Brother’s love
Remember I, remember I
Them in my poetry,
My mother,
My sister,
My brother
So deeply.
Where have they gone away,
You say it to me?
Why are you silent?
Mother’s love,
Sister’s love,
Brother’s love, remember I
So tearfully and with wet eyes.
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Cultural criticism
From Matthew ArnoldAnd T.S.EliotFrom Arnold’sOn the Modern Element in Literature,The Study of Poetry,From T.S.Eliot’sTradition and the Individual Talent.
Indian English,
Indian pidgin-English,A foolish man’s English,A rustic’s English,Hindustani English,Hey, come here!What is your name?What is your father’s name?Give me sherbet,If not, lassi.Bring in a glass of water,Paani lao yahan.I know here milk is foundBut Indian milkmen mix too much waterIn the milk and that too pond waterWhile going by way to bazaar.
To see her in a lingerie
A beach girl,Is this our modernity and modern culture?
Oh, you are not my own,
How beautiful are you,Let me touch you,Your cheeksAnd lips,Your eyesAnd noseAs may not again!One day you will pass away, my love,Pass out of sight unsaid,I shall search you,But shall not find youSo, let me see you in full, my love,Are you not my own,Will you go away?
Daru mat piyo, yaar,
Buri baat,Daru mat piyo, yaar.Do not drink daru, friend,It is bad to drink daru,It is very bad,Do not drink daru, friend.
Classics, classics are themselves
Appreciated and admiredAnd accepted by allThose who read and loved,Loved and likedClassics romantic or classical.
Brother’s love
Remember I, remember I
Them in my poetry,
My mother,
My sister,
My brother
So deeply.
Where have they gone away,
You say it to me?
Why are you silent?
Mother’s love,
Sister’s love,
Brother’s love, remember I
So tearfully and with wet eyes.
Similar Posts
Written as choruses, stanzas
Is a book of verseConversational, prosaicAnd jazzCelebrating the beat movementWritten for psychic healing,Trying to recuperate,Making for loss.
How had it been Shakespearean theatres, stages,
Who the dressers, maker-up men,How was it the audience,How the managers, directors,How were they the critics,How the music givers, singers,The theatre troupes?
Jai Tara, Jai Tara
Ringing the bellAnd it sounding,re-sounding withTara, Jai Ma Tara,Jai Tara, Jai TaraThe devoteesOn the eve ofKaushiki AmavashyaJai Tara, Jai TaraWith it came theyThe devoteesWho seemed to beTantrical and occultSaying Jai Tara, TaraWhile entering the complex,Waiting to have a darshanOf Ma TaraThe remover of all troublesAnd sufferings!
I shall not remain here
And this is the world,Accept you it or not.
They are the Bamiyan Buddhas,
Peace psychic and cosmic,Shell you not,Shell you notWith mortars and rocket launchers!Disturb, disturb you notThe Buddhas,Buddhas of peaceLest you be disturbed.
The hunch-backed camel
Just like the ship of the desert,The camel going,A figure bizarre and obscure,Deformed but strangely-built.