Posts by 'Ana Ram Callan' category

 

Ana Ram Callan

Kissing His Picture

Kissing His Picture


His toenails and teeth
are jewels of white light
my tongue longs to lick
the extent of, but

the longer I lick
the more there is
a chalice of limitless
honey I lower my
lips to and sip

until my body
dissolves into His

into luminous
skin, rich ...
Ana Ram Callan

The Boy Who Would Be Sage

Ana Ram Callan is delighted to share with you the publication of her new book of poems, The Boy Who Would Be Sage. It is a chronicle of Indian mystic, Ramana Maharshi's life. Beginning with his birth in Tirichuzi in 1879, it covers his boyhood ...

Ana Ram Callan

The Boy Who Would Be Sage - Front Cover

The Boy Who Would Be Sage - front cover
Ana Ram Callan

Marry Me, He Said

MARRY ME, HE SAID

 

And I shall wear a white dress

of lace and bird froth and a

veil of air, and a ring on my hand

of twined grasses twelve shades of moss,

and I shall sing thy name to the heavens,

my lover, my spouse, my man,

 

...

Ana Ram Callan

Freeing The Clouds

 

Freeing The Clouds

 

If Rama’s heart is the sky,

which it is to me,

then moon and sun

are his eyes, 

and together

 

they would dazzle,

 if not

blind us 

with their fierce light,

 

so in his ...

Ana Ram Callan

Porumda!

Porumda!

 

That dog, all leaking sores,

all stinking fur, bone thin

and starving for

 

one taste of

his Master, one lick

of pure love,

 

was pushed and shoved

out of His orbit

time and again,

 

but ardor and passion

...
Ana Ram Callan

Devotion

Devotion

 

Every day Ramana would sit out on a rock

to clean his teeth, even when the rains came

and the winds whipped at his dhoti,

still he sat, mountain and man fused

into One, and when his devotees

tried to stop him, to lure him ...

Ana Ram Callan

Ghost

 

Ghost

 

The boy leaping off a train,

racing through the streets,

his wind-whipped hair

a nest of coal and sapphire

is just an apparition;

 

the rice he almost starves for

and then spills, the teeming

rain, the thousand

Ana Ram Callan

When I Die

 

 

 

When I die, I’d like Ramana to be painted on my lips,

 

his name graven into the shivering fish of my mouth,

 

each tooth an alphabet of his, 

 

each letter sending home

 

a gift of

Ana Ram Callan

"Their Gratitude, Only They Could Know"

“Their Gratitude, Only They Could Know”