Hindu poet - kamalakanta - poetry
Kamalakanta was born in Burdwan India in the late 18th Century. From an early age he spoken an advantage in religion and later in life Kamalakanta established beginning into Tantric Yoga from a Tantric yogi named Kenaram Bhattacharya. His songs made him illustrious at some point in his duration and as of his fame as a soloist poet the Maharaja of Burdwan, Tej Chandra asked Kamalakanta to be his Guru. Kamalakanta became a great fan of Kali and calm many emotional and devotional love poems to the Mother.
It is said that the Divine Care for in her appearance of Mahakali desires her sincere devotees to make the greatest progress. Kali is often depicted as the great destructive force of ignorance and hostile forces. The poetry of Kamalakanta displays this heroic approach of begging Kali to abolish limitations and bondage. The poetry of Kamalakanta also displays a profound faith in his all athletic Kali.
"The earth quakes under Your leaps and bounds.
Whilst Kali is often depicted as a black and terrifying form, this conversely is just one air of hers as a destructive force of ignorance. Kamalakanta also alludes to the other characteristic of Kali as he states in his poem - "Is my Look after Exceedingly Black?"
"If She's black,
The poems of Kamalakanta and Ramprasad were later sung by Sri Ramakrishna, who himself was a great disciple of the Divine Mother. These devotional songs would often send Sri Ramakrishna into an delighted state as he became absorbed in inspection of the Divine Mother. Many of these songs are recorded in the Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna.
AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa of the black soul the soul of an antiquated civilization the background of your timid tribes.its your voice i hear africa your voice of the chatting drums your beaded drums and the royal trumpeter the metal gong of your town crieri have come to see your music dance i have heard of your eternal minstrels have i not heard of your undulation hips! i have heard an adequate amount of and have come to watch wouldn't you dance for me africaafrica here i come africa would you not show me to your tribes the timid tribes of your sweet tongues the different tongues of your honest menafrica, black soul africa tell me about your gods your gods of the sky and of the care for earth your gods of the hills and of the rivers aboundshow me to your kings africa your kings of the antediluvian dynasty the antiquated era of rusted spear and shield africa, here i come africaHEAVENLY GUESTheavenly guest heralding thunderously in its own awake pelting on men as well, the gods gathering itself drop by drop.
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem]
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [Summer of 2005]Daybreak by Lake Superior Rising out of the woods like: A swamp mist I'm before you for breakfast(at the B&B) I pace the grounds The scent of green shrubbery: Trees, flora, flowers-rain Intoxicates me- Branches like big brown arms Descend? The embankment, to the right Blue eyed, like mine-reflect From the creek beneath me (my wife says 'be careful' she went to get the camera) The greens and blues touch My face and blue jeans- Reflections mirrored like Musical notes of a symphony (I'll see them later in pictures) For now, it's daybreak In Minnesota.#813 8/26/2005Note: the author, Dennis Siluk, took his wife Rosa [me: on my birthday] to Lake Superior, this summer, and I established the main lake in the world.
As I chosen up some of the polished gemstones in the rock store I began to think about what the sand looked like ahead of they were polished. The store had numerous rocks on demonstrate performance the ahead of and after and I realized that if not you knew what you were looking for, you could by far pass by a advantageous gemstone.
Out of the eight poems provided here [all beforehand unpublished], four are Poetic Prose, a few Creative thinker [what I call Vsionary anyhow], a few Free Verse, and a few with more form and structure, more close up to the Auden style of: stanza, with a beat rhythm, and rhyme. In maxim that, I do deem all the poems are handing over a rich exchange ideas of meaning, some of them painfully close bond among pleasure and destruction.
Feelings, O How Glorious!
Sometimes we feel hard-pressed, Our backs alongside the wall; Sometimes we feel lightheaded, As if we are going to fall.Sometimes we feel fierce anger At those who abuse guns; Sometimes we feel ashamed Of how we treat God's a small amount ones.
Sleep, Dreams, and a Poem
The Incubus' Flash-lightHe looked classified my head And found a dreamHe didn't like-;As I looked back at him, I found an incubus Shinning a light(and stole this poem from him-last night).Thoughts: Dreams and Poetry: in dreams we let go of our inhibitions; in poetry we write them back out.
Hindu Poet - Kamalakanta
Kamalakanta was born in Burdwan India in the late 18th Century. From an early age he articulated an advantage in holiness and later in life Kamalakanta established admittance into Tantric Yoga from a Tantric yogi named Kenaram Bhattacharya.
Uamaks Sea [suspense: now in Spanish and English]
Delicately, my mind was selecting a hushed tune, out of the dead dark empty space surrounding me?I saw a shape on a rock, not sure who it was; I had a sensitivity though, a atmosphere call it, or second-sight; I've heard that before, not sure if I want to put a lot of belief into it, but so be it, the sensitivity and lack of feeling was there. I didn't' sense any likelihood in the moment, in the moonlit figure, meeting on the rocks, lurking, looking out into the deep.
A Atypical Place...
I wish we had met 20 years ago..
Biography of Charlotte Bronte
Charlotte Bronte (1816 -1855) Writer and Poet.Charlotte was the daughter of the Rev.
Let Your Feelings Be Your Guide
The light of all eternity shines with me now / My feelings light up my life / How I find my way is firm by them / They light my path and show me who I amWhen I was young, I felt so many effects / Then came the day when I could not stand the pain / My world was chaos then, overflowing with distress and grief / So I blocked up to guard that fragile Self withinYears would go by beforehand I could open again / I was artificial to by position ahead of my check / Life dealt me blows which I later acknowledged as my own / To arouse me to that be sorrowful deep inside my SoulI worked hard to find my way back to the Light / To that place contained by where I could feel once again / There my Heart shone forth with a brave face / And shed light on all that I had concealedNow I see how I bunged that tender-hearted Self / How I froze in the face of my lot / Troubles swirled about as a devoted font of grief / And I fell to sleep out of fearI am initiation now to the deep void surrounded by / Where I've stored all those troubles and pain / I fight my way back to that concentrate once again / So I can come forth from tip to toe and be trueMy life moves advance as of this day / When I committed to discovery my true Self / I've engaged all conduct of demons on this journey / To come again to that Basis deep insideI wish for life to fill me now and bring all it can / I am dehydrated for come across and for cyst / I want bestow assets from my Soul to fill me / So that I can truly enjoy all that I beholdThis work is every now and then arduous as I have erudite / But no more than any task requiring Love / This journey enriches me with its end / And fills me with Life and SoulThis is my gift to myself, my own holy Soul / To have, to hold and to consider / This Heart that bled is now medicinal its wounds / And can flourish again from what Life bringsLet there never be a benefit to where hurts cramp me up / And fill me with acidity and pain / I am awake now, yes, and can move ahead / To be glad about all that Life has assignedOh glory to you, my Sweet Soul, for advent this day / I thank you from the base of my Heart / We two can sing all together the praises of Love / That take us ahead on this journey all through timeNever let it be said that one so deserving / Could not find his or her way Home / All whom will abide by shall see this Light in turn / And know that their journey can be wonI take you with me now, my Sweet Soul / For you are here in my hands / Where I can see you / And together, we can be so bold"Move on," you say to me. "Move on, my love / The Light needs for us to do so" / And my Heart sings with the potential / So that "Yes" is the fulfil I can render with easeMy Heart is full with Love and joy in this jiffy / Knowing that I am with you, my Soul / My feelings tell me you are there and continually were / Till that sleep came over me ahead onBy development to your touch do I know You / And find my own truth there in your eyes / You show me all through Love what my drive can be / I am inspired by this alert designI am content we are here together, in this life / I am contented that our love is so biting / For now I can reach you, my Sweet Soul Awe-inspiring / When you call to me from deep contained by my HeartI have your key Dear, and know this to be true / That you and I are evermore to be born / In this life or another, we join with each other / And We Soar .
How to Write Bad Poetry
"All bad poetry springs from authentic feeling."--Oscar WildePeople write poetry for a glut of reasons, but this condition has a sharpened arrowhead aimed at once at the fingertips of amateur poets who wish to be available yet garbage to learn the attributes of a well-crafted poem.
Three Poems: Liberty, Death, and a Frog [with Commentary on Liberty]
Frog SummerSummer grows hot, for the New-blooded frogs; The bugs are thin, yet the Frogs stay fat, young and sassy. In these palsy times-they Only listen, as we dry up away.
The Ballad of: Brawling Mad-dog Sergeant Rook [Now in: SPANISH and English]
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?Nam Were before a live audience cards, singing songs; In a solo-room, back of the hut Lay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And scrutiny from a distance Was his sidekick, Physical Cook.When out of the night, he wantedTo fight This bully of six-foot-two Dog-drunk, smelling like a skunkI hunted to fight him too.
Lamenting Poetic Moods [six Poems]
Advance: in Mr. Siluk's poetry one finds symbolist values, deep impressions; verbal magic and even childish jingles; at times the all the rage 8-syllable verse (ballad metre).
A Happiness Poem
If a happiness poem could bring forth a smile, Then my face would at all times dress in style.If my ears could hear my cpu screen, From one to another, they, too, would grin.
now is not the time to open open that great door again not the time to be more tolerant not the time to play to winnow is not the time for justice evolution mercy choices not the time to pet the puppies yipping with pathetic voicesnow is not the time for kindness not the time for compromise not the time for loving blindness not the time to close my eyesnow for one too many people not that i have gained no good heart has sown but flesh is reaping tears to mind and emaciated bloodnow my inner wolf seeks equals only those whose chords can howl deadly whether lone or social defending young or on the prowltell me not that you would die upon the spines of my displeasure live for me and for you will i cherish each cell as if a treasureput me not exclusive a cage but roam with me because of snow and sun be by my side or breathe my dust for i shall bleed again for noneNiki Lasher Artist, Writer, and Webmatron http://www.kthulah.
The Treasure of Catalina Huanca (In English and Spanish)
Note: on paper after as the a small amount adobe 16th century cathedral San Sebastian, in San Jeronimo, by the mountains of Huancayo, Peru, after being taken there by the Wandering Quechua guide, Enrique (4-13-2005).The Treasure of Catalina HuancaWritten by Dennis L.
Writing Innovative Poetry
Writing innovative poetry, the kind of poetry that honest literary journals publish, entails deliberate faithfully what each word of a poem does to the reader. A good poem must be evocative, skillful, and cohesive, but ahead of attempting to hone these attributes, a ability poet be supposed to be clued-up of the a range of forms and attributes of contemporary poetry.
Four Poems: Two for the Devil, Two for Peru
Here is some witty poetry (not sure if that is the accurate word: witty, but it will do): one poem on the Aztec year 2012, a year that has been in the public's eye quite a lot; one on cloning, and the biblical end time events--which, if I may add seems ripe for the monster measures that are said to take place; and two poems commerce with some tradtions of Peru; one imparticular, on vacationing, where not to go; all the makings for some thought.Aztec BabyOn December 25, 2012 AD The Devil had an idea- He'd clone himself In the form of a baby; Called the Antichrist.
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