Mare’s Listeners and Hood’s
I Remember, I Remember,
A poem of remembrance and reckoning,
Just like the house of Lamb in
Dream Children.
Similar Posts
Whistling,
Passing through,Chugging on the rails,Gathering speedAnd running,Running through speedily,Crossing over to reachIts destination,Destination.
It gives me joy
A small girlGoingTo school.A small daughterOn her wayTo school,A small poor girlGoing toLabour school.A daughter,Just a daughterLoving and dearAnd nothing to differentiate it.
I do not understand,
Who a rock star,Who a jazz star?Somebody says itThat he a disco jockey,A DJ man,But I know it not,What am I?What star am IAfter all?
Murkhamantri the rustic leader under arrest and lock up,
In the prison cellTaking sattu and litti,I mean fried gram ground powder with a pinch of salt, waterAnd a green chilly during the day timeAnd the small and thick breadMade on the palm and baked into the fire during the night timeAs for good health and solid dieting.The big-big talks of bossism almost gone,The blunt…
Puran Singh is a poet
Of Fire,Holy FireBurning itIn some cave,It isDivine poetry,Oriental poetry.One of The Divine Poet,The Bhakta,As Bhaktas See Things,He is stray and sporadicIn his ruminationsA writer Sufistic, SikhisticAnd allegoricalWith his assessmentPersonal, purely individual.He is poetical in hisPose writingsAbout Rumi, Khayyam, Mira,Wordsworth, Milton, Blake,Tolstoy, Goethe, Nietzsche,Whitman, Hafiz, Ram Tirtha,Guru Nanak and the Guru Granth Sahib.Puran Singh is a…
Who am I,
What my name,What my identity?Where my home,Can you?