Saturday, May 27, 2023

This tree was planted in ancient soil...

 This tree was planted in ancient soil.

Its roots have dived deep.
The citadels grew around the tree
in much later times.
Braving the storms and the shifting seasons,
the tree and the citadels grew together,
casting shadows on each other.
Over time, the reins of power changed hands.
Generations came and passed
but the edifice stood and the tree watched,
standing firm and steady
through the years of intermittent sorrow and glory.
This is how hope is embedded in the soil.
It grows with time and learns to nurture the seeds,
the branches and the roots.
The edifice standing in the vigilant shadow
learns to adapt to change.
The tree, the archetype of Hope,
is the secret of the strength with which we build and shield.
No photo description available.
HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL 1

Sunday, May 21, 2023


The vial is empty
every drop of the elixir has been taken.
The sword is back to the sheath,
There is nothing that stops the river on her way.
She no longer rushes in a hurry.
She has arrived near the pilgrim's shrine;
it's just a mile away.

She is at the road's end;
She can hear her home calling.
The bells are ringing in the sanctuary.

Time for the river to enter the sea.
It's on a plateau now,
No more downfalls, no more gorges
no more narrow impatient passes.
The river is nearing the sea
That far only, up to that point
where you see an onward wave, a forward surge,
and yonder the serenity of the sea.
The river will be then the sea of oblivion.

Her sorrows were those she saw on her banks;
her joys were those of the people she met and laughed with.
The sea has a place for all of her former life, her earthly identity.
The momentum in water marks the end of the river;
the point where you see the end of the speed is the beginning of the sea;
but the sea will not be alone.
the ending of the river has enriched the sea.

Sushama Karnik
Jun 29, 2016

Saturday, May 13, 2023

Image: Zayasaikhan Sambuu, Whisper 2010| Zayasaikhan Sambuu Zaya 3...| Flickr Found on Google from

 Friends

meet by chance
on a sultry noon.
Parasols in hand.
They come in the way .
One has to shut and come near; let the other speak.
Whisper is an art, not an idle gossip.
Respect the light of the day;
respect the distance between persons.
Think and feel.
Seek a shade and respect the hearts.
Guard the candle in someone's hand.
A candle is a candle, not a baton of fire. A whisper is a whisper.
When you come near to whisper
respect the dignity of someone's life, a brief candle
in the hands of wind.
Sushama Karnik.

And these whispers and candle will never fade in true friendship. I like how your poem espouses the sublte spirit of the art work, all in nuances and shades of respect.
Image: Zayasaikhan Sambuu, Whisper 2010 | Zayasaikhan Sambuu Zaya 3… | Flickr
GOOGLE.COM
Image: Zayasaikhan Sambuu, Whisper 2010 | Zayasaikhan Sambuu Zaya 3… | Flickr
Found on Google from www.flickr.com

Friday, May 12, 2023

Paradigma d'Art'c Zayasaikhan Sambuu,

 The keeper of the day has sounded the gong.

The night is on, the light is off;
it's time to curl up in quilt and and sleep.
It's just past the midnight, not ripe yet for the day.
Toss and turn and dive deep.
Dreamtime; create myths and see them rise.
Millions of stars swirl around.
The cosmic time
in a slow rhyme.
Broken puzzles come floating in.
The night flows; does not stop.
The calendar time, more oppressive than God's.
The page of the calendar flutters and turns.
The sun is far away
but the calendar shows another day.
Sushama Karnik.
Courtesy Danielle Chany for the image.

What a marvelous poem with Time as the focal point! The evocation develops both following the softness of the repetitive, reassuring curve of cycles and the acceptance of Time as an inevitable linearity!

Monday, May 8, 2023

 A window opens into infinite sky. She rises from the rolling sea like a kiss. the red ruby and pearls shine bright against the blue sky and pigeons sit and wonder in his mind if it's real or a dream.

Sunday, May 7, 2023

 Gaye dino ka suragh le ker kidher se aya , kidher gaya wo

Ajeeb manoos ajnabi tha mujhay to hairaan ker gaya wo
Buss aik moti c chubb dikha ker , bus aik meethi c dhun suna ker
Sitara-e-shaam ban k aya , barang khwab seher gaya wo
Khushi ki rut ho k ghum ka mosam , nazar ussay dhoondti hai her dam
Wo boo-e-gul tha k naghma-e- jaan meray to dil main uter gaya wo
Na ab wo yaadon ka charh ta derya na farishton ki udaas berkha
Youn hi zra c kasak hai dil main, Jo zakham gehra tha bher gaya wo

He came from nowhere with traces of past
and disappeared without a sign when he went away.
Uncommon, strange but human was he.
He left me confounded deep within.
A fleeting vision of a pearl, he showed up and shone for a while,
He left behind a sweet lament and we, stunned and staggered,
struggled to find the secret of his haunting presence amongst us.
He came like the star of evening touching the earth
and at dawn he was gone like a fading dream.
Be it now the season of joy, be it a time of grief,
I look for him in all directions.
Call him the scent of an unknown flower,
call him the spirit of a hymn;
he has made my heart his home forever.
No longer now the sea raging with memories,
no longer a sad rain falling like dark angels,
he is just a feeble ache in the heart.
The deeper anguish healed long before.

The notes he played on his flute were like a boat that took us beyond the night He was your bard, your wakeful knight. .We saw him walk up to the lane that took him to your home
Further, we do not know.


All reactions:
Daniele Chany, Sem Xtz and 2 others

Traces of past on him he came, no one knew from where,




Monday, May 1, 2023

 The sun's choice of style today

is the green and orange of the mandarin.

The ocean's choice of words tonight 

is the one which comes of dipping 

the quill in the ink of marine blue. 

On moonless nights the stars shine

eager to jump off the sky

with auras of umbrellas flying open.

The sun, the ocean, the stars of moonless night

fated to miss the time. 

Memory of the appointed hour, the desperation to catch the train

and land there in time to have a glimpse

all this was written in the scroll

scripted by God long ago.