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Best Poems Written by Amar Agarwala

Below are the all-time best Amar Agarwala poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Amar Agarwala Poem

When I Am Dead

My heart often whispered  
Words which I could not say – 
Wish my stirrings reach you 
Upon some fateful day. 

Should I fail this missive 
Before am ground to dust, 
Know heavens will reach it – 
To you sweetheart – I trust. 
	**********

Details | Amar Agarwala Poem

The Magic of Nature

A sun-kissed morn upon my eyes
An ecstasy that words belie! 
Its painting with God's mystic brush
Upon the canvas of the sky; 

Find mirrored upon the brown earth
Its portrait in heavenly hues, 
Waterfalls, trees and dew-kissed grass
Gay blossoms in crimson and blues; 

Echoing this fine artistry
In divine melodious strains, 
Wind carrying to my mortal ears
Chorus of the birds and the rains, 

It enables my knowing soul
To surpass all temporal pleas, 
Like a lone vessel voyaging
Across far oceans and the seas.
      ***********

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Life

To life I hark at the crack of dawn
Then bow to its doting light,
Savour tweets in the trembling air
Fragrant with that jocund sight.

At noon I feel the blazing sun
As I toil upon my grind,
It bequeaths me a salty crown
And a throne that it can find.

Dusk caresses my weary brow
And twilight eases the load,
That lies upon my troubled heart
As I amble down the road.

A silvery moon entices me 
With dreams that are heavenly,
Magical baits to live my days
With its spell of wizardry.

This life is not some revelry
But struggle I know to be,
A measure for enlightenment
Shaded by a Bodhi tree.
	***********

Details | Amar Agarwala Poem

The Soldiers' March

They marched past my lane warriors all
Smart green fatigues, mirthful soldiers tall,
Hats inclined, their buttons shining bright
Boots drumming into a warming light,
Young hearts harking to their nation’s call.

I laud mother’s who have given birth
To lads seeking a heavenly berth,
Spurning their tomorrows’ for others
Courting death for sake of their brothers,
They are but heavens’ glory on earth.

They melted into that day of June
Unsung heroes in a blazing noon,
Cheered by townsfolk bidding them goodbye
Packing them to battle fields to die,
Their wreaths being readied as festoon.

Their bravery in battles I read 
On alien soil they lay and bled,
Spilling pure blood of mothers’ somewhere – 
Whose tears of valour only pride can bear,
Their flesh ceded to the land of dead.

O’ History on your pages I smote
That heavens’ pen this bloodied note,
Of unsung heroes who gave their breath
Quartered their flesh at altars of death,
Patriots for whom praises it quote.
		***********

Details | Amar Agarwala Poem

Ode To a Mendicant

He owned no fabled treasures
Nor the kingdom of a king, 
No horses or elephants
Nor a catapult or a sling.

He said he owned the blue skies
Birds, animals & the trees, 
Heavens had legated them
With its rivers & the seas.

Not a thread on his bare back
Belongings a pleasant smile, 
He carried it far & wide
When he walked the barefoot mile.

Taken for a mendicant
Who had no home nor a stead, 
He never owned a penny
Cared not for water or bread.

He greeted townsfolk like he
Greeted the thunder & rain, 
Oblivious to comforts
So immune to loss and gain.

He blessed every passer-by
He blessed every beast on road, 
He prayed for shrubs & blossoms
He prayed for the yew tree's load.

There were times children taunted
Strangers took him for some thief, 
Housemaids were suspicious
And they refused him relief.

He knew 'twas his attire
Bony frame & beard long, 
No curses spilled his parched lips
Except for an ominous song - 

Oh mortal seek not treasures! 
This world is a mystic inn, 
Be snared not by vanity
For the heavens lie within.

A handful still adored him
Yet most over passed him by, 
He wished them all his choicest
Blessings that heavens imply.

One dark day he went away
And then was seen not again, 
Known lanes and pathways he trod
Seemed bare in the sun & rain.

Folks longed for benediction
Saintly songs & hymns he sang, 
His gentle smote on doorways
That in blessed echoes rang.

Been eons, now folks say that - 
He was an angel in guise, 
They lament at their naivete 
Long it took them to be wise.

Now they've cast a sepulcher
And call it the - Seer's Gate, 
Townsfolk line up for blessings
So that their pains may abate.

Call it mirthful mockery
Or ironic mankind's fate, 
For they fathom life backwards
Discern it never on date.
       ***********

Details | Amar Agarwala Poem

Rising From My Grave

Bury me not in a gloomy yard
Shaded by the wall of a church,
Where graves look jaded and old
Their epitaphs veiled in smirch.

Lay me near some water’s edge,
Under leafy conifers tall,
Sheltered from the heat and rain,
Where twittering birds would enthrall.

Plant seeds of trees that flower
So their roots may grow unseen,
Winding across my jaded wood
Their probing relentlessly keen.

Let wiry creepers reach out low
To my grave in candid play,
For mourners a prayerful glance
When they visit on “All Souls’ day”.
May seasons weary trundle by
Their shadows across my yard,
My surreal self would wink at them
For being my soulful guard.

Germinating in a cradle brown
Pale green with a coloured hue,
Shall rise again with a radiant sun
Embraced by the endless blue.
		***********

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An Elegy For Myself

Late September sun is mellow
Can see the peonies smile, 
The grass-blades are turning yellow
They've weathered the summer's guile.

Dusk ushers reminiscences old
And fragrance of jasmine sweet, 
I hark to the winds that behold
A canary's lulling tweet.

Twilight hovers upon a clue
That nocturne is not too far, 
Daylight has fled into the blue
To embrace the evening star.

This cemetery my home to be
It's beauty a piece of art, 
Deep silence like sweet lullaby
Borrowed from a mother's heart.

My headstone stands where shadows throng
Epitaph a silent plea - 
‘Do prepare for a journey long
It is here that you have to be'.

The inmates here all dead and furled
Are all of a motley kind, 
Glad its not like the mortal world
Where I always trailed behind.

Being here is sheer providence
Know this my beloved dear, 
Would've long changed my residence
Had I known the blessings here.
           ***********

Details | Amar Agarwala Poem

A Roadside Tale

They stood there by the shadows
Two vagabonds should you call, 
One was a man of honour
The other a mongrel small; 

The winter sun was setting
Twilight had crawled overall, 
The north wind clamoured and howled
Dark clouds had suffused their shawl; 

Few townsfolk shuffled about
Hurrying with chores of their day, 
But none caring to glance at
The two who stood by their way; 

Horse-drawn carriages laboured by
As did porters to the quay, 
None had the time to stand by
Caught up in their worldly fray; 

Ignored stood the wanderers 
Who once had home and hearth, 
Their lives blessed with plentiful
For it had both joy and mirth; 

But destiny had beguiled
Now they were ever in dearth; 
They needed food and shelter
But could barter not its worth; 

The two sought caring glances
They sought for a helping hand, 
Pleadings a gentle flourish
Like sea-shells upon the sand; 

Yet, dusk felt their suffering
Bats feted them to their land, 
Stars cajoled from a distance
That Venus would wield its wand.

Huddled upon a doorway
They made a grievous sight, 
They stood for heaven's mercy
Their state a piteous plight; 

The north wind seemed relentless
It rumbled with all its might, 
Snow-flakes heeded their pallor
And left them shrouded in white; 

A snow-owl spied them at dawn
Hunched at the doorway below, 
Their reverie lay frozen
With desires none would know; 

The mortal world had cared not
With compassion's running low, 
But nature had been kindly
Having buried them in snow.

The owl mourned their tragedy
Sadly hooting at the sun, 
It resounded like a dirge
Alas to hear, there was none! 
       ***********

Details | Amar Agarwala Poem

Blossoms At Thy Feet - Ode To My Mother

Those strands of grey on your temples
Creased brows in a smirch stained plea, 
Those dark circles around your eyes
I know they have come for me.

Those gallons that you have sweated
Managing our home and hearth, 
Endless pains you have writhed in
Since the time you gave me birth.

Can vouch for the wrinkles many
That line your beautiful face, 
That hurtful quiver of your lips
You lovingly veiled with grace.

Those coarse varicose hands of yours
From toil and labors of home, 
Affections I took for granted
Your needs buried by a gnome.

I reminisce your scolding harshly
Leaving home in irate din, 
Not knowing the pain I caused you
And how your heart bled within.

Your lap so comforting and warm
Whereupon I soundly slept, 
But never did I care for times, 
When you have silently wept.

All my failures you stoutly bore
While you kept me in your shade, 
But those little follies of yours
Ugly hills of them I had made.

You cried with me when I was hurt
Smiled when was joyous with glee, 
You held me close to your bosom
When I saw my shadow flee.

I know your loving tender touch
Your pride at my growing so, 
You have held me deep in heart
Though times I took you as foe.

Wish had loved you more than I did
Grave folly this life of mine, 
Yet, you have ever forgiven
Saying, that I've always been thine.

Have never seen the face of God
Yet I know how he would be, 
When I gaze at your gentle eyes, 
He peeps through them at me.
         ***********

Details | Amar Agarwala Poem

The Walnut Tree

As I passed my wicket fence
The ageing walnut tree, 
Showered me with withered leaves
And said something to me; 

That it stood since ages past
But I had never seen, 
Crimson light upon its leaves
Thus how twilight had been; 

I glimpsed not the sparrow's nest
That lay upon its bough, 
Few spotted eggs closeted
Though which the night winds plough; 

Neither I the twitter sweet
That morning brought with it, 
Nor did I the moon savour
And how the stars were lit; 

Felt no spring nor summer heat
Hues autumn ever passed, 
Soft snow upon its branches
Know how sweet nuts amassed; 

Had I known the squirrel small
That in its hollow stayed, 
A smile would cross my dried lips
Under its dappled shade; 

It said I need pause beneath
It gnarled and shrunken stem, 
Inhale a puff of fresh air
And lightly say ahem; 

I could not make much of this
Until it whispered soft, 
It knew the angel of death
Who paid a visit oft; 

The angel had confided
Of men whose days were few, 
My name too she uttered
Something I never knew; 

The wisely tree then advised -
That I take heed of days, 
See the world with different eyes
And change my baffled ways; 

Knowing soon my time would lapse
I now bask in the sun, 
Glimpse the trees and hark the sounds
That I had never done; 

Strange I find some precious time
To kiss the balmy air, 
Immerse myself with loved ones
Indulge in that I care; 

Late I am for having missed
The best life had to give, 
Sadly spent my living days
Not knowing how to live.
        ***********