Recite melodious Shiva poems on the auspicious occasion of Shivaratri. Shiva poetry invoke devotion and dedication towards Lord Shiva and help us to receive blessings of the holy figure. Given below are some beautiful poems of Lord Shiva.
Divine Lord bless me with your love,
Divine Lord bless me so that I may lie at your feet,
Thou divine feet emits the glow of eternal joy
Divine Lord be my guide.
Divine Lord forgive my ignorance,
Divine Lord extend your blessings
so that I may bathe in your glorious light.
Divine Lord let me melt into the beauty,
Divine Lord thou are father and mother to me,
Like a naughty child please forgive my sins and my failings.
Lead me to your wisdom,
Let me bathe in your purity,
Offer my devotion to you in this
lifetime and others to come.
O Lord let me lie at your feet with devotion,
Bless me as your devotee evermore.
oh my Lord thou can heal my aching heart,
oh Lord let me lie at your feet for eternity.
Contributed by: Varsha Sewlal
On the white summit of eternity
A single Soul of bare infinities,
Guarded he keeps by a fire-screen of peace
His mystic loneliness of nude ecstasy.
But, touched by an immense delight to be,
He looks across unending depths and sees
Musing amid the inconscient silences
The Mighty Mother′s dumb felicity.
Half now awake she rises to his glance;
Then, moved to circling by her heart-beats′ will,
The rhythmic words describe that passion-dance.
Life springs in her and Mind is born; her face
She lifts to Him who is Herself, until
The Spirit leaps into the Spirit′s embrace.
Oh! Lord your Maya does not give me up even
When I have given it up. In spite of my
resistance it clings to me and follows me.
Your Maya becomes Yogini to the Yogin. It
becomes a nun to the monk, it becomes a
herald to the saint. It adapts itself to
each according to his nature.
When I climbed up the hill, your Maya too
came up; when I entered the forest, your
Maya too entered behind me.
So the world does not take its hand off
my back even now!
O, Lord of infinite mercy, your Maya frightens
me. O Lord Mallikarjuna, bestow your grace
on me.
At the world′s dawn
The black cow of cosmic night lies
With the ruddy cow of morning
The Father rapes his virgin daughter
Agni, the hunter, shoots his arrow
The Father, a frenzied foaming bull, runs
Spilling his seed upon the ground
The daughter runs south.
Ripened by Agni, the progeny′s patter begins.
"Fire is a hunter."
It sustains and destroys.
Vastospati, Guardian of sacred order, lord of vastu,
Guardian of the dwelling, site, house, sacrifice
Manifests.
The fallen seed, the birth of humankind,
the poem Begin
Howling Engender form.
The rhythmic structure, the wild creation
The unnamed god evoke the scene, consciousness
wakes. Time begins. Patter patter. Rhythm pervades the cosmos.
There is a hawk that is picking the birds out of our sky,
She killed the pigeons of peace and security,
She has taken honesty and confidence from nations and men,
She is hunting the lonely heron of liberty.
She loads the arts with nonsense, she is very cunning
Science with dreams and the state with powers to catch them at last.
Nothing will escape her at last, flying nor running.
This is the hawk that picks out the star′s eyes.
This is the only hunter that will ever catch the wild swan;
The prey she will take last is the wild white swan of the beauty of things.
Then she will be alone, pure destruction, achieved and supreme,
Empty darkness under the death-tent wings.
She will build a nest of the swan′s bones and hatch a new brood,
Hang new heavens with new birds, all be renewed.
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