 |
Shahriar Shahriari |
|
|
Poems - Inspirational - Group 3
Observing Life
The Elements (This will pass too)
Late afternoon climbing a hill
Leisurely walking, talking at will
Looking above saw the cloud
Glorious, majestic, messenger of God
White and bright, the sun was hiding
As though the sun cloud was chiding
Yet the sun's beams orderly shining
Skirting the cloud's silver lining
For a few minutes it hung in the air
Then the upper winds the sky did repair
The sun uncovered, the sky was restored
Cloud went away, there was no discord
Mazda and I observed this affair
It raised our spirits above earthly care.Early that evening dark clouds came
Indian rains of monsoon fame
First a few drops, weak and lame
Wetting my head and my frame
Then a deluge, desert to tame
Even dowsing hell's own flame.
Descending the hill in the rain
Wet to the bones, yet no pain
In spite of raindrops' whipping cane
Cool and joyous we remain.
Within moments a stream
Like an unforgiving dream
Following our footsteps down the hill
Quickly all the low places fill
Under the shelter there we stood
Pausing and praying all we could.Into the rickshaws climbed in threes
Huddled up sheltered from the breeze
Rickshaw started with unease
Cold wet wind my arms would freeze
Wet were my feet, up to my knees
Drenched and cold hardly could sneeze.
As the deluge continued on
From the night sky's dark frown
Small puddles into lakes
Small ripples giant wakes
The rickshaw kept wheeling on
Its tattered roof half a crown
Doorless, its seats dirty brown
I was concerned not to drown.
To my companions I held on tight
A warm body restoring my might
My other side frozen white
With elements began to fight
Hypothermia was my fright
A hot shower, heavenly delight.
Now and again I glanced aside
Other vehicles also tried
To reach home or else hide
From this wrath desert wide.
Through puddles and lakes we went
Such miracle was heaven sent
On my mental knees I bent
Prayed for a change, a small dent.
While the rickshaw lakes traversed
It sprayed and splashed I guessed
With my own eyes this I test
Like a boat upon the crest
The wheel sprayed and splashed around
A dancer's tutu, outward bound
Raised the waters from the ground
To the rainstorm's beating sound.The rain stopped moments before
We arrived at our front door
Wet we were all to the core
Frozen, in pain, tired, sore
With words I shall not you bore
Though I can say much much more.Then the skies cleared once more
All the stars we could adore
Streets again full like before
Vendor, driver, soldier, whore.I looked and thought. what I found
Was the sun warming the ground
White clouds moving around
Chasing the sun, fox and hound
Dark clouds the earth surround
Bright lightening and thunder frowned
Shaking the ground with resound
Drumming raindrops' beating sound
Heavenly deluge earthward bound
Seasonal clocks of desert wound
Again the clear skies I found
Heavens opening up to the ground.What I see is no matter what
From the heavens becomes my lot
I can say that this will pass too
Just as for me, so too for you.© Shahriar Shahriari
Vancouver, Canada
May 4, 1997Dedicated to my travel companion Mazda
I can't wait to have a guest
Who will put my knowledge to test
Of my own town. A tourist
Who will bring out his list.
On going places insist
Of which my knowledge is least.
This is a chance for me to go
Places that I did not know
In my own town exist;
I am the local tourist.Of my own life I wonder
What has remained under
The cloudy mist, and I resist
To visit as a local tourist.© Shahriar Shahriari
Vancouver, Canada
June 6, 1997
I met a lady, eighty three
Traveling the world, roaming free
Her ambition was then to be
A student of philosophy.I met a man, thirty eight
Who had grown weak of late
Without a friend, without a mate
Ready to go through the pearly gate.And what is age, what is disease
Old woman young, young man old is
A thunderstorm, or life is a breeze?
While one life melts, the other would freeze.So to the gods, on bended knees
I prayed for joy, health and ease
Hardship desist, misery cease
I mouse, life cheese, I beg Thee please.© Shahriar Shahriari
Vancouver, Canada
June 6, 1997
I'm told going with the flow
Is not, as far as I know,
Haplessly drifting like a twig
Small, or a log that is big;
Small eddies trap the twig
Big whirlpools, for logs graves shall dig
Drifting and flowing are different things
One silently screams, while the other sings.Effortlessness is to drift
Flow is focusing on your gift
Drifter accepts each instance
Idle victim of circumstance;
Follow your bliss and go with the flow
Through your efforts joy will grow.© Shahriar Shahriari
Vancouver, Canada
October 19, 1997
My body's parts, head, heart, hand and hind
If any is hurt, all of them I'll find
Uncomfortable, affected, hurt, in pain
Hurting of one part, all of them disdain.Of one body too is humankind
With many organs but of one mind
If one is hurt, even if one grain
The pain is passed on, like links in a chain.Or ecosystem, abrasively we grind
Thoughtless about the inner bind
Among species. Uncontrolled and insane
We sever the carriages in this earthly train.The mystics tell us that we are blind,
All is one, though different in kind.
We stop and ignore the bloody stain;
If one is killed, none will remain.The hand that stabs its own heart
Will kill itself, and tear all apart.
To make amends we must now start
To become aware, a new course chart.© Shahriar Shahriari
Vancouver, Canada
November 18, 1997
© , 1997-2005. Vancouver Canada, & Los Angeles, CA
All rights reserved.
This page was last modified on Thursday, September 30, 2004 .
