Best Sitar Poems
So many times I've wished on a star
Still not rich, it ain't working so far
Perhaps if I cheat
And offer a treat
Like a girl star to cuddle while I play my sitar
© Jack Ellison 2015
The Untold story of a Sitar 1 of 3
.
.
Few days back
I got hold of a strange gift
Of an old and slightly broken antique Sitar
It must be older than
Seven to eight decades
Or maybe it came to see the first light
On Earth
Around a century ago. 01
.
My heart was throbbing and almost jumping
To think and imagine
That I posses something
Of unprecedented beauty and melody
With an untold story
Still breathing
In its heart. 02
.
Thinking that I may get success
In adding again
A replacement of those
Strings and knobs
Which may bring back
All its missing tunes and music
Which the Sitar has lost
With the passing
Of many decades of time
When the Sitar got forlorn and neglected
And gradually
It lost some of its most essential
And dear body parts. 03
.
One day I was watching it minutely
To appreciate
The beauty of this antique Sitar
When I suddenly found
A name ‘Tan’ written
On one of its broken keys
And unknowingly
I began to anticipate
That with the perhaps
With the passing of time
The Sitar would have shifted
From the soft hands
Of its first owner
Whose name was perhaps ‘Tan’. 04
.
And surprisingly
This name ‘Tan’ was still
Faintly visible
Written on one of the broken knob
Of that antique Sitar
Which I happened to posses now. 05
.
I imagined and presumed
That perhaps
It’s unseen owner Tan
May had left that beauty mark
By writing her unique lovely
Name ‘Tan’
Which still appears to be
Singing silently and shining dimly
After many ignored decades
The untold love story of Tan. 06
.
That faintly written name
Appeared to me
As the last impression and effort
Of a beautiful skilled
Musician woman in love
To immortalize her name & musical lore’s
By mildly engraving that name
On one of the knob
Of this beautiful Sitar
Which for me was
No less precious
Then the Grecian Urn
Which was spreading the same
Beauty and stillness
With a difference
That the Sitar was still capable
To reproduce
The vibrations of all those sweet melodies
Which got lost on this unique
Musical instrument of the last century
With the passing and change of time. 07
Ravindra
Kanpur India 13th April 2016
Exotic perfumes opulent
Hibiscus and jasmine sentient
Charming flute and sitar entice
Indian chants undulating
Heads pivoting eyes inviting
Warm smiles reminiscent of spice
Voices that throw you in a trance
In a most voluptuous dance
Timing of twirling so precise
Long black waves of ebony hair
Swaying through the sumptuous air
Sweet frangipanis caressed thrice
Exotic perfumes opulent
Most seductive graceful movement
Colorful sari paradise
Hand caresses so alluring
Romantic moves hypnotizing
Expressive beguiling eyes slice
Through melodic extravagance
Beckoning magic’s elegance
Playing on heart strings that suffice
Such flair as spry as pure prayer
Let your soul embark if you dare
Swirls of sensuous bounty twice
Hibiscus and jasmine sentient
Charming flute and sitar entice
Exotic perfumes opulent
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~NAMASTE~ 2020
AP: 3rd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on April 29, 2020 for contest STRAND PICK H sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 3RD
on January 31, 2019 for contest 2019 POETRY MARATHON MILE 14 sponsored by MARK TONEY
and May 30, 2018 for contest HUTINASHRO sponsored by CONNOR LOTTS
Both strings
Soul wings
A strum
A hum
Both wound
Sweet sound
A pick
In sync.
18.12.2020
‘FOOTLE-me Poetry Contest’
We have a mild start to winter so far
So much better for driving the family car
No skidding off the road
No need to be towed
Even throw snowballs while playing my sitar
Why did that lamp lose its light?
Your thoughts taking fancy flight,
I kept it burning all night….
Why should a fresh flower die?
Pressed close to my bosom nigh,
Bare could it breathe, nor yet sigh….
What made such a river dead?
Selfish need, growing greed led
Men to build bunds on its bed.…
What snapped the string of sitar?
Tuning tight to my tune’s par,
I tensed it far oh too far….
The extreme ends oh of life,
Yon at excess dwells all strife,
Life’s to walk on edge of knife.
__________________________________
Musings |12.08.2021|
Poet’s Note: Based on lyricist Gulzar’s Hindi version, Which, I understand was inspired by Rabindranath Tagore’s Bengali poem. Life sometimes poses very delicate questions. It cries out for freedom and fresh air, which often we fail to let it. We constrict it, stretch it too much. Naturally, the string of life snaps, and its delicate melodious tune gets lost.