Internally Displaced Persons (Idps)
They leave their homes
Unwillingly forced
And follow their fate
Through fields and trails
Massifs and woods
With all their goods
Love and hate
Mores and tales
All in bales
Carrying their own
Rain
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
Remembering again that I shall die
And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks
For washing me cleaner than I have been
Since I was born into this solitude.
Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:
But here I pray that none whom once I loved
Is dying to-night or lying still awake
Solitary, listening to the rain,
Rain
The rain is raining all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.
Asleep
Under his helmet, up against his pack,
After so many days of work and waking,
Sleep took him by the brow and laid him back.
There, in the happy no-time of his sleeping,
Death took him by the heart. There heaved a quaking
Of the aborted life within him leaping,
Then chest and sleepy arms once more fell slack.
And soon the slow, stray blood came creeping
Mom's Smiles
Very sentimental poetry....
I recall my mom’s last eyes....
no tears....
Smiles as she passed by
tears did not then come into my eyes I too smiled
Then it rained all day and night
mom’s smiles went away
now I thirst for those looks till today
as she passed away
We Ain'T Got No Money, Honey, But We Got Rain
call it the greenhouse effect or whatever
but it just doesn't rain like it used to.
I particularly remember the rains of the
depression era.
there wasn't any money but there was
plenty of rain.
it wouldn't rain for just a night or
a day,
it would RAIN for 7 days and 7
nights
Small Mourning Pieces
No time to prepare
Shoved over cliff by sorrows
Float down now, gently
Grief comes as strong waves
Tide that never seems to ebb
Let it wash your soul
Nasty Opponent
Grief punches all breath away
Loneliness
Being apart and lonely is like rain.
It climbs toward evening from the ocean plains;
from flat places, rolling and remote, it climbs
to heaven, which is its old abode.
And only when leaving heaven drops upon the city.
It rains down on us in those twittering
hours when the streets turn their faces to the dawn,
and when two bodies who have found nothing,
dissapointed and depressed, roll over;
Spectrogram Of A Pictorial Poem (Translation By Prof. Ghulam Jilani Asghar
The walls have come out of doors
Narrows are the passages, many are the footprints
On the steep rock where the sun lies half reclined
Jumping over one's shadow, falling headlong
Is the ultimate truth, nothing new about it
Dreaming some old dream
Eyes know not how much water has come out
Of their oceanic depths.
It is easy to cross a river
but how difficult it is to find a foothold on its banks.
His Wife, The Painter
There are sketches on the walls of men and women and ducks,
and outside a large green bus swerves through traffic like
insanity sprung from a waving line; Turgenev, Turgenev,
says the radio, and Jane Austin, Jane Austin, too.
'I am going to do her portrait on the 28th, while you are
at work.'
He is just this edge of fat and he walks constantly, he
fritters; they have him; they are eating him hollow like
a webbed fly, and his eyes are red-suckled with anger-fear.
He feels hatred and discard of the world, sharper than
People Next Door-4
I am your neighbour
When your house is
Under fire or in flood.
I am your neighbour
When your kid is sick,
Needs a bottle of blood.
I am your neighbour
The Rainy Day
Written at the old home in Portland
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
*** Take Me With You ***
Dusk chasing the lazy dawn
Sounds of angry skies deafening
Lightning, like a giant snapshot
Blinding your eyes to madness
Rains fiercely flooding the downhill pond
The slippery path ruining
Mind halts desires getting bold
Vision cuffs to the onus
I saw you standing near to Heaven pane
Line Of Control
They come to see us
In the company of winds and rains
Their whispers are heard
Besides the doors
And empty corridors are filled
With the shimmering garments and scented bodies.
Leaping over the walls, slipping down the roofs and sun shades
Walking with voiceless steps like the shadows of clouds
Eyes see them crossing the silence
Of half paved courtyards
Hope
Our lives, discoloured with our present woes,
May still grow white and shine with happier hours.
So the pure limped stream, when foul with stains
Of rushing torrents and descending rains,
Works itself clear, and as it runs refines,
till by degrees the floating mirror shines;
Reflects each flower that on the border grows,
And a new heaven in it's fair bosom shows.
*** Haiku Of Love ***
Romantic rains falls
Sky leans on the earth to give
mouth watering kiss
Passionate rain pours
lovers earth and sky chatters
sounds pitter-patter
A monsoon wedding
Sky gives green sari as
Rain (Hindi)
Rain
The rain is raining all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.
Original poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
मूल कवि: रॅाबर्ट लुई स्टीवेंसन
Environment 14 - The Angry Rains And The Pink Rose
I am a little pink Rose!
I bloomed to see
This beautiful world,
To enjoy the monsoon,
The cool touch of the rains,
The sweet dew drops on my petals,
The gleaming, shining white pearls,
The magical showers of the heaven!
But Alas! When the monsoon arrived,
Hard Luck
Ain't no use as I can see
In sittin' underneath a tree
An' growlin' that your luck is bad,
An' that your life is extry sad;
Your life ain't sadder than your neighbor's
Nor any harder are your labors;
It rains on him the same as you,
An' he has work he hates to do;
An' he gits tired an' he gits cross,
An' he has trouble with the boss;
Annie Of Tharaw. (From The Low German Of Simon Dach)
Annie of Tharaw, my true love of old,
She is my life, and my goods, and my gold.
Annie of Tharaw, her heart once again
To me has surrendered in joy and in pain.
Annie of Tharaw, my riches, my good,
Thou, O my soul, my flesh, and my blood!
Then come the wild weather, come sleet or come snow,