Featured Poetry- by Henson Towne

Sometimes the best feelings are expressed in the simplest words. Just like Da Vinci spoke, “Simplicity is the best sophistication.”

This poem narrates the tragic scenario of two young friends getting separated and ultimately end up never saying hello again..

Around the Corner
Around the corner I have a friend,
in this great city that has no end.
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
and before I know it, a year is gone.

And I never see my old friends face,
for life is swift and a terrible race.
He knows I like him just as well,
as in the days when I rang his bell.

And he rang mine, if we were younger then,
and now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.

“Tomorrow” I say,” I will call on Jim”… ”
Just to show that I’m thinking of him”.
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
and distance between us grows.

Around the corner!- yet miles away,
“here’s a telegram sir” “Jim died today”.
And thats what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.

by: Henson Towne

I have been there..!

I was lost in deeper pursuits,

in canopied labyrinths and mountain blues

looking for life in larger pictures,

while it rested in the mildest details.

 

I was lost in luxuries and leather,

life greeted me in simplicity and feather

i have shifted names and lives

tamed spirits and stripes,

 

i have been a wonderer

neither lost or found…

rumoured a great mysteries,

formed  a million grounds

 

I have tested faith and God,

and found them dispensable

of all things that happen to us,

only we are responsible.

 

I have been to the other side,

and we are not alone.

Long after even when we are dust,

they shall never be gone.

 

 

 

  •    sahar

 

A beautiful Poem by Pablo Neruda

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

Time.

Time is a fascinating concept
Growing with us, on us.
Like a great controller
Adjusting things, making changes.
Rolling the dice,it shifts characters
In and out of life and death.
We are so believing in it’s game
that we measure our lives with it.
Past and future are non existent.
You never see them come and
You never see them go.
It’s our own creation that keeps us busy.
Our own ‘time’ that haunts us.
First man learnt to measure a day
Then came hours,minutes and it went on.
Can’t you see we are all racing
equipped with rocket fuels and roaring engines
we are bound for sure destruction.
While man will always be caught
between past and future.
I will let you in on a secret.
There is only one time
and that is now and
it will always be so.

Silence of a Martyr.

Ruins and ruins 
Is all I see,
officers, brothers,
enemies and friends alike.
Who did we die for ?
The more i watch.
The more i realize.
Petty issues got dragged too far
and here i stand in a WAR

Cries and shrieks
the bombed bridge creaks
Every bullet for every ounce of flesh speaks,
I just hit the target.
didn’t differ enemy or friend i bet
If any how this all could get better
you would not be reading the silence of a martyr.

My old gun is smoked and burning
I lost another brother round that turning.
Heard him fall down that aisle.
Oh,how i just want to tell him
That i could do nothing for him
if i would, the next bullet would be waiting for me.

And all i feel is sorrow and regret
thats how a martyr’s life ends
garland twice a year on the grave.
thats how they salute the brave
how i wish i could tell my mother “I am here”
if only ! then you wouldn’t be reading the silence of a martyr.

Wounds have now stopped to pain,
oh lord ! how much i wish the rain!
to splutter on my lips.
And drain it all away.
the rivers of blood
to the Holy Gange.

the medals still shine
through the drops of tear and rent.
they fake a smile in vain
but i know they are dying in pain.
there is no victory or defeat.
Just red and dead on the street.

right or wrong is left behind
it isn’t about righteousness at all
its only about those who fall
you cant survive a war,
cause even if you get enough far.
it will haunt you all your life.
at the end of the day
battlefield is painted red in colour.
this is why , you are reading the silence of a martyr.

Posted from WordPress for Android by Mayank Mishra (mayank.mishra@stu.upes.ac.in)