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| A Rhymester's Dilemma A balmy bard had a bee in his bonnet; Strolling down the Strand one sunny day He heard an Angelic Band begin to play A hymn, sweet as honey, oh so sun-lit! Inspired by music of the spheres he wrote a Sonnet On 'Spirit's Plan To Be Clad in Mortal Clay', Celestials thought it funny and flew away. In silence, the sorry poet pondered 'pon it. If you have a visit from a heavenly haloed Being Then stop the wandering mind pondering on it It is better far to restrain one's mental wit Not think on other things but just start kneeling Don't cleverly endeavour to compose a silly Sonnet When in awe of the Ethereal Host one could be Seeing! Alan Jacobs I am that One Pure, as the mountain stream after a fall of April snow Conscious as he who wakens from deepest sleep, aglow Aware as the cat who senses all before she prepares to go Blissful as a babe in arms fondled like an endearing doe Alone, I AM Self-existent Here in the Heart from where I AM is found Now, in the Heart from where I AM is ground. I am space for this beautiful place to happen in, and My Earth is a grain of sand on Being's strand Whatever's on the screen, whatever wave the spectral band, Goodly Air, stormy Sea or merely mediocre Land All is in me, this I truly recognise and understand. I am not a tortured victim in a tormented world A twin-holed meat ball, hairily curled, I am no thing, no name, no body, no word, I am single-eyed and feeling very headless There's no thing on theses shoulders, mind's no longer restless Where I'm seeing from is a boundless window, frameless. Alan Jacobs Spring The spring sun streams through my window frame Opening wide to limitless vistas of sapphire blue, Red roses sparkling, diamonds of dew, My heart hymns praises to Him without a Name An equal love for Self and all, the same. I drew the curtains of my room, enlarge the view, From tattered folds a powdery dust soon flew Across the scene, obscuring sunlight's flame. As cloud did clear I saw each dusty grain A world held in solar radiant beam, Universes in Brahman's mighty magic dream. My mind fell into heart, no words explain, I am the light, the sun, the room, the view The dust, the Self, and Brahman; so are you. Alan Jacobs The Pundit A preacher, a teacher, erudite, learned and grave With mind wizened by wizard computing power Schooled all his pupils strictly hour by hour Expounding scripture in brave effort to save Them from downfall of nescience, so they'd behave With saintly decorum to always embower His repute as scholar. His disciples would rave Against evil and ignorance as hail in a shower! But pundit grew old, his health faded away, After lifetime of teaching scripture he knew And sadly regretted Self knowledge still flew Far away. So he sought, one auspicious day, A Sage who uttered in words terse and true, "Experience alone brings the Self - there's no other way!" Alan Jacobs Trading Faces Observing closely face to face As a scientist might When peering into a mirror Through his microscopic Focus of attention, I note the landscape You are wearing, Its hills, ridges, Valleys, plains, Twin pools, surrounded By a forest of lash and brow, Ears like swallow wings, A mouth with the enigmatic Simper of the Mona Lisa. Mysteriously You own my face At the open place Where yours should be. Study the terrain, So now, head to no head, Out of this hollow transparent emptiness, There is an authentic space to take you in. Alan Jacobs |
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Poetry |
