A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose

A Rose is a Rose is a Rose A Rose will I give to you, A rose bloomed in an arbor, Silent garden with ecstatic fume did give birth to that bloom. A Rose will be for a Rose, Timelessness for your love, With deep sensual sensitivity,

My Namesake

Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allison of Burlington, New Jersey. You scarcely need my tardy thanks, Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend-- A green leaf on your own Green Banks-- The memory of your friend. For me, no wreath, bloom-woven, hides The sobered brow and lessening hair For aught I know, the myrtled sides

Me Poet Yeps The Poet..

The Poet the poet ******* You are not a stream O poet the poet, You are a source From where stream springs, If poetry is a stream, Your are an epical dream, Every breath of you Is a canto.

Women Of Words 05 - Muddupalini

Muddupalini Was a Devadasi And consort of King Pratap Singh Of Thanjavur. She was well versed In Telugu and Sanskrit literature, was an accomplished dancer, A composer and choreographer

Homage To Michael Madhusuda Dutta

Michael Madhusuda Dutta__ Homage On 26 th January, birthday... ____________ The bard of Bengal the impetus Sprite, Restless constant for parboiled Parnassian, To the abbot of thy being Calliope, Though it seem unconsciously full of life,

Inner Realm - Pain In Heart

Inner Realm Pain in heart Poignant pain In the wall of my heart 💓 In the deepest part of my being. It is due to unusual dream that lasted not, It is due to fullness that life failed to achieve. Pain poignant to walk on the path leading to nowhere, Life is a walking with no aim to reach, An aimless march to a path without track.

All-Pervading Supreme Being

In all, scintillates Thy divinity. In all, Thou art, Thou art, Thou art. O Lord! In all, Thou art, Thou art, Thou art. In the sweet mellifluous tone of cuckoo, in the efflorescent fragrant lotus, in the lucid-watered lake, in the mountain where flows the fountain with indistinct tunes, scintillates Thy novelty,

Maducayan, Ili Tako (Maducayan, Our Place)

MADUCAYAN, ILI TAKO (MADUCAYAN, OUR PLACE) Att.Basilio Wandag Melvin D. Banggollay Sia se vobroy, nanggawa-an, (It’s an abode surrounded) ... Vilig nan-jomma-jommang (by mountains in every sides Nampod-aden, na se dao-wang (where a pristine river fed Danum da siw-wang-wangan (all mankind who resides 2.Urey no ngan, Nangasawaan (Wherever, we got married)

Weeping Branch

Mist in modern discourse: protesting decor, Lavender Mist. Dismissive of mist's specifications and spacing on canvas, you now have know-how - decorative, unless it is axiomatic lyricism; the lyric, not too decorative, unless it is complacent. Prejudicial against lyric

Be Epical!

Be, Epical, Be great, Be what your heart says, Constantly! - Haqueian Verse

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9 THE GREEN How deep could I plough I wonder! I know my limit, I hear the Thunder! The Why is subtle, the When, Where The How too, yet the Query everywhere! The Time, the master traveler, tills an’ tills Till what time, Janaka and Balarama only know! But I have to furrow into the depth till it stills Though shallow my frail, untrained Will could harrow.

Whisky

WHISKY In the coldest domicile in this winter, I'm inside her hand made quilt with her! The body heat and Carbondyoxide; Heaven is on earth in this epical night!

Dear Writer

Dear Writer, Congratulation for your 'Epical Novel'. Your linguistic and literary skill beyond dispute; You too write extremely good hand. Yet to tell the truth, beg a pardon, In your Novel have done a mistake, In a word a great blunder. The word ‘world' is wrongly used.

The Terracotta Temple

The terracotta temple, the small-small temples, Standing as historical heritage and legacy, Which you know not, I know not, But there is history hidden in them, The small-small terracotta temples And the miniature painting done into them, The terracotta design and building. The terracotta temples, small-small but beautiful Made of small-small bricks and lime stone powder

The Agony Of Poetry, This Is India Where Merit Is Crushed

Even after writing for so long, I could not be a poet, Even after so many years of practice, I am not, The poets and critics went through my poetry And the papers of criticism But commented upon not in their publications. Their letters are with me, but not their support, They have the awards from the Govt. of India But I have not, Sometimes my spirit too disheartens it

Maha Nanda Sharma (1924-) As A Poet

Maha Nanda Sharma who used to teach in a college In Bulandshar Before moving to Meerut University Did his Ph.D. on P.G.Wodehouse And was a poet Of some epical length and line, Going by Milton and Aurobindo And deriving from Paradise Lost and Savitri, Whatever be our appraisal of his, If epics not strictly then epic fragments.

Sitakant Mahapatra

Sitakant Mahapatra, An Oriya poet of Orissa, Orissan myth, populace, art, culture, Thought, society and tradition, A ditto Oriya man With his nativity and roots of Orissa Writing about the Orissan landscapes, Intruding upon their resonant silence, Personal space and scapes.

Rama Series

Rama Series (Written in continuation of, in commemoration) / O, Singer of Rama, Strange Singer! People Will Go Away, But Your Song Will Remain It Here/ Song of Rama/ Strange Singer of Rama Foreword I do not write the poems keeping in view the epical formats, but the poems get tagged to naturally to take the canvas and length of epical poems and so the case is with my Rama poems which I have been intermittently to discharge my emotions and feelings just as a compensation for from time to time to recuperate and to recover from tragedy and trauma felt in the aftermath of the loss of lives. How to console the broken self? Where to gather moral strength? How to repair the damage? The haunted houses dilapidated and lying as mouldering heaps of debris and rubble with the input phantom listeners listening and whispering, where to go leaving them? Death is a great leveller and time is the best healer, how to ignore them? My end, I know it well, there is none to be by my side. I do not want to waste my precious time just after engaging with words and if there is something to read and say to, say you definitely passing them on and if not, keep them aside branding it rubbish. And with this, thanks, let me take leave of you!

Milton

Burning the midnight oil Wrote he Paradise Lost, Paradise Regained, A poet with a massive plan For a literary work Of a vast cosmology, Epical and classical, Profound and elegant, Latinized and sublime.

Yasodhara By Maithilisharan Gupt

Is an epical Hindi poem Recreating The desertion of Yasodhara By Siddhartha. Why did he Leave them? , Is the point of deliberation. But he went for a cause,