The Modern Venus Blog

More Indian Poetry

I'm so loving my Indian Love Poems volume (see post from June 5!).  Here is another lovely little poem for you! 

"Caress"  - Sudeep Sen

Saryu,
the Zen poet wrote:

Without the brush,
The willow paints the wind.

And I replied:
`Without the brush,

my breath paints
her bare skin.'

Indian Love Poems

Today I picked up a volume called "Indian Love Poems" from the Everyman's Pocket Poet Series and edited by Meena Alexander.  It is soooo luscious and heavenly - short amazing beautiful love poems from many various centuries - including the 21st.   It is perfect for a two-minute bite of inspiration . . . for a distraction on the subway . . . to read before going to bed with your beloved.  Here is the first poem in the volume for your reading pleasure.

"My Love" from Subhashitavali of Vallabhadeva (compiled by Srivara (15th century), translated from Sanskrit by John Brough)

Although I conquer all the earth,
Yet for me there is only one city.
In that city there is for me only one house;
And in that house, one room only;
And in that room a bed.
And one woman sleeps there,
The shining joy and jewel of all my kingdom.   

Crossing over

A dear friend's father recently passed away, and it brought to mind a beautiful poem from Sri Chinmoy that I wanted to share with you all.  It is beautiful and poignant and soulful and profound.

Death is not the end
Death can never be the end.

Death is the road.
Life is the traveller.
The Soul is the Guide . . .

Our mind thinks of death.
Our heart thinks of life
Our soul thinks of Immortality.

- By: Sri Chinmoy

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.        

Happy Autumn!

Yesterday was the first official day of autumn!   
                                              
* * * *
"Autumn" by Kalidasa

The autumn comes, a maiden fair
In slenderness and grace,
With nodding rice-stems in her hair
And lilies in her face.
In flowers of grasses she is clad;
And as she moves along,
Birds greet her with their cooing glad
Like bracelets' tinkling song.
A diadem adorns the night
Of multitudinous stars;
Her silken robe is white moonlight,
Set free from cloudy bars;
And on her face (the radiant moon)
Bewitching smiles are shown:
She seems a slender maid, who soon
Will be a woman grown.
Over the rice-fields, laden plants
Are shivering to the breeze;
While in his brisk caresses dance
The blossomed-burdened trees;
He ruffles every lily-pond
Where blossoms kiss and part,
And stirs with lover's fancies fond
The young man's eager heart.

A Poem of Friendship

"A Poem of Friendship" 
    by Nikki Giovanni

We are not lovers
because of the love
we make
but the love
we have

We are not friends
because of the laughs
we spend
but the tears 
we save

I don't want to be near you
for the thoughts we share
but the words we never have
to speak

I will never miss you
because of what we do
but what we are
together

Blackred Rose Heaven

My father-in-law passed away this week at the beautiful age of 84.  What a wonderful life William Francis Talbot had -- he was the editor in chief of Samuel French publishers for decades (in fact, that is the only place where he ever worked!), had six children, and fourteen grandchildren!   He even wrote a play that was on Broadway in the late 1960s called "Portrait of a Queen."  He was a beautiful patriarch of a  beautiful family.    His passing makes me really love this e.e. cummings poem even more:

* * * *

if there are any heavens my mother will (all by herself) have
one.  It will not be a pansy heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses

my father will be (deep like a rose
tall like a rose)

standing near my

(swaying over her
silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see

nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved my

            (suddenly in sunlight
he will bow,

& the whole garden will bow)

   -e.e. cummings

i carry your heart - e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

- ee cummings

"Poets to Come" by Walt Whitman

Poets To Come
    -Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

Poets to come!  orators, singers, musicians to come!
Not to-day is to justify me and answer what I am for,
But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental,
        greater than before known,
Arouse!  for you must justify me.

I myself but write one or two indicative words for the
       future,
I but advance a moment only to wheel and hurry back
      in the darkness.

I am a man who, sauntering along without fully
     stopping, turns a casual look upon you and then
     averts his face,
Leaving it to you to prove and define it,
Expecting the main things from you.