tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8434822882066093332024-03-13T10:39:40.389-07:00Plog- The Poetry BlogRupangihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14071113951255773788noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843482288206609333.post-45784041713954915362008-09-01T04:48:00.000-07:002008-09-01T04:54:14.719-07:00My poetry book "A Loving Embrace"<p>This is one of my poems, which has been published in my book "A Loving Embrace". </p><p><strong>Who am I?</strong><br /><br />I am the leaves that rustle<br />With the breeze that blows<br />I am the whispers that hustle<br />Through the wind in the willows<br /><br />I am the branches that hold<br />The children of nature<br />I am the secrets untold<br />Of the beauty that nature beholds<br /><br />I am the trunk of the tree<br />So elegant and strong<br />And so firm and giving<br />I am the echo of nature’s song<br /><br />I am the roots that run<br />Deep into the earth<br />Upholding and keeping the tree alive<br />Giving it the life for which it strives<br /><br />I am the seeds that when sown<br />Become earth’s own<br />Become life’s own<br />I laugh with life<br />I cry with life<br />For I am no more<br />Than the dust that gives life<br /><br /></p><p>It's an all time favorite of mine:) Will post more of my poems later! <br /><br /><br /> </p>Rupangihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14071113951255773788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843482288206609333.post-86195408186540854532008-09-01T04:18:00.000-07:002008-09-01T04:42:46.847-07:00Charles Baudelaire<p>I happened to pick up a book of poems by a late leading poet of France by the name of Charles Baudelaire. I took a great liking to his poetry. Of his history: He wrote most of his poetry in his twenties, and when it was published in 1857 it was the subject of a trial for blasphemy and immorality. He never got married, and for much of his life carried on an unhappy love affair with the mulatto Jeanne Duval.</p><p>I have a lot more poems left to be read in the book. But these are the two I really liked, the first one is entitled music and the second is owls. </p><p>Note: Happened to check his poems out on the net, the translations are different. I have the copy published by Phoenix Poetry publishers. </p><p><strong>Music</strong></p><p>Music's a sea of sound; and once afloat</p><p>My pale star calls</p><p>Mist hangs or huge skies loom above my boat:</p><p>I raise my sails,</p><p></p><p>Breast forward, and lungs swelling in the breeze</p><p>All muscles tight,</p><p>I climb the slippery backs of tumbling seas</p><p>Hidden by night. </p><p></p><p>Tormented like my vessel by the storm</p><p>I feel at ease;</p><p>But when the sea is calm and the sun warm,</p><p></p><p>The waters bright,</p><p>Then all I find in the unmoving air</p><p>Is my despair. </p><p></p><p><strong>Owls</strong></p><p>Ranched on the branches of a yew,</p><p>Darting red eyes that never blink,</p><p>Like Gods to whom the world seems new,</p><p>Behold the owls. They sit and think. </p><p></p><p>For hours and hours they do not stir:</p><p>The sun moves slowly down the sky,</p><p>And darkness settles everywhere;</p><p>The last sad rays of dayligh die.</p><p></p><p>The wise man learns, observing them, </p><p>That man, the victim of a will</p><p>Incapable of keeping still</p><p></p><p>Is doomed to pay the penalty</p><p>Of never feeling quite at home,</p><p>Besotted with the transitory. </p>Rupangihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14071113951255773788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843482288206609333.post-49521372852191664142008-09-01T01:38:00.000-07:002008-09-01T04:48:01.121-07:00Poetry Doesn't Sell and Ruskin Bond<p>I love Ruskin Bond's simple verses which are very profound. Whoever knew that this author was actually a poet first, but gave that up because he was told that poetry would probably not get him where he wanted to be- a published and succesful writer. Here's my take on this: </p><p>Sadly, that's true (I know only too well) </p><p>That most of the times poetry doesn't sell </p><p>Come the most amazing verses </p><p>All the response they get </p><p>Is silent curses and shameless haste</p><p>To throw it all away into the wretched bottomless pit </p><p>Of unrecognized mounting paper waste </p><p>Heh!!!! </p><p>Here are two of my favorite poems by Ruskin Bond- </p><p><strong>It isn't Time that's Passing</strong></p><p>Remember the long ago when we lay together</p><p>In a pain of tenderness and counted</p><p>Our dreams long summer afternoons</p><p>When the whistling-thrush released</p><p>A deep sweet secret on the trembling air, </p><p>Blackbird on the wing, bird of the forest shadows,</p><p>Black rose in the long ago summer,</p><p>This was your song:</p><p>It isn't time that's passing by</p><p>It is you and I</p><p><strong>Raindrop </strong></p><p>This leaf so complete in itself </p><p>Is only part of a tree</p><p>And this tree, so complete in itself,</p><p>Is only part of the mountain</p><p>And the mounain runs down to the sea</p><p>And the sea so complete in itself,</p><p>Rests like a raindrop </p><p>On the hand of God </p><p> </p>Rupangihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14071113951255773788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843482288206609333.post-82191591328237514452008-09-01T01:20:00.000-07:002008-09-01T01:36:56.666-07:00Ogden Nash<p><strong>Reflection on a Wicked World </strong></p><p align="left">Purity </p><p align="left">Is Obscurity </p><p align="left">Tada! I inaugurate my first blog and my first post with a bit of wisdom from Ogden Nash. According to me this poem is very relevant even today. Isn't it? In two brief but poetic lines Nash has summarised the Big Bad World of today! </p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p>Rupangihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14071113951255773788noreply@blogger.com1