སྐྱོ་བ་ཡིད་ལ་ལྷང་ལྷང་འཁོར་བའི་རྩོམ།།

 

ཡར་ལ་ཡར་གྱི་རི་ལ།།

མེ་ཏོག་ཨེ་ཏོ་མེ་ཏོག།

སེར་སྦྱང་རི་དགས་རང་རྣམས།།

དགའ་ཞིང་འདི་ལ་འཁོར་དང་།།

                                                        དུས་བཞི་དབྱར་གྱི་དུས་ལ།།

                                                        མེ་ཏོག་ཆརཔ་ཀྱིས་བརྡུང་དང་།།

                                                        དགུན་དུས་བསིལ་གྱིས་བསྡམས་ནས།།

                                                        མེ་ཏོག་ཤར་དབང་མིན་འདུག།

ས་ལ་རང་མེན་རོགས་གཡུས།།

ཉམ་ཆུང་ཨ་མའི་གཅེས་གཅེས།།

ལུས་ལ་ཟ་དགོ་གྱོན་འདོད།།

འབྱུང་བཞི་ཕོང་པོ་སྐྱོང་དད།།

                                                       ཡར་ལ་མ་ཞུ་ཐབས་མེད།།

                                                        མར་ལ་མ་བསྐུལ་མ་བཏུབ།།

                                                        གོངམ་དང་འོགམ་མའི་ཨེན་ཙེ།།

                                                        སྐྱོ་ཞིང་ཙིག་ཞིང་རྒྱུག་དོ།།

སྙན་རྩོམ

ཡར་ལེགས་པའི་མཆོད་རྟེན་དཀར་པོ་འདི།།

མཚན་ཐོས་པ་ཙམ་གྱི་མོས་གུས་ཆེ།།

ཞལ་མཇལ་བ་ཙམ་གྱི་ཡིད་མདུང་བས།།

ཁོ་རིག་རྩལ་མཁས་པའི་བཞེངས་བཞེངསཔ་མེན།།

ལུང་བསྟན་པའི་བླམ་གྱིས་གཏེར་རང་འདྲ།།

ཚེ་ད་རེས་འཇལ་བ་ངོ་མཚར་ཆེ།།

ཚེ་ཕྱི་མའི་བར་ཆད་གསལ་བར་སྨོན།། 

Stupa- A quatrain

 

An Ivory Stupa aloft,

A dull whatsit without a relic,

A mortal short of probity,

A tawdry of a mankind.

ཨ་མའི་དྲིན་ལན བུའི་སྨོན་ལམ།།

ཨ་མའི་དྲིན་ལན་བསམ་ནས།།

ཞབས་ཏོག་གྲུབ་དགོ་བསམ་ཡང་།།

ལ་དང་ལུང་གིས་བཅད་ནས།།

ཞབས་ཏོག་གྲུབ་དབང་མ་བྱུང་།།

ལ་ཆེན་སྙིང་གིས་སྤེད་དེ།།

ལུང་ཆེན་ཟམ་པ་རྐྱབ་ཀྱང་།།

ཨ་མའི་དྲིན་ལན་རི་ཆེན།།

འབྱོར་བའི་དུས་སྐབས་མ་བྱུང་།།

ཚེ་ལ་བར་ཆད་མེད་ཤོག།

ཨ་མ་སྐུ་ཚེ་རིང་ཤོག།

བུའི་སྨོན་ལམ་བཏབ་ཆེན།།

འཕྲལ་དང་མྱུར་དུ་གྲུབ་ཤོག།

Spring it is!

Dendrobium Nobile

Common Lantana

Desmodium Canadense

 

Spring it is,

A season of flowers,

Scenic with all its blooms,

Spring it is,

A season of music,

Chirps and whirrs of lives around.

Spring it is,

A season of hope,

Old thrives and young juvenates.

Blue Sage

Woodfordia Fruitcosa

Happy Mother's Day!

she was all alone, All on her own. Her song of suffering, Sang only to herself, Is evident now. Her soft girly hands, Bruised and grim. Her limbs, Subtle and shaky. In her promise to, Accomplish dreams of her children's, She spurned hers!  

~Life~

Ohh! Life!

How dear you are?

And how near you were?

Cajole the flickering lamp,

Under the gusty wind.

Ohh! Life!

How valued you are?

And how indispensable you were?

Cling on the slacken rope,

At the extreme of height.

Ohh! Life!

How cherished you are?

And how extortionate you were?

Dive the cavernous ocean,

With a weary limbs.

༔ Ode to my King ༔

Root's hath loosened,

Leave's has shedded,

And the trunk parched!

A glimpse of an inert tree,

Hushed away the wind.

Song's of despair,

Sang the birds in anguish.

Words of pervasive virus,

Snaffled their peace away.

Druk Gyalpo!!

The dragon roared afar,

As thou trailed the soggy tropical,

drenched and bushed.

Through the infectious jungles,

Known for deadly Culicidae’s,

And the viscid blood moochers.

A vigilant majestic eagle,

Hovering the royal entourage,

Clued the silent forest,

Arrival of thy; The savior!

With hopes restored,

The despaired creatures,

Sang a song of rejuvenation,

The then silent forest,

Breathe a sigh of relief!

Picture courtesy: His Majesty's Official social media page

Silhouette thoughts

A crescent bright moon

And the late night mellows

A deep soothing slumber

And the bygone tranquil moment

Astray wishful postulation

A chimera of ones desires

The Rinpung Dzong

The crimson cupola

On a silvery pedestal

With an obi-like penumbra dossal

Amidst the dead of night

Overlooking the tranquil Tshongdue. 

The twinkles on the street

Proffering a scenic possie

To the titanic of fort

Amid inky covering

Embellishing the Majestic citadel

A strolling junky mortal

Awed by the panoramic locus

Sets aside the mundane life

Pleading the deity therein

For a momentary bliss

Life's Analogy

~LIFE'S ANALOGY~

The lonely tree,
And the wandering man,
Souls unlike, lives alike,
One's toxin, other's salvation.

The standing tree,
And the sleeping man,
Thoughts unlike, dreams alike,
One's kindle, others warmth.

The bare tree,
And the bald man,
Looks unlike, consequence alike,
One withers, other departs.

The arid log,
And the dead man,
Blazed unlike, embers alike,
One aids, other's extinct.

Force of Nature.

Sky getting noisy!

I can hear the clouds grumble,

Are they angry?

I can hear the clouds shout,

Are they frustrated?

I can hear them talk,

Did they come into terms with eachother?

I can hear them whisper,

Are they back from hybernation?

Oh no oh no,

They aint in terms,

Its getting louder,

Its not a bucket of water they gonna pour,

Its ball of hail stone,

Bigger than the checker ball,

Earth getting wet!

I can feel the dew drops,

Did the sky above pee?

I can feel the warm breeze,

Did the trees around exhale?

Oh yes oh yes

The  earth, sky and the trees,

They are all set,

Ready to fare well winter,

And well come spring,

 To begin with,

Here is the first shower of the year,

Bathing the sandy Ajmer,

Sipping through and through,

The sandy Rajasthan.

------------------

P.S Not a latest one , wrote some time  around  year 2014

Ode to my KING

The earth and its might,

Shook the world and crumbled hopes,

While the world saw chaos,

And felt the devastation,

I saw hope,

For my KING,

With his own hand,

Debris aside and dust clinging,

Built a fort of love,

And knitted a fabric of care.

The fire and it's flame,

Burnt the world and tarnished dreams, 

While the world saw ashes,

And smelt smoke,

I was dreaming,

For my KING,

With his gentle blow,

Extinguished fire and smoke snuffed out,

Lit a lamp of dream,

Flared rays of love with aroma of happiness.

The wind and its gust,

Toppled the world and swiped the dreams, 

While the world was smashed,

And breathe dust,

I was flapping,

For my KING,

With his stiff feet,

Anchored dreams and hoisted hope,

With love flapping and happiness whistling.

The water and its current,

Flooded the world and drowned hopes,

While the world was washed away,

And gulped water,

I was off-shore,

For my KING,

With his ocean of care,

Drained sorrows and watered hope,

With breeze of love,

Happiness thus restored.

Picture courtesy: His Majesty's Facebook page

The then state of mind.

One windy! evening,
All alone in a corner,

Crisscrossing the tired limbs,
And scratching the tainted arms,

Sipping over a tar like drink,
And chasing flies landing on the brim,

Staring at the people walking-by,
And swinging sight over vehicle passing-by,

As if to enumerate those,
Or else like a hungry dog,
Sniffing for a weak prey,

And deep inside,
the mind longing,
 For a peaceful week end!

The fault in it's star

I don't know,

Who planted me here?

Neither do i know,

Why i was planted here?

But all i know,

Is that i am not at all treated well.

With the droplets of spring,

I start blooming flowers,

If its not enough for my aesthetic aspects,

Bees swam all around,

I wish they were to enjoy my beauty,

Contrary to which,

My sweetness being sucked, 

My youthful being taken,

And forcing me into parenthood.

I face the monsoon,

Standing firm on the cross-road,

I try to be strong, for i have hundreds of babies,

To feed and to tend.

I overcame the monsoon, 

Walked into autumn,

My babies being grown up,

Their faces being tainted,

with autumn rays into red and yellow,

Beautiful they all look,

But the mankind fails to appreciate,

The hardship i took,

To grow them big and beautiful,

Instead, a boy comes hither,

Shoots me a stone,

Hits my red- faced baby hard,

A girl thither go,

Spins a broken branch,

Hits hard on my arm,

Takes my yellow-faced baby down,

And a man walks beneath my shade,

Takes a step backward,

And attempts for a flying kick,

The tremor of which,

Takes my other off-springs down,

An old lady walks,

Only wishing my babies to lose the grip of my hand,

My helpless babies,

On the ground, 

Worrying of their turn,

To be picked, crunched and chewed,

With little mercy,

I am helpless, 

Half of me tired of being hit again and again,

While other half, having to witness ill treatment of my offsprings.

I faced the autumn,

But little could i do to save me and my babies,

And, now i am left,

With little strength,

And few hopes,

To face the coming season,

The coldness of which,

I will be numb,

Or else killed,

To warm the in-humans,

Time and its pace

The springs blossom
And the autumns fall
The summers shower
And the winters cold
Prompts nothing
But the TIME!
Its Change
And the impermanence

The baby shower
And the funeral rites
A mothers first milk
And the last privileged drink of lama
Prompts nothing
But the TIME!
Its Change
And the impermanence

The first kiss
And the last smile
The love at its prime
And the hatred at its height
Prompts nothing
But the TIME!
Its Change
And the impermanence

The dreams of yesterday
And illusions of tomorrow
The hopes for future
And the despair of past
Prompts nothing
But the TIME!
Its Change
And the impermanence


P.S Been very long that i abandoned my blog. Feeling sorry.

Happy New Year 2015

A brand new year
And a brand new hope

Love your loved ones a little more
Had you loved too little

Care your cared ones a little more
Had you cared too little

Pray for happiness a few more times
Had you prayed so few

Say sorry, ask forgiveness
To your mistakes
Leave the bitter yesterday
Work for better today
And wish for perfect future

A new dawn, a new hope
May the journey of life
Get illuminated by itself
As we celebrate
With free mind and open heart
And well come new year

Happy new year 2015

A year older

A year older

How happy would I be?

If it get associated with

Not just the physical growth

But mental as well

For the world around exults

More on intellectual

And less on physical

A year older

How satisfied would I be?

If I have lived

The then bygone years

In a realm of virtue

For the memories I carry

Would be one less

Of such repentance

And that one thought of

What if?

A year older

How blessed would I be?

If all you friends’ wishes

Transform into reality

And guide my growth

With bounty of luck

Garnering mountain of success

And abundant of happiness

A year older

How fortunate would I be?

If I can ever

Thank you all enough;

My family, friends

Acquaintance and strangers

With my words and action

For the love you all spread

Sacrifices you all made

Care you all bestowed

Blessing you all ushered

Thank you all.

Happy Chunee paai Losar

Its chunipai losar
A self declared holiday
For a lad
Living life far away
Away from loved ones

And the day began
With a red rice porridge
Packed by you all
For my days
Away from you all

Clock may tick
Hours of noon
Where dried beef
Along with Bhutanese red chilli
Coiled by dried sag
May sit as menu
For losar's lunch

Day may bid good bye
With losar-ry sun over horizon
And i shall navigate my appetite
Spacing my belly
For a whisky
A whisky of highland
Landing hard together with
Softer sip of takin wine
Mandating myself
Another reason for holiday
In a name of hangover

Family and friends
Serve youself well
With a prayer in mind
To be bestowed with same moment
Again and again every year
With better days
And higher spirits.

Happy chunee paai losar!
~~~~~~~~~
............

Wangdue phodrang Dzong and Me.

The then was year 2009,

Me; a young chap,

With a punk haircut; look of a naughtiness

Walked through

Thy mighty gate that opened with a creaky noise,

With a appointment letter

Neatly folded.

Thy gusty wintry breeze, welcomed me

Together with alternate heavenly ring

Produced

On every spin of the gigantic Mani Dungkors,

That you hold at the gate.

The then was year 2010,

Me; still a young chap,

With a decency; transforming look

Walked to and fro

Thy lengthy timber balcony, that overlooks the stone paved courtyard.

With project files;

Drawn, estimated, monitored and completed.

Thy true content of spirituality, blessed me

With many trainings and workshops

That indeed added

Wisdom, knowledge,

Experience and exposure.

The then was year 2011,

Me; an ambitious chap,

With a hunger; for knowledge

Walked out

Thy mighty gate, which sees a dzong renovation project

With a letters;

Resignation, Relieving order, experience letter.

Thy renovation project in full swing, induced in me

A zeal and zest

To

Update and upgrade my own intellectual beauty

Now in 2012,

Me; a college student,

With a carefree life: into craziness

Watched

Thy beautiful color, magnificent architecture, fume into air and gutted down into ashes

On national television, and social websites.

Thy true value, our fore fathers founded,

Lucky us

They passed onto us with many added values,

Yet we failed to pass onto next generation

For we are selfish and less concerned.