English Poetry

Catch, did you write this... I especially loved the above lines...

One from me to you..



Ode on Solitude

How happy he, who free from care
The rage of courts, and noise of towns;
Contented breathes his native air,
In his own grounds.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide swift away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unheard, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

by : Alexander Pope

Wow, that's a beautiful piece Dimps. Excellent. Every single word & sentence have been nicely put together & are so meaningful.

But our Great Turks in wit must reign alone
And ill can bear a Brother on the Throne.


Wit is like faith by such warm Fools profest
Who to be saved by one, must damn the rest.


Some who grow dull religious strait commence
And gain in morals what they lose in sence.


Wits starve as useless to a Common weal
While Fools have places purely for their Zeal.


Now wits gain praise by copying other wits
As one Hog lives on what another shits.


Wou'd you your writings to some Palates fit
Purged all you verses from the sin of wit
For authors now are so conceited grown
They praise no works but what are like their own.

Alexander Pope

Wow, nice one Catch.

Catch , Lalitha and Priya, lovely poems : ).

Ginger.. am still awaiting the stories you wrote. Please share them child.

If I make the lashes dark
And the eyes more bright
And the lips more scarlet,
Or ask if all be right
From mirror after mirror,
No vanity's displayed:
I'm looking for the face I had
Before the world was made.

What if I look upon a man
As though on my beloved,
And my blood be cold the while
And my heart unmoved?
Why should he think me cruel
Or that he is betrayed?
I'd have him love the thing that was
Before the world was made.

-W B Yeats

The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road-metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.

-W B Yeats

In my life, she brought sunshine
A petite sweet lady, who to me,
is so ever thoughtful and kind
At first glance, I knew she has a
beautiful heart
This lovely lady, I could foretell,
would make a sincere friend
right from the start

The inner beauty in
her is such a delight
Like a light so bright
of a moon lit night

A person who is so giving
A lady who has a zest for living
One who is bubbly and good-natured
One who deserves, in a poem,to be featured

Anonymous

For Shiv, Catch and Priya


The Road Not Taken


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

by : Robert Frost

Either way, it will be a sigh, hai na Dimps. Is there anyone who never wonders--what if or what if not?

Waise the road less travelled by is not a pleasant one. The millions trotting on the well-worn parallel road point fingers at one as a freak!!!

May I ask, aapke paas itna bada poetry ka khazana hai. Aapko kahan se milte hain? Aap khud likhti hain?

Just one little doubt, Priya. Are you the cigarette? Who is the smoker?

Ah!!! Wouldn't U like to know?

I remember when I showed this to a classmate during my MPhil, he said, "so U mean women are injurious to health."

True, the image suggests that, but the poem is really abt just how worthless a woman may be to the man who proposes to love her.

You are right. It is all about the trials & tribulations that a woman undergoes in a man's world. Extending this anology a little further, could one assume that ultimately the smoker too gets destroyed in the process. He blows himself away too.

I guess so Catch. He lives life to the fullest but never touches its core.

Dukhaye dil jo kisi ka woh aadmi kya hai
Kisi ke kaam na aaye to zindagi kya hai...

I think the poem like so many of mine is about giving Urself completely, so much so that when it all falls apart U have to recover Urself from scratch. Whereas for the user the relationship is all utilitarian and maybe parasitic even.

What exactly makes you say so ?


People have been given fingers so they can point them. What does one care about what anyone else says. and Why ?



Again.. it is slightly difficult for me to understand.. so please help me Women have seen for ages that men can not get involved as deeply as them, and in many a cases, love is just a game for them. What makes them then to give themselves completely? Why are they unable to see a simple fact that men wouold treat them in a similar manner they treat themselves.
If Women are not able to respect and love their own self and proclaim to be a mere subject who can be sacrificed at mere whim of the man.. and then is treated so.. why does she complain?


PS : I am just trying to understand please do not think I am questioning anything you said.