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Best Famous John Matthew Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous John Matthew poems. This is a select list of the best famous John Matthew poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous John Matthew poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of John Matthew poems.

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by John Matthew | |

Sonnet for Mother

 Decked in blooms,
Swaddled in gold filigreed shrouds, 
Smeared with perfumes,
She traveled into the clouds.
A life of love lived, A life of more giving than taking, Living a life of tears shed, Turnings, and missed crossings.
She lies still beside father, In an earthen grave dug for her, On ere visits she knew this sepulcher, And, with her man, she would rest there.
There is a time when we all connect And then we all must self-destruct.


by John Matthew | |

The Bombay Train Song

 He hangs on dangling handholds
As the train sways and careens
Endless nondescript buildings unfold
Their secrets as the tired warrior returns.
The day is over the night falls Thickly through the barricaded windows The man’s sleepy head lolls On his shoulder in a dream disturbed.
The days are a hard white collar brawl The sleepless night stretches ahead There’s no space for a fly to crawl The morning paper is still unread.
You who sleep standing Don’t drool on his shirt It will cost him a lot of spending If you pour on him all your dirt.
Plastic bags, umbrellas, Tiffin The rack is full and the seats overflow What is that smell Peter Griffin? Is it the Sewri sewers overflowing? Beware of pickers of pockets Who surround and slash with knife Careful of your arm’s sockets Lest they dislocate and misery make life.
Welcome to Bombay’s bustling trains Hold on fast as if you are insane!


by John Matthew | |

Muskaan — A Poem

 When she smiles she sends happiness
A million pleasant thrills of the heart
To parched souls thirsting for love 
In the vast desert of human affairs.
Oh, is there in this world such a heart? So pure in its expression of joy, smiles I know not how to thank you dear God For this wonderful creation of yours.
What makes Muskan’s smile so beautiful? Is it the deep pain and hurt she is hiding? Wringing the joys from the sadness of life Throwing away the bland fiber and rinds.


by John Matthew | |

Time Stands Still over Govandi Station

 A kite flutters,
On a high tension wire —
Against a stark blue sky.
Beggar and old mother huddle On Govandi Railway Station — The dirtiest station in the universe.
He shows her a plastic watch, Smiles, “See I have time,” She, old, gnarled, wrinkled, Looks through beady eyes, “I have no need for time.
” Children toss rubber ball — In cricketing passion.
Jagged slum roofs puncture the sky, Open drain stinks.
Mother and son — Hungry, disowned, dispossessed — Govandi platform is home.
A plastic bag, clothes muddy brown, He extends a hand, A black plastic watch on wrist, “God will do miracles, Give this man a meal.
” The kite flutters; Time stands still over Govandi Station.


by John Matthew | |

Passing showers

 Yesterday a passing, transient shower,
Slaked my thirst so gently, softly,
Showers in March are unheard —
In this arid part of the world.
They say the world is dying, I know, I remember how you said love died, It was a passing shower, a fancy, That left you cold and shivering.
This distance, these wired networks, Couldn’t bring your love to you, You became strangers, distances apart, The eyes, too, misted with showers.
What are you holding in your heart —? Which you can’t tell me in stealing time, What is it that your sorrowing soul, Keeps wrapped in the mystery of your words? Friend, your world is far removed, I can only view the receding landscape, Of another woman’s deep distress, Is it much to expect the showers to pass? If you come out of the fort, step over the moat, Open your heart and cry in the rain, I am sure the passing showers will cease, And usher in the blossoms of spring!


by John Matthew | |

Loneliness

 I pause midway in the in the whirl,
Of deadlines, things undone,
And average the sadness and joys -
There remains only loneliness,
Of which I see no cure,
No bitter palliatives, no anodyne.
We remain in life’s journey, Like loners sitting depressed, On solitary park benches, or, Standing in balconies, staring, Loneliness gnawing at our minds, As hungry ants at a grain of food.
Often in life’s vicious lanes, In lonesome moments, It’s our failures we ponder, Not trasient joys and victories, We do not remember other's courage, Only their faults, and habits.
When in each passing lonely moment, I count the millions of joyous seconds, I was alive to witness this world, and, Hurtful mimetic thoughts that passed me by, My loneliness vanishes, I scream, “I live; I am alive this lonely moment.


by John Matthew | |

To an Online Friend

 May be the whole thing was a dream,
Pinched myself awake this morn,
To check if you are there, virtually,
And felt your sudden absence online!

Be sure you will always exist,
In a special place in my heart,
Your smile in pixels is so sweet,
But, no, you are too good to be true!

Where are you? Do you exist?
Do you still inhabit Internet protocols?
And virtual chats and emoticons
That in joyous moments I watched.
Now that you are gone; are you Among your charmed admirers? I wish you well, I will miss you, May you be ever happy and smiling! Distances and togetherness, Opposites, can’t networks cross, I could never bridge the distances Of your sweet kindness.
Someday, if you feel betrayed, And, as weepy as a monsoon cloud, Remember this friend who still cares, And felt fulfilled by your brief warmth.


by John Matthew | |

Resolutions

 Resolutions I have made,
Kept, I have none,
Why do I have to make,
Resolutions anymore?

I pause through endless time,
For this year to pass,
And the lights of celebration to die,
On this New Year day.
Remember those magical days, When the promise of togetherness, Held us together, tentatively, Alas! No more! Years just flow by, As water beneath bridges, Gathering speed towards, The great sea of immortality.
There you and I, Will rest our weary heads, On the silken bed, Of our broken promises.


by John Matthew | |

Die in shame!

 You hide your face in shame,
But I can see your private parts,
Have you no contrition,
To expose yourself, shamelessly, thus?

Tell me what does it feel,
To be watched while you strain?
Is that why you hang your head in shame;
Has all embarrassment left you?

I know it’s hard; you need your money,
But couldn’t you put the money —
You spend on spirits and tobacco,
To use that public facility on the street corner?

Is it communion with nature you seek?
Or the pleasure of shocking,
Young children, and pubescent girls?
Your revenge, your wretchedness!

If it’s your laziness, unforgivable indolence,
And reluctance to pay Rupee two, 
And wash with dignity in that public facility,
Then bury your face, wretch, and die in shame.


by John Matthew | |

Bombay

 In your bosom we wake up with fear,
In your sky there’s only unending tears,
You always roar, but within,
Hangs silence like a shroud of death.
You are rocked, periodically, by bombs, Yet, we go about our business, As if nothing happened, all’s well, Are we too dazed to protest? In your hungry, convoluted entrails, Lie pauper and millionaire, Separated only by the whimsy, Of your very partial benevolence.
On your skyline of sooty chimneys, Decaying concrete, bristling antennas, Are the sad stories of fortunes, Made and lost, just as lost loves.
City of gold, they say, which never sleeps, Will you stay awake, tonight, Wipe away our cascading tears, And give our tired bodies some sleep?