun untuk sehari saja. Kepada siapa lagi ia harus meminta maaf dan meminta dimaafkan?

25

Ternyata benar, jarak dan ketidakhadiran fisik adalah alasan mengapa kita menyukai apa yang tidak disukai. Terkadang paksaan adalah bagian dari hal terindu yang diinginkan manusia; Bagaimana tidak? Sejak kapan kau menyukai teh hangat? Tumis sawi-sawian, bahkan sayur berkuah santan? Jawabannya sejak kita memiliki jarak dengan ibu. Saat ketidakmampuan kita untuk melihatnya megiris bawang setiap pagi sehabis subuh Suaranya yang memekik dari ujung ke ujung. Kita tidak benar-benar menyukai beberapa hal diatas, kita hanya memaksakan momen agar kita merasa berada pada masa lalu. Kemudian semakin bertambahnya angka-angka, kita lupa Jengukan anak-anak adalah vitamin yang ia perlukan Karena pulang yang sebenar-benarnya adalah saat kita melihat ibu. B_A 14-15 Mei 2013

0

May 14, 2019

May 14, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC

benarbenartanto

Balada

Ternyata benar, jarak dan ketidakhadiran fisik adalah alasan mengapa kita menyukai apa yang tidak disukai. Terkadang paksaan adalah bagian dari hal terindu yang diinginkan manusia; Bagaimana tidak? Sejak kapan kau menyukai teh hangat? Tumis sawi-sawian, bahkan sayur berkuah santan? Jawabannya sejak kita memiliki jarak dengan ibu. Saat ketidakmampuan kita untuk melihatnya megiris bawang setiap pagi sehabis subuh Suaranya yang memekik dari ujung ke ujung. Kita tidak benar-benar menyukai beberapa hal diatas, kita hanya memaksakan momen agar kita merasa berada pada masa lalu. Kemudian semakin bertambahnya angka-angka, kita lupa Jengukan anak-anak adalah vitamin yang ia perlukan Karena pulang yang sebenar-benarnya adalah saat kita melihat ibu. B_A 14-15 Mei 2013

15

Mahilig ka sa mga bulaklak lalo na 'yong may mga matitingkad na kulay. Hilig mo sila dahil kaya ka nilang pakinggan. Walang bahid ng panghuhusga. Naiintindihan nila ang mga kuwento na bihira **** ibahagi sa iba. Ilang beses na nilang nasilayan ang mga pag-ibig, ang mga sakít, ang kung paano ka mag-ipon ng tapang, ang kung paano ka maduwag. Matalik mo siláng mga kaibigan. Mahilig ka sa mga bulaklak at parati kang umaasa na dadalhan ka niya ng mga ito. Hindi ka nabigo. Hindi ka nabibigo. Gaya ng mga paborito **** rosas, tulips, at mariposa, nagagawa niyang ika'y intindihin. Makailang ulit niya na ring nakita kang umiyak, tumawa, matakot, at magmahal. Gaya ng mga paborito **** santan, sampaguita't gumamela, pamilyar na siya sa iyong mga damdamin. Sa madaling salita, mahilig ka sa mga bulaklak. Pero hindi yaong mga gáling sa akin.

0

Jun 2, 2021

Jun 2, 2021 at 11:21 PM UTC

christienlorenz

she loves me? she loves me not.

Mahilig ka sa mga bulaklak lalo na 'yong may mga matitingkad na kulay. Hilig mo sila dahil kaya ka nilang pakinggan. Walang bahid ng panghuhusga. Naiintindihan nila ang mga kuwento na bihira **** ibahagi sa iba. Ilang beses na nilang nasilayan ang mga pag-ibig, ang mga sakít, ang kung paano ka mag-ipon ng tapang, ang kung paano ka maduwag. Matalik mo siláng mga kaibigan. Mahilig ka sa mga bulaklak at parati kang umaasa na dadalhan ka niya ng mga ito. Hindi ka nabigo. Hindi ka nabibigo. Gaya ng mga paborito **** rosas, tulips, at mariposa, nagagawa niyang ika'y intindihin. Makailang ulit niya na ring nakita kang umiyak, tumawa, matakot, at magmahal. Gaya ng mga paborito **** santan, sampaguita't gumamela, pamilyar na siya sa iyong mga damdamin. Sa madaling salita, mahilig ka sa mga bulaklak. Pero hindi yaong mga gáling sa akin.

29