No comments on John Keats…
Category: poems
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I was lucky and fortunate enough to come across this beautiful poem today morning while reading an article in the newspaper. Though I should share it with everyone.
You start dying slowly – By Pablo Neruda
You start dying slowly
if you do not travel,
if you do not read,
If you do not listen to the sounds of life,
If you do not appreciate yourself.You start dying slowly
When you kill your self-esteem;
When you do not let others help you.You start dying slowly
If you become a slave of your habits,
Walking everyday on the same paths…
If you do not change your routine,
If you do not wear different colours
Or you do not speak to those you don’t know.You start dying slowly
If you avoid to feel passion
And their turbulent emotions;
Those which make your eyes glisten
And your heart beat fast.You start dying slowly
If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love,
If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain,
If you do not go after a dream,
If you do not allow yourself,
At least once in your lifetime,
To run away from sensible advice…~ Pablo Neruda
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My truth,
shall be my own.
Experienced, trusted and
proved by myself.
it shall not be borrowed, not read in a book,
neither heard from someone else.
It shall not be rehearsed or
veiled under depth of lies.
My truth, shall be bright and clear,
like the bold sun in the skies.
Free from bias of gender, caste and religions.
My truth shall be fixed, unchanging with the seasons.
Once and for all,
it shall need no revisions.
Not flashy, neither catchy yet captivating.
My truth shall triumph when I may be failing.
Free from morals and free from malice.
My truth shall stand without an accomplice.– Mayank Mishra
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The Creek American natives believe that in the beginning of the world daily animals used to have magic powers to keep the Sun in the sky. Night animals on the other side tried everything to keep the everlasting darkness.
One day all animals set a meeting to solve the problem. After hours of arguing they found the solution. Seeing the stripped tail of raccoon one animal suggested why do not we split the day equally into time of light and time of darkness.
Here is my version of it in a poem.During a random twilight,
were gathered animals of sorts.
They were to their own delight,
here to solve a matter of powers.All kinds- reptiles, mammals,birds and insects.
Some fleshy, some ugly, some bony.
All in all, it was a cacophony.
Some shrieking, braying, cherping.
Others barking, roaring ,
cawing according to their choices.
Some just nodding their heads,
unable to make the voices.Not everyone had a say in it.
It was a matter of precision.
With due discussion over the matter,
the animals had to make the decision.
The trouble was pretty much tight.
It was about causing day and night.
Diurnals held the sun, wanted the light.
The nocturnals in turn brought the night.After hours of arguing and noise.
A little frog spoke with some poise
‘As I see the striped tail of the raccoon,
I suggest we divide the time between the sun and the moon.
Half a day can be night
And the other half could be light.’So that’s how went the saying.
how the day and night came into being. -
Writer’s block ?
A lame excuse
given by many
who try to set a price
to an art or few words.
a shield used by those
who don’t wan’t to deal with life
you can find them everywhere.Creativity demands patience
a thing every true artist knows
so don’t rush it
we are not machines!sometimes I go months
without having written a word
for endless days I feel
locked and caged like a bird.
I know these aren’t blocks
for I am no writer
these by all means
are my stepping stones
to life.
these silences
are responsible for
the music in my life.Whenever I have stopped
I have begun anew.
With new meanings added to life,
Everything changed ! -
very often two glances meet
In a crowded street
Puzzled, smiling, expressionless sometimes
In such fashions , each other, they greet
New strangers,new faces every moment
And the glances repeat
Few eyes meetin these ephemeral glances
Strangers come together
In these subtle chances
Life gathers in tiny traces
Reflected in two eyes
Upon backdrop of faces
The stage is setCharacters come and go
Some move along
Few break the flow
Destinies unfold while humans conceit
With planned coincidences
Do Strangers meet.
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Atop the kailasha
amidst snow and coldsat a hermit
with his eyes closed
indifferent to differences
unaware of appearances
abiding by no laws
never taking a pause
from his deep meditation
lost in deep contemplation
clad in tiger skin
all animals his kin
a snake garland
ash on forehead
destroyer and life-giver
the hermit was Shiva
rejected and an outcast
never dwells on his past
neither a teacher, nor a preacher
never thinking of the future
he is guileless and tough
lost and unbound
if you look hard enough
within you, he may be found
to be like Shiva
all you need to do
is open that third eye
and take a view
if you can
wield his trident
strike down every impediment
which stands between you
and the Shiva in you.
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Scourging the crime in dark alleys
riding down sharp valleys
striking hard blows to stark realities
indulging myself in theatricalities
know that i am not a mere dilettante
the wrongdoers fear me,
so they call me the vigilante
Lending voice to the underdogs
raging my anger on the hogs
cleaning up every murk that clogs
my streets, my town, my blocks
through pointed punishments I establish shanti
the gangsters, scared of me,
call me the vigilanteNothing great I do
I fight, is all I do
Injustice, crime and criminals I hate
Who needs my help, I simply anticipate
I do only good in this world so scanty
The politicians despise me
And they call me the vigilante.
Posted from WordPress for Android by Mayank Mishra (mayank.mishra@stu.upes.ac.in)
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There is an anger
Hidden Within all of us
Only Few can Control it..
Controlled by it are othersDriving us, dividing us, trifling us
Making us imprudent and unwise
From within like a serpent thus
Evil plans it does deviseThere is some anger
Pushing it’s way to outside
Through words and deeds
When expressed, spreading viceBlaming us, defaming us, claiming us
Playing with our emotions
From within manipulating thus
Creates conflicting notionsThere is little anger
Within all of us
But if you can kill it
Or just ask it to hushCompress it, suppress it, express it
Forget it and never recall
If you can just somehow control your anger
I promise you can control it all.Posted from WordPress for Android by Mayank Mishra (mayank.mishra@stu.upes.ac.in)
Whispers of Immortality 