temple gate:
the wind gets in faster
than the devotees
Published by
Kala Ramesh
Kala Ramesh is a performing vocalist in Indian Classical music. Coming from an extremely artistic and culturally rich South Indian family, Kala believes -- as her father is fond of saying -- that "the soil has to be fertile for the plant to bloom" and feels that she owes this poetic streak in her to her mother. A proud mother of two young adults, Kala lives with her husband in Pune, India.
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21 thoughts on “”
Your ku is splendid, Kala… This one was born during a trip in Ladakh:
kala, your words caused me to pause these past few days.
resonating, merging, so true and yet aren’t both these terms going hand-in-hand in life; i ponder, might i say through life…
but at first glance they seem to oppose.
then, there’s my perceiving freedom in life.
…stream free flowing
blossoming trees
this day i bow to thee
Resonance and merger are like the waxing and the waning of the moon. . . which is life itself!
Just out of curiosity – How much about India do you know?
I remember you had quoted a Sanskrit verse once and now its Vande Mataram!!
I’m truly impressed.
kala, i can’t quantify my knowledge; look toward the stars, while remembering tadpoles in spring. who knows their exact number, but i’m sure one does exist
–
cold winds cross
the brahmaputra
the lauhitya, warm my heart
–
this gurgling sound-
my bhullam-buthur
—
the more one learns, the more one realizes there is to learn. these days, i dream of ignorance’s bliss.
“verumkai enbathu moodathanam, un viralgal pathum mooladhanam”
there is nothing called empty hands. you always have 10 fingers in it
—
kala,
muddy roads i’ve followed, jostling buses ridden, smelled sweat to rivalled a rose, traversed decades; given time we learn, over the course of time, time shows it being a timely loan.
–
mantra, chanting
cross green paddy…
my deliverance
Your ku is splendid, Kala… This one was born during a trip in Ladakh:
temple drums
small children play
with a bottle
Kala,
_You’ve brought to mind:
things of nature
never wait
with their disciples
_ Kala, again your words are prized.
tnx, -M
that`s a good haiku!
dawn:
steady downpour
fails to dampen my day
First Confession—
a nun hurries children
past the garden
Temple’s bells-
the wind carries on its wings
their echo
angelus bells …
this wind puts their call
in my face
Excellent, absolutely adore the haiku!
temple bells:
child jumps to reach
echoes slip away
Imaginative, evocative. It grows on me. Fine haiku.
Dear haiku lovers,
Thanks a ton!
I greatly enjoyed reading the comments and your resonant haiku
– warmly,
kala
good morning kala,
funny how my mind works; i was going to say strange. lol
from your acknowledge this came to mind, this rainy morn:
thanks, a bunch
of yellow-rayed sunflowers
Good morning Bob,
How are you?
Ha! your response provoked this one below-
like you’ve noted life is about resonating but it can also be all about merging?
black butterfly. . .
caught within the house
becomes one with night
kala, your words caused me to pause these past few days.
resonating, merging, so true and yet aren’t both these terms going hand-in-hand in life; i ponder, might i say through life…
but at first glance they seem to oppose.
then, there’s my perceiving freedom in life.
…stream free flowing
blossoming trees
this day i bow to thee
(Vande Mataram)
Bob,
Of course – You are right!
Resonance and merger are like the waxing and the waning of the moon. . . which is life itself!
Just out of curiosity – How much about India do you know?
I remember you had quoted a Sanskrit verse once and now its Vande Mataram!!
I’m truly impressed.
– warmly,
kala
kala, i can’t quantify my knowledge; look toward the stars, while remembering tadpoles in spring. who knows their exact number, but i’m sure one does exist
–
cold winds cross
the brahmaputra
the lauhitya, warm my heart
–
this gurgling sound-
my bhullam-buthur
—
the more one learns, the more one realizes there is to learn. these days, i dream of ignorance’s bliss.
Bob, I agree with you here-
A beautiful proverb in Tamil:
what is learnt
is a handful of sand
what is not learnt
is as big as the world
Please note the use of sand – mud stays in the hand but sand slips off through the fingers, leaving very little behind?
You write
“these days, i dream of ignorance’s bliss”
through mud roads
a jostling bus ride. . .
smell of sweat
“verumkai enbathu moodathanam, un viralgal pathum mooladhanam”
there is nothing called empty hands. you always have 10 fingers in it
—
kala,
muddy roads i’ve followed, jostling buses ridden, smelled sweat to rivalled a rose, traversed decades; given time we learn, over the course of time, time shows it being a timely loan.
–
mantra, chanting
cross green paddy…
my deliverance
Bob,
I am clean bowled . . .
Your tamil quote is beautiful
Coming back to hands even Buddha had said something like – I might have given you only a handful of knowledge but that is the essence. . .
I am truly impressed with you Bob!
-warmly,
kala
Temple gate
Wind just slides in
While humans always compete
butterfly, without colour
this autumn dawn
the leaves are turning