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Showing posts with the label Poetry Exude

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Menchu of Menchuna: A Hidden Gem in Tobesa, Punakha

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Nestled in the serene village of Menchuna, Tobesa, Punakha, lies the mysterious and historical site of Menchu. As its toponym may suggest, Menchuna is a place where tradition and nature intertwine in fascinating ways. Once renowned for its medicinal hot springs, Menchu has a story that reflects both the resilience of its people and the enduring allure of its natural gifts. Here’s a journey into the intriguing tale of Menchu and its place in the heart of Bhutan. The Legacy of Menchu: A Once-Prominent Hot Spring Menchu was once celebrated as a revered hot spring, its waters believed to hold remarkable healing power with medicinal as well mineral properties. For centuries, the people of Bhutan trekked to Menchuna, as it is ideally situated near traditional Punakha-Thimphu trek trail. The hot springs, with their mineral-rich waters, were a vital source of therapeutic relief, providing solace and healing to countless visitors. The Struggle and the Change However, as is often the case with p
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A Melon at Rukubji

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Rukubji As I dissolve among the ordinary Drinking the ecstasy of sublime thoughts, Burrowing through what-ifs, and Rejoicing the best in my mind, I re-make myself every day. As I spread the deed, With no ego of having nor fear of not having I offer this chunk of melon To the deity of Pelela Who opens the door to scenic Rukubji,  I offer this chunk of melon To the serpent of Rukubji Who once slithered through the valley, I offered this chunk of melon To the omnipresent Pema Who pinned down the snake demon,  I offer this chunk of melon To the divine Kinley Who blessed the valley with mastered, I offer this chuck of melon To the red-cheek beauties of Rukibji Who shines the valley with unique art. In my humble offering May I find more solace, and May Omteng Tshomem bless them more. Lake below Palela (not Omteng Tso) Read More Here
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Lost

Even at our best, we lose. Our busiest business is of course to search for the lost Sometimes, we lose buffalo we have. At other times we lose buffalo that is ours. We even lose the buffalo we don't have. We search them all. Tediously? Oh No!  Joyfully... Only to lose ourselves
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My Sacred Self

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In the drab domesticities of ordinary  I dilute my sacred self over and again. Bullied by goals and hollow aspirations The gifts and possibilities are killed. The negated goodness of self, Scattered under the carpet of perspectives, Endures the struggle to preserve. Self, the temple of divine, Conquered by curse of pounding thoughts, Given itself to the earthly drug and dirt, Relishes harboring a will of its own. Sanctity of self, Denied of his supremacy in pretense And falsification of worthiness, Verity of sacredness is devoured by denial. Sanctity is consoled as bereaved. Yet, this scared self, Pushes himself to being, Seeks to empower his weakness, Beckon the truth, Radiate the power to heal, Redeem the sanctity, and Reclaim the honor To restore the scared self. Note : This poem has no formal format and does not follow any standard.
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Reading

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As the clouds are preparing its downpour.  Here I stand, Under the ramshackled gazebo, roofed from thatch and hays, Grossly engrossed  In my silly understanding of the noble text. Here I stand,  Amidst the buzzing flies tolerating insect bites, Grossly engrossed  In the interpretation and misinterpretation of humankind. Here I stand, In the friendship of majestic stupa, listening to the humming tunes of flattering flags,  Grossly engrossed In remembering and forgetting what I read.
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Prayer

Such valour Candour and colour Bless I- A lesser man More mountains to scale Amidst adversities and adversaries Beacon I- Of dreams and inspiration Passion and diligence The grippling trade mark of triumps Culture it- Deep to the blood and veins. Bless more I, a lesser man.
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Story of westbound love and eastbound traveler

Foothing all through, The eastbound traveler Banked his trust to the lone road, Befriend soulful songs, Went seeking alms, Begging, Improvished.
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Meta Moment at Chorten Kora (June 26, 2018)

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Eyes of Compassion Lord I shall wilfully submit my woeful self To thy gaze that shines sympathy Defrost my sinful soul to it's quintessence and clarity. Lord Grant my soul This moment of mind over matter Let it be fertile and convertible Hereon Everyday The Holy Chorten Kora Stupa
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