Category Archives: ROMANTIC POETRY

Naadaani

Writer’s blog

Tune baat ki aise andaaz se

Mujhe laga tu koi apna sa

Mere taraf ke tere uss bartaav se

Mujhe laga tu koi sapna sa

Haskar jo tu mujhe dekh leta ek baar

Main soch baithti ki shayad tujhe hai mujhse pyaar

Naadaan thi main tab par aaj jaan chuki hu sach

Aree tujhe fursat hi kaha thi teri duniya se

Jo tu uss bheed me se mujhe dekh pata ek pal

Shikayat nahi hai mujhe tujhse haalaakhi

Tu aisa kare aisi aasha bhi nahi thi meri

Bas tujhe door se dekhkar hi khush rehti thi main

Bas ek baar tujhse baat kar jee leti thi main

Tujhe chot pohche aisa iraada na tha mera

Tujhe achha na lagega ye khayaal na tha mera

Main toh bas itna jaanti thi ki

Tere bina jeena gawaara tha mera

Teri palkon ki nazar se guzara tha mera

Tere aane se zindagi me bahaar aayi mere

Aur tere jaane se zindagi ke sapne bikhar gaye mere

Bhoolkar mujhe khush toh hoga bohot zindagi se ?

Bhoolkar mujhe khush toh hoga bohot zindagi se ?

Meri toh zindagi hi chal rahi hai tere yaadon ke sahaare se

Meri toh zindagi hi chal rahi hai tere yaadon ke sahaare se

  • Manali

Manali’s blog

 

INSOMNIA

by Osalam Wosu

What troubles me so

in the peak of the night?

And upon my sleep

places a blight

The moon today is not so bright

This sleepless feeling

doesn’t feel so right
Abandoned by sleep, left to wander the dark

A night void of sound,

even a dog’s bark

Upon me insomnia has placed. his unholy mark

And cursed me to carry him

like the priests wielding an ark.

Oh! how annoying is the owl’s call?

I shiver at the sight

of a tree’s shadow standing tall

I search everywhere for sleep. into which I can fall

The memory of my last dream

I no longer recall
He waxes stronger

with each complete lunation

Devouring my mind

with no compassion

And when the night is down to completion

Leaves on my face

a lasting impression
If only I could meet this fellow in battle

And prove to him I am not cattle

This discord of ours I’d settle

And then switch to empty tattle

For I have grown fond of my tormentor

With him I can imagine;

hence he’s a mentor

Friends have passed

but he remained true

I always expect him that made me rue
All evil I said I do take back

Insomnia return, I’m one of your pack

I humbly accept this gift of your mark

I will not be tainted by sleep again;

that unholy tack.

Beyond Properness (Haiku)

Sky could row in eyes

’till we run to it, we know

It’s not ours to reach

Pict source: pinterest


GUEST POST POETRY

HAIKU by Rijal Muammar from Indonesia

Rijal is an author of a book in poetry titled as BUKANTOLOGI, that written in Bahasa (Indonesian Language). For more awesome poems, Find him on:

Medium: Kerijalan

Instagram: bukantologi

“Not Sink Yet, then Go On!” (Haiku)

And sun hang high still

Fisher wade through the huge waves

Night will always come

Pict source: pinterest


GUEST POST POETRY

HAIKU by Rijal Muammar from Indonesia

Rijal is an author of a book in poetry titled as BUKANTOLOGI, that written in Bahasa (Indonesian Language). For more awesome poems, Find him on:

Medium: Kerijalan

Instagram: bukantologi

First Love by “john Clare”

First Love

I ne’er was struck before that hour
With love so sudden and so sweet.
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower  
And stole my heart away complete.  
 
My face turned pale, a deadly pale.
My legs refused to walk away,
And when she looked what could I ail
My life and all seemed turned to clay.  
 
And then my blood rushed to my face  
And took my eyesight quite away.
The trees and bushes round the place  
Seemed midnight at noonday. 
 
I could not see a single thing,
Words from my eyes did start.
They spoke as chords do from the string,
And blood burnt round my heart.  
 
Are flowers the winter’s choice
Is love’s bed always snow
She seemed to hear my silent voice  
Not love appeals to know. 
 
I never saw so sweet a face
As that I stood before.
My heart has left its dwelling place
And can return no more.

– John Clare

About John Clare

John Clare was born to a poor labouring family in Northamptonshire. His education did not extend much beyond basic reading and writing, and he had to start work herding animals at the age of seven. This was not a promising start for a future writer, but in his early teens he discovered The Seasons by James Thomson and began writing poems himself.

His first love, Mary Joyce, was the daughter of a wealthy farmer; their separation caused Clare great pain, and it contributed to the sense of loss which pervades much of his poetry

In 1820 he married Martha Turner and published his first book of poems. He was described as ‘John Clare, a Northampton Peasant’ on the title-page, and the current fashion for ‘rural poetry’ brought him some celebrity in London. He made friends with Charles Lamb and other literary figures, and was granted the sum of £45 a year by wealthy patrons.