A phase is defined as any stage in a series of events or a process of development; while we all go through different phases in life, at times we either forget to notice or simply become fearful of transitions, inadvertently being ignorant about the fact that this phenomenon is universal. In this short poetry collection, the blogger has attempted to capture this subtle yet powerful phenomenon – phases that are observable in every journey undertaken.
Here are the next three poems –
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All hail the majestic fiery sun! Hail, hail! [Source – Pixabay]
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The Sun
Glorious in this self-sacrificial act,
The sun spins silently on its spot
With an eye open and an eye closed,
Partly seeing the planetary drama and
Partly observing its blind burning core,
Loving-living the old eclipsing folklore.
Never out of tune or shying away
From that routine rotating pathway
As if in meditation and at peace,
Granting us our lives at lease.
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We assume Time is standing still
Because of our sun’s steady will.
It is but a phase like the earlier ones
Where life played a different game and had won.
Moon-lover one, waiting for moon lover two. [Source – Pixabay]
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The Moon
Like a wave gushing its way through
The barriers and entering our hearts,
The Moon loves playing the darts,
Winking, listening and inspiring like a true
Poet in practice, moonlight as ink
Together the moon-lovers drink.
Such is the friendship between the seekers
And the moon; safekeeping promises and secrets,
Along with a lonely soul’s rising hope
Of fulfilling a decorated dream and Co.
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And this personification of moon into a friend
And a secret keeper, holding hands till the end
Is another phase, another image of the moon;
Quiet, calm, disciplined, it’s coming out soon.
The awesome dancers, all hail the trio! Hail, hail! [Source – Pixabay]
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The Earth
On a great grand gargantuan pilgrimage,
Orbiting its way, the same old and unique,
Transforming, adjusting with every coming phase,
Our Earth, our only home, this blue-green maze,
Gravitationally inclined, time-space bound,
Nurtures with freedom the beings found
Inhabiting its being, its vision, its dream;
Rhythmically revolving, rising, but never asleep,
Timed its timing with Time, the Earth
Listens earnestly, abiding by the unknown.
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How forgetful are we, who are just a phase,
A passing reality on the way to its pilgrimage…
We appear to be short sighted and too eager
To conquer the unconquerable, our planet, our nurturer.
Wars fought for peace have nothing to do with peace as in the very end the avaricious intentions and deceits also win along with the just, powerful ones. All this after crushing many innocent souls.
Yes, life is a cycle of chaos and calm, and we do evolve. We evolve because of the unsung kind-hearted simple folks continue to work no matter what.
Just like the protagonist in the short animation film titled Laymun (directed by Catherine Prowse and Hannah Quinn; original compositions and sound design by Kalle Jurvanen) who continues to revive the spirits of the Syrian public traumatized by the unending war; she gifts the residents in that area with lemon plants, trying to refresh and enliven their war-sick eyes.
The lemon’s yellowness and its leaves spunky greenness transforms the cracked walls into a brave embroidered piece and beautifies the broken windowsill.
Soon the war frenzy returns without any shame, aerial bombing the city, shattering the gardener’s nursery; she manages to escape.
Bowed but not defeated, she boards the bus that will take her maybe to a better place.
Seeing a little girl, who is sitting next to her, crying and clinging to her mother for comfort, the gardener takes out the only lemon that she had, scrapes off its skin and gives it to the little girl.
The sweet fresh smell of the lemon makes the little girl smile.
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“Laymun” zest is vital for living. Image by Yousz from Pixabay.
What a beautiful film this is! The gardener in her gentle manner wins over the war, albeit, she continues to struggle. She thus becomes the unsung kind-hearted hero who contributes in bringing change.
“We didn’t want to oversimplify the issues we were depicting in the film and offer a neat, unrealistic ending, but we wanted to offer a note of hope. We found the idea of a lemon seed being taken with the protagonist at the end offered the perfect balance of a possible new start for this character but also a sense of precariousness: would the one lemon left in her city have a chance to grow into something better, or would it perish?”
Paper boat, paper world, paper life. [Source – Pixabay.]
Surely nothing could have highlighted the ephemeral human life better than the usage of paper animation/ cutout animation, quietly mocking the idea of wars, the profitable victory of one over the other… as if they are immortals.
The light-spirited-jumpy smell of any citrus fruit, its taste cheers up a sick one, especially one who has motion-sickness, this age-old remedy is known to all, it has travelled via the “oral culture” routes.
And so has the stories of bloody battles, clashes and bloodshed… we have learned from our mistakes, we have!
Let the paper-light-lemon-fresh stories carry the tales freely.
A Must Watch Short Film –
Laymun – A powerful example of the magic of storytelling.
Read Chelsea Lupkin’s review of Laymunhere. Complement it with the true story of the last gardener of Aleppo that inspired the makers of Laymunhere.
Check out another write-up on a short film titled One, Two, TREEhere.
The mystical power, that is the universe, listens, call it life force, dark matter or god, it depends on what you believe… Image by Leonardo Valente from Pixabay.
Pale Blue Dot by Voyager 1 Space Probe. [Source – Wikimedia Commons]
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We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
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This excerpt is from a refined piece of poem by Maya Angelou which shared then and is sharing still the truth.
We all call a pale blue dot in this magnanimous universe our home, and then we forget. For what else can it be if not weak memory that we repeat the same blunders and invite catastrophes?
We are full of contradictions, we are the chaos, we are neither devils nor divines… and yet we are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world. Why?
Because we can think, we can create, we can sing and dance, we can understand the science behind everything, and we can write a poem to share with everyone A Brave and Startling Truth.
Because deep down all each one of us want is peace. Yes, but only if we remember… if we remember to think.
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When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear
When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
The wheel of Time moves ceasing for none, winning over oceans, mountains, the sky, the wind and the fire.
People crowd to clench forms and beliefs, together they build and destroy. They wait to gauge for more and what is better.
Look now, how they shine, bright like fireflies, honest to the core; look now, how they lure, how they trick the tricksters, how they slay a man’s soul.
Speak not, for they are at work, cross-legged monks, meditating on what is less; speak not, for you will fail to express how chaotic is the chaos.
Rising high is the music of unity and harmony; falling face down is the corrupt, fake cry of every rigid mind.
Knowing the beginning, waiting for the end, it walks, it lingers, we walk, and we linger.
Tala Pattachitra, Palm Leaf Painting – Odisha’s ancient art form. [Source – ethnicpaintings.com]
Second eye says that it is all absolute bliss.
There is no Space or Time and it binds none; the ultimate end and the ultimate start merges with the absolute existence.
Flowing in a silent music, dancing always, the ripple reaches the centre.
The Brahman breathes; formless, it is of the colour peace.
Lord Jagannath’s eyes are the universe we see and the universe we can’t see. The happy devotee who bows, who worships, who sings, who gazes gets mesmerized by one of the universes, and by Lord Jagannath’s smile.
Our million eyes find a million revelations in Lord Jagannath’s eyes.
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Lord Jagannath, Lord of the Universe. [Source – harekrsna.de]
‘Kaun Buddha Si?’ (Who was Buddha?) by the wonderful Punjabi Poet Amar Jyoti.
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Who was Buddha?
Whose tale is it?
It’s left for you to decide;
Whether of Yashodhara or Siddhartha
Who repaired to the peace of jungle
Leaving Yashodhara behind
To bring up Rahul
Congruent with the royal
Customs and traditions,
Who made the glittering glass-house of her life a ruin
Behind the portals of a palace,
Where the seasons didn’t change,
Where life resided in silence,
Where her sight turned into an unending path
Waiting for Siddhartha.
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And when he returned from the quiet of the peaceful abode
As Buddha the wise,
Who was the wise one,
Siddhartha or Yashodhara?
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English translation of the Punjabi poem by Jagriti Rumi.
Yashodhara, a princess, was Prince Siddhartha’s wife, who was born on the same date and year as that of her husband. According to a Chinese legend, Yashodhara had met Siddhartha in their past life where she took a promise from him that they will be husband and wife in all their next births.
This beautiful poem asks a simple question and gives a concealed answer. Quietly it is telling a forgotten story, forgotten but real, real and empowering.
The journey inwards was taken by both, Siddhartha as well as Yashodhara. While one left the world of attachment behind, the other stayed in the midst of it all and grew like a lotus. In waiting for her dearest, in bringing up her only son, Yashodhara knew trance, living every moment and trusting herself, comprehending spontaneously.
After she met the enlightened Buddha, after her Rahul became a monk, Yashodhara did what she had prepared for, she become a Bhikkhuni (Buddhist nun); then the lotus shone brightly.
Yashodhara didn’t search for peace, she gently nurtured it within, she didn’t live in seclusion, she found herself in the celebrations. Not in a ruin, she lived in every effort of hers to learn.
Yashodhara, which means ‘bearer of glory’, got enlightened not once, but many times.
The place where the embodiment of peace, Gautama Buddha, found enlightenment was recently shaken by bomb blasts. The holy Bodh Gaya shrine became the target of those who believe in destruction. The government has started the probe and they are confident of finding the culprits. Meanwhile, the Buddhists are back to chanting and praying, back with the Lord himself.
Dhauli Shanti Stupa, Bhubaneswar, Odisha [Photo by Jagriti Rumi]
Dhauli Shanti Stupa, Bhubaneswar, Odisha [Photo by Jagriti Rumi]
Dhauli Shanti Stupa, Bhubaneswar, Odisha [Photo by Jagriti Rumi]
Dhauli Shanti Stupa, Bhubaneswar, Odisha [Photo by Jagriti Rumi]
Dhauli Shanti Stupa, Bhubaneswar, Odisha [Photo by Jagriti Rumi]
Such blasts cannot stop what Gautama Buddha started. He commenced an inward journey; a journey to find oneself, to realise the inner self and hence attain inner peace. What the confused and angry minds cannot understand (and may never understand until they end their confusion and calm down) is that what Buddha taught and left behind is not stored in a shrine or in a scripture or in any physical form.
What he left is eternal and universal. It is in nature and it is nature. It can only be felt and realised and not be touched with bare hands. It is everywhere and in everyone waiting to get recognised.
The ones who stubbornly want to fight don’t know that Buddha is in them too. Buddha is in all of us; when we act purely, correctly and truly the Buddhahood shines in us too. How can something so powerful be destroyed? How can something so true be crossed? We mere mortals can never do so; our futile attempts will only look ridiculous.
You need not worry about any evil in this world; all you need is to reach the state of Buddhahood, to let it shine in you. Radiating light everywhere you’ll then fulfil the purpose of being you.
Endless footprints following footprints/
When suddenly a few of them rise/
To bloom like a flower.
Greetings!
A storyteller, following the ancient tradition of cave chroniclers, standing in vrikshasana (the tree pose) on a hill top (it is sunny, but windy), breathing in and out stories (relishing it all, but at times overwhelmed), declares animatedly that she will continue to – tell stories, share rare story gems, and connect with the pacy universe while also keeping the website ad-free.
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Ya-hoy!
Chiming Stories (formerly Home Chimes)
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