Home » Poems » Best » Seshendra Sharma » Best Seshendra Sharma Poems

Best Poems Written by Seshendra Sharma

Below are the all-time best Seshendra Sharma poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Seshendra Sharma Poem

The Burning Sun

I am the drop of sweat, I am the sun
Rising from the hills of human sinews,
Hearts are my friends
I live in the city of sufferings
Although in my fist, I hold an ocean of history
I sculptured man silently –
Wings that carried birds
Did not bring them back;
I am drinking thick darkness
In the haunts of those forests
Which cry out in agony for the birds
That did not return;
Clutching at the garment woven of memories
I twine myself to the feet of my country. 
Heads that were hanging to the trees
Smile as flowers today in the braches
Hearts that received the bullets
Ring in temples of our land like bells;
Blood of theirs nights squeezed and offered
By how many to bring forth this day;
They are hanging like icicles
On the ridges of our roofs;
Look, it is an iron fist I have;
I shall excavate the flame of light
From the rocks of time –
I will set fire to the sleep of resisting centuries –
To the rivers that run in passion after the sea
I cry halt, command them
To paint the colourless arid lands in green,
Invite back the smile which fled away
In terror from this land,
To the butterfly trudging hungrily for a flower
I shall give a garden –
Come children, eat
Bits of nights dipping them in moonlight,
I shall not allow the sun to cheat this sacred day;
If he wakes not on the horizon of this land
I shall tear my burning heart
And put it in its place
With the scarlet of my living flesh
Illuminate the earth
I am the drop of sweat, I am the sun
Rising from the hills of human sinews –
                                                                          
 - Seshendra Sharma                                                              http://seshendrasharma.weebly.com

Details | Seshendra Sharma Poem

Turned In To Water and Fled Away

The voice which my throat hurled, I don’t know what happened to it.
Whether the sky swallowed it or it changed into a bird and flew away.

But my fancy keeps floating like a boat around the islands of flowers,
The azure continents of the skies and, the archipelagos of stars in search
Of it. To me that search is enough. 

The sky is not an arid desert of vacuum; it is the nest of the winged
Singers called birds. It is the hypnotic city, where the wind constantly works on
The architecture of clouds.

For this prisoner of pitiless life, that little rag of sky,
Fluttering beyond the iron bars is enough.
That fistful of evening which stares at me from beyond
Those clusters of trees-is enough 

That little slice of Blue Ocean, whose eyes keep looking at me,
Standing on tiptoe from behind the pearly sand dunes; 
beyond the cashew nut gardens- is enough 

That particle of desire which keeps whispering
in some remote corner of the heart is enough-


-Seshendra Sharma
http://seshendrasharma.weebly.com

TURNED IN TO WATER AND FLED AWAY/modern Indian classic by
By Seshendra Sharma first appeared in print in 1976

Details | Seshendra Sharma Poem

The Horizon

Folding the sky , horizon descended 
Into me vertically 
In me the forests , rivers , mountains , villages and towns
Become straight line , curves , triangles circles and 
run into a pulsating drop 
rivers turn back and flow into the hills
the hills go in to their caves ,
men are merging  into the trees , trees are 
merging into flowers , flowers into  fruits , fruits
into  seeds , seeds into the earth and earth
into the skies; the sky merges into the horizon
the horizon unfolds the sky and flies out of me
and resting on the sea horizontally , again , keeps
gazing at the worlds of stars ,
keeps calling me , come , come , come .......
                                                                           - Seshendra Sharma                                                              
                                                        http://seshendrasharma.weebly.com                                                 
                                https://www.facebook.com/GunturuSeshendraSharma/

Details | Seshendra Sharma Poem

The Curvature of Mystery

Bereft of leaves, the naked branch 
That spreads onto our balcony 
Is the curvature of mystery 
Which poses the question eternally 
Its flame like twigs tiny, newborn, its branches of fruits that stop the wayfarer 
The cuckoos that sing in its cool shade 
The little blue rags of sky caught in its leaves and keep fluttering- 
Where are they! Where did they go! 
Now of course it is a naked branch, 
At its end a kite, like a tail of sankranthi 
That vanished into time like evaporating tear invisible- 
If I show you one visible posture 
I know you people devour the entire invisible world of my thoughts and feelings 
I know – that is why –I say it is naked but in that branch 
Time is flowing like electric current in the copper wire.
-Seshendra Sharma
homepage:http://seshendrasharma.weebly.com

Details | Seshendra Sharma Poem

Cantos of Time

Moments are not the retinue of time. There is one which

decides the turning point of mankind. I can’t hand over to sighs

that time which stands and beckons me. To hell with the shades

to recline and chew the gum of past.

Remember, the storms do not count for a life which strides

With hills and shifts oceans; the fiercest storms blow off while

Struggles of life flit around like flies.

Look! Drunk on pearls of sweat, the sun grows large

and formidable with millions sickles and hammers of light.

 


In history where savage winds blow in cantos, I cannot be

 


Like the braches of trees that remain trembling in the hands

Of unrelenting winds.

Do not query why so restless, ask the ocean why it is restless.

Do not say why so furious; ask the hurricane for the answer. Better

 


Know that time after all is my paper, upon which I write the

Charter of my dreams for the world, sculpture a colossus of force

Out of man; my will, will shout and throw a new era on the earth-

It shall confer unrest on man and

Flow like red-hot blood through all the roads of

Our villages and make him into a sea and into a tempestuous storm.

I shall gift that consciousness to my country with my four dimensional poems….

 


Now, centuries will speak the language, which I learnt in the wombs of forests;

My word will be the legacy to future generations;

my poems, only countries and nations deserve-

* * *

Last year's spring flowed away like a river;

into which orchards it meandered and slept, I do

not know-

But the spring returned, searching for the

mango tree in the backyard of my house!..

Everything in the world is fleeting, yet keeps

returning, searching for the beautiful. Behind the

leaves in the branches I see footsteps of birds,

marks of the moments which flew away last year.

in my tired journey, my tavern is the shade of

a tree, and the guest is the fallen flower.

This is spring, the year's first dream, in which

I trudge my way on the body of my country

like the dream that preludes the dawn, covering

my nakedness forest, tying the rivers as my turbans,

carrying my road on my shoulders.

I walk, coaxing the fields that are crying;

I walk, yearning to sculpture my country's hills

that have waited for forms, into lions, into elephants and camels..

into workers, toilers, tillers, lovers and into epics that are like their crowns.

the sun is coming with loads of morning

rays stacked on bullock carts!

Details | Seshendra Sharma Poem

Flowers and Silences

The dim darkness-the diffused light-dimness of one merging into the other-imparting more length to the long trees that are standing like stretched out shadows wearing stars in their hair-

silence is imparting more depth to the darkness

in this advaita where darkness is merged into silence, my mind wakes up, now not only sound but even a ray of light is a violent disturbance to the profoundness of peace-

in such moments deep truths unveil themselves-now I realize it is not sound but in silence melody lives-

I am born out of flowers and silences- while passing my hand brushed against a flower,

I asked 'are you bruised? ‘‘Me or you' smiling, the flower questioned back-

the heart of my pen broke and split blood; - I do not know which paper can bear this pen-

In the gigantic silences of forests, which touch the blue skies, the carpenter bird pecks at the trunks of great trees which echo, far reaching sounds-what can he do among the tiny crotons?

I ate days like fruits-now I eat drops of tears like grapes-

frightened by the sun took refuge under shades-

sitting on the pavement eating dreams from eyes like ice cream with spoons-

measuring my life with dark evenings- I distributed my wealth once with meters,

now I scatter with handfuls my future letting it fly in all directions-

I washed my heart in tears and dried it over poetry-

walked past wearing people on my body like shawls-

in the assemblies of flames; in countries abroad I raised my gypsy voice and sang mixing earth and sky-

this country is the graveyard of my genius-

however fast I walk the distance remains the same.

This land is thirsty for my blood,

it is snoring in the little shades of pigmy trees-

I picked my pen and dipped it in the sun to write a summer song for my nation-

- Seshendra Sharma

Details | Seshendra Sharma Poem

Mother Land

I am the doll made of your earth,
I am the living being
Breathing your air
I am the garden
In whose branches
Your words are parrots
This is the body,
Grown on the milk of your fields
This is the body
Which leaves its life
Like an arrow for you
But O Mother
In your fields
Grain is crying for workers
Heart is crying for tears,
Mother
When can you give me
One morsel of food ?
When can you tell me
One true story ?
Mother
When you give me
A place in your heart
And
A wink of sleep
Then
Your songs will fly
In the heavens like birds
Your smiles will blossom
Like flowers on earth;
Your flags
Will fly like suns on the horizons
I become one drop of tear
To merge into the pulsating sea of humanity -

Seshendra Sharma
http://seshendrasharma.weebly.com