Bijay Kant Dubey

Love Poetry (Poems) - Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

At Your First Sight

At your first sight,
The first sight of yours
Have I fallen in love
With you
And now it comes
But you,
Only you.

At your first sight
Have I fallen
In love
With you,
Now say you,
How to live
Without seeing you?

All About Love

All about love,
Write I,
About the facets of love,
Motherly, sisterly, brotherly, fatherly,
love for the house and family,
Love for the old things,
Love for all,
Just try to love
And say,
What it is love?

An introductory poem all about love, what is love, how the types of it? Love for the house and the family, this too is a type of that strong feeling. Love for the mother, sister, brother, father and the things you love constitute all that.

Falling In Love

Falling in love,
Have I come to know,
What it is love,
How the feelings of it,
How the upbeat,
How the downbeat
Of the pulsating heart,
Beating and aching
And waiting for,
But she turning not?

Love me,
Do love me,
I am so mad in love with you,
So madly after you,
I love you,
I really love you.
Falling in love is good, but many after falling, betray they the sweetheart and turn away from? if you have to fall in love, love you truly, from your heart within. Love from your soul. Love not to betray and cheat, but true love is rare.

I Love You So Much, I Love You So Much

I love you so much,
I love you so much,
Only one thing that I have come to feel,
I love you,
I love you,
Just into the ears of yours,
Want I to whisper
I love you,
I love so much,
As people believe it not
What the lovers say it,
What the things of the heart!

I love you so much is the thing of deliberation, just sonority and music of words have been kept in mind to dwell upon. Love is not love, but the passion of living and loving. First, love then say it, what is it love; what the heart-matter?

You’re Looking So Cute

You are looking so cute,
So pretty and lovely,
I cannot say it,
How much lovely
Are you looking today,
Very, very impressive
And beautiful of course,
I do not have the words
To state it?
After calling one cute and lovely enough, one should not use and throw the simple heart in love. Appreciate and admire you beauty no doubt, but not with the guile in the heart. Love is not love if full of betrayal.

Romantic, Only The Girl-lover Not A Romantic

The romantic, often have I heard,
The girl-lover is but a romantic,
To be a romantic is not to be a lover
Madly after heroines
And theatre artistes,
To be an admirer an appreciator
Of beauty which is truth and goodness too,
Beauty truth,
Truth goodness.

The word romantic does not mean
At all a lover of girls,
Madly after them,
But to be a lover of soul,
A man of heart,
Not simply the distorted meaning
They adhere to.

A loafer is not a romantic,
But a lover of Nature,
The hills, brooks, fields and fallows,
The woods and the wilds,
The marshy plots of land
And the water bodies,
A romantic is a mystic.

The word romantic does not mean at all a lover of girls, but a man of heart and soul in love with man, nature and the world. One who perceives beauty and truth in all is in reality a romantic. For to be a romantic, one needs to be dreamy, visionary, sensuous, sentimental and creative at the same time of delving.

Your Wet Eyelashes

Your wet eyelashes,
And painful
As wept you,
Shed teardrops
Silently and secretly,
I have not forgotten,
Forgotten you,
Nameless Lassie,
Your wet eyelashes,
Unknown maiden,
If I have made it ache,
I am so sorry,
Your wet eyelids,
Nameless Lass,
Without knowing,
How have I taken to be
My own,
Without any introduction!

The pains of love, be it yours or mine, how to console a heartbreak burning with the heartburn is the thing of concern? If console you, the pains will be your liability even though you have not done any harm. An unknown maiden and her pains have bee sketched in all pathos and poignant expression.

Will You Divorce Me? Will You Divorce Me? , Asked

Will you, will you divorce me,
Asked she tearfully
With tears into the eyes of hers
And falling down the cheeks,
Welling up
And falling down
And she sobbing,
Wiping out the tears
And asking,
Asking him,
Holding him by,
Will, will you
Divorce me, divorce me really,
Will you, will you divorce me,
And asking him
And he like a stone
Hearing her,
Responding to not?

There is much to say about love as love is not love, what we see, what we hear about. Love is a meeting of two hearts; two souls. Love is not merely bodily; love is spiritual too. Will You Divorce me? Will You Divorce Me, Asked She is actually a very painful poem and here lies the tragedy of living. Broken family, broken relationship pain us really.

Red Rose, Will You Be My Valentine?

Red Rose, will you be my valentine,
A beauty so rare and impressive,
Dew-laden and fresh,
Fair and fine,
Will you,
Will you be my valentine,
Red Rose,
O, Red Rose,
I have loved you,
Loved and liked you,
Will you be,
Will you be my valentine,
Red Rose,
So redolent and tender,
So fragrant and sweetly-scented,
Red Rose?

Just suppose, suppose you your love is a like a red rode or red rose converted into a young and beautiful maiden of flesh ad blood, just think you, think you. A few girls look extraordinarily, exquisitely beautiful and they bowl out the lookers-on.

The Sculptures of Khajuraho & Konark In Love

Actually, never had I been concerned
With this relationship
But the day I saw
The sculptures
Carved in stone
Decorating the walls
Of the rock-built temples
And in intense love-making,
Passionate about,
Embracing and hugging
And in unputdownable poses,
I too grew passionate about,
Searching my love
Into the sculptures, frescoes and figurines
Of Konark and Khajuraho.
My love,
Oh, this flesh and blood contact,
Give and take relationship,
Attraction and repulsion
Met in love,
The bonding strange,
Magnetic, sensational and electrical!
The sculptures in love, erotic and sensual, made by the ancients, are attractive enough too be viewed in Konark and Khajuraho, the temples of the place. Whatever be the purpose or philosophy of making, but they are so lively and picturesque, artistic and drawing. If one has to learn in love-making, one may from these.

Love Letter

You try to read it,
My love,
My heart is therein,
Full of emotions and feelings.

None but you and I,
I and you
Knows it,
How deep is our love,
None but you and I,
I and you,
My love.

Your image is therein,
Your portrait
Together with
My feelings,
The feelings of the heart,
I love you,
Love you truly.

Today lovers write it not love letters, but there was a time when time and distance used to hang heavy over, people used to write. In a tabooed society, the lovers used to write stealthily. Some students used to exchange under the pretext of reading in libraries. But today the mobile phone sets have taken the place easily.

Annapurna Devi

Annapurna Devi, say you, say you
The story of your life,
How did Pt. Ravi Shankar treat you,
How did he
As for to surpass you,
Suppress your talent,

O the daughter of Allauddin Khan and Madanmanjari Devi,
Indian surbahar player of Indian music
And the Maihar gharana.
Born as Roshanara Khan,
Later Annapurna Devi,
The wife of Pt.Ravi Shankar,
Ustad, Pandit Ravi Shankar,
The great artiste, classical artiste!

How did he come to seeking
For your hands,
How did he learn it from your father
And how,
How did he turn away from
Annapurna Devi
Even misleading his son too?

Annapurna, after knowing you,
The story of your life,
I can say his much
That talent does not know relation,
It is a thing of envy and jealousy
Which Pt.Ravi Shankar felt it
After seeing your performance!

Let the world call him
A great artiste,
A sitar layer of world repute,
But I know it,
Where does it lie in talent,
Not in media coverage,
But in scholarship unsharable.

Talent does not have any friends
And relations,
It is almost alone and single
And even if has,
They will vie with
And will be envious of
As was Ravi Shankar jealous of you.

Your rare performance of Raag Kaushiki
Panditji could nor bear it
And turned hostile to you
As was the impression of the tuning
Which was really your soul-stirring music,
Heart-stringing one,
O the jewel of the Maihar gharana (school) ,
The genius extraordinary!

Annapurna, your surbahars
As the bouquets of pleasantries,
The morning breaking,
The sun rays glistening
At daybreak
On the lotus and the cottage,
The silvery moon orbs
Lit around
Dazzling it all and taking me away.

The poem is a tribute to Annapurna Devi whom Pt.Ravi Shankar tied into a nuptial relationship an deserted too as per mutual consent. It was not merely a break-up, but a sort of betrayal too, as the bass sitarist grew envious of her talent and performance and she never performed again, but could have surpassed Ravi Shankar.

Topic(s) of this poem: art

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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 24, 2015

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