Early Spring

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…

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Blue and Green

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…

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Jasmines – Claude McKay

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…

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Poet As Fisherman – James A. Emanuel

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…

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When You Are Old – તું વૃધ્ધ થાય ત્યારે…

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…

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Writing the best poem ever

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,…

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Still I Rise – Maya Angelou

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…

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Non-Love: અનાસક્તિ

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…

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घास तो मुझ जैसी है – The Grass is really like me

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…

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We Wear the Mask-  Paul Laurence Dunbar

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…

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Liberté – Paul Éluard

– 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…

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A poem / કવિતા – Jameela Nishat

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…

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I feel the dead – મરણને અનુભવું છું

“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…

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