Category Archives: Poems

Alone with Everybody

Alone with Everybody

The flesh covers the bone

and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there’s no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

 – Charles Bukowski

Autumn Haiku in Summer

Regrets by Jane Reichhold

low-tide walk
now deep at sea
my path

at the waterfalls
a woman remembering
a love affair

at least the moon
when it’s full
comes to my porch

ribbon knots
tighten a lump in the throat
as it was that night…

heavy heart
such a color evenings
weighs nothing

Poem for Sunday

Stumble on this very soothing poem by Charles Simic.  A perfect poem to enjoy on Sunday evening. I hope you enjoy it too.

The White Room

The obvious is difficult
To prove. Many prefer
The hidden. I did, too.
I listened to the trees.

They had a secret
Which they were about to
Make known to me–
And then didn’t.

Summer came. Each tree
On my street had its own
Scheherazade. My nights
Were a part of their wild

Storytelling. We were
Entering dark houses,
Always more dark houses,
Hushed and abandoned.

There was someone with eyes closed
On the upper floors.
The fear of it, and the wonder,
Kept me sleepless.

The truth is bald and cold,
Said the woman
Who always wore white.
She didn’t leave her room.

The sun pointed to one or two
Things that had survived
The long night intact.
The simplest things,

Difficult in their obviousness.
They made no noise.
It was the kind of day
People described as “perfect.”

Gods disguising themselves
As black hairpins, a hand-mirror,
A comb with a tooth missing?
No! That wasn’t it.

Just things as they are,
Unblinking, lying mute
In that bright light–
And the trees waiting for the night.

Embrace the self-knowledge

We spend our lives discovering the worldly knowledge unaware of the fact that the knowledge within us is phenomenal. There are so many people I meet every day who can speak for hours on world affairs and their superfluous knowledge acquired from the books but when it comes to define themselves or about their purpose of living, all the knowledge goes flat. Certainly I am also a victim of this human ignorance. I sometimes go astray from my real objective of life and instead gets too involved in obliging to my materialistic engagements so much so that it becomes difficult for me to take simple decisions of life. Well I do blame my indecisiveness at some points but more than that it is very unfortunate of us who are surrounded with gadgets all the time and I have been noticing that even for a small trivial life queries, I look up on Google which I acknowledge is absolutely preposterous because I don’t want to categorize myself into people who can’t find solutions on their own. I am quite certain that there must be many more people like me who have the ability to take decisions but has somewhere lost their paths for some or the other reasons. So here it is, stop for a while, take some time out, gather your thoughts and listen to your heart and soul. They want to speak with you, give them time or you’ll lose them forever.  May be Khalil Gibran could help us.

Self-Knowledge by Khalil Gibran

Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart’s knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.

And it is well you should.
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.

Say not, “I have found the truth,” but rather, “I have found a truth.”
Say not, “I have found the path of the soul.” Say rather, “I have met the soul walking upon my path.”
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself like a lotus of countless petals.

Summer Melancholy

Image

Spring is gone in the nick of time,

Letting the summer to set in early

The sun is in cahoots with the clouds,

A bright hot day and the roads empty

Not a bird in the sky,

Not a new leaf on the tree

A slight melancholy in the air,

Recalling the winter that flee

And my dog yawns and pants heavily,

Sure an onset of grave heat

In this mid hour of the scorching day,

A stage of utter somnolence I have reached

I yearn for a perfect siesta,

Wistful this seems

Leaving me with a desperate wait,

And the sanguine winter dreams.

Lover’s Delight

images

Remember when it rained and you held me close,

My heart skipped a beat as the feelings arose

We kissed under the beaming full moon,

Only to part ways till another monsoon

Never thought you as a stranger,

Time and again you asked for favors

Though I stayed alarmed,

Gravitated as I was unharmed

You wooed me with your subtle charm,

And we waltzed as I was still in your arms

I often wear your fleece when I’m alone,

Which still breathes in your cologne

With that toast of Chateau wine,

You promised you’ll always be mine

But you left me in a wrangle,

And I tried hard to dissemble..

I still remember the letter I wrote,

It was never posted as you often misquote

Today the sky is again crimson,

And the stars show up in billion

I still wait for that rain of desire,

When you and I will kiss on the pier.

Shakespeare Sonnet #116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

One of the reasons to like this sonnet is that here love is so divinely compared with marriage yet defines it different from the actual ceremony.  What I understand here is that love between two people (whether same gender or different) is not bound by marriage. Love which changes with time or circumstances is not actual love. Love is constant and it doesn’t change even if one of the partner is physically away. It doesn’t shake even during difficult times (“That looks on tempests”). Love is like a star that guides a lost soul.  Unlike the height of the star which can be measured, the star’s worth cannot be. Love is not age specific which is limited only when the partners are young and beautiful but it stays even when the body grows old and sick. It doesn’t change with hours and weeks but remains same even to the edge of doom.  And then Shakespeare says that if what he has written here can be proved wrong, then his writings mean nothing and no man has ever loved.

Inspirational Rumi

I make a point to take out time and read some inspirational poems. These are yet other thoughtful words by great Rumi.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

 -Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

I Rise

At times in life we feel suffocated as we drown in the complexities of life when we struggle to choose between right or wrong. And then we need a push to bring ourselves to the surface. What can be better inspirational source than a poem. This motivational poem is by American author and poet Maya Angelou and I see no reason for not liking it.

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 moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Song of a Woman…

Who says women can be celebrated only on March 8th, for all the lovely women in my life:

She was a nymph last week,

Turns a woman today

She sashays in the crowd.

Swishing her skirt away

She can dance on Debussy.

While she sings ‘Marrakesh Express’

She believes in joys of life,

An enchanting charisma she possess

She conveys with her eyes,

That shines with a dab of kohl

She tosses her hair around,

Waking up dead souls

Her scent enthrals the breeze,

As she wanders all around

It’s the male attention she seize,

As she walks in the yellow gown

She looks at the sky and it rains,

Her lips smile that glows her face

She looks at the mirror and,

Ignores how resplendent she looks

She lives with an exquisite flamboyancy,

Her memories of childhood fade away

Her soul is in sweet ecstasy,

As she turns a woman today!