Verbatim

[crazy]

Queri :

Meera is short, simple and sweet but the second one is simply beautiful

agree

[Querida]

a hand softly grasped
within a rising lift
with it a heart
too shy to look up
and see its holder

awoke in a blur of rainy windows
to clutching an umbrella
wondering when hands
let go so soon
without letting the sun
shine atleast
once.

[Querida]

Solemn busker
Will you ever be nearer to me
Than with your wistful violin?
How else could you ever dare...
How else could I ever bare...
How else could this be?
Do not act as if it is only I who deceive.
It is only music after all...
Played better by hands less grimely-worn than yours.
Yet to rest a finger upon the violin’s rest…
Am I as agitating as the poverty that demeans you before me?
Do you ever hope that the thrown coins,
fall from an closely distance?
that my smile is not only for your whining strokes?
I know you play “Ave Maria”
Only for me,
Though badly...
Do you ever escape into an imagined embrace?
Of course you would...
For I should never admit
That I do.

[ramky]

Querida : nice poem.
"Meera" & "There once was a leaf" - beautiful

[thamizhvaanan]

Do you ever hope that the thrown coins,
fall from an closely distance?
that my smile is not only for your whining strokes?

Do you ever escape into an imagined embrace?
Of course you would...
For I should never admit
That I do.

nice poem very natural and free flowing....

[thamizhvaanan]

it awaited the wind
for a touch of petal.
it envied the bee
who kissed nectar.

it felt not the caterpillar's bite
for his darling was within his sight.
it cherished the dew that slipped sun-shiny
into his glazey lap.

A Beautiful poem Truly wonderful!!! I really felt as if I lived the life of that weed A truly memorable poem

and so leaf from a near-far

This oxymoron reminded me of an ode written by John Keats (As a literature student, you might remember it ), where he mentions abt a lover painted on the urn, who can never kiss his sweet heart . Infact the entire poem felt like romantic poetry until the final tragic verse... A superb one Queri!!!

[crazy]

[Querida]

Hey Thankyou Ramky, Crazy, Thamizh I don't deserve such praise...your encouragement is priceless

This oxymoron reminded me of an ode written by John Keats (As a literature student, you might remember it ), where he mentions abt a lover painted on the urn, who can never kiss his sweet heart .

Hey Thamizh! wow! "Ode to a Grecian Urn" was exactly what I was thinking of!!! i was really touched by Keats poem and loved his use of such hyphenated words....i did not think anyone would notice this!

[thamizhvaanan]

Hey Thamizh! wow! "Ode to a Grecian Urn" was exactly what I was thinking of!!! i was really touched by Keats poem and loved his use of such hyphenated words....i did not think anyone would notice this!

Ofcourse, some poems are memorable... I remember most of the parts of that poem, eventhough I dont remember the exact wordings... I loved that poem too Did u have that poem in mind when u wrote this?

[Querida]

well when i thought of sun-shiny and near-far i knew it was apart of Keat's style...and i knew i wanted unrequited love to be the theme...i just didn't think anyone would point it out...and yes I agree that his poems are very memorable indeed.

"Ode on a Grecian Urn"
Thou still unravished bride of quietness,
Thou foster child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loath?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?


Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,
Pipe to the spirit dities of no tone.
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal---yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss
Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!


Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unweari-ed,
Forever piping songs forever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
Forever warm and still to be enjoyed,
Forever panting, and forever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.


Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands dressed?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.


O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity. Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty"---that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

- John Keats