Not Mine, Not Mine!
An imagery haunts for days.
Like whisperings in the wind
They settle on the clouds of my mind.
Slowly they connect...
And a chain of words reveals itself.
Poems dedicated to my Guru
I plummeted the depths of my mind
to give words to my feelings
It was with Thy touch
That like shells... more »
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Anita Sehgal Poems
Once my house was full of people Both young and old … of diverse opinions and myriad temperaments. Voices and sounds echoed all around,
The fair face of the earth glows softly in the darkness of infinity, Held aloft magically in the deep swirling oceans. The brown blanketed in rich green, Clouds in varying colours hover on its brow.
The magic of Divinity I bring with me from the lands of beyond. With the blessings of the Gods, I arrive …
Neither her attire nor her demeanor spoke of a life of riches.. Nor reflected one of abject penury, Just another old woman.…
Ever since I was born, You have been with me As I grew, Your shadow over me lengthened
Far away, dark clouds gather, Despondency fills my heart. Far away, the red sun drowns in the ocean, A deep sadness prevails.
In suspended animation of Now Why can't I just BE? With no baggage of the past And no worry for the future
A Mother's Song
Oh! my Darling Baby, Where have you come from?
Music pours forth from the taut strings of a sitar, under the nimble fingers of the player.
A full circle
The parched ground with wounds as wide as craters, stared at the relentless, harsh blue. Leafless, huge trees exposed their skeletons.
A part of the whole
Apart yet a part of the Whole. Is not the part, a part of the whole?
Exıstence - Cinquain
Existence Joyous, melancholy Creating, flowing, demolishing, Energy that is life and death
It is the evening of his life. He sits on an isolated bench And stares with empty eyes at the barren park.
If I could I would, Hold on to the rays And climb into the sun,
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Once my house was full of people
Both young and old …
of diverse opinions and myriad temperaments.
Voices and sounds echoed all around,
Doors banged and shut, activity all around…
Where is my corner of quiet, I wondered?
Once my house was full of guests,
Glasses clinked, tables over laden..
Laughter rang out …
Merry stories exchanged and news dissected,
Each sticking vociferously to his point of view, egos clashed.
Why cannot we listen more and talk less, I wondered?
Once my house was full of children
Each child in a world of his ...