‘My Vocation’ by Toru Dutt

A waif on this earth,
Sick, ugly and small,
Contemned from my birth
And rejected by all,
From my lips broke
Where – oh where shall I fly?
Who comfort will bring?
Sing, – said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.

Life struck me with fright –
Full of chances and pain,
So I hugged with delight
The drudge’s hard chain;
One must eat, – yet I die,
Like a bird with clipped wing,
Sing – said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.

Love cheered for a while
My morn with his ray,
But like a ripple or smile
My youth passed away.
Now near Beauty I sigh,
But fled is the spring!
Sing – said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.

All men have a task,
And to sing is my lot –
No meed from men I ask
But one kindly thought.
My vocation is high –
‘Mid the glasses that ring,
Still – still comes that reply,
Chant poor little thing.

Outside History, By: Eavan Boland

These are outsiders, always. These stars—
these iron inklings of an Irish January,
whose light happened
thousands of years before
our pain did; they are, they have always been
outside history.
They keep their distance. Under them remains
a place where you found
you were human, and
a landscape in which you know you are mortal.
And a time to choose between them.
I have chosen:
out of myth in history I move to be
part of that ordeal
who darkness is
only now reaching me from those fields,
those rivers, those roads clotted as
firmaments with the dead.
How slowly they die
as we kneel beside them, whisper in their ear.
And we are too late. We are always too late.
(c) Eavan Boland

Two Hindi Poems

I don’t generally post Hindi poems here, and I have stopped accepting reader’s submission too. However, when these poems came, I couldn’t say no as being an aspiring writer myself, I fully know what a mere Yes and No can feel like.

So here are two poems sent by one of my readers. Both are in Hindi. If you can understand Hindi, do read and let the poet have your views.

The following two poems have been written by Nibedita Nath. 

“Yeh Meri Kavitaa…”

YEH  JIBAN MERA  APRICHIT SA LAGE….
ISMAIN  SARE  CHHEHERE AJNABI SE LAGE
IK AASHA JEEVAN KA DHUNDLA DHUNDLA SA LAGE
PHIR BHI MAN MAIN KOI BISWAS JAGE
ADHURA HAR SAPNA…BIKHRE SARE JIBAN KE PANNE..
KOI AAYE …KOI JAAYE…BAS YADON KE GHNUGURU REH GAYE
SAMETI RAHI NANHI KALIYON KO …JO KABHI BAHAR BAN KAR KHILE THE..
AAJ  WOH PATJADH KE AAGOSH MAIN..
RUKNA CHHATI  DO PAL KAHIN..PHIR BHI NA RUK PAUUN MAIN..
BHAGNA ABHI..DAUDNA HAI…
KUCH PAANA HAI..KUCH APNANA HAI..
DUR BAHUT JANA HAI MUJHE..
SAPNON KO SAMETNA HAI..
BAS YEHI..YEHI TU MERA PARICHAYA HAI…
MERA AUR SIRF MERA…

__________________________________________

“Yeh Meri Kavitaa hai…”

O RAHI CHALTA CHAL TU CHALTA CHAL…
JIBAN HAI TERA PATH…JISPE TU CHALTA CHAL..
KABHI NA RUK…KABHI NA JHUK..
AAGE HI BADHTA CHAL..
JO TERA RAH BANE..
USIKO APNATA CHAL..
PEHCHAN CHAMAK APNE KA..
HAI JO TUJH MAIN SAMAYA…
BAS..YEHI BANE TERA SHRINGAAR…
TU YODHA HAI…TU VEER HAI..
MAAN ISE  TU….PEHCHAAN  APNEKO..
JEET  TUJHE  HAASHIL  KARNI  HAI…
FELA  APNE  CHAMAK  KO..
JAANE  JIS SE  DUNIYA TUJH KO… TERE  NAM KO..
PEHCHAAN  BAN  JAAYE….PICHHE  TERE..
SIRF  AUR  SIRF ..
JO TERE  KAM  SE…

Dreams Are Treasures, A Poem

My own poem from my personal blog 🙂 This poem has been developed from a sentence from my novel Dream’s Sake: http://www.jyotiarora.com/dream-s-sake

Jyoti Arora

Dreams

Dreams are one treasure

That God has bestowed

On everyone

Without any discrimination.

One may not be able

To walk, talk, or see

but one can always dream.

And no matter how hard

The dream may seem,

Hold on, believe,

And it will lead

To Destiny

(c) 2013 Jyoti Arora

View original post

Readers’ Poem: The Absurd, By: Ritwik Balo

“Aren’t we too small,

To realize that we are too small?

Too small to look and accept our frails,

That haunt us in our self made jails.

 *

Aren’t we too fake,

To realize that we are too fake?

Too fake to let us have real friends,

That will accompany us till life ends.

 *

Aren’t we too dumb,

To realize that we are too dumb?

Too dumb to comb the good from the bad,

That we do not have to cry and be sad.

 *

Aren’t we too mad,

To realize that we are too mad?

Too mad to know that we live in vain,

That cause us pain, again and again.

 *

Aren’t we too dead,

To realize that we are too dead?

Too dead to know we have a life,

That we can still feel alive.”

*******************************************

We are now offering a chance to the readers to send in their original poems for a chance of being published in Golden-Smiles-n-Tears-of-Poetry. Know more at the HOME PAGE

***************************************

How far can a person go to fulfill the dreams of someone else?

Find out in the pages of Dream’s Sake, a general fiction novel by Jyoti Arora.

For more information and free preview of first chapter click on the picture below

or visit: www,jyotiarora.com

Dream's Sake A Novel by Jyoti Arora

Dream’s Sake
A Novel by Jyoti Arora

~*~ The Charge of the Light Brigade~*~ By: – Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

HALF a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

‘Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns!’ he said;

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

‘Forward, the Light Brigade!’

Was there a man dismay’d?

Not tho’ the soldier knew

Some one had blunder’d:

Their’s not to make reply,

Their’s not to reason why,

Their’s but to do and die:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley’d and thunder’d;

Storm’d at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

Flash’d all their sabres bare,

Flash’d as they turn’d in air,

Sabring the gunners there,

Charging an army, while

All the world wonder‘d:

Plunged in the battery-smoke

Right thro’ the line they broke;

Cossack and Russian

Reel’d from the sabre-stroke

Shatter’d and sunder’d.

Then they rode back, but not,

Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,

Cannon to left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volley’d and thunder’d;

Storm’d at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came thro’ the jaws of Hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wonder’d.

Honour the charge they made!

Honour the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred!

***************************************

We are now offering a chance to the readers to send in their original poems for a chance of being published in Golden-Smiles-n-Tears-of-Poetry. Know more HERE

***************************************

How far can a person go to fulfill the dreams of someone else?

Find out in the pages of Dream’s Sake, a general fiction novel by Jyoti Arora.

For more information and free preview of first chapter click on the picture below

or visit: www,jyotiarora.com

Dream's Sake A Novel by Jyoti Arora

Dream’s Sake
A Novel by Jyoti Arora

Cradle Song, By: Sarojini Naidu

From groves of spice,

O’er fields of rice,

Athwart the lotus-stream,

I bring for you,

Aglint with dew,

A little lovely dream.

Sweet, shut your eyes,

The wild fire-flies

Dance through the fairy neem;

From the poppy-bole

For you I stole

A little lovely dream.

Dear eyes, good night,

In golden light

The stars around you gleam;

On you I Press

With soft caress

A little lovely dream.

If I Can Stop, By: Emily Dickinson

IF I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.