Poems by Bhaskar Kannan

True Friends

a poem by

Bhaskar Kannan

As I stood pondering over who my true friends are
On a silent evening well past my innocent youth,
Came by the breeze with a softness above all par
And said, “I’m ever here your pangs of life to soothe.”

I looked around, beyond the verdant growth of green
At the circle of the elusive, yet, beckoning horizon
Which said, “Come, venture beyond all that’s seen!
I ever remind you that life’s work is not yet done.”

Stirred up, I strolled towards the roaring sea – and
Marvelled as it blushed at the sinking sun it’d soon meet
When a rolling wave – with a might ships can’t stand-
Rushed on to humbly say, “I’m ever here to kiss your feet.”

As darkness fell, and engulfed over the bustle of life
And I again sat down, confused and pleading for light,
The twinkling Hunter arrived above, ready for strife
Ever to help me when my inner foes I confront to fight.

As I rose up, the chime of a temple bell floated from afar,
As if to say, “Have you not the Supreme one unseen,
Who has given you all these friends? He Himself is not far
For He lives within your heart – a friend He’s ever been!”

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She’s all I know

a poem by

Bhaskar Kannan

What care do I
Be it day or night
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

Life, alas, is all surprise,
Fortunes fall, and fortunes rise;
Around, at times, are friends, nice,
Then, unkind, staring faces in a trice;
What care do I
Be it rain or shine,
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

Some look up to me as wise,
Others scorn at my many a vice;
Some do think I am very good,
Despise, certainly, a few others would;
What care do I
Be it blame or praise,
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

Work, at times, like elixir, thrills,
Often, it’s just endless toil that kills;
This body, like fire, is often aglow,
But soon, itself a disease, is laid low;
What care do I
Be it pleasure or pain,
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

Some bid me pray to chosen Gods,
The One with a discus, a mighty Lord,
Or with a trident in a graceful hand,
Or the Unseen One, even in far-off land;
What care do I
Be it man or man-lion,
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

This pen writes and having writ,
Looks for an eye that lingers on it;
May it strike a chord in a soft heart,
May it be trampled under a passing cart;
What care do I
I am just a passer-by;
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

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Not I, But Thou

a poem by

Bhaskar Kannan

Take away from me all that I call mine
In exchange for a heart that says “All’s thine”;

Take away my will, and my hurting tongue,
Grant me only that your glories be sung;

No riches, no strength, no wisdom have I,
Only petty, ill-mannered insolence have I;

Away from me, and from my narrow world,
Take me, O Lord, into Thy loving fold;

Heard I’ve, and believed, that God is near
Can’t you, my Lord, come out now and here?

I have little else to ask of Thee, my Lord,
A place at Thy feet, to me, is all, my Lord;

Take away my fame and my foolish pride,
And in want or luxury be ever by my side.

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The Poet’s World

a poem by

Bhaskar Kannan

When life looks dull without a moment’s lull,
When the heart feels bleak with no friend to seek,
When selfish, cunning men grab power and reign,
With common sense plain speaking out but in vain,
When sight of our hoary past seems totally lost
In the fast, mad pace of today’s rude rat-race,
When heart’s fond hope hits but a downward slope,
When the hands feel tied against the rotten tide,

I drift into the poet’s world full of simple joys of old-

Where great works of art never fail to touch the heart
Such as the cuckoo’s sweet call heralding the calm of fall,
Or the great bright orb’s rise that melts even hills of ice
And the gentle breeze that makes daisies dance with ease,
Where poor Spartan garb of dress does of nobility impress
And about which such converse is printed in golden verse
Where pride turns humble to fathom the great Truth simple
Where all one does life-long is to sing God’s grand song,

Oh! What a nice great world this, that many of us, alas, miss!

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Life

a poem by

Bhaskar Kannan

Life just flies,
It tarries not,
So wake up, arise
To act your part.

When just a boy
Or a sprightly girl
Play and enjoy
All whirl and swirl.

When put to school
To read and write,
Learn well to pool
All wits upright.

When love beckons
As it soon will,
Use all your sense,
Still enjoy the thrill.

When yoked to work
Apply heart and soul
Without wail or sulk
Nor just for the dole.

When a mate comes
To share your fate,
Life soon becomes
An unclear mandate.

Soon learn to share
Your joys, sunshine,
And hide the stare
Of dark, dull pain.

Leave not aside
In rumble and tumble
Your pure, true stride
Noble, yet humble.

Try best to play
As many a role
As put in your way
By the childlike Soul.

Be a son or brother
Or daughter or sister
A father or mother
Or, well, a step-sister

Or a friend, beloved
Or a caring neighbour
Or a citizen proud
With fiery fervour.

If your ever find
Yourself as you act,
Confused in the mind
Or losing cool tact

Just relax and remind
Yourself in every scene
Every day is ordained
By the One unseen.

Learn thus to live
Hesitant ever to receive
Eager ever to give
And never sad to leave

This stage called life
For the nobler one,
The real, true Life
Near the Only One.

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Good Cheer

a poem by

Bhaskar Kannan

When gloomy, dark clouds fill up your sky,
Look up with courage – not just down;
Only then will you see the lively dragonfly,
Light as a feather, hover around.

When the path you tread looks too dark,
Fear not – but do keep up your pace;
Soon you’ll find the glow-worm’s spark
To keep company on your lonely ways.

When friends betray and near ones depart,
Close your eyes – but do look within;
The One who’s ever played the major part
Lives not around, but deep within.

When left uncared for – a lone dreary soul,
Lose not your heart – but push on awhile;
For success or glory is never a loftier goal
Than to be with ever a content, sweet smile.

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India

a poem by

Bhaskar Kannan

India, India, is my home, my country dear,
Nay, a holy great mother to everyone here;

The land inhabited by a multitude of Gods,
Who inspire in us, lofty, sublime thoughts;

The arena of work, worship and renunciation,
Of kind St.Teresa’s work and Buddha’s salvation;

Towns, rivers and hills – far and near,
Are Gods for us! and venerated here;

Snakes and cows, and even some trees,
Are worshiped here – they give us peace;

Here it is, that the Great One taught non-violence,
He it is, that “OM, OM” broke the sea of silence;

Born here, let me live, work and die here;
If ever to return, O Mother, come back here.

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Autumn

a poem by

Bhaskar Kannan

On the dark canvas of the overcast sky,
The Great Master with a brush of green
Has painted tall trees and hills so high
Oh! Can words describe this wonderful scene!

Hush! He is still around at his work here
Adding and cutting lines of flashing white
The roar of His brush-strokes can’t you hear
Though He himself is ever out of sight?

Look! The playful breeze too is still today,
And not a chirping bird ventures to stir,
The Sun who rose early to give the day
Has also shied away before the Master.

Drink, Drink, O’ my stupid wavering mind!
Of this brimming cup as much as you can,
For, I am sure, you too will at last find
The Artist and His work are forever one.

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