Just how did the writer in me get born?

When drippings from a touched soul find their way in writing
A poet is born

When the beauty is undying and the joy so fulfilling
A poem is born

When feelings are heart wrenching and clarity is killing
A poem is born

When a surge comes as discomfort and words pour out
A writer is born

When the harmony felt is such that there is no choice but rhyme
A poem is born

When made-up words bring meaning and no-rhyme verse feels musical
A poetry is born

When living alive to feelings, words come to life
A writer is born

When clarity becomes more intense than the pain that afforded it
A writer is born

When no human around can suffice to contain the expression
A poetry is born

When a release is looking to flow out at an unearthly hour
A writer is born

When words choose the person as if a channel
A writer is born

When none can be planned to rhyme or reason
A poet is born

When human spirit gets broken to million-times-ten pieces, yet finds beauty
A poet is born

When Life decides to peel back layers of truth down to the core
A writer is born

When each level of façade is stripped down to bare soul
A writer is born

When all the suffering was a gift, lived through or let through
A writer is born

When there is no knowing if there is more from where it came from
A writer is reborn

When it comes from a place that is hard to own
A writer is born

When the essence of being is wrung out in best expression
A poetry is born

When it feels like a soft glove over the brutal thing
A poetry is born

When the loneliness in truthfulness is more than can enjoy yet
A writer is born

When inspirations come out of nowhere as if universal cues
A poet is born

Every story a writer writes may not be the writer’s story
But then the writer lives within herself
A thousand lives or the stories of lifetimes
Often that of all of humankind

So if you can just rest
In the drippings of the writers’s soul
Momentarily let go off the sufferings you insist on
A writer would feel content for being born.

Precious…Is all there Is

Precious
Is this moment
Is this day
Is this life
All as you know it will pass

Precious
Is the relation
With yourself
With all around you
All as you know can change

Precious
Is your pursuits
Is your accomplishments
Is your contentment
All as you know will change

Precious
Is your humanness
In all imperfection
Is no need for perfectness
All that you strive for will come

Precious
Is the lesson
Is the opportunity
Is the message
All the experiences that they bring

Precious
Is the choice of joy
Is the choice of love
Is the choice of conscience
All that you do become blessings

Precious
Is all compassion
Is all gratitude
Is all forgiveness
All those you know and for self

Precious
Is the peace
Is the pure space
Is that nothingness
All that you keep is what you become

Precious
Is being your true self
Is the courage in being so
Is the freedom from living  as another
All that you have got always is YOU

P.S. This post is a contribution to ForgivingFridays, a wonderful blog that is a soothing peaceful presence in this space. Thank you Debbie! I offer this composition to forgive every time I fail to acknowledge the preciousness of all there is!

Truth

To sustain on truth alone
Is the strength of the ones lone

When some innate trust is broken
Ground underneath as if is shaken
They become unafraid to be on their own

With courage once won the morbid
They learn not to depend on anything extrinsic
To be able to feel rock solid

The sweetness of life becomes known
When other such aware souls
Come their way to support and as if to affirm

Surrender to the joy of your truth lone
Never then is there a moment of feeling alone.

 

Times that become the year

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Gratitude 2016
For the rich, sometimes dark
The perfect roast of aliveness
(Are you talking of my coffee?
Asked a curious good friend
Adding a touch of funny sweetness)
For the amazing, sometimes confusing
All of them the beautiful times

Gratitude 2016
For the moments of laughter precious
Tears that washed away the vicious
Anger, sadness, agony too, I admit
For the endurance through it all, a gift
For the people I can only begin to list

Gratitude 2016
For all the sortin’ and the siftin’
Of all my wishes for the coming 17
Wishes of some conquests and quests
Of finding rest in best of self
And the best in slowness and rests
Heights of glory in mind & beyond mind
Happiness and joys of true kind

Gratitude in advance 2017
For everything I know will be fulfilled
That’s the faith I got from ’16
Ask, dream, believe, it comes
Cherish, relish, receive when it does come

All of you who touched me
With your kind presence or energy
Of your words, wishes, thoughts & gesture
No difference to me real world or virtual
I hold all of you in my intention & asking
To find peace and love and infinite living
In the year of 2017

Which one is it?

Which one is it?

Painful yet beautiful
Beautiful yet painful

Sadness with a sweet smile
Sweet smile with sadness

Tears of joy
Joy of tears

Love has attachment
True love is detachment

Memories from past
Reside in present

Past in present
Present in past

Heartful love
Longing heart

Letting go of desire
Desire of letting go

Life a wishful dream
Dream a wishful life

Journey of a lifetime
Lifetime of a journey

Perfect imperfection
Imperfect perfection

Content conclusion
Concludes contentment

Certainty always uncertain
Uncertainty always certain

Unwavered faith in Universe
Utmost support on true path

Miraculous design
Divine timing

Which one is it?

Show up with your gifts

If you think that you know someone who flaunts
Step back and see what is it that daunts
If all of us wholeheartedly express
All that we tend to repress
Show up with all the best we have
Anything that helps feel bold and suave

Imagine what a world it would be
If each one is an inspiration to thee
There’s no worry of guard against envy
We carve our existence through
Expressions of joy, material and divine too

Take time to retreat within and cultivate
That which is hidden and you can create
Look at other’s gifts as deserved to them
Our gift is our love at helm

Each one can now parade on this stage
We are the performers
We are the audience of all age
No one to flaunt
No one to daunt
Our world is ours to create …

What’s more pure?

This poem is a thought process that unfolded while I was immersed in this exact setting, on a beautiful day, lounging under the sky, admiring the mountains, when a crow flew by …

What’s more pure?
Clear blue or the flawless floating whites

Mountains unwavered green and grand
Winds blowing and flowing
Sunlight bright yet gentle on land
Sky is blue, clouds white floating

What’s more pure?
Clear blue or the flawless floating whites

The contrast of a black, a crow flying
Flight through the expanse taking
Like a sticky thought across my mind
Takes a rightful stroll of a kind
All my attention vying
The grand green mountain dutiful
Says it is only a distraction beautiful

The crow has flown away
The whites floated away
The blue feels clarity, also my mind
The whites though had a purity of a kind
Like the thoughts that pervade at times
When in a state of joy or love sublime

What’s more pure?
Clear blue or the flawless floating whites