On the Passage of Days Events follow events In close succession Time is A heavily knotted string, Swift and dangerous, It moves, hurting me And scarring my grand Memories for the future. Events follow events In close succession. They are Pebbles on the sea shore, Driven to and fro, Roaring and grating And tearing the…
Read More
Parable Some fishermen pulled a bottle from the deep. It held a piece of paper, with these words: “Somebody save me! I’m here. The ocean cast me on this desert island. I am standing on the shore waiting for help. Hurry! I’m here!”“There’s no date. I bet it’s already too late anyway. It could have…
Read More
Back from a Walk Murdered by the sky.Among the forms that move toward the snakeand the forms searching for crystalI will let my hair grow.With the limbless tree that cannot singand the boy with the white egg face.With the broken-headed animalsand the ragged water of dry feet. With all that is tired, deaf-mute,and a butterfly…
Read More
Over the angular lily that adorns the cadaverous pillow; over the hardened bachelor pain of lying like a beardless congregationist while the cats erect their clamour and forge a bristling race; over the hunger never sated of the lime that wears light minds away and the professional disenchantment with which courtesans spring out of bed;…
Read More
When It Is Given You to Find a Smile When It Is Given You to Find a Smile in the tenuous drop of moisture by the porous stone distilled, in the mist, in the sun, in the bird and in the wind; when nothing to your eyes remains inert, or formless, or colourless, or remote,…
Read More
A Fool For Evergreen A little bit of fool in meHides behind my inmost treeAnd pops into the narrow pathI walk blindfolded by my wrathOr shrunken by some twist of pain,Some hope that will not wind again.He ogles with his antic eyesand somersaults a you’re-not-wiseUntil the patches in his pantsGo colorwheeling through my glanceSo fast…
Read More
Early Spring Once more the Heavenly PowerMakes all things new,And domes the red-plowed hillsWith loving blue;The blackbirds have their wills,The throstles too. Opens a door in Heaven;From skies of glassA Jacob’s ladder fallsOn greening grass,And o’er the mountain-wallsYoung angels pass. Before them fleets the shower,And burst the buds,And shine the level lands,And flash the floods;The…
Read More
Anushka, she is a medical student and young, upcoming poet. There is depth, sensitivity and philosophical undertones in her expressions. There is innocence and honesty in her writings.I wish her continuing journey on creative path and success in her future endeavours. Blue and Green One gloomy day I took To cleaning up my room. I…
Read More
Jasmines Your scent is in the room. Swiftly it overwhelms and conquers me! Jasmines, night jasmines, perfect of perfume, Heavy with dew before the dawn of day! Your face was in the mirror. I could see You smile and vanish suddenly away, Leaving behind the vestige of a tear. Sad suffering face, from parting grown…
Read More
Poet As Fisherman I fish for words to say what I fish for, half-catch sometimes. I have caught little pan fish flashing sunlight (yellow perch, crappies, blue-gills), lighthearted reeled them in, filed them on stringers on the shore. A nice mess, we called them, and ate with our fingers, laughing. Once, dreaming of fish in…
Read More
Enslaved Oh when I think of my long-suffering race, For weary centuries despised, oppressed, Enslaved and lynched, denied a human place In the great life line of the Christian West; And in the Black Land disinherited, Robbed in the ancient country of its birth, My heart grows sick with hate, becomes as lead, For this…
Read More
I Live, I Die, I Burn, I Drown I live, I die, I burn, I drown I endure at once chill and cold Life is at once too soft and too hard I have sore troubles mingled with joys Suddenly I laugh and at the same time cry And in pleasure many a grief endure…
Read More
When You Are Old When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love…
Read More
Come thou, thou last one, whom I recognize, unbearable pain throughout this body’s fabric: as I in my spirit burned, see, I now burn in thee: the wood that long resisted the advancing flames which thou kept flaring, I now am nourishinig and burn in thee. My gentle and mild being through thy ruthless fury…
Read More
Asleep and awake Asleep and awake, I wake. Never having written What I have to say. No poem offers of me My central meaning, I have danced to my naming And danced away. Now I move past my dreams: They yield processions of Changing images. I want to speak the clear The intricate meeting-place Of…
Read More
Here is a poem, written by my daughter for a competition. I would like to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it like I did. … * … * … What would be the best poem ever written, you might ask For such a thing as competitions exist For an overthinker like me,…
Read More
A Moment Of Happiness A moment of happiness, you and I sitting on the verandah, apparently two, but one in soul, you and I. We feel the flowing water of life here, you and I, with the garden’s beauty and the birds singing. The stars will be watching us, and we will show them what…
Read More
Tonight No Poetry Will Serve Saw you walking barefoot taking a long look at the new moon’s eyelid later spread sleep-fallen, naked in your dark hair asleep but not oblivious of the unslept unsleeping elsewhere Tonight I think no poetry will serve Syntax of rendition: verb pilots the plane adverb modifies action verb force-feeds noun…
Read More
The Tule Fog Just as the sun rises and disappearsBehind the tall city landmarksThey live and hide, out in the openIn this provincial city of San Francisco.No, they do not own homesBut they claim the streets of this cityJust as the tule fog settles low to the ground. Some days you only get to…
Read More
Still I Rise You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like…
Read More
Like winds of seas, you toss the shutters, Like winds of deserts, you sing: ‘Behold! You’re mine forever! I’m ancient Clutter, Your old, good fellow, – unlock your hold!’ I dare not open, I hold the shutters, I hold the shutters and hide my fright. I keep and cherish, I keep with flutter My love…
Read More
THE GRASS IS REALLY LIKE ME The grass is also like me it has to unfurl underfoot to fulfill itself but what does its wetness manifest: a scorching sense of shame or the heat of emotion? The grass is also like me As soon as it can raise its head the lawnmower obsessed with flattening…
Read More
We Wear the Mask We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— This debt we pay to human guile; With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, And mouth with myriad subtleties. Why should the world be over-wise, In counting all our tears and sighs? Nay, let them…
Read More
– Paul Éluard Born: 14 December 1895, Saint-Denis, France Died: 18 November 1952, Charenton-le-Pont, France (The British Royal Air Force dropped copies of his poem “Liberté” into Europe as part of its anti-Nazi propaganda campaign, and other poems were broadcast clandestinely on pro-Allies radio stations. source: poetryfoundation.org) …………………………………………… Liberté On my school notebooks On my…
Read More
A poem slumbers in my heart, at the centre of my being, and a dim mirror tries to shape it a ghazal a line a word. Day and night it pulls me toward itself, no music, no sound, even silence seems to intrude. What poem is this that sleeps in me and does not let…
Read More
“Poetry,” she explained, “is my understanding of the universe, my way of relating to things, my participation in reality, my encounter with voices and images. This is why the poem speaks not of an ideal life but of a concrete one: the angle of a window, the resonance of streets, cities and rooms, the shadow…
Read MoreOriginally posted on only coffee is real:
Sophia de Mello Poem translated by Ana Silva, original poem by Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen. Do read the beautiful original poem below. Commentary One of the most compelling elements of Sophia’s poetry is her belief in the power of the four primordial elements – air, fire, earth…
Autumn Landscape Drop by drop rain slaps the banana leaves. Praise whoever sketched this desolate scene: the lush, dark canopies of the gnarled trees, the long river, sliding smooth and white. I lift my wine flask, drunk with rivers and hills. My backpack, breathing moonlight, sags with poems. Look, and love everyone. Whoever sees this…
Read More
The Sparrow A little bird, with plumage brown, Beside my window flutters down, A moment chirps its little strain, Ten taps upon my windowpane, And chirps again, and hops along, To call my notice to its song; But I work on, nor heed its lay, Till, in neglect, it flies away. So birds of peace…
Read More
Thou Art My Lute Thou art my lute, by thee I sing,— My being is attuned to thee. Thou settest all my words a-wing, And meltest me to melody. Thou art my life, by thee I live, From thee proceed the joys I know; Sweetheart, thy hand has power to give The meed of love—the…
Read More
Lovely And Lifelike A face at the end of the day A cradle in day’s dead leaves A bouquet of naked rain Every ray of sun hidden Every fount of founts in the depths of the water Every mirror of mirrors broken A face in the scales of silence A pebble among other pebbles For…
Read More
I Only Wish To Love You I only wish to love you A storm fills the valley A fish the river I have made you the size of my solitude The whole world to hide in Days and nights to understand To see no more in your eyes Than what I think of you And…
Read More
Before I go I’m supposed to get a last wish: Generous reader burn this book It’s not at all what I wanted to say Though it was written in blood It’s not what I wanted to say. No lot could be sadder than mine I was defeated by my own shadow: My words took vengeance…
Read More
Merry Christmas to all of you! What I love about Christmas is a wonderful feeling of festivities and cheer in the air, the joy of giving, the Happiness of being together. The joys of sharing, caring and celebrating little things of holiday season, gives us hope to continue, rejunuvates us for the coming New Year.…
Read More
I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet It burns so quietly within my soul, No longer should you feel distressed by it. Silently and hopelessly I loved you, At times too jealous and at times too shy. God grant you find another who will love you…
Read More
Poetry is a mirror to our day to day life, we all know. As a part of the ongoing 5th birthday celebration I have been sharing poems on five basic emotions we all feel frequently; pain, love, and joy/happiness; I have already posted in the last 15 days. Today I am sharing a poem on…
Read More
The world is so full of a number of things, I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings. – Robert Louis Stevenson ……….. ખુશી, સુખ, આનંદ…કાંઈ કેટલાય નામ આપો, ખરીદી નથી શકાતું. આખી દુનિયા એને શોધે છે. કોઈ પદ-પ્રતિષ્ઠામાં, કોઈ ધન-સંપત્તિમાં, કોઈ યુવાનીમાં, કોઈ ધર્મ-સંપ્રદાયની પ્રવૃત્તિઓમાં, કોઈ સંતાનોની પ્રગતિમાં તો સભા-મેળાવડાઓની વાહવાહીમાં. પણ…
Read More
દુઃખ, પીડા પછી બીજી સર્વવ્યાપી લાગણી છે… પ્રેમની. પ્રેમ જ સમગ્ર સૃષ્ટિની રચનાનો પાયો છે. સૃષ્ટિના ઉદ્ભવમાં આ અગમ્ય, અદમ્ય ખેંચાણ રહેલું છે. એકકોષી જીવથી અનેક-કોષી જીવ બનવાની ઘટનામાં પણ આ સર્જક બળ રહેલું છે. પ્રેમ કરનાર અને પામનાર બંને એક અદ્ ભૂત સર્જનનું કારણ, એક અનન્ય સર્જનના ભાગ બને છે પ્રેમમાં સંપૂર્ણ સમર્પણ કર્યા…
Read More
My dear readers, As part of ongoing celebrations on completing five years, I posted poems written by famous writers of three different languages which were read by all of you in maximum numbers. Now for the second part of celebrations, I am posting poems written by me in all three languages (Gujarati, English, Hindi). Though…
Read More
Completing my formative years here! It’s still unbelievable when I look at the number! I pinch my self, is it true? really? I want to thank you all for providing a continuous flow of views, likes, love, support, follow, comments,… making my journey a wonderful experience. Please let me know what do you think about…
Read More
The Last Toast Whether we like it or not, We have only three choices: Yesterday, today and tomorrow. And not even three Because as the philosopher says Yesterday is yesterday It belongs to us only in memory: From the rose already plucked No more petals can be drawn. The cards to play Are only two:…
Read More
Without knowing my number, enclosed by walls and borders, I walk around with a prisoner’s moon and perpetual shadow chained to my ankle. Living frontiers arise a step beyond my footsteps. There is neither north nor south, east or west, only a multiplied loneliness exists, a loneliness divided by a cipher of men. Time’s race…
Read More
To Madame Curie Oft have I thrilled at deeds of high emprise, And yearned to venture into realms unknown, Thrice blessed she, I deemed, whom God had shown How to achieve great deeds in woman’s guise. Yet what discov’ry by expectant eyes Of foreign shores, could vision half the throne Full gained by her, whose…
Read More
The Sunflower Bring me the sunflower here and let me set it in the parched briny soil of my own place to turn all day to the heavens that reflect it the broad gaze of its yellow yearning face. Things of the dark aspire to all that’s bright, their forms dissolving into a cascade of…
Read More
Knowing Robs Us Knowing robs us of wonder. Had it not ripped apart the fearful robes of primordial Night to steal the design that crafted horns on doghead and sowed insurrection overnight in the homely beak of a hen; had reason not given us assurance that day will daily break and the sun’s array return…
Read More
Silent Mark another day is here and my hands are still covered with a mantle of stoic ink words scribbled on a hesitant paper wishing to be read now not later. i want you to see this point-like light from an abyss growing tongues tasting the wind feel like the knife scraping soft butter and…
Read More
Every night I sneak out Into the world, The world of clones. My body turns into a figure I barely recognize; face doesn’t reflect mine My mouth speaks a different language Only my soul sees it’s twin! I almost fly And do things which I have not imagined Even in my wildest dreams. I meet…
Read More
I go through the snow. I closed My eyes, but the light can still get through My porous eyelids, and I perceive That in my words it’s still the snow That swirls, thickens, bursts. Snow, A letter that we find and unfold, And the ink on it has faded and in the marks The clumsiness…
Read More
Walking, snow falling, it is possible to focus at various distances in turn on separate flakes, sharply engage the attention at several spatial points: the nearer cold and more uncomfortable, the farther distanced and almost pleasing. Living, time passing, it is preferable to focus the memory in turn upon the more distant retrospects in order…
Read More
O Lord, Let It Rain Drench the Desert dunes Let the green grass sprout If only my sweet beloved would return My city’s desolate without him Let him return! Let dark clouds gather Let them thunder and shower May cool winds blow If only my sweet beloved would return I live in just this hope…
Read More
તમે જીવવા માટે શું કરો છો એ જાણવામાં મને રસ નથી મારે જાણવું છે કે તમારા હૃદયમાં ઊંડી કોઈ આરત છે કે કેમ? અને એ ફળીભૂત થવાનું સ્વપ્ન જોવાની હામ છે કે નહિ. તમારી ઉંમરમાં પણ મને રસ નથી. પ્રેમ, સ્વપ્ન અને જીવંત રહેવાના સાહસ ખાતર ગાંડા દેખાવાનું જોખમ તો ખેડી શકો છો ને? મારે…
Read More
So You Want To Be A Writer if it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don’t do it. if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or…
Read More
हलकी नीली यादें ओ विस्मृति के पहाड़ों में निर्वासित मेरे लोगो ! ओ मेरे रत्नों और जवाहरातो ! क्यों ख़ामोशी के कीचड़ में सोए हुए हो तुम ? ओ मेरे आवाम ! गुम हो चुकी हैं तुम्हारी यादें तुम्हारी हलकी नीली, वो आसमानी यादें । हमारे दिमागों में गाद भर चुकी है और विस्मरण के…
Read More
RIVERS This mutilated tree gives Me support, left in this pot-hole It has the bitterness of a circus Before or after the show. I watch The quiet passage of Clouds over the moon. This morning I stretched Myself in an urn of water, Like a relic, and rested. The Isonzo scoured Me like One of…
Read More
हमारे ऊपर एक बार फिर जलती हैं कपोल-कथाएँ हवा के पहले झोंके में ही झर जाएँगी पत्तियों के साथ किन्तु अगली साँस के साथ वापस लौट आएगी एक नई झिलमिलाहट – उंगारेत्ती (8 फ़रवरी 1888- 2 जून 1970) अँग्रेज़ी से अनुवाद : सुरेश सलिल ……………….. Stars They come back high to burn the tales. They…
Read More
Every Song Every song is the remains of love. Every light the remains of time. A knot of time. And every sigh the remains of a cry. Federico García Lorca Translated by A. S. Kline © Copyright 2007 All Rights Reserved ……………….. हर गीत चुप्पी है प्रेम की हर तारा चुप्पी है समय की समय…
Read More
My Two Daughters In the cool dusk, enchanting evening drawing on, One like the dove, the other like the swan, Lovely, and joyful both of them, and, ah, so sweet, Big sister and little sister make their seat, Look, at the threshold of the garden; over them, A spray of white carnations, long, fragile of…
Read More
What Survives Who says that all must vanish? Who knows, perhaps the flight of the bird you wound remains, and perhaps flowers survive caresses in us, in their ground. It isn’t the gesture that lasts, but it dresses you again in gold armor- from breast to knees- and the battle was so pure an Angel…
Read More
Song of the Universal Come said the Muse, Sing me a song no poet has chanted, Sing me the universal. In this broad earth of ours, Amid the measureless grossness and the slag, Enclosed and safe within its central heart, Nestles the seed perfection. By every life a share or more or less, None born…
Read More
The Journey One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice— though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. “Mend my life!” each voice cried. But you didn’t stop. You knew what you had…
Read More
After crossing fifty I have come to realize… Dreams are What we live every day And not something that we will achieve someday in the future. There is no timeline for happiness, It surprises you when you’re expecting it the least Same is true for success. Love, I no longer chase you I feel your…
Read More
When Death Comes When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps the purse shut; when death comes like the measle-pox; when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the door…
Read More
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep I am Not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousands winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in…
Read More
keeping a day ahead when space occupied by those preceding still reeks of waste is deemed vagrancy and planning non-events because your life depends on it does not explain why no demand exists in any case living in expectancy of a life-changing phone-call doesn’t bring order to the chaos surrounding you, so unleash suspense, be…
Read More
Woodcutter. Cut out my shadow. Free me from the torture of seeing myself fruitless. Why was I born among mirrors? The daylight revolves around me. And the night herself repeats me in all her constellations. I want to live not seeing self. I shall dream the husks and insects change inside my dreaming into my…
Read More
The Idler An idle lingerer on the wayside’s road, He gathers up his work and yawns away; A little longer, ere the tiresome load Shall be reduced to ashes or to clay. No matter if the world has marched along, And scorned his slowness as it quickly passed; No matter, if amid the busy throng,…
Read More
A Man In His Life A man doesn’t have time in his life to have time for everything. He doesn’t have seasons enough to have a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes Was wrong about that. A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment, to laugh and cry with the same eyes,…
Read More
Open the window, and let the air Freshly blow upon face and hair, And fill the room, as it fills the night, With the breath of the rain’s sweet might. Hark! the burthen, swift and prone! And how the odorous limes are blown! Stormy Love’s abroad, and keeps Hopeful coil for gentle sleeps. Not a…
Read More
Tools for life Has life ever dumped you in a heap? Perhaps you’ve found self belief so strongly reinforcing that doubt never enters it, nor divorces you from your own reality. While I admire conviction I see it an affliction of the blessed, sign of the righteously possessed and indeed, a decent place to serve…
Read More
‘Green Rain’ I remember long veils of green rain Feathered like the shawl of my grandmother – Green from the half-green of the spring trees Waving in the valley. I remember the road Like the one which leads to my grandmother’s house, A warm house, with green carpets, Geraniums, a trilling canary And shining horse-hair…
Read More
I am a child and free I have no place or dwelling how vast the sky is when the whole world is a poem it’s broad daylight on earth night has not yet been created I have a foothold in all of time – Amina Saïd j’eus dix ans le ciel en têtej’empruntai ses ailes…
Read More
Those Bells Are Driving Me Crazy Those bells are driving me crazy How can I sleep? Ten times a day I pine for him I’ll wear the chains of his love Till death Standing at the edge They cry out, ‘My love!’ But they love only their lives Some claim, ‘I’m all yours’ But wet…
Read More
FOR THE NEW YEAR Stamped in the throat bird song biologists say is inevitable as that beak that eye that red wing is not learned is born with the bird. Perhaps then there’s another dimension behind our learned word patterns … perhaps an infinite song sways in our throats yet to be heard? .. ……
Read More
INSOMNIA The province of my Insomnia Is like the expanse of An arid river Quite often I come here barefooted Accepting its call I walk through And collide with The brambles of Old dreams And unsolved truths The entire stretch is Full of prolific roots Impossible to Pull out And the sun, the moon and…
Read More
O, Were I Loved As I Desire To Be! O, were I loved as I desire to be! What is there in the great sphere of the earth, Or range of evil between death and birth, That I should fear, – if I were loved by thee! All the inner, all the outer world of…
Read More
I stumbled across a grain of truth, In the suns last drops of light, As I stood out in my garden, And watched the fruit bats daily flight, They moved as though united, Their flapping wings a silent dance, And as they flew above me, I stood frozen in a trance, Their flight conveyed such…
Read More
Dunya Mikhail was born in Iraq (Baghdad) in 1965 and came to the United States thirty years later. She’s renowned for her subversive, innovative, and satirical poetry. After graduation from the University of Baghdad, she worked as a journalist and translator for the Baghdad Observer. Facing censorship and interrogation, she left Iraq, first to Jordan…
Read More
बग़दाद के अपने बग़ीचे में मैं अक्सर भागा करता था उसके पीछे मगर वह उड़कर दूर चली जाती थी हमेश। आज तीन दशकों बाद एक दूसरे महाद्वीप में वह आकर बैठ गई मेरे कन्धे पर। नीली समन्दर के ख़यालों या आख़िरी साँसें लेती किसी परी के आँसुओं की तर॥ उसके पर स्वर्ग से गिरती दो…
Read More
What is our innocence, what is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe. And whence is courage: the unanswered question, the resolute doubt, — dumbly calling, deafly listening—that in misfortune, even death, encourage others and in its defeat, stirs the soul to be strong? He sees deep and is glad, who accedes to mortality…
Read More
Where the Sidewalk Ends There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows…
Read More
Do not give me only perfect For there is beauty in what lacks, The things that are most true Are filled with flaws, covered in cracks. So stumble on your sentences, Forget the words you need, To those parading as perfection I must say; pay them no heed. For it is you and your surroundings,…
Read More
દસ વરસની ગણતરીઓ અને મથામણ પછી મારી પાસે છે ત્રણ ઓરડાવાળું ખોરડું એક ઓરડો મારો, ઉજ્જવળ ચન્દ્રનો બીજો ને ત્રીજો, સ્વચ્છ પવનનો. નદીઓ અને પર્વતો માટે તો જગા જ રહી નથી. એમને તો મારે બહાર જ રાખવાં પડશે. મારા નિસાસા બની જાય પવન ને મારાં આંસુઓ, છાંટણાં વર્ષાનાં જે ફૂંકાય ને છંટાય, મારી મરજી મુજબ…
Read More
I remember you as you were that final autumn. You were a gray beret and the whole being at peace. In your eyes the fires of the evening dusk were battling, and the leaves were falling in the waters of your soul. As attached to my arms as a morning glory, Your sad, slow voice…
Read More
Now I out walking The world desert, And my shoe and my stocking Do me no hurt. I leave behind Good friends in town, Let them get well-wined And go lie down. Don’t think I leave For the outer dark Like Adam and Eve Put out of the Park. Forget the myth. There is no…
Read More
The wind is blowing no more The fallen leaves are resting After landing now They’re making a crunchy sound as I walk on them The naked tree is coming to terms With its bare-all look. No longer trying to hide from the nearby bench exchanging glances with the flowing creek The trail is blazing bright…
Read More
What though thy bed be frozen earth, Thy cloak the chilling blast; What though no mate to cheer thy path, Thy sky with gloom o’ercast- What though if love itself doth fail, Thy fragrance strewed in vain; What though if bad o’er good prevail’ And vice o’er virtue reign- Change not thy nature, gentle bloom,…
Read More
Informational Decay I heard an echo in a hollow place. No sound of blowing wind or drifting sand, some ancient voice was this, a captive trace of gone-by speech, of argument, demand, of plea or question, comfort or command. Long years this message had remained unheard in empty halls, in untenanted lands, a letter lost,…
Read More
After Great Pain After great pain a formal feeling comes- The Nerves sit ceremonious like Tombs; The stiff heart questions- was it He that bore And Yesterday- or Centuries before? The Feet, mechanical, go round A Wooden way Of Ground, or Air, or Ought, Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone. This is the…
Read More
Eternity The sun habitually cajoles men with red lollipops. Day is mother’s lap–in her colourfully printed sari one hides the face and rests. The whole day we keep hiding behind things but the night. A Jewish poet of Manhattan had said in my presence once “I love you, but I don’t like you.” When I…
Read More
I Want to Write I want to write I want to write the songs of my people. I want to hear them singing melodies in the dark. I want to catch the last floating strains from their sob-torn throats. I want to frame their dreams into words; their souls into notes. I want to catch…
Read More
The Meaning of Simplicity I hide myself behind simple objects so you may find me, If you do not find me, you will find the objects, you will touch those objects my hand has touched the traces of our hands will mingle The August moon gleams like a tin kitchen kettle (what I am…
Read More
Canticle VI You have a fear: End. You do not see that you end up all day. That you die in love. In sadness. In doubt. In the desire. That renews all day. In love. In sadness. In doubt. In the desire. That you are always another. That you are always the same. That you…
Read More
RUMI AND THE REED Listen to the song of the reed flute: It sings of separation. Torn from the leaf-layered, wind-voiced Banks of the pond, It is joined to sorrow and joy By a slender sound. Who, asked Rumi, can understand The reed’s longing to return? Let its raw lips rest then; Let all words…
Read More
પ્રયોજન ક્ષણનું આ અસ્તિત્વ છે એથી તો હું ગીત ગાઉં છું ને આ મારી પૂર્ણ જિંદગી નહીં સુખી: નહીં દુખી. નિરામય હવા રમે છે શ્વાસ. હું કવિ મારો હોય કાવ્યમાં વાસ. પળપળ સરતા સકલની સહ મારે લોહીની સગાઈ; નહીં આનંદ: નહીં વ્યથા: નહીં કથા: નહીં તથા: નહીં કાંઈ. રાતદિવસ હું મુક્ત હવામાં મ્હાલું. નાશ પામું…
Read More
WITH A LANTERN OF HOPE Drifted in by tidal waves with hugs of attachment on the shore of the North Sea a poem from Burma washed up. No sun, no moon, can be seen on the Norwegian beach. Wearing the robe of mist going up the Scandinavian mountain with a shaken, broken voice singing a…
Read More
She opened the shutters, She hung the sheets over the sill. She saw the day. A bird looked at her straight in the eyes. ‘I am alone,’ she whispered. ‘I am alive.’ She entered the room. The mirror too is a window. If I jump from it I will fall in my arms. – Yannis…
Read More
The Just A man who, as Voltaire wished, cultivates his garden. He who is grateful that music exists on earth. He who discovers an etymology with pleasure. A pair in a Southern café, enjoying a silent game of chess. The potter meditating on colour and form. The typographer who set this, though perhaps not pleased.…
Read More
The First Jasmines Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines! I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with these jasmines, these white jasmines. I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth; I have heard the liquid murmur of the river through the darkness of midnight; Autumn sunsets have…
Read More
आह को चाहिए इक उम्र असर होते तक कौन जीता है तिरी ज़ुल्फ़ के सर होते तक (A prayer needs a lifetime, an answer to obtain who can live until the time that you decide to deign) दाम-ए-हर-मौज में है हल्क़ा-ए-सद-काम-ए-नहंग देखें क्या गुज़रे है क़तरे पे गुहर होते तक (snares are spread in every…
Read More
Alleyway (Mi chiama talvolta la tua voce) Sometimes your voice calls to me, and I do not know what skies or waters you wake me to: a net of sunlight that glazes your walls that at evening were a swaying of late lanterns in the workshops filled with the breeze and sadness. At other times:…
Read More
The Art Of Poetry To gaze at a river made of time and water And remember Time is another river. To know we stray like a river and our faces vanish like water. To feel that waking is another dream that dreams of not dreaming and that the death we fear in our bones is…
Read More
Testament So often it has been displayed to us, the hourglass with its grains of sand drifting down, not as an object in our world but as a sign, a symbol, our lives drifting down grain by grain, sifting away — I’m sure everyone must see this emblem somewhere in the mind. Yet not only…
Read More
Dreams Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow. … … … … Helen Keller She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She, Within herself, Found loveliness,…
Read MoreNegro Speaks Of Rivers I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins My soul has grown deep like the rivers. I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.…
Read MoreThe Birth Of Song (Sorgiva: luce riemersa) Arise: re-emergent light: bright burning leaves. I lie down in brimming rivers where there are islands mirrors of shadows and stars. And your celestial heights overwhelm me, that always nurture my other life with joy. I long to reclaim you, though disillusioned, adolescence with infirm limbs. Salvatore Quasimodo…
Read More
Suddenly It’s Evening (Ognuno sta solo sul cuor della terra) Everyone is alone at the heart of the earth, pierced by a ray of sunshine; and suddenly it’s evening. Salvatore Quasimodo (1901-1968) source: Salvatore Quasimodo selected poems poetsofmodernity.xyz translated by A S Kline * * * * * * * * * અને અચાનક સૂર્યકિરણ-…
Read Moreનિરંજન ભગતને ભાવભીની શ્રધ્ધાંજલિ લડ્યો ન, લડવા સમુંય મુજને ન કોઈ મળ્યું, સદા કુદરતે, કલારસ વિશે જ હૈયું ઢળ્યું, તપ્યો સતત તાપ, હાથ મુજ બેઉ હુંફે ભર્યા, શમ્યો, ઊપડવું, પ્રયાણ અવ પ્રાણ ઝંખે નર્યા. ડબલ્યુ. એસ. લેન્ડોર અનુવાદ નિરંજન ભગત (1926-2018) * * * * * * Dying Speech of an Old Philosopher I strove…
Read MoreHappiness Happiness, to some, elation; Is, to others, mere stagnation. Days of passive somnolence, At its wildest, indolence. Hours of empty quietness, No delight, and no distress. Happiness to me is wine, Effervescent, superfine. Full of tang and fiery pleasure, Far too hot to leave me leisure For a single thought beyond it. Drunk! Forgetful!…
Read MoreDeep in the Stillness He threw me away like a clod of earth. He didn’t know I was a thing with a soul. He didn’t know I was alive. He kept on throwing me like a clod of earth out of his way – onto that neglected path that happened to be mine. And so…
Read More
When I Spoke to the Sky; My journey to love ends in you! He covered me from all over Went into hiding behind a moon, stars, rainbows, clouds,…never showed his real face! When I told the wind; I dreamt of being with you! A robust companion, I see in you. He scattered me all over…
Read More
The way Sun rays travel Through the green fog Creating Luminous pathways Admist The mountains Stream Trees And valleys My sparkling soul Chalks It’s a journey Through This universe In an enchanting Dancing, swirling Lights Twinkling Sprinkling It’s Magic Dust Of smile Love And kindness. Floating Higher Up, among clouds Reaching for the stars And…
Read More
Ecstasy For years it was in sex and I thought this was the most of it so brief a moment or two of transport out of oneself or in music which lasted longer and filled me with the exquisite wrenching agony of the blues and now it is equally transitory and obscure as I sit…
Read More
कैशोर्य के उन दिनों में मैं सुबह की ख़ुशियों से भर जाता था, पर शामों में रुदन ही रुदन था ; अब, जबकि मैं बूढ़ा हूँ हर दिन उगता है शंकाओं से आच्छन्न, तो भी इसकी सन्ध्याएँ पावन हैं, शान्त और प्रसन्न । कालान्तर / फ़्रेडरिक होल्डरलिन अमृता भारती द्वारा अनूदित …………………… Then And Now…
Read MoreGrant me just one summer, powerful ones, And just one autumn for ripe songs, That my heart, filled with that sweet Music, may more willingly die within me. The soul, denied its divine heritage in life, Won’t find rest down in Hades either. But if what is holy to me, the poem That rests in…
Read More
it’s late in the evening. Stars have started to appear. waves are small and scattered. .. still chasing each other to meet ! The sea is a grey reflection of the sky above! why does grey makes us sad , fills our hearts with melancholy! I think grey is more neutral and real in this…
Read MoreSunshine A golden sun shines on floating islands in the cosmos. The rarefied mist has slipped aside. Your face quivers in my palms. The morning cupped in my hands. A soft refulgence courses through my whole being. I have drunk in the drops of light, which had slipped from your radiant soul and suffused your…
Read MoreLife is the name given to a few moments, and In but one of those fleeting moments Two eyes meet eloquently Looking up from a cup of tea, and Enter the heart piercingly And say, Today do not speak I’ll be silent too Let’s just sit thus. Holding each other’s hand United by this gift…
Read More
The First Kiss at Parting Humid seal of soft affections, Tenderest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections, Love’s first snowdrop, virgin kiss! Speaking silence, dumb confession, Passion’s birth, and infants’ play, Dove-like fondness, chaste concession, Glowing dawn of future day! Sorrowing joy, adieu’s last action, (Lingering lips must now disjoin); What words…
Read More
A Journey It’s a journey . . . that I propose . . . I am not the guide . . . nor technical assistant . . . I will be your fellow passenger . . . Though the rail has been ridden . . . winter clouds cover . . . autumn’s exuberant quilt…
Read More
Wind is playing piano On this lake. Shadows of the trees are black keys. Shadows of the clouds are white keys. Playing sounds of nature, Song of the season, Birds are accompanying With their continuous chirping. My soul is singing the song of Eternity Harmony Peace On this blissful day! Nehal Poetry and Image ©…
Read More
A Dream Within a Dream Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow: You are not wrong who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is…
Read MoreLife Life, believe, is not a dream So dark as sages say; Oft a little morning rain Foretells a pleasant day. Sometimes there are clouds of gloom, But these are transient all; If the shower will make the roses bloom, O why lament its fall? Rapidly, merrily, Life’s sunny hours flit by, Gratefully, cheerily Enjoy…
Read More
Wonder A day drunk with the nectar of nowness weaves its way between the years to find itself at the flophouse of night to sleep and be seen no more. Will I be less dead because I wrote this poem or you more because you read it long years hence. ……. …… …… …….…
Read MoreAmen Give everything away— Ideas, breath, vision, thoughts. Peel off words from the lips, and sounds from the tongue. Wipe off the lines from the palms. Give up your ego, for you are not yourself. Take off the body beautiful from your soul. Finish your prayers, say Amen! And surrender the soul. – Gulzar (…
Read MoreHer poems are intense, palpable, strong sensory experiences, you are travelling with her, chasing evening shadows in the long corridors of an asylum, breathing in a sea, entering inside an abandoned church, drenched in rains! ……… ……… ………. ……. Deepti Naval is an acclaimed actress, also a painter and photographer. She enjoys trekking in the…
Read MoreThis Scene Your chin on your knees, you sit there, blue striped sari In a dream your hair flowing on your back Countless butterflies in the air or are they all skyflowers Your chin on your knees, you sit there, your eyes Famously distant, a red glow on your toes On your right hand, the…
Read Moreमनौबुद्धिय् अंहकार चितानि नहम न च श्रोत्रः जि्व्हे न च घ्रणा नेत्र न च व्योम भुमिर न तेजो न वायु चिदानन्द रुपाः शिवोहं शिवोहं I am neither the mind, nor the intellect, nor the ego, nor the mind-stuff; I am neither the body, nor the changes of the body; I am neither the senses of…
Read More
In a room in solitude In a room in solitude was painting some silence, At once a chirping sparrow came and beaked a void intense! I thought that I should paint something on canvas of the air, Like an oozing laundry should I also ooze on chair? When I was on the verge of blooming…
Read More
An Old Poet’s Suicide Note Walking in the dark I grew blind Wading across silence I turned deaf Teachers who speak ceaselessly about light, how far above is it? Prophets who taught me about revolution, how remote is it? My legs have grown weary My heart beats are slow You still tell lies Don’t lie…
Read More
MILES UPON MILES Miles and miles and miles pass through me Unmoving and still as the train rushes on. Those distant hills cut their way in, sinking In joy. Rivers flow in my veins, and behind My wide eyes entire lakes dip and drown. Fields flutter; their tremor brushes my limbs. Houses spread out through…
Read MoreAbout Poems Poems are not written, poems happen. Poems were there before there were poets. Poems are scratched window panes. Poems are decomposable and therefore must not under any circumstance be burnt. Poems are open around the clock (even the hermetic ones). Poems from foreign countries do not require a visa. A good translator will…
Read More
The More Loving One Looking up at the stars, I know quite well That, for all they care, I can go to hell, But on earth indifference is the least We have to dread from man or beast. How should we like it were stars to burn With a passion for us we could not…
Read MoreToday is my father’s birthday and he would have been in his 80s if he had lived longer. It’s never enough to say I miss him everyday. He was the one, who introduced me to the beauty of the English Poetry and Literary Criticism, Shakespeare,Homer and Milton, Gibran, Whitman, Robert Frost, Wordsworth, Shelly, Keats and…
Read MoreCrossing the Bar Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight…
Read MoreThe holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart, When the full river of feeling overflows;— The happy days unclouded to their close; The sudden joys that out of darkness start As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart Like swallows singing down each…
Read MoreA Large Number by Wislawa Szymborska Four billion people on this earth, but my imagination is the way it’s always been: bad with large numbers. It is still moved by particularity. It flits about the darkness like a flashlight beam, disclosing only random faces, while the rest go blindly by, unthought of, unpitied. Not even…
Read MoreBefore Sleep I was in love with anatomy the symmetry of my body poised for flight, the heights it would take over parents, lovers, a keen riding over truth and detail. I thought growing up would be this rising from everything old and earthly, not these faltering steps out the door every day, then back…
Read MoreA Day Dream On a sunny brae, alone I lay One summer afternoon; It was the marriage-time of May With her young lover, June. From her mother’s heart, seemed loath to part That queen of bridal charms, But her father smiled on the fairest child He ever held in his arms. The trees did wave…
Read MoreWell hast thou spoken, and yet, not taught A feeling strange or new; Thou hast but roused a latent thought, A cloud-closed beam of sunshine, brought To gleam in open view. Deep down, concealed within my soul, That light lies hid from men; Yet, glows unquenched – though shadows roll, Its gentle ray cannot control,…
Read MoreThe Old Friend calls to tell me he can’t see the same things he saw yesterday; the book he was reading last night has become an album of photographs of his wife’s family back in the old country— people he’s never even met—and his wife herself has been replaced by the first girl he ever…
Read MoreThe Spelling I left a spelling at my father’s house written in small coins on his front step. It said which star I was heading for next, which channel to watch, which button to press. I should have waited, given that spelling a voice, but I was handsome and late. While I was gone he…
Read MoreCapoeira Boy I saw him on YouTube. He was learning the martial art that masks fighting as dance; the rocking, foot- to-foot ginga bracing him for kicks, swipes and thistle-light acrobalance. He was finding how to spin. Feint, soar with his opponent. You could worry about him. at least I did. but I saw he…
Read More
