Weekly Contest
Classic poem of the day
I carried my curds to the Mathura fair …
How softly the heifers were lowing …
I wanted to cry, “Who will buy
These curds that are white as the clouds in the sky
When the breezes of shrawan are blowing?”
But my heart was so full of your beauty, Beloved,
They laughed as I cried without knowing:
Govinda! Govinda!
Govinda! Govinda!
How softly the river was flowing!
I carried my pots to the Mathura tide …
How gaily the rowers were rowing! …
My comrades called, “Ho! let us dance, let us sing
And wear saffron garments to welcome the spring.
And pluck the new buds that are blowing.”
But my heart was so full of your music, Beloved,
They mocked when I cried without knowing:
Govinda! Govinda!
Govinda! Govinda!
How gaily the river was flowing!
I carried my gifts to the Mathura shrine …
How brightly the torches were glowing! …
I folded my hands at the altars to pray
“O shining ones guard us by night and by day”—
And loudly the conch shells were blowing.
But my heart was so lost in your worship, Beloved,
They were wroth when I cried without knowing:
Govinda! Govinda!
Govinda! Govinda!
How brightly the river was flowing!
member poem of the day
In this world of fake things
Where nothing is real
Nothing is authentic
And the market rules us all
There is no room
For real friendship
We are all using each other
To get ahead
So we pretend to be friends
All the time
Plotting against our so called friends
To get ahead
The market rewards the most vicious
Sociopathic values rule the market
Friendship is for wimps
And Losers
Those winners end up
Alone all alone
For they have no real friends
But boy do they have real enemies
For in this fake world of ours
Perhaps hate is the one real emotion
That has survived
from poetry chapbook, "Fake Things" https://theworldaccordingtocmos.com
