Category Archives: Poetry

Remembering The Radical Romantic On His 221st Birthday – Percy Bysshe Shelley

Blonde-Shelley-rfvx8a

Regarded as one of the finest lyric poets of the English-speaking world, Percy Bysshe Shelley was born on August 4, 1792 in Sussex, England. Immensely radical in his works and political as well as social, Shelley unfortunately did not receive much recognition during his lifetime. His worth as a genius as a poet came along only after his death. Shelley became such a strong influence on the next generation of poets and writers, so much so that he was great admired by the like of Oscar Wilde, Karl Marx, Robert Browning and Thomas Hardy. 

Shelley’s literary compositions exemplify both extremes of Romanticism – joyous ecstasy and brooding despair. The major themes of Shelley’s works comprised – interchange with nature, pursuit of ideal love, rebellion against authority, visionary imagination and the untamed spirit always in search of freedom. 

Though Shelley’s themes exude certain similar hues with his contemporaries, nonetheless, he has left behind certain peculiarities on the literary movement of Romanticism. Pursuit of the idea and the creation of powerful symbols are idiosyncratic to Shelley’s works. His compositions like Ozymandus, Ode to Intellectual BeautyPrometheus Unbound and Ode to the West Wind are not only intellectual feasts but also a delight to the visual imaginations. 

It goes without saying that Shelley’s radical ides embodied in his literary compositions, still remains as a challenge to us to achieve our extreme potentials. 

Advertisements

घुलता हुआ एहसास

Sad-Love-Poem

Ankit Chandra writes this forlorn lover poem with a caveat. Don’t label him as a forlorn lover, this is just an artistic creation. Wonderfully crafted though, enjoy

सोचता तो था की शायद उसको याद करता हूँ
पर अहसास अब कुछ कम होता है

कुछ समय पहले चाहता तो उसे बहुत था
पर महसूस अब थोडा कम करता हूँ

कहीं से कुछ कम हुआ है या खुद ही ख़त्म हो रहा हूँ
पर कुछ बातों को याद करके मायूस अब थोडा कम होता हूँ

सूरज को देखने की आदत तो नहीं पड़ी है,
पर चाँद को अब कभी कभी ही देखता हूँ

किसी और का नाम तो नहीं आया है अभी जुबां पे,
पर उसका नाम ज़रूर कम लेता हूँ

देर रात तक जागना तो अभी शुरू नहीं किया है,
पर रात में अभी भी कम सोता हूँ

आँखें अभी तक सूखी तो नहीं है
पर शायद अब थोडा कम रोता हूँ..

Ishaq Se Achha Kya Hai

bilal blog

इश्क में बहने सेअच्छा क्या है
ख्वाबों में रहने से अच्छा क्या है ,
हाले-दिल सुनाने से नहीं होगा मेरा वो
गोया चुप ही रहने से अच्छा क्या है .

रातों में जगने से अच्छा क्या है
रास्तों से लड़ने से अच्छा क्या है ,
बर्बाद करेगा तू , हो जाऊंगा ख़ुशी से मैं
बर्बाद हो फिर से -पनप जाने से अच्छा क्या है .

सजने और संवर जाने से अच्छा क्या है
ग़म है तो क्या , मुस्कुराने से अच्छा क्या है .
सफ़ेद कपड़ों में लिपट जायेंगे इस ज़िन्दगी के बाद
दुनिया के रंगों में रंग जाने से अच्छा क्या है

तेरी चाहत के फंदे में उतर जाने से अच्छा क्या है
जो है किया मना सबने – वो कर जाने से अच्छा क्या है ,
सुना चुका हूँ तेरी साज़िश ज़हर तू ही मुझे देगी
तेरे हाथों का दिया ज़हर पी जाने से अच्छा क्या है .

आपका
बिलाल

A Longing Bait

loneliness

By Aditya Nagarajan

How lonely, left was I to grave
substituting cigarette buds for illusory nipples of my mother

screaming and scathing, modest approvals of despair
those never ending love, lost like words; teenagers write at shores in beaches

I wake up, hollow, a perfectly day-night balanced between nostalgia and emotion
where rhythm masquerades as poignant guilt

I walk, thread-bare, worn-out, outworn, trite and stale
where shadows neither follow nor silhouette appear rare

A close veil of miasma lurk around like scented perfume coming out of
wet blouses

I cough the drag, the cigarette stopped being loyal
the smoke was like the genie, my mouth typified the magic lamp

I throw the rest of the cigarette like an author discards words unnecessary
as I surrender into stupor, sleep betrays me again

तू खूबसूरत है बहोत

beautiful

By Syed Bilal

तू खूबसूरत है बहोत

जानती है क्या !
संगेमरमरी मूरत है तू
पहचानती है क्या !
पलकों में तेरी सुबह की
आहट कुबुलाती है
नैन जब खुलते है तेरे
तो सुबहा  मुस्कुराती है ,
मेरी सुबहा और शाम है तू
जानती है क्या !
मेरी सुराही मेरा जाम है तू
पहचानती है क्या !
तू चाँद की करवट है
नदिया का पनघट है
दरिया की सरहद है
जानती है क्या !
रोते हुए चेहरे पे
हसी की दस्तक है
पहचानती है क्या !
आँखें है तेरी दो दीये
रोशन सा इनमे नूर है
मुड़कर जो देखे जिस तरफ
दीवाली छोड़ जाती है
जानती है क्या !
बाहें फैला जो खड़ी होती तू
बारिश तुझपे उतर आती है
पहचानती है क्या !
आपका :
बिलाल

The Stupid Girl!

stupid girl

By Ganesh Subramanian

She thinks she is beautiful

But in reality she is pitiful

She thinks she is everyman’s dream

But seeing her face in midnight makes a child scream

She thinks she is intelligent

But her brain can’t be activated even by a chemical reagent

She thinks she is worldly-wise

But her superficial knowledge is like melting ice

She thinks she is a super star

But she is nothing more than a black stone of tar

She thinks her boyfriend is a Rambo

But who will tell her that she herself is a Dumbo

She thinks she is the cynosure of all eyes

But she is nothing more than a walking dead body hunted by flies

She thinks she wears the best dress in the town

But seeing her colour choice makes even the apathetic frown

She thinks she is a heavenly wonder

But her friends know that she is only a God’s blunder

When trying to think, her lips curl

But thoughts don’t come to her, after all she is a stupid girl !

You Have Been A Friend, Philosopher & Guide, Thanks Dad

father day

It takes a toll to manage a son like me and he has done it with perfection. It always helps if your daddy becomes your best buddy and he certainly turned one. Here’s for him with the caveat that not just one day but even 365 in a year is less to celebrate a papa like him. You certainly are the best. 

I was one of those troubled boy kid who was more scared of her mom than anything on the planet. My mom is one stickler for perfection and let me be frank, I was not even close to one. I would say I am still a work-in-progress but in those days I was worse. It was my dad then who would spring out of nowhere to save me from my mom’s wrath when I would not do my homework, not be up-to-date with my class write-ups or do anything wrong. If he could not manage saving me because sometimes it could get tough he would wear his slippers and move out of home because he for one could not see me cry. That is my earliest memory of my dad’s saving me qualities.

Things went ahead and I grew up only to become more naughty outside home. Hitting the ball out of the park and breaking glasses became a habit and so did people turning up to my home asking for a blanket ban on me playing cricket anywhere near their houses. He would though pay up all the time saying “he would play, what he breaks you can repair, take money but he would play”.

I don’t remember ever asking my mom for extra money because I knew she would decline thinking I would misuse. My father always tended the currency to me irrespective of the purpose. I remember asking him for Rs. 5000 during my last week of MBA because I was dating the most beautiful girl I had ever seen (this was what I had said to him) and he sent Rs 10000.

Things came to such an extent that I started discussing things which ideally no boy my age used to discuss with their fathers. My friends and I would go for a smoking joint (I still do not smoke or drink) and my father would know where I am. This was trouble for everyone else because my father would also know who smokes and drinks and who does not.

He never curbed my natural instincts, not even when I said I want to go out of home to prove myself. I am a single son and I know how important it is for him to see me. Till then it was like a routine for him to see me daily and suddenly I dropped a bomb. He though as usual allowed me the experiment and here I am struggling to make a mark even after 5-years of being away from him. He probably knew this and also the fact that someday I would be back with him, to share food from his plate and to take a bite of snack from his hand.

It was not that we never disagreed. The greedy person that I am, we never agreed with his way of business, where ethics and morality always stood ahead than any amount of money. His peers went way ahead of him in terms of money and social respect (which these days is proportionate to the size of the wallet) and he kept talking of good and bad karma. It was only when these great man as I always thought of them because of their come-what-may make money attitude fell, and took with them their entire families, did I realise what my father always meant when he quoted Warren Buffet vis-a-vis my example of Mr. Dhirubhai Ambani.

Today as I am on the verge of turning on the wrong side of the 20’s I sometimes feel could I be a tenth as good as he is? Naah, I don’t think so. I am just not confident I could because the two biggest qualities of his, sacrifice and patience, are things I lack totally.

I could write a book on our relationship but would rather sum it up with this beautiful poem from Louisa Mansfield

DAD,
When i was born,
You were there to catch me when i fall, whenever and wherever.
When i said my first words,
You were there for me,
to teach me the whole dictionary if need be.
When i took my first steps,
You were there to encourage me on.
When i had my first day at school,
you were there to give me advice and help me with my homework.
I still havent finished school,
or walked down the aisle, or had my first child.
But i know you will be there for me through all these times and more, the good and bad.
So i just wrote this to say ‘I LOVE YOU DAD!!!’