Om Chawla Poems
|83.||Betrayal - Of Faith Or Of Nature||8/25/2013|
|84.||An Infant's Smile||10/16/2013|
|86.||A Poor Man's Lot||12/3/2012|
|87.||Cry Of A Soul||10/26/2012|
Comments about Om Chawla
Often have we seen a bird
flying far, again and again
collecting straws to weave a nest-
A shelter to lay eggs
a home- for its young ones to be.
As eggs are hatched
out come the young
chirping or crying, to be fed,
the bird flies again, and again
to feed the young
who cannot fly
It chews the grain but does not swallow
beak to beak it feeds young fellow
caressingly and lovingly
so all are fed properly.
Young get wings, by and by:
and coaxed by the mother bird;
attempt to fly.
Then suddenly one day
the young one ...
O friend, tickle the strings of thy voluptuous lyre
And rend all air with musical sound-
Such sound, that I might drown
All my misery, my universe and my love
Yes, this love that cans't be mine
That gold will buy love matters not,
A fair foul fancy, if love were aught.
O friend play - dispel misery in the air,
Revive agonies, set my heart on fire