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The mentality we have in India is not very sporting.

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Nothing I Do Tells Me The Sadness I Am/ Like The Poems I Have Not Written

Nothing I do tells me the sadness I am
Like the poems I have not written
The love I have not had
The great life yearning beyond my hands
All that I have done
Turning and turning in this life
Comes back to the place
Where all are alone
I would have known about the grave long ago
But I was young then
The true poems are poems of life
And only the chosen of God can write them
As I could not.

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The History Poems Have Not Been Written

The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa

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The Tracks That Lie By India

Now this is not a dismal song, like some I’ve sung of late,
When I’ve been brooding all day long about my muddled fate;
For though I’ve had a rocky time I’ll never quite forget,
And though I never was so deep in trouble and in debt,
And though I never was so poor nor in a fix so tight—
The tracks that run by India are shining in my sight.
The roads that run by India, and all the ports of call—
I’m going back to London first to raise the wherewithal.
I’ll call at Suez and Port Said as I am going past
(I was too worried to take notes when I was that way last),
At Naples and at Genoa, and, if I get the chance,
Who knows but I might run across the pleasant land of France.

The track that runs by India goes up the hot Red Sea—
The other side of Africa is far too dull for me.
(I fear that I have missed a chance I’ll never get again
To see the land of chivalry and bide awhile in Spain.)
I’ll graft a year in London, and if fortune smiles on me
I’ll take the track to India by France and Italy.

’Tis sweet to court some foreign girl with eyes of lustrous glow,
Who does not know my language and whose language I don’t know;
To loll on gently-rolling decks beneath the softening skies,
While she sits knitting opposite, and make love with our eyes—
The glance that says far more than words, the old half-mystic smile—
The track that runs by India will wait for me awhile.

The tracks that run by India to China and Japan,
The tracks where all the rovers go—the tracks that call a Man!
I’m wearied of the formal lands of parson and of priest,
Of dollars and of fashions, and I’m drifting towards the East;
I’m tired of cant and cackle, and of sordid jobbery—
The mystery of the East hath cast its glamour over me.

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Humans Have Developed, Then Why Not Rats?

Reader Beware: Check weather all the cupboards in your house are closed and all your precious things are rat-free. Yes? Then you can read this. ‘Cause anytime, any minute, any second, a rat attack can occur in your house.

“Humans have developed,
Then why not us? ”
Fired the rats at me;
When I stomped towards them,
For the rest of my juicy plum.

You won’t believe this, guys,
Rats have almost grounded me,
‘Cause they cut the wires,
When I sat down,
For my favourite show on T.V!

Women rats are filled with envy,
At my silk dresses,
This is truth as the day,
‘Cause they stole my favourite
And gave it back in ruins!

Disaster occurred one day,
When Dad checked for his bills
What he found was paper crumbs,
As if paid out in full!
This drove him mad and after them,
And he took in that it was of no use,
When he gaped at his toes,
Which were sticking out of-
His fresh set of socks!

These rats are perfect,
For starring Tarzan,
See for yourself,
If you don’t trust me,
‘Cause they traverse,
Through their network,
Of our T.V cables!


Didn’t they find a sharpener?
To cut my brand new pencil?
‘Cause when I checked for writing,
I found it badly wounded.

Forgave them, did I
“But who wants that? ”
They snapped at me,
And what they did next was to
Eat my painting brushes.

Drove me insane, did that,
And I went about a
Fruitless goose chase
And what they told me was
We were only painting”

For a while, they left me,
To feast in mother’s kitchen,
Where she bellowed at them,
Into my toy heaven…!

When I woke up next day,
After a peaceful sleep,
A battle field, did I see
With balls and dolls, here and there!
But what was even dreadful
Was my doll Pup’s poor nose,
Torn apart, was her nostrils
And pulled out, was her eyes! !

And I bawled at my voice’s top
“Who’ll pay for her plastic surgery? ! ”

27th February 2009

(This is real life experience. One day, some rats came from nowhere and did these things to us. And when we tried to trap them with cheese, they took the whole chunk without being caught. At last, we drove them off. The thing that most struck me was my doll. It was my first gift and my painting brushes. I was screaming at the top of my voice when I found out these were damaged.)

© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India

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The Morning Has Poems The Night Cannot Have

The morning has poems the night cannot have
Daylight is its own music
If it were not for Dawn, how could we be?
Light is hope and laughter
The singing in the wilderness
That begins the day
The morning has poems the night cannot have
Let us begin the day
Before we die.

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The Expense Others Have To Pay

I know you perceive me to be against your kept delusions.
I am not.
What I am against is the expense others have to pay,
To keep your point of view fantasized.
And so far what has been tried over and over again,
Is an obvious waste of valuable time...
With a funding of them that has reached its end.

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The Clouds Too Have A Way Of Looking

the clouds too have a way of looking
at themselves on the pond
its mirror
for a while they stay there and admire
their puffs and cottons

the reeds standing by the murky water
take pride

an island of grass stays beside them

then the clouds slowly move away
nobody owns them
and they do not touch anybody too.

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The Poem I have Written For So Long

THE POEM I HAVE WRITTEN FOR SO LONG


The poem I have written for so long
The simple lines –
Is not good enough.

Still the morning light on the trees
Is 'The morning light on the trees'
I cannot say it more specifically more precisely more beautifully-

Time will tell
I am already old
No one knows
Goodbye is goodbye-

The morning light is still on the trees.

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Where Is The Poem I Have Waited For All My Life?

WHERE IS THE POEM I HAVE WAITED FOR ALL MY LIFE?

Where is the poem I have waited for all my life?
The one poem that would say to me,
“You are a true poet, at last”
Where is the poem
Which would make me be Poetry?
Where?
The years have gone
Have I labored in vain?
The darkness comes
Light will not come again.
I try and I write still
But I will never know
Poetry will live,
But I soon will go.

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The lowest trees have tops

The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall,
The fly her spleen, the little spark his heat,
And slender hairs cast shadows though but small,
And bees have stings although they be not great.
Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs,
And love is love in beggars and in kings.

Where waters smoothest run, deep are the fords,
The dial stirs, yet none perceives it move:
The firmest faith is in the fewest words,
The turtles cannot sing, and yet they love,
True hearts have eyes and ears no tongues to speak:
They hear, and see, and sigh, and then they break.

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The Integrity I Have Earned

If I have to look at life,
From my perspective AND yours...
Since I do anyway.
To survive a more diversed life than you do.
However...
You need not believe I wish to walk,
In 'your' shoes?
I am not of a limited mind.

But...
Guess who,
Is going to be giving my perspective...
On your interpretation,
Of how I wish to live my life...
First?
And you need not be around,
To hear who I will try to impress.
Nothing in my mind addresses that.

The integrity I have earned,
Has nothing to do with you.
Nor do I offer it to be borrowed...
Anymore.
I tried that before at my expense.

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The Hunger To Have It

Their failures faced,
Do not come to them.
Because of mistakes made.
Their failures have been created,
By their intentions to separate.
With a leading of incompetent dominance.
Not a blending of experiences from all,
To embrace.
The appearance of gluttony,
Came to take its place.

And greed feeding on incompetence,
Has led to their disgrace.
And maybe their strategy did begin with race.
But it is about all about the MONEY now!
Unfortunately.
The lack of it.
And the hunger to have it.
Has evil losing a battle to maintain greatness.
A commodity left to go unnurtured.
A commodity now less real and more faked.

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Ouyang Xiu

After the Lotus Flowers Have Opened

Lotus flower open after west lake good
Carry wine come time
Not use flag pennant
Before behind red curtain green canopy follow

Paint boat punt enter flower deep place
Scent float gold cup
Mist rain small small
One piece pipes song drunk in return
After the lotus flowers have opened- West Lake is good.
Come for a while and bring some wine,
There's no need for flags and pennants,
Before and behind, red curtains and green canopies follow.

The painted boat is punted in to where the flowers are thick.
Fragrance floats round golden cups,
Mist and rain are so, so fine,
In a snatch of pipes and song I drunkenly return.

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When The Money Runs Out/Another Poem Will Not Save Me

When the money runs out
Another poem will not save me-
When the money runs out
The poems will be a bit less poetic-
They will seem more meaningless-
All the years of writing them
Will seem more a waste and an indulgence-
When the money runs out
And I am working or trying to work
For not enough money
And guilty at being in debt
And frightened at not being able to pay on time
The poems will seem another kind of thing entirely
And I will wonder how I could have once given so much time to something
That does not make a cent-
When the money runs out
The poetry may run out with it
I will be the slave of small sums
And have lost my time and dedication
To what I have loved most.

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The Poem Of All The Places I Have Never Been

THE POEM OF ALL THE PLACES I HAVE NEVER BEEN

The poem of all the places I have never been
The poem of all the dreams I have not seen
The poem of others poems written in lines I have never imagined
The poem of the infinite – what-is- not and ‘what- will- never- be
The poem of seas and suns and sounds and Shakespeare’s sonnets,
The poem of words and only words whose sounds do not mean what we feel
The poem of all I would not and cannot write
The poem that is not and never will be in me
The poem I do not write
The poem I am not
The poem lost
The poem which itself is not a poem
The poem of the last contradiction and the first
The poem beyond the poem hidden within the poem
The poem which will never be a poem
The poem which is not
The poem I cannot dream.

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The Need You Have To Charade

Ever since I've known you,
You've done your best not to admit...
Insecurities you have.
And those habits that exist.
Done as if...
I am not aware.
Or conscious when you declare...
You have other things on your mind.

And when you find the time,
You will work on those things
Needing your attention to mend.
And this you admit!

Since this and other things are accepted,
By your friends...
Why do I seem the only one,
Offended by them?

Maybe there is a reality...
I suspect you have!
But have not seen begin.

Perhaps I am the only one,
Who tires from hearing your creative excuses.
Freshly made to hide behind your masquerades.

And they have long been outdated.
Just like the fake loyalty of your so called friends.

Although I do understand the need you have to charade.
It is your addiction to self abuse,
I do not find amusing.

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The Demons You Have Liked

Brace yourselves and close your eyes
Close your eyes or I will
Never leave your summertown
Your precious heaven is burning down, oh yeah
I will come and hunt your lives
You're wanted by a million tribes
And don't you think that I wouldn't try
'cause the further you will fall towards
the demons you have liked
walk away from the pain
leave before I loose my mind
there's no time, no time to hide
your precious heaven is burning down
I will come and hunt your lives
You're wanted by a million tribes
And don't you think that I wouldn't try
'cause the further you will fall towards
the demons you have liked
I would die for this
'cause I know I will not forgive (not this time)
I will come and hunt your lives
You're wanted by a million tribes
And don't you think that I wouldn't try
'cause the further you will fall towards
the demons you have liked

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The Dearest Daughter Of Mother India

The dearest daughter of Mother India

You are the queen of inimitable stature
None can describe your real feature
You led a holy fight
Against the British might

You are known for your incomparable valour
And have reached heavenly parlour
The noblest daughter of mother India
A horror and terror to the wicked East India

You rode on a white horse
None could stop your force
you were the divine source
your sword was resplendent ofcourse

You are invincible in warfare
For your life you did never care
The woman of Golden will
And have stood on the Renown hill
You are a true Indian woman
A pious daughter and a chaste wife
And sacrificed your life
To remove the people’s strife

You are a perennial source of inspiration
Mother India embrace your patriotic vision
I always remember your divine name
And fix your photo in my heart with a golden frame

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You Have No Need For The Ones You Have

Continue to procrastinate.
Do nothing,
But waste your time!
Advice solicited given to you...
Has been excused,
While you choose to make up your mind.
Time after time...
After time each time!

Keep your steps reluctant.
Make decisions you say are with faith.
Remain stubborn not listening to others.
And hesitate,
Sitting while you wait!
In a selfish self debate,
You salivate...
Deliciously,
When speaking of your fate.

Those dreams you wish fulfilled with promise?
With hopes?
Came by to knock on your door!
But you were inside,
With doubts you did not stop!
And those knocks you heard,
You left ignored!
And away from you,
They've gone forevermore!

There was a delivery that came,
Especially for you.
But those 'gifts' disappeared.
When you made it clear and obvious...
You have no need for the ones you have.
And the ones you have you fear!

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The Haves And Have Nots

There are the Haves and Have Nots, men living out their cast lots,
Living their life, are all of those, on a course they have not chose,
When or where they were born, or even why, as some have sworn,
Men all living out their daily life, some in peace and some in strife.

There are those who have everything, and in this they joyfully sing,
With all they need and all they want, for a lack of, they don’t grunt.
All needs and wants, they possess, without even a second guess,
Where or how, they can acquire, their every want and every desire.

There are those with every need, so the family they’re able to feed,
But, they don’t have, every desire, that fleshly wants would inspire,
They may have very little to spare, in cupboards, humble and bare,
While knowing not what lies ahead, they’re thankful for daily bread.

He who presently, does have a lot, may be in the future a have not,
While he, who has little my friend, could have much gain in the end.
All earthly gain is temporal at best; you lose it all, when laid to rest,
What you had your day of birth, you will have when laid in the earth.

While upon earth, did you secure, that Gift of God that will endure?
God’s enduring Gift of Eternal Life, through The Lord, Jesus Christ.
From Who, you gain eternal reward, when you know Christ as Lord,
Or bypass the Cross of Calvary, and you’ll be a Have Not eternally.

(Copyright ©11/2009)

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