Friday Haiku: Dreaming of Heaven

Dreaming  of heaven

All nonbelievers to hell

Faithful cries out loud

*****

Only one I see

A heaven on earth for all

Heaven is sterile

*****

The light shines on me

You  have colors of the rainbow

Why need monochrome

***

Light everywhere

One and same for all creatures

The fools disagree

*****

An wink and a smile

Embrace the diversity

Heaven, dream no more

Scattered Snippets

I wrote a Hindi poem couple of days back and shared with my friends, many of them whose mother tongue is Hindi.  As none of them came after me with an ax, I dared to translate it to English and post today.  I am also attaching the original Hindi poem here. I am sure some of my readers, whose mother tongue is Hindi, may find fault with my Hindi.  My apologies.

Scattered Snippets

O’ love, cruel oppressor mine,
Ask me not
Where leads my path.
Home, I left for you
Heaven or hell
Does not matter now, Continue reading “Scattered Snippets”

Earth, neither Hell nor Heaven

Neither afraid of hell,
Nor enamored of heaven,
I am that fallen angel
Whose wings were cut,
Sent down as punishment
To mend,
To break my free spirit,
Make me toe the line.

Oh, how I love
Where I am!
I soar with the eagles,
Hunt with the hawks,
Roam with lions,
Go where angles
Fear to go.

For ages they have tried
In vain to throttle my voice,
Maimed, tortured, killed,
Took out my tongue,
Broke my hand.

But my spirit,
That free spirit
Remained free.
Not afraid to dream,
Not afraid to soar.

For every drop of blood that fell,
Thousands of free spirits were born.
Shut down one and another would roar.
Neither fear of hell,
Nor indebtness to heaven
Will keep us shackled,
Afraid we are not,
For we are the free spirits
Born to soar.

Neither hell nor heaven
Can take away our love.
This earth is the one we have,
This earth is the one we dearly hold,
Will fight for her with all we have.
Succeed we will, perish we will not.

Faith, Creation and Creator

Rose is a rose
By any other name
Creator, not sanctioned by
One’s own faith
Why is not the same

Losing our faith
We stopped seeking
Finding solace in miracles
Allowing us to be fooled
By afterlife’s dreams

Lured by promise
Of redeeming our souls
Of a heaven unseen
We sold ourselves
Committing the original sin

Peddlers of faith
Conquered and plundered
In the name of the creator
Rained unspeakable destruction
Offer us salvation

Where did we go wrong
We all of different faith
Enjoy the same creation
But with daggers drawn
Defend our creator’s name

Manipulated by the unscrupulous
Mortgaging our brains
We dance, celebrating division
In our creator’s name
Who says creator not the same

For a Heaven Peddled

For a God unseen
We sacrifice
Those who need ours
We leave them
To mercy of God
Indoctrained from childhood
We offer prayers
And fill the coffers
Of those
Whose business is
The soul of mortals
Who amongst us
Has seen afterlife
For a heaven peddled
We mortgage our present
And create hell
On earth
While the custodians
Of morality
Turn a blind eye
As the powerfuls
Bend the rules
They have sold
Their souls
And tangoed with
The devil
Offering balms
To our tortured souls
If politics makes
Strange bedfellows
Religion is not
Far behind

Standing up to injustice is the only solution

‘That you, in the dim coming times,
May know how my heart went with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.’ —W.B. Yeats

The roads are littered with gold, they said
Hard work and belief in oneself if one possess
Enough to make a new life, they merrily proclaimed
Come one and come all, we will all progress

El Dorado it was not, didn’t matter to folks
A hard working lot, they not afraid to work
Melting pot of civilizations, they wrote the songs
Built roads to carry produce, beef and pork

New immigrants not like us, they say it’s wrong
Coming in hordes stealing our jobs and bread
Something is rotting in heaven, stench is strong
Skeletons brushed under the rug poking their head

Time to stand up, trouble brewing in the horizon
Standing up to injustice is the only solution


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Thirteen

 

 

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