Doors to Paradise: Poems for the Soul

Doors to Paradise: Poems for the Soul

by Ajit Sripad Rao Nalkur


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Doors to Paradise: Poems for the Soul is Ajit Sripad Rao Nalkur's fourth book of poetry, and it follows his previously published trilogy on love. His poems are an invitation for our souls to discover what lies behind each door we encounter in life. The author experienced intense joy, peace, and freedom as he wrote these poems-emotions he hopes to share with all.

The poems in this collection are arranged in chronological order and written in various rhyming styles. The poems were created as spontaneous outbursts of the soul, and in the reading of them, the author hopes that the reader's heart will similarly open and receive the emotions they convey.

Like doorways into the author's soul, Doors to Paradise: Poems for the Soul reflects the peace and contentment in his life now.

The Muse

Forever poised

on the brink

of a poem,

patiently waiting

for the Muse

to rise

or fall

from the skies,

the poet's eye

looks out

onto the fields

of paradise

left vacant

of her presence.

He looks

for her

in his heart

and sees

that she indeed

is the one thing

he needs

and wants;

a window

is flung open,

a door beckons,

the house of the soul

welcomes him

home ...

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781491707166
Publisher: iUniverse, Incorporated
Publication date: 09/18/2013
Pages: 402
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.89(d)

Read an Excerpt

Doors to Paradise


By Ajit Sripad Rao Nalkur

iUniverse LLC

Copyright © 2013 Ajit Sripad Rao Nalkur
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4917-0716-6


    The Ecstasy and Transformation

    And suddenly, the poetry stopped,
    I wondered where the Muse had gone,
    But She was right beside me then,
    My golden rose of golden morns

    Of ecstasy, the smile that lingers
    Through the nights and days of love,
    The willing and surrendered bride
    Of fire on the earth, above,

    Goddess of the golden heights,
    Fallen angel to my nights
    Of sorrow and the bliss I feel
    Of nearness in the mystic light

    Of union everlasting, deep,
    Far deeper than the longest sleep
    Soul succumbs to in its birth
    Fulfilling dreams to take a leap

    Into the future of all men
    And women who have made amends
    With the past to find themselves
    In freedom's fields beyond the end

    Of our slow walk upon the earth,
    Hearts open to the joy of mirth,
    The laughter of the gods who know
    Eternity, no death, no birth

    Can ever cloud the sun of life,
    Eternal is their walk through time,
    With these I fly through timeless realms
    Of beauty that surpasses mind;

    The mind of earth surrendered to
    The ecstasy of me and you—

    And the rain comes down to grace
    The earth with God's immortal face!


    I am amazed
    At the human preoccupation
    With petty problems,
    For all our problems are petty
    When faced with

    The endless miracle of creation,
    Our small, short lives in timelessness,
    Our need for fleeting pleasures
    To fill the emptiness of dying egos,
    Our wasted efforts at nothingness.

    We do not realise
    That life is the eternal smile of an eternal child
    Who laughs at us in the beauty of a flower
    Beckoning from the wondrous forests
    Hidden in the niche of the soul,

    Where life is a mountain we do not need to climb,
    Effort is replaced by the natural language of the heart,
    Pleasure is a deathless quality,
    Dreams, not nightmares, preoccupy the mind,
    And nakedness without fear is the nature of being

    In a primal but everlasting dawn ...

    The Passing On of Paradise

    My paradise may die with me
    But never the lasting memory
    In the hearts of those who passed
    Through here to their own at last;

    Blissfulness on earth, the peace
    Imparted to their souls at ease
    In moments when the timeless rained
    Upon this haven of no pain

    Nor sorrow which was left behind
    When being crossed the realms of mind
    To enter through the gates of hell
    God's sunlit gardens where Love dwells

    With nature in undying bliss,
    The fairies and the wood-nymphs kiss
    And play with heaven as if meant
    Was this world for all the men

    And women who belonged in love
    With each other here, above
    The angels singing songs to all
    Who have the ears to hear the call

    Of happiness untainted, free
    To fly the ways of destiny
    Where souls remember and recall
    Lost love before the ancient fall

    Away from joy—this a home
    To many who felt all alone
    Without the other they reflect
    In paradise, but here perfect

    The art of living, naked hearts
    And empty minds that play their parts
    On the stage of a life divine
    That once I thought was only mine!

    Goddess in Poise

    Earth looks out into the wide spaces of eternity
    Beyond her own peripheries of self-existence,
    Carefully guarding the flowers of her beauty
    From the onslaught of adverse forces.

    Poised on the edge of change
    She wonders at the miracle that created her.
    She wonders at her aloneness in the universe,
    Amazed at the far greater beauty calling to her.

    Tenderly she breathes the air keeping her alive
    With the hope of a better and lasting future.
    She is humble in her yearning, barely recovering
    From her long toil to heal the scars of her past.

    She is beauty and innocence, and love,
    A love for the unknown,
    A love for all she has nurtured within herself,
    Mother of all she is and is yet to be.

    The Immortal Bride of Time

    I find I have to drag my feet
    On this soil of self-defeat
    To convince the world of love
    Far greater than the known—Above

    A world inviting souls to dance
    In the fields of true romance
    Teasing us to climb the hills
    Where eternal rest fulfills

    Our dreams so hidden in our hearts
    We rest too soon, to fall apart,
    Prey to life's illusions that
    Delude us from the truth and fact

    Of existence simple when
    Our egos shed their cloaks to end
    The great deception we call life,
    Almost a joke our endless strife

    And sorrow at the truth we miss
    When we slobber at the kiss
    Of love surrounding us in all
    Things both great and in the small

    Moments when this love does beckon
    Us to come and play and reckon
    With our hearts the bliss abounds
    In every atom, every sound

    Creation makes that we enjoy
    The earth we live on, life a toy
    For the children of the sun
    Who've learnt to play with love, as one!

    And play we must, for life is just
    A stepping stone out of the rust
    Of self-neglect and useless grief
    Where death rules like falling leaves

    Of an autumn beauty knows
    Lasts a season, while love flows
    Eternal in its dance with time,
    Immortal bride of the life divine!

    The Death of the Soul

    Those that know do not have the power
    While those that don't know, and don't care,
    Have the power to destroy,
    But spirit is the power the world is yet to reckon with.

    The great illusion is
    Man thinks he has control,
    Or wishes to have it,
    Over the forces of nature
    And her great collaborator,
    The spirit.

    Spirit is the only power, in fact.
    All is spirit.
    All is contained within its influence.
    To defy the spirit is to invite self-destruction.

    Whether the world survives, or destroys itself,
    Spirit can always create another world.
    How vain is man to even attempt to dominate
    The mystery and universal design of the spirit!
    How utterly ignorant he is of that which created him
    And all things simply for the joy of doing so!

    The spirit is a dance—
    We either learn to dance with it
    Or disappear into the unknown
    Which gave us birth.
    To not learn to dance
    Is to flirt with the black hole of creation,

    Another factor of existence,
    Or rather, its opposite,
    But created nevertheless
    By the Creator Himself
    As the dustbin of creation
    For the free will of the soul

    That chooses to die.

    Poetic Suffering

    A poet suffers to create beauty
    Like a flower to be itself.

    Birds fly that we may see
    That which we are not.

    Children laugh that we may be
    Reminded of innocence.

    Life dies that we may feel
    We do not wish to.

    All has meaning.
    We do not need to seek it.

    Love we understand not
    Yet we yearn for it.

    Life is simply that
    Which we do not have.

    If we did
    We would not live to die.

    Poetry and Beauty

    Doomed to a life of evergrowing beauty within
    A poet resigns himself to his 'raison d'etre'.

    There is no poet without poetry, and vice-versa,
    Therefore he surrenders himself, always, to beauty.

    For beauty is poetry and poetry beauty
    Like lovers inextricably entwined in the creative clasp of bliss.

    Ah, what is bliss if not this, this fountain of immortality,
    This flowering of a flower everchanging into the greater realms
    of being ...

    A flower does not ask why
    It seeks only to be itself.

    Poetry does not die,
    It is the flower of heaven on an earth without tears.

    It is the flower that sings in the rain
    Of heavenly intensity and its tears of bliss.

    It is the song of the earth.
    It is heaven realised.

    That Nameless Oneness

    Pain is a hole like the black hole in space,
    If you manage to come out of it, it's just an act of grace.
    Grace is a mystery, something with no face
    But if you let it sink in you, of pain it leaves no trace.

    Formless is the feeling of joy and all of sorrow,
    The lines dividing yesterday, the present and tomorrow.
    Artificial is the mind that is by time deceived,
    Timeless is indeed the truth from creation frees

    Our concepts and ideas on what nature is,
    The beauty of the flower is felt within the kiss
    Of silence and the word from the soul does speak
    In just one magic moment when all the world's asleep.

    We awake then to the bliss and the miracle of life
    Knowing not what death is, and being free from strife
    We look into the sunshine we feel when we are done
    With battle and division—to see that all is one!

    Her Warriors

    A peace refusing to retire
    To the woods away from life
    Is the nature of the higher
    Call to end the world of strife.

    Something in the ether lingers
    Like a drop of bliss from eyes
    Knowing in their deep surrender
    Earth discovers paradise

    In the waiting and the yearning
    Of a love that never dies,
    Flowers in the world are turning
    Their attention to the wise

    Ways of nature ever growing
    To another way to be,
    From the mystery and the flowing
    Rivers of eternity

    Comes the flood of changes instant,
    What was pain becoming free
    To be the beauty of the distant
    Call approaching to be me ...

    I the warrior of earth pining
    To surpass her days of old
    Suffering, like a child clinging
    To her garments made of gold,

    Take upon myself the burden
    Of her longing to be queen
    Of the fields I conquer, burning
    My soul claims the long lost dream

    Of my mother forlorn, tired
    From her long travail and toil,
    Now the children of her fire
    Ride her steeds on golden soil!

    Message to another Poet

    Oh, the mind is such a cloud
    When it hides behind the shroud
    Of words that seek some beauty in
    The ugliness—It is a sin

    To uncover filth that throws
    A shadow on the heart that grows
    To love the written word and sound
    That comes from deep within the mound

    Of self-hatred, love is found
    Beneath the debris and the ground
    Of effort which comes from the soul
    Forever hidden in a hole

    That never sees the light of day
    By clearing all the clouds away
    From piston-thoughted brain and mind,
    A poet must to self be kind,

    Escape the glittered intellect,
    When faced with choice must select
    The heart, always the heart which calms
    Mind's shadows with the healing balm

    Of beauty's source always at hand
    When the poet comes to land
    From rough seas that cast his glance
    Away from where he finds romance

    With the written word so rare
    And beautiful, our eyes must stare
    In wonder and in awe of that
    To the poet is a fact

    Of existence reaching out
    From his mind within, without
    The beauty that he brings to shore,
    An island of the evermore

    He then becomes through words that shine
    And equal to all things divine
    Is his message and his force
    Strapped astride the golden horse

    Of poetry—My friend, refrain
    From the million words that strain
    The muscles of the brain—It's pain
    That feeds the lonely and the vain!

    Poetry must never stoop
    To lowly depths unless it scoops
    The rubbish onto garbage heaps
    And finds the diamonds in the deeps

    To offer those then to our eyes,
    Or bring a smile to tired lives—
    There's beauty in the clever word
    But also in the silence heard

    Are the hoofbeats of our art
    When mind surrenders to the heart!


    Moments tender and inviting dot the landscape of our days,
    Nature plays with our emotions in the friendliest of ways
    Like the rain now falling steady on the greenery of love,
    Music heard upon the heartstrings like an angel's harp
    above ...

    Such beauty is the joy in keeping with the dance that never
    Fairies in the forest weeping with the bliss that makes amends
    For the days so far away now filled were once with sorrows
    Today the rain speaks of a future happiness will always keep.

    Look beyond, the sea is singing, waves of blissfulness arise
    In tune with life, the love we're living in this piece of paradise,
    Our home where all the bells are ringing out the good news of
    our lives,
    Eternity just keeps on bringing to our souls tomorrow's eyes ...

    Dreams becoming true from dreaming and creating always new
    Realities into our seeing life and love is me and you
    Living in the spirit's haven of a peace that needs must grow
    Like the flowers heaven waters, one with this undying flow.

    The Tender Romance


    In the still silence of the valleys below the brooding hills of
    Nature stirs in her deep quietude, awakening
    The meditative reveries of a poet's heart
    Surrendered to her depths, the mystery that lies hidden
    In the unseen eye of the muse of life, who, like a woman
    Out and upwards towards the lord of the skies of her love for
    Invites romance and the embrace of creation. Like a lover to the
    The poet reaches down into her bosom, gently undraping her,
    Then wrapping his arms around her naked soul. A blazing fire
    Warms this rendez-vous of the seen and unseen, of the seasons
    Turning to the rhythms of the sun and the rain and the wind
    Melting the snows and the winter of the heart ...


    Deep in the forests of Love's longing
    Fairies dance amongst the rustle of leaves
    And the flittered music beneath the eaves
    Of an invisible romance, chasing the lovers
    In a playful game of hide and seek as
    The eternal two-in-one run and fly
    Through the human walk in life,
    Enjoining us to appreciate and partake
    In the bliss of the ethereal union
    And the magic and the mystery
    We should call life, a life of love
    Forever calling to us like the beloved of our souls.


    Somewhere between the earth and the sky
    Lies the sea of our thoughts and emotions.
    Somewhere between the heart and the mind
    Is the barrier that does not exist.
    There, in our deep, unseen recesses
    Is the soul of all that is, which is Love.
    Go within into this forest of our becoming,
    For here lie the secrets of existence,
    Here waits the beloved. This is our soul,
    Where one finds the other who is ourself,
    Mirrored as the One who is our beauty
    Everlasting and the bliss that fulfills itself.

    Dead Planet

    Trouble brewing in the soul
    Of a planet once was whole

    Silence in the world asleep
    Bleeding quietly and deep

    Blood on sacred ground has filled
    Rivers flooding beauty's hills

    Skies are distant, empty space
    Blotting out sweet nature's face

    Like a woman beaten down
    Man destroys his mother's ground

    Earth spins aimlessly in hope
    Of a future beyond scope

    Wise men talk like fools who know
    Nothing of her love that glows

    Innocence dies in wisdom's lap
    A child by her parent slapped

    Self-deceit is rife on earth
    Power imitates her mirth

    Death is close and life is dead
    The heart surrendered to the head

    Animals don't know our ways
    Have grown old to lesser days

    Nothing smacks of grace now gone
    With the miracle once had shone


    One small moment in eternity,
    A living drop in an endless sea
    Are we.
    A heartbeat in the dance of time,
    Something infinite, sublime
    And free.
    One reflection of the sun,
    A cell that thrills to be the One
    Who's me.
    We are made that we may be
    Something other, something we
    Don't see.

    We have eyes that see the earth,
    A voice born to us at birth
    That flees
    The body when it's fast asleep
    In life's waters, love too deep
    To be.
    Vast the ocean of our thoughts
    Stolen, borrowed, sometimes bought
    From thieves.
    But if we were to feel the peace
    None can steal, we'd be released
    From these

    Uneasy winds make oceans roar—
    Calm the golden sands ashore,
    At ease.


    Time ticks by, I don't ask why
    The sky is blue, questions die.

    Nature thrills, the heart fulfills
    With wonderment, I climb the hills

    Of thought, emotion, to the sky
    Opens doors to paradise

    In front of me, my eyes are wide
    Open to what's deep inside

    My soul made whole, I dream in gold
    Rooms of bliss, old is old

    And new things rise to my surprise
    And wonder at this gold sunrise ...


    One can never tire of beauty ever dreaming in the soul,
    That creative, natural spring that bathes the dry deserts of the
    And the restless heart in its long walk through life and love.

    One can tire, though, of not seeing that beauty,
    Not feeling the bliss in this secret vault of paradise
    Where every door opens onto the fields of an everlasting peace
    Not subject to the conflicts and divisions that plague
    Our common existence with barriers we are not meant to
    hurdle across.

    Simple is nature, if man learns to walk in it
    Without stepping on the flowers rare and beautiful
    In the woods of his private reveries, those places
    When we sometimes close our eyes, call to us,
    Mysterious invitations to an immortal life
    Hidden somewhere, but always there to embrace the being.

    Love, well, I guess it is that sense of a living presence
    That contains all this beauty, something greater than us,
    Of which we are the seed dreaming of creation, ever new
    In the dreaming and the ever creating, seed of the living tree
    Of love. Where does it end, where begin?

    It begins and ends in the timeless.
    This is paradise, within and without.
    This is losing ourselves to find ourselves again.
    This is the play of the shadow and the sun.
    This is the He and She from whom we are born.
    This is Love.

Excerpted from Doors to Paradise by Ajit Sripad Rao Nalkur. Copyright © 2013 Ajit Sripad Rao Nalkur. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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