Original English Poems by Tamil Writers
Topic started by C. B. K. Menon on Sat Jan 8 12:43:44 .
All times in EST +10:30 for IST.
This section is entitled "English Literature", but there are no "English" poems! Why not encourage Tamil/Indian writers of English poetry to contribute their poems to this forum? To start the trend, let me post a poem written in English:
LOVE ETERNAL
Silent she waits on the shores of Time
Awaiting her Eternal Lover,
Her tresses, kissed by the gentle zephyr,
Search here, now there,
Then fall back in silent anguish.
Her heart sighs, calls; but her Kannan is deaf,
His ears, attuned to the lute,
And his eyes wandering on the lake --
His Self is in Eternity,
Mingling with the Soul of the Cosmic.
Kanna, she cries, for Thee I wait for ever,
Though Thou forsake me, oblivious,
Yet I wait for Thee;
Thy name perpetual on my lips,
Thy love perennial in my bosom.
Wherever I glance, Thee I behold,
Every whisper of the flowing breeze thy voice:
I seek to embrace Thy form, to kiss Thy lips,
But my search doth always end --
In mine own heart.
COPYRIGHT BY C. B. K. MENON
(Excerpt from his book, ETERNALLY YOURS, published in 1997)
Responses:
- Old responses
- From: dhana (@ figment1.gs.com)
on: Sat Feb 26 14:08:57 EST 2000
Well fbiagent, that was a good answer as well as impressing.
but as you had mentioned, I strongly feel a poet's beauty lies in the thoughts , though the power of language plays an important role, nevertheless it is the serious thought which gets noticed in the poem.
I find your explanation convincing, especially
"In brief, it is about a young fellow secretly in love with a girl forgetting that love is a two-way street and should be returned
as well as proposed"
I was able to get the first thought very clearly " that young fellow secretly in love with a girl " but somehow I couldn't get the thought the person in poem realising that love is a two way street and should be returned.
The poem presents a picture that the person didn't have the guts to propose himself and hence the loss, which is not you are trying to convey.
Especially the final lines portrays the person as left with a great shock not leaving room for the reader to understand that the person in subject had understood something great in life.
If the person would have really understood that love is a two way road as you had mentioned he would be glad that he realised atleast at this point and so the poem would end with high spirits.
- From: FBIAGENT (@ 24.68.20.111.on.wave.home.com)
on: Sun Feb 27 19:26:01 EST 2000
It is true that the poem would have ended with high spirits once he realized this point. But poem wrapped in sadness is so much better!
I stand by my earlier statement. Call me pessimisitc if you will. :-)
- From: dhana (@ figment3.gs.com)
on: Mon Feb 28 09:24:33 EST 2000
Poem ending with sadness giving better sense is totally okay, for this is how poet had decided to depict his poem. So I have no questions about it.
But due to this, the poet doesn't bring out what he wanted to. This is what I am trying to point out.
Unless you had written in your explanation that the person in subject had understood that love is two way, I don't think the poem brings out that good thought of yours.
- From: FBIAGENT (@ 24.68.20.111.on.wave.home.com)
on: Mon Feb 28 16:47:14 EST 2000
Well, dhana... I suppose you are right. I will keep it in mind the next time I write a poem :-)
- From: dhana (@ figment3.gs.com)
on: Tue Feb 29 10:02:58 EST 2000
I think it is time for another poem
The Age of Adolescence
----------------------
The wild world
Mildy called me
Neither can I shout no
Nor my acquiescence had any great show
But the adolescence had
Already taken me in her hands
The world called it a threshold
Between me and me , between me now and me then
But turning back
Oh! there stands a strange bridge
Yes! strange with neither of its ends
My memory can’t realise the way
I stepped in
But forgetting to forget the way
I danced in the bridge
Wherein --------
My sense of humour
Always turned back its face as non-sense
The mirror must have cried
Frustrated by reflecting my image
-----Now the girls
Seem to be pretty
Is this adolescence?
Before I could realise
I was thrown off
Yes strange was the bridge
With neither of its ends!!!
Dhana
- From: Aandavan (@ unknown-24-6.pilot.net)
on: Wed Mar 1 07:55:38 EST 2000
Nice Dhana,
-mirror cried .... and
-bridge with neither of its ends
are exceptional lines.
- From: FBIAGENT (@ 24.68.20.111.on.wave.home.com)
on: Fri Mar 3 23:27:15 EST 2000
Good poem Dhana. The interpretation is somewhat difficult. But the lines are full of meaning and substance. Good work.
- From: npillay (@ )
on: Tue Sep 16 01:35:20
when the moon turned red
her heart sank to depths
as she laid on her bed
her sweet soul bled
like an owl who waited the moon
her restless spirit spun and swooned
passionate seas within her crooned
rushing waters, down her womb
a wanting heart, feelings are diminished
harder it got and hastily dismissed
tears stood still in her eyes
hopes crashed, for a moment she died
she cant see the moon's other side
perhaps wars are waging and there's high tide
are crevices opened, is there a place to hide?
perhaps he is yearning just as I?
- From: malligai (@ 0-1pool89-163.nas33.thornton1.co.us.da.qwest.net)
on: Tue Sep 16 19:29:09 EDT 2003
Npillay,
ithu neenga eluthiyathaa?..its good
for a moment she died
she cant see the moon's other side
perhaps wars are waging and there's high tide
are crevices opened, is there a place to hide?
----these lines r enigmatic!!
- From: Dr.A.Celestine Raj Manohar M.D.,/Pen-name:dr john celes (@ )
on: Thu Jun 10 04:58:44
15th AUGUST,1998 in INDIA
My sleep got disturbed, thrice that day;
I could not sleep tho’ a holiday;
My mind was filled with thoughts unclear;
I got up in the morn, much earlier;
‘Twas India’s Independence Day!
Thunder, lightning filled the night’s Sky;
The day much overcast did fly;
The Rain was just a drizzle that day;
Wetted the ground of mud and clay;
‘Twas 15th of August, a rainy day.
The pea-birds howled and groaned that night;
The Rain made them shiver with fright;
Though ten, it looked like six in the morn;
The Sun behind the clouds had gone;
The Sky ground-glass remained that day.
The leaky tap-waters that fell,
Raised wavelets, ploppy-toned and swell;
Rain-drops on cables looked like pearls;
Dropped, formed again, enticing souls;
It looked it would rain long that day.
Rain-drops hanging beneath fir-twigs;
Glittered in the scarce light like figs;
The whole tree was aglow, alit;
A thing of beauty, don’t miss it!
The Sky looked like a barred-white board!
A frail, brown-skinned, bony human,
With sack on head, bent-back, he ran!
The Indian was agonizing!
Tho’ people keep sermonizing!
Fifty years after Independence!
What good was done for the common-man?
Dr John Celes
Indian Doctor poet
- From: Dr.A.Celestine Raj Manohar M.D.,/Pen-name:dr john celes (@ )
on: Mon Jun 28 16:54:45
more poems:
BIRDS
On seeing Birds, shot in the air,
Falling half-dead to the ground,
I simply fume, ’Tis not fair,
For the hunter is the world!
Birds like only freedom,
They get it but seldom,
Caged are they so often,
Killed for no good reason,
Witness to the creation,
They glide and dart in fashion,
It is He that feeds them,
Not the world, I or them.
Why then disturb the plumes,
And feathers of the air?
They can bear no ill-will,
Nor do they complain still,
Birds are beauteous beings,
Innocent, habits so nice,
Render the air with music,
To ears, so pleasant and wise.
Birds have their courtship,
And times of hardship,
Changing seasons, Sun and food,
Prefer to live as they should.
copyright by Dr John Celes
A Deaf-Mute
A deaf-mute brings a cup of tea!
A cup of tea with love so rare;
Love uncommonly seen, I stare;
How do I thank her for her charity?
Often by her mother chided;
A servant in her own house, unpaid;
A deaf-mute, she remains, since birth!
Wearing a smile and full of mirth;
A face quite content to the core;
I want to love her all the more;
My heart with anguish wants to cry;
For unfair things, men often try;
To scores of deaf-mute creatures,
God, a DEAF-MUTE, Himself remains!
copyright by Dr John Celes
Sonnet: The War
Two Eagles want a mouse as Baghdad’s King!
The Desert -Snake is too wily to swoop:
Once he is gone, they can have anything,
From oil and gasoline to camel-soup!
They encircled the Snake in the desert!
The Snake is swift and appears like mirage!
His oil-wells burn the two intruders' heart;
They cannot turn so fast to be his phage!
The Eagles know the Desert-Sun is hot!
They know they cannot bear the heat for long:
They take a risk but don't want to be caught;
They cannot take the country for a song!
The Eagles may be Kings of their own skies!
The Desert-Snake rules, though on belly lies!
copyright 7-4-2003 by Dr John Celes
I've posted the above poems just to prove the point that Indian Poets are capable of writing english poetry 'AT PAR WITH THEIR ENGLISH COUNTERPARTS'!
- From: DR. A.CELESTINE RAJ MANOHAR M.D.,/dr john celes (@ )
on: Fri Jul 2 20:38:04
Sonnet: Love Unchanged
’Tis good that you are whatever you are;
’Tis good that you are not something different;
’Tis good that you are hail, hearty so far;
’Tis good that you aren’t very dependent.
’Tis wiser not think of yesteryears;
’Tis wiser not to dream of love then missed;
’Tis wiser not to have all open ears;
’Tis wise to remain even one unkiss’d!
For love resurrected is love reborn;
And love reborn is one unrealistic;
And love unreal, can’t our hearts adorn;
And love that can’t adorn hearts is mystic!
’Tis good that things had happened in this way;
’Tis good that love has stood the tests of day.
8-17-2001 by Dr John Celes
She Matters Most, Your Wife
He was a Bee in a Rose-garden,
Seeking nectar from its flowers;
Unable to quench his thirst, one day,
He had soon forgotten that
She was a Rose in the same garden!
His wife- a flower so rare,
Beautiful beyond compare,
Ready to blossom some day,
To perfume his life some way.
To forgive is divine, err mundane;
To learn from other’s blunders- humane;
So, forget the past and start afresh,
For you aren’t too old today!
When the devil can get credit,
Why not your wife her bit?
’Tis better late than never
To make up with her some way!
For, se is a Rose in your own garden,
A flower so very, very rare,
Beautiful beyond compare,
Waiting to serve all through life,
She matters most, your Wife!
By Dr John Celes
My first poem ever written that was readied
In May, 1998, coinciding with India’s Pokhran II
Blasts and has remained unaltered till date
Greetings on DOCTORS’ DAY July 1st ,2004
HATS OFF TO THE DOCTOR
Hats off to the Doctor duty-bound,
Who wakes up from his slumber deep at night,
To tend to patient writhing in great pain,
But utters not a word that hurts him more!
Hats off to the Doctor who works hard,
Applying mind and heart in diagnoses,
And labors endlessly to treat the sick,
And brings back laughter to the bed-ridden!
Hats off to the Doctor with great zeal,
Who learns the art of healing all his life,
And stays by patient’s bed-stead hearing him,
Consoling, counseling and chiding too,
If need be!
Hats off to the Doctor with Ethics,
Who listens to his conscience all life,
Who will not fleece the poor man afflicted,
But rescues souls adeptly from their date
With Death!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-14-2004
From,
Dr. A.Celestine Raj Manohar MD.,
Professor of Medicine and Chief, MIII,
IRT PMC &PMCH.,
Indian Physician cum Poet
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