Holy Trine

From where, in the beginning emerged
The Universe; and in the end where embedded
All these planets, skies and oceans
Rivers, dales and tall mountains
Colours, scents and flavours
Charms of all shapes and forms
Grace of every phenomenon
Seen, sensed and savored
As part of every day routine
Ever imagined thou! Their origin
That power pool of eternal blaze
The source and sorbent in one
Lo! It is the holy trine! Mother divine!
Not just the woman! A mortal effigy
Oppressed under hombre hoofs
But know her as sacred pneuma
Take my word! All my fellow men
Whatever be her worldly nomen
Sister, daughter, wife or mistress
She is always the Holy Mother

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poem by Sathya Narayana
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At The Brink

“Few more strides into rival site; fight! Fight!
Yelled a lieutenant, “Conquest’s within our sight”

“Few more mouthfulls of ale; let me guzzle, guzzle”
Craved a carouser, “I’m at the edge of the azure”

“One more joker in the deck; let me bet! Bet!
Hoped a gamester, “I’m going to hit jackpot”

“More billions in coffer; let me earn! Earn! ”
Yearned a magnate, “I’ll soon be number one”

“One more cute woman; let me try! Try”
Vied a wooer, “My grand hundredth prey”

“Awful are human wiles; I can’t deal! Heal! ”
Riled Almighty “I crawl into the Black hole”

Slimy borders shake you, shock you; strain! Drain!
Gain on with guts; lest back to square one! Again! ! ! !

poem by Sathya Narayana
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Two Friends

We are two friends of oppugnant thoughts
I’m of thorough religious mind and faith
And he; an authoritative dialectician
Yet of one inseparable yoke we are
Of tolerance like two sides of one coin;
With uberrima fides in each other’s
Virtues, wisdom and benevolence

When collide with each other, our staunch notions
Emit out new fragrances of nascent philosophies
A bit clear and a lot: unintelligible glimmer
Leading us yet, slowly towards unknown horizons
Of unfamiliar truths and astounding revelations
But we know one day sure we can dispel
All the ridiculous litter remnant in us and
Clutch firmly the silken threads of Absolute; fistfuls
And expound to the whole world
Our all new ‘ultimate gospel’

(Dedicated to Rajan)

poem by Sathya Narayana
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Unsaintly

Two saints on a long journey
Towards some unknown destiny
On their way met a pretty houri
At the riverside of Kaveri
She prayed them humbly
“Oh! Hermits holy! Can you take me
To the other side of Kaveri”
The younger saint said with fury
“Don’t you see oh lady?
We are saints! Don’t touch thy body!
But the older saint said kindly
“Oh! Young lady
Climb my shoulders! I’ll carry”
Crossed the river all the three
The girl left the company
Saints resumed their odyssey

After a long walk silently
Burst out the young saint wildly
“You have done something unsaintly

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Golden Lotus

Wandering in wilderness; my friend
What are you looking for?
The golden lotus
With thousand petals?

Look out! The Satanic flames
Are burning the woods
Reaching the tarns
Parching the waters
Leveling the lakes
To desiccated mud cakes
Razing down the paths
Off their identity
Spitting the venom of sin
Every where
But, be not skeptic my dear
For the surrounding enigma
Is just superfluous
And what is lost is not yours
Remember the truth; the path is

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Galaxies Are Lampooning

Blossomed human acumen
Brokered what? A broken Earth!
Caveman became a craving man
To Creator’s regret

Tied tight rights around mien
Carved out lines between man and man
Made canons and framed bastions
Yet felt not safe; built deadly weapons! !

Running away galaxies lampoon
“Free cruisers we are in the endless Empyrean!
No fetters to stop free fly in our infinite vistas
And no bounds to our celestial caravan!
No need to take passports and visas
And no rules of emigration”

“With love-Ambrosia God made us all
We sip it all along; sparkle and sprawl
Basking ever, in its eternal elation!

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Holy Blunder

Clouds in the skies; clouds in the skies; clouds, clouds
Clouds in the skies; some clustering; some cluttering
Some straying; some strewing; all in one yonder
Like free floating vices and flouted virtues

Amongst myriad murky Stygean stratus
One cumulus, shining bright and smiling white
Like a lucky rich man amongst fated poor
Leering, jeering, raving in sway and sashey

“My one misdirected beam made him gleam”
Bemused waning God Sun, “how this happened
Of one breed are all clouds; running in them same
Vapour-blood; façade is due to my light shed”

“Oh! Idiotic white clouds! This is not good!
Don’t swagger because of my one holy blunder
On the day apocalyptic winds wiggle
Every cloud has to melt down into drizzle”

poem by Sathya Narayana
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Jayahoo

Sipped he, music with his mother’s milk
Mum and music notes; he liked alike
His playful childhood he toddled over bands
Of fiddles and keyboard glockenspiel

Stood at last as a proud victor
On the world-pedestal of original score
Hoisting Indian genius and glory high in skies
Flaunting and fluttering in tri-color pride and
Free flying doves of dreams that came true

Carrying on his shoulders double Oscars
Walking in style, he, on the musical road he paved
Vanguarding millions of Indian youth
Shouting ‘Jayaho’, ‘Jayaho’; Praying
‘Maa thujhe salaam’, Ma thujhe salaam
Bowing to Mother India as a worthy son
Offering his supreme win as lovely psalms

(Original Telugu poem by: Perugu Ramakrishna)

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Deadlock

Mother! Tell me what is behind those doors
Late father averred there is a treasure
A microcosm of whole world’s splendour
An extravagent elegence of nature’s allure
But warned me not to open the doors
Unless and untill I am doubly sure

Mother wept and said, “It is a deadlock
By blunders of your forefathers; did choke”

Mother tell me what is behind those doors
I hear deadly thunders, shrieks and shouts
And plangent whimpers of unseen spirits
I smell something noisome and nausiating
As if coming from a mass burning of pyres
Whenever I look at those queer doors
My heart hammers with unknown terror
Why mother? Why? Tell me! Why?
What is behind those doors?

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poem by Sathya Narayana
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New Road

There‘s no shame in exhibiting love
No fame exuding hatred
We’re both trudging through tough trough
Let us call a spade a spade

What’s a bit of land one can’t plough?
For which, we’re getting red
There’re barren bellies millions! Sow
Seeds of hope, loads of bread

Weren’t we birds of one be’utiful bough
Broke who; our nests of gold?
Few rogues commanding our bows
It‘s time high we get bold

Let us flee out of these foul rows
Of malicious folds
And make deal of ideals above
Faiths, fears, cults, creeds and God

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poem by Sathya Narayana
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