Best Dal Poems
That Indian boy, unwashed, in rags, and black,
(India is, as in Art we say Nobel Laureate; in Might they call it ‘Nuclear State’)
Walked by the Dal-lake’s breezy bank,
Playing an unknown song on flute;
Carrying balloons on a bamboo stick,
Flying high in air,
And around his shoulders a worn dirty bag—
Contained flutes.
The naughty school boys irritated him,
Punched the balloons
And searched in the bag.
In quiet, space breaks down into insight.
Opposing the edge amidst deceit and blight.
Imperceptible resonation is reflected back.
On a hunch, or at the stroke of night track.
A lethal tree is still close in the woodlands.
The spirit was trailing on the kist of the tree.
At first, kids looked to chip with their hands.
Seep into the night in a ruddy shrunken spree.
I wake up early to the Greek myth of Zeus.
A vessel drifting on the Dal Lake in Udaipur.
The sound of a woman sobbing in sadness.
Over calm green oceans, echoes in Jupiter.
She was performing in a velvety baritone.
Pain in the midst of the tranquility of dawn.
Endeavoring to perform the icy top in June.
Mountains that frame the Kilimanjaro awn.
Ghastly calamities smash and deeply devastate.
I rightly fear that wide-open harm didn't recover.
You can expect the best, yet I will never hesitate.
My dear life depends on your choice; kindly usher.
I regularly defied to bid someone to criticize.
The one-sided truth was dazzling blindness.
My space was thwarted in the related size.
I felt as if somebody led a ruin process.
Sacredness to which humankind might relate,
With the moon sitting on edge of the world.
Mountains meet to uncover the ornate.
Smiling and radiating, from high observed.
There are times when I can feel the crests fly.
I'm being held down as my blood is drained.
Brain scars result from ruined sight and sway.
When I perish, a chasm arises in my mind.
A lean, edge-on which rests one's optimism.
Please be cautious of steps you split wide open.
In fate, a walk on shells will be optimum.
Shift much fatal shooting and be woken.
I minded my name being said in a whisper.
I was adducible of a hand tapping my forearm.
When I swung around to direct a look closer,
I found myself alone and aching for smarm.
How might a heart that dorsum and delicate,
Have the sway to bear a vast part desolate.
But we're apt despite our humble eyesight.
To discover the earth and the vast infinite.
The monstrosity of the encompassing world.
Encompassed by both the sight and the sound.
Emotions energize the heart within the darkness.
Eyes that can consistently scan such elegance.
1st Place Contest Winner.
Written: June 01, 2022
This Or That, Vol 12 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
esplosione de energia
rapida curve volu-
ttuose di
la tua innocenza flir-
tare angeli into=
ssicati dal
patroni di amre
di marca
ballare in bocca
di una tempe-
sta occulta
testimonionza
del passato
alta voce
de un vento che
circola
noi stiamo prepa-
rando nostro le-
tto d'amore
Oh! DIL-DAL-HOLOM I am a herdsmen today she’s away, I play . . what does the fox say do-do-Die-da-die I ate poor poor sheep and kines . . where are? Sure no harm there by stream or in the barn what does the fox say . . I lie-a lie-lie the milk does gives me away Oh! DIL-DAL-HOLOM the funny sound - Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
That field of wheat
Gilded by sun
Cherished by wind
Tender received
Our bodies
Quivering.
A warm thrill
Down in my back,
In my bones,
While embracing her
In the field of wheat.
A warm thrill
Is now quivering
Down in my back
In my bones,
Thinking
To that field of wheat
italian version:
Brivido caldo
Quel campo di grano
Dorato dal sole
Accarezzato dal vento
Morbido accolse
I nostri corpi
Frementi.
Un brivido caldo
Scese nella mia schiena,
Nelle mie ossa,
Mentre lei abbracciavo
Nel campo di grano.
Un brivido caldo
Sta ora scendendo
Fremente
Nella mia schiena
Nelle mie ossa,
Pensando
A quel campo di grano
Life is a bag of jilly beans
Never in a separate bowl
Fruity, exquisite, spooned by Ian.
PiCk
and
MiX
Crouching, the tiger
amalgamated the prism of daL.
Floating, the petal
never arrived.
Dreaming, the tangerine peeled to reveal
a bun.
The fiddler: Dum digga dum.
Diggy diggy diggy dum.
And when the bag 'a' beans is empty,
PLLP.
I
School bag, blue shirt, hair parted on the right,
Dal-rice, clock ticking away in delight;
Cycles stop, wagons with seasonal crop,
Get to her class before the gates shut tight.
II
The obsession froths beyond the eavesdrop,
Secrecy brews a moral of Aesop;
Friends don't yet know, the fear that the eyes show,
Grows the need to shout it from the rooftop.
III
Geography is boring, the maps tow
Useless details such as where's Kosovo;
It's all pretense, the absorption intense,
But her attention sets the world aglow.
IV
The wistful heart struggles to make some sense
And accept pain at misery's expense;
Then her comment, and the motives ferment,
The surging tide sweeps over the heart's fence.
V
Evening is drunk with sunlight, the day's spent,
Menthol erases the cigarette scent;
She fades from sight, the mundanities write,
A long ride back under the clouds' intent.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Date: 24 / 10 / 2016
One of the reasons I used present tense is, for me this is a memory trapped in time, like a photograph. A day in life from simpler time.
That's not my elephant
for my elephant is
like me!
it takes only
rice and dal
and never looks at
spaghetti!
That's not my elephant
though Ella claims it
to be-
for my elephant
can sing and dance
and even writes
poetry!
That's not my elephant
for when the 2nd graders
came to see-
my elephant greeted them
and gave a speech on
morality!
That's not my elephant
I can tell you clearly-
she never fights for the
bill of rights
as she knows
it will anger me!
My request to all of you
send your elephants soon
to me-
my elephant will teach them
how to write a
poetry!
====================
Placement:None (January 2011)
Contest:That's not my elephant
Sponsor:Matt Calliri
By:kashinath karmakar(18th Dec.2010)
Discovery
Discovery. It's a creative act
Exploding from a darting intuition
When put in front of a lifelike fact.
Difficult to be transformed into equation
To demonstrate as valid the averment
Spurted as flash with no explanation.
A logic pattern is a more unsure event
Because is asking conditions more strict
Free thought allowing to a much less extent.
With logics as recipes you can well depict
Any cognition you already know
Seldom new knowledge then you may predict.
La scoperta (original version in Italian language)
È la scoperta un atto creativo
Prodotto dal guizzar d’intuizione
Messa di fronte ad un problema vivo.
Si trasforma a fatica in equazione
Per dimostrare valido l’asserto
Visto in un lampo senza spiegazione.
Il ragionare logico è più incerto
Perché richiede condizioni strette
Che lascian poco ad uno spazio aperto.
Con la ragion puoi scrivere ricette
Per divulgare ciò che ti sia noto.
Di aprirsi al nuovo raramente ammette.
VISIT-I
On taking leave
Nafisa gave
A Chinar leaf.
Chart of tears
Glowed in it.
Mist nestled trees.
Stars melted
In Jhelum.
Bluish hearts
Flew over as moths.
VISIT-II
Curfew torn streets
Speeding army trucks.
Election posters
Plastered wounds.
Gunned down twilight
Fluttered in the Dal lake.
Alone,at night
To Chasmeshahli.
Haunted in memories
In Gulmarg.
At Khulanmarg
As destitute.
Infront
Hurriedly
A Chinar leaf falls
Glued
In human flesh and blood.
Frightened Jhelum
Flows feverish.
*Jhelum, a river.
Fried okra with a chilli
chicken masala
coriander and tomato
poppadom pickle
hot spiced dal flatbread
Indian
Ale!
Achhe din k dekho haal,
140 k par h daal
chhote to the hi kangal
bre- bre v hue badhaal
pyaj ka mt puchho haal
assi tk pahuchi filhaal
dhaniya mirchi ki ye uchhal
chatni v ho gyi janjal
karj se ujri chamri khaal
kisan latak gye fanda dal
bijli pani se hr koi behal
Adhani Ambani malamal
America China Nepal
sirf ghum rha h natwarlal
kale dhan ki batein tal
sb pr chupi ka parda dal
vyapam raja lalit ghotala
aesh kre chokri chandal
kon sunega ye sb haal
neta hue gende ki khaal
janta ka ab kise khyal
kre jhute wade feku lal.
# Feku PM
Yellow Letter Pad
In the environs of Kashmir our romance unfurled
As we sat honey eyed in our celestial world
Time had stopped running and lovingly slowed
A year had gone by and our unsurmountable joy glowed
As we held hands in the dim lights of the balcony's corner
Of a our first five star hotel in a celebratory dinner
Overlooking the Dal Lake with hundreds of houseboats brightly lit
Like sparkling stars had descended while I felt the light winds flit
My greek god had proposed to me in a car park a year ago
Till then we had only eyed each other, the future I didn't know
But was always struck by lightning and there was a thunderous tempo
Our families were familiar, but each ran after his own rainbow
The silence was broken when I migrated and stood on my own
I was a voracious letter writer and let the seeds of love be sown
I compelled a man suffering from writer's cramp for penned exchanges
Dried flowers were embossed on my yellow letter pad pages-
They had to be sadly burnt down some while ago
As white ants too had started romancing with them and I had to let it go-
He paid me some outstation visits as we sat by the lake
He regaled me with his anecdotes of his adventures in the army
My knight with his charismatic chauvinism did charm me
A year later I culminated my relationship with my beloved
As promised he took me to the paradise on earth that he just loved
(February 11, 2016
Contest: One Year In Love)
March 20, 2016
Contest: Screwed # 12
Sponsor : Rob Carmack
Translation from Ivan Kotlyarevsky
Why is the water so much roily?-
Hasn’t it been shook up by the wave?
Why am I sad and not jolly,
Hasn’t my mother chastised me to save?
Yet, my mother didn’t trouce me-
From my eyes, there pour th’ tears of bad,
No matchmakers come from my sweetheart,
But are sent from the unloved lad .
Where’re you, dear? Take a look,
See my anguish stand;
Oh, fly over, my truelove,-
They’re taking, now, my hand.
Faster, darling, bring me off
From the fierce misfortune:
If I am to live with an unloved,
I’d rather perish in a torture.
Translator into English: Ivan Petryshyn
Traduzione dal Ivan Kotliarevskij
non e' l'onda che ha sbattuto
il fiume ch'era trasparente?
non e' la ragazza triste, infelice,
perche' la mamma ha svegliato la sua mente?
non mi ha battuto la mamma-
le lacrime cadono da soli:
non ci sono i sensali dal mio caro,
arrivono i mezzani dal uno che non voglio.
dove sei, mio tesoro? guarda-
come io soffro;
vieni, vieni, mio cuore,-
un odioso uomo mi offron.
sii veloce, caro, mi salva
dalla sfortuna piu' grave:
se dovessi vivere con un odioso,
meglio perire con uno che amavi.
Ivan Petryshyn, traduttore dall'ucraino
Translation from Ivan Kotlyarevskiy
???? ???? ?????? -
?? ????? ?? ??????
???? ?? ? ????????, ????????,
?? ??????? ?? ?????
???? ? ???? ?? ???? -
???? ????? ?????:
?? ?????? ????? ???,
?? ?????????? ?????? ????.
??? ??, ?????? ???????? -
????? ? ?????? ????;
??????? ??, ??? ??????, -
????? ??? ????.
??????, ?????, ????? ????-
??????? ????? ???????:
??? ? ????????? ??? ????,
?? ????? ????????.
Translation from Ukrainian into Russian by Ivan Petryshyn
Taras Shevcenco
Nella casematta
Dedicazione ai miei compagni
Reivocate , fratres meos…
Che non ritornino i guai,
Quando miravamo in fiducia
Dalla gallera che finiva mai.
Possibilmente, pensavamo:“quando
Ancora ci vedermo nella vita
Per un dibattito tranquillo
Su quella terra impoverita?”
Pero’, non mai, fratres, non mai,
Noi non beviamo dal Dnipro unitamente!
Avendo difuso la nostra sventura
Nelle steppe e nelle praterie,
Separeremo poi le nostre vie,
E , nella liberta’, un po’ piu’ crederemo,
Prima che vivere cominceremo.
Tra altre persone, come una nazione,
Ma, prima, che lo sara’ successo,
Amatevi, miei fratelli,
Volete bene l’Ucraina,
E, per essa, sfortunata,
Il Signore, pregate,
E, Lo dimenticate, amici,
E non Lo bestemmiate,
E ,nella schiavitù, a volte,
Anche me, ricordate.
Traduzione dall’ucraino all’italiano di Ivan Petryshyn,2016.
.