Bougainvillea The fiery bougainvillea cascades down The whitewashed walls of luxury hotels And on the roofs of plain adobe huts Burns in splendour challenging the sun. Festive trees are lit with brilliant hues Reaching towards the dome of heaven's skies. I have seen urns aglow with purple bracts Set against the silence of the sea In Puerta Vallarta and in Cozumel And Cuernavaca, the flower of Mexico, Spilling from tall trees in India Or on a mansion's entryway arranged In such a burst of brilliance no leaf was seen. The eye enthralled in rapture strove to hold. Those clouds of pink and gold and orange-red, If all the world should die from ma

A Surreal Place I walked alone in a dark deserted wood Where briars held the lower ground that year, Among the huge foreboding trunks I stood And found a path that seemed to disappear From the eye's pursuit into a surreal place. Earth's flowers spun upon a wheel of dust Woven on the tapestry of space, My senses failed, I could no longer trust The feel of things, solidity of form. It was as if my spirit blown and tossed In some mysterious galactic storm, Some boundary beyond time's laws had crossed Into a realm of dream that was more real Than the dream of days in which we fill our roles On this spinning globe that hardly can re

The Eyes of Love I met her in the evening of my days. No more the instability of youth Or manhood's labour to fulfil his dreams Creating in a world of impermanence Some token of his passage through the stars. The eyes of love look not at aging form Or note the retribution of the years But see behind the veil of apparent things And hold with care in consecrated hands The cup of joy each spirit represents And know beyond the turbulence of time The God-force that inhabits every heart.

Lord of the Unseen Multitudes O Lord of the unseen multitudes Beyond the singing of the stars Earth cries to thee from timeless roods To heal her suppurating scars, To cleave the evil from her soil The darkness from its hidden roots, Relieve the burden of those who toil Beneath the polished leather boots The swastika, the devil's sign, And hatred like a noxious brew That scalds and mars the gifts divine, Retains the old, condemns the new And evil breeds beneath the sun. We cry to thee transcendent one.

The Serpent March 12, 2012 A shiver perhaps but absent fear Or fear controlled, for what we learned In childhood of the serpent's bite In memory's banks quiescent lurks, But if we knew the power and force To move without appendages Lightning fast and tightly coiled Another vision would we hold No longer to be crushed as foe, Respected now and oft revered A symbol seeking through the world His place among eternal things.

Song of the Wren A solitary wren upon a bough Above my head began to sing for me. He looked so deeply in my eyes I thought Is this a bird or a departed soul Come back to visit at the dusk of day? This wonder of speckled brown that sweetly trilled Invited me in turn to make reply. Thanking him for his gifts I sang to him A poorer imitation of his song And back and forth in the slowly fading light Our music echoed across the silent lake. Then suddenly another voice began And turning around my friend began to sing To his fair love the tune he sang for me.

Recreate the Beauty We Have Lost O soul we live in precincts of the mind, Suburban thoughts and deeds our daily fare And petty acts to justify the self, Yet we are more than mere automatons Moving through a fated life towards death, And though we fall and fail and fall again Behind apparent ills and mortal flaws A voice immortal sings within this clay Urging us to find the song we are And live the light that glows within each breast That the eyes of love unblinded by desire Might look upon this world and joy renew By a vision-force empowered to create And recreate the beauty we have lost.

The Body of Mother India Jan. 18, 2011 From my balcony this much I see, A tiny temple with its priest enshrined. The Pongal celebration has begun. On the street the ladies bent in half With mathematical accuracy design Kolams of exquisite form with ease, Colourful and transient they last But a day or two brightening this world So strewn with refuse that it hurts to see The body of Mother India so abused. Perhaps a time will come and consciousness Grown aware of the sacredness of earth Will spur the soul and beauty manifest, A higher man descend, a guardian Who sh

A Bearer of Her Grace I would have held, enfolded you in love Till time itself dissolved in nothingness And the great stars fell from the vaults of space. I would have kissed you with all tenderness But I did not; with a steel-like self-control I held back all the longing of my heart, The years of sorrow empty and alone, The hope that on this earth no more apart To be, but know again lost happiness. You are not of this world, beyond my view Your soul leans low to bless me with its light And helps me find a deeper faith anew. O gentle spirit with your sweet embrace I see in you a bearer of Her grace.

Service In the morning when the golden flowers fall And in the stillness of the afternoon Or evening when You hear our silent call Asking for that sole and priceless boon, Our prayers with incense rise throughout the tree. It seems as if the earth aspires here And Truth's descent shall surely set us free Bathed in the Samadhi's atmosphere. This kingly trunk, these branches signify Service first to God and then to race. O come to us Transcendent One we cry Nothing can we achieve without the Grace. This world is a divinely chosen place, The home of light in gold eternity.