Details |
P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. Poem
Him fountain of eternal joy from
Where life is renewed,
Ageing and life to be drained out, exit
From the world is nigh,
When suddenly comes a call from him
Above, who regulates
The flow of life through cycles of many
Births and deaths, to stop.
Suddenly sounds the drum from sky for the
Second act of play,
Life really awakens, drooping life
Joyfully responds to the call;
The wintry night desolate soon turns
Into a joyous spring day,
Undoing death, His rhythm and dance
Rejuvenates life force.
The flow of life from star to star
Follows the rhythm of his dance,
Freed from the confinement of matters
Th'Earth finds salvation;
With multitudinous fruits and grains and
Flowers of myriad hues
Her baskets of seasons are filled to the
Till and brim and all.
Thus she attains the fulfillment at the
Touch of his dancing feet,
The flow of life gushes up from death
Following incessantly
The pattern of his rhythm and dance, to the
Tune of his golden flute;
In the tornado of this violent dance,
All that is withered falls.
The triumphal arch of life is erected
Midst the joyful tunes,
And the journey of this spring meanders
Towards the fountain again.
This poem was originally written in Bengali Language by Rabeendranath Tagore. Its Bengali Title was Udbodhan. It was then translated into English by Mr. Rabeendranath Choudhury who expressed his wish that somebody from some other generation may attempt the rest so that all the English-speaking people may enjoy India's Pride. And here it is, slightly edited and recast in the true poetic form by P.S. Remesh Chandran, Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum.
Read more about our views on poetry and about our various poetry editorial services, kindly visit http://poetryeditservice.blogspot.in/
Copyright © P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. Poem
Ages there are in which the ration'l man
And th'intuitive stand side by side, the one
In fear of intuition, or scorn for abstraction;
Irrational one, the other inartistic.
They both desire to rule over their life,
Unreal or real, counting life to be.
Prudence, foresight and regularity,
The means with which one meets needs principal.
One o'erjoyed hero disregards these needs,
Counts life as beauty and an illusion.
As in the 'case in ancient Greece, th'intuitive,
Handles his weapons authoritatively,
Victoriously than his opponent, and
Establishes art's mastery over life.
All utensils we use in daily life,
Were made from art, not from our pressing needs.
Houses, our clothes, our clay jugs, all them were
Intended to express exalted joy.
Guided by abstractions and concepts, we
Succeeds in warding off our misfortunes,
Without ever gaining any happiness;
So that's the case the ration'l man's life is.
Th'intuitive man, aim freedom from his pain,
Standing a-firm amidst his culture's frame,
Reaps cheer, illumination and redemption.
Defense against misfortunes, he obtains.
I was once advised to read Nietzsche's 'On Truth And Lies In A Non-moral Sense.'I do not read Nietzsche; I sing it. I sing 'On Truth And Lies In A Non-moral Sense' this way. I am sad to observe that Nietzsche did not write it this way but in his eloquent flowing prose. Unfortunately, when I look at such prose and skim content, lines appear this way to me.
A Poem By P.S.Remesh Chandran. Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books. Trivandrum.
Read more about our views on poetry and about our various poetry editorial services, kindly visit http://poetryeditservice.blogspot.in/
Copyright © P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. Poem
Today I had a strange experience,
Not in this group but in another group.
‘Poetry and Lit'rature' it is not,
In ‘Written or Revealed Poetry' thread.
Asked, have I written poems in my life?
I found it fit to answer it this way:
I'm writing this in reply to a miss,
I have never written poems in my life.
Have wondered where these poems all come from,
From human intellect or nature's store,
To be picked up at moments of revelation;
Or synthesized in rotten human brain!
I was inspired to write these wicked lines,
By those whose verses written were in sand:
Let us debate poetry in poems,
I hope she'll someday answer me in kind.
I 'am not doing anything again,
But asking questions all have answers for.
I have my answers, you can have yours,
This not an illiterate arena,
Where someone asks questions and another from,
Some academic circle answers them.
Some anxious are, to questions throw around,
Some eagerly waits there to answer them;
This not such school or college where one can,
En'tertain answers not from others too.
I know I'm Alexander Pope's close kin,
I stop here, to read Temple of Fame again.
I regularly take part in discussions in a famous social site of experts and writes in two special groups Poetry and Literature and Language, Literature & Criticism. A discussion on ‘Whether Poetry Has To Keep Form' became heated and I had to remain at the receiving end of severe but very polished criticism for some of my view points insisting on form for poetry.
At last I was asked, ‘You do not seem to have understood the mechanics of poetry like many of us; have you ever read a poem or at least try to write one'? I decided to write my reply in the poetical form and invited the others to respond in the like manner and continue the discussion on poetry. In my native land, in Malayalam literature, there has been a long history of poets writing letters to each other in the poetical form, creating a rich branch of literature in itself. In truth, almost all Indian languages had this kind of a branch of literature, and it had become an interesting and rich feature of Indian literature. I replied as shown here.
A Poem By P.S.Remesh Chandran. Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books. Trivandrum.
Read more about our views on poetry and about our various poetry editorial services in http://poetryeditservice.blogspot.in/
Copyright © P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. Poem
A sophist saint in ancient Grecian land,
Said whatever he said was a falsity.
Was asked to state anything before he died,
When once he'd committed an act of crime.
He would be hanged, if tell the truth he did;
And would be beheaded if he told untruth.
Being always prepared for th'unexpected,
That to be beheaded was he, stated he.
If he was executed cutting throat,
Then that would prove that what he'd told was truth,
For which the sentence had to be hanging him,
Thereby to prove that he had told untruth,
For which again to be cut the head apart,
Or if to be hanged, is this a paradox?
So thinking such and such the Judges swoon'd,
And asked the Saint to step out from the Court.
Thus neither to be beheaded or be hanged,
He roamed the country side and forest land.
The ancient Sophist saints of Greece were exceptionally clever with the use of their tongues. Don't play with them; they can bind us cunningly with their tongues. And don't corner them; we will never forget what we get in retaliation. Here in this poem, one such sophist saint is being tried in Court for a crime when the Judges get stung. The classical sophists were well-versed in paradoxes. The Judges in the Trial Court fail in understanding the real meaning of what the saint said.
Copyright © P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. Poem
When I appear there Nature seems to
Dance and dance and dance,
When I disappear she is prone to
Weep and weep and weep.
Withdraws all clouds from sky to set a
Splendid scenery,
So that me rising from the river
Afresh may there espy.
Whether it sun or shower or snow or
Storm, when I arise
To set my arms, the setting Sun
Certainly will be there.
Women who go to the river for bathing
Choose my choicy time,
So that there they may bathe in warm and
Yellow sunshine time.
Now here a plant blossoms and blooms and
Soon another there,
Here Spring is reappearing, with her
Bring all beauties back.
Nature is dancing with her rhythmic
Steps and divine smile,
Why can't I row a boat here swaying
To and fro on waves?
The valleys wear their flowery carpets,
And the mountains are
Once again clad in colours, such this
Sylvan scene is set.
White cranes are there always on serene
Haunted islets sit,
Or stand by whiter cows there grazing
O'er the lushy green.
Suppose some Beauty glance and dance in
This wild atmosphere,
Then surely that's a dance to see, when
Mother Nature dance.
So Nature takes the pen out of my
Hands and writes for me,
May that there me, the clouds and cranes and
Cows and waves witness.
On cloudy days, practically there will be no sun to see. But it was my insistence that when I rise up after bathing in the river and look up to the sky, the sun should be there in the western horizon for me to worship. If it is a heavy raining day, I will select the time to go to the river according to when the rain will have a possibility of abating. Even on the heaviest raining days in the east, nature is benevolent enough to uncover sun at least for a few seconds. I will select this time to rise up from the river with my eyes closed and fervently wishing for father sun to be there when I open my eyes. With closed eyes when we look westward, standing river fresh, I don't know what makes it happen but the sun will always be there though sometimes be for only a few seconds. It is like this life-giver listens to fervent wishes of his off-springs and grants them.
A Poem By P.S.Remesh Chandran. Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books. Trivandrum.
Read more about our views on poetry and about our various poetry editorial services, kindly visit http://poetryeditservice.blogspot.in/
Copyright © P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. Poem
Which is the easiest way to make two
Indian states to fight?
One is to throw power, language, water-
Issues on their face.
So you’ll have got two Dravid states
Fighting eternally,
O’er slight and petite things for decades
Meaningless, mundane,
So that your Aryan Empire in the
North will have its way
Of flourishing and bringing in caste and
Sect-bred troops set free.
Not one but multiple such issues
Let loose on the south
On the twin sister-states of Tamil Nadu
And Kerala have worn
Out sistership, brotherhood and good-
Will among these two
Peoples, and eroded their history
Of a common past.
Mullapperiyar Dam Water Issue,
Imposing Hindi,
And Koodankülam Atomic Power
Plants are but a few,
Devised by central government to
Keep them warring on
And smoth’ring each other instead of
Pooling their resources.
We will examine each and weigh how
Hampered they progress,
Before we’re onto the treachery of the
Telengana State.
(Written and first published on: 08 December 2020)
Can also be read in full here: https://sahyadribooks-remesh.blogspot.com/2020/12/224-hindu-anarchy-coming-to-india.html
Copyright © P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. Poem
A common confrontation between
Man and animals
From the wild, are pigs roaming farm lands
Destroying the crops
Of pöor farmers, it’s indeed a
Problem in Indian states
With forest borders, acute in her
Many smaller states.
In larger states where lands are vast
And circumference of
Pigs’ roaming areas big, those only
Near the woods suffer,
But in small states like 'Kerala where
Ham'lets and villages
Are not too far from forest bound’ries
Tribals can’t raise crops.
Paddy and plantain, vegetables,
Tapioca, tea,
And rubber, are the earning crops of
Those outermost states,
But these unfortunately are the
Very things they like
To devour and uproot by night to the
Dismay of the day.
When someone sees in the sunup the
Ploughing the pigs did
During the yester night, his heart is
Broken and he weeps,
For they can’t leave their lands for they have
Nowhere else to go,
Nor can they a'bandon th’ages-old
Occupation of farming.
In days of old the farmers had
Se'veral techniques neat
To harness pigs, this problem was not
Severe in those days,
Of one was building watch-huts in the
'Middle of the fields and
Watching they come, and creating much
Din and noise by
Cracking firearms and banging vessels
Driving them away:
This surely was not as easy as
Singing in this song.
It is a very dang’rous business,
Man-attacking pigs
From the wild are most vicious in their
'Ferocity and thoroughness
Of attacks. Have anyone ever seen a
Farmer attacked by
Wild pigs? Indeed it is a very
Horrible sight to see.
If farmers do this technique now, the
Nearby residents
Would file com'plaints against sound pollution
And 'cases will begin.
So then they constructed fences with
Firearms hanging from,
Which when the pig touches the fence
Would fall down and explode,
Driving the 'pigs away, but Police
Ob'structed this practice
For there was firearms involved, so they
Turned to other tricks,
Including passing electri'city
Through their fences, which
Soon were dismantled for inviting-
Deaths and accidents.
So then they started shooting pigs with
Homemade shot guns, soon
Forest and Revenue Departments came
Prosecuting them.
Those who eat them say pigs are very
Delicious to eat,
All know that their numbers are more than
Enough to be eaten,
Or protected, the law is clear: they
Can’t be shot at will,
But who will take in farmers in
Protected Animals’ List?
So now the cause of farmers lost, their
Fields and farm sheds rot;
And jungle encroaches their homesteads,
Like those Inca homes.
Copyright © P.S.Remesh Chandran. Trivandrum. | Year Posted 2022
|