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Best Poems Written by Isor Chand

Below are the all-time best Isor Chand poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Isor Chand Poem

Few Words From Our Mother Earth

Don't call me by Rudia or Entland !
The Nile , Amazon and Ganga are all 
Are all my tears, that you see on your sand.
My Entlish! My Rudians ! To whom you call
"Mother"? . When 'twas I who did womb you both.
You are my lamb sons whom I love to sport.

Strike off your tiny indolent foul flags!
Don't breach your birth to create your new Mommy!
Don't ripple your kin's air to fly your rags!
Cast off my coincidence I fancy,
If you love what your narrow mind taught you.
And I'm here only to see what you do!

Isn't it a song if their tongue is foreign?
Or do they laugh when someone is no more?
How wise to sort out tears when their hearts rend?
How fool to mute your soul when their hearts sore?
Are not you born and raised on my same lap?
Ever had I failed on you for a nap?

Don't sing your premature foolish anthem.
Don't held high your head to prove your meanness.
Do go to woods, count thousand times your name
And be famed in whatever your way has.
But don't forget that you too are my son
And don't miss me when wounded by his bone.

P.s
1. Rudia - an imaginary country (for the fear of insult)
2.Entland -  an imaginary country. 
3. Rudians - people of Rudia 
4. Entlish - people of Entland
(The presentation is only the expression of free thoughts of the poet. The insults whatsoever assumed by the reader are their risk of being pessimistic. No claim for insult shall be entertained)

Details | Isor Chand Poem

My Lady Lotus

(Bracketed words are not to be included in poem for they are only meant to bring home the phrase or word used)

From the eternal cake of her mother
There lies the eternal seed among mud;
Heaven born, a one mud cradled pamper.
Without love, light and care, how would you lug?
And to chase that you are a heaven born,
To tell beauty is chaste as was just sworn.

Her mud milk and cold water make her strong.
Dim infancy casts her spirit to light;
Must reach ken of patience as day's night's long.
Amongst dark, cold ,drown childhood her root's white.
And to straight this vile stage to once Eden,
To cue all that peace roofs each dreamt heaven

The anglers and fishes play hide and seek.
The gloom bait bathes in charm and fishes hunt.
All at once are they when she is in meek.
The joy they (fishes) had is what anglers must fond.
And so states untimely jolly is all worst,
To chirp midnight ends not the night to last.

She is soft, but not for breezy water
To make her quiver at a little breeze.
But for joy-zealers (fishes ,water), they ripple ever.
Only they settle when rude vase decrees
'Tis not you that stir but grow above them
And that love (love spirit of light ) make not live in mayhem.

And when morn steals the hearts, you wait your time.
Whilst bees jump for wine, you sleep for your morn.
You are a green pendant for clear sky to chime
That bell of dusty soil for rain or storm.
When convulsed gleaming crests lure your virgin,
You ball calm in air and tell what they mean.

Morning kisses sky when you kiss heaven.
With you, cloud, rain or mire boy is pageant.
Pious silk veils haze your diadem of golden,
Hides a wise pearl in your sea of delight
Divine smell of you - as you scented mud!
And charm with dust without any 'but'.

And when it is time for your loyal girls;
To seed this vile dust the voice you lived on,
At once you throw off your diadem and veils.
Without tears you face sky when they are gone
For you wot that dark mud made your Eden
And breeze could ne'er bear the base of heaven.

(A different perspective of HERO)
For the contest HERO dated : 20 Nov 2017

Details | Isor Chand Poem

A Child Collects Some Sand

A child collects some sand with hand
And so he calls it "motherland".

To some sand, castles are built high
Flowers are grown for dewy morn
Flags are furled in cloudy sky
But by fort's flag the flower's forlorn.

Children gather some sand with hands
And so they call it "motherlands".

Details | Isor Chand Poem

The Castles of Princes

To that waving angry sea sand,
In that twilight hours for cattle,
The 'Princes of Time' built Castles.
Some said ,"mine's better". "Mine" ,one said.
Under the sky of dawn winter ,
They raised flags to limit the sky.
Turned up, turned side, stayed quick - I saw.
I hate their *roses, red though.
I hate their shrilling song of "My".
They built, they played, they fought, they marred,
Unto the twilight - nearing dark.
These Princes though very little,
Unto the twilight - nearing dark,
At the shore, they built SAND Castles.

*Roses = lips

Details | Isor Chand Poem

Kite Flying In Night

A healthy milk-coloured lad flew
A stars-eyed red-white striped gay kite
Into the ocean blue free sky
Up, always up in heaven's gate
Fellow fliers, the friendly foes
Their near visits create a smile:
Sweet in lips- bitter air in nose
Loose insatiable hugs, so vile.

Up and up, it goes, faint and faint
The red-white, almost like a speck
After all it's not about paint,
Low fliers care much for a speak,
When the supposed-speck is bigger,
Of hue and pattern; less flying
Had chose broader, he'd be higher
'Twas strong, thick fit for up sending.

The pull, the wind, the string matter
It's too mean to notice it's size
Big are the mouths telling color.
Kite loose to dot, driven by breeze
He left his name but kite, sky, wind,
Nah church Bell! Nah belly Bell too!
When heaven didn't show; wild are minds.
Hush the hush, rush on rush, so go.

Dress robbed (robbed by night) hoverers splashed goodbyes
Like ether, free of light, he's lost
He's lone and lost - others as mice
This time mice don't race, but run most.
Not known height in false black blue sky
Not known hue and spot he just flew
Asked was a question of should why
Kite flying in night be a new.

Details | Isor Chand Poem

When I End My Joke I Silently Cry

By dusk, in a city of rich desert
I started a joke to my dear Nana;
On her deep country poetic voice and heart;
On her oral peace poem as ha, ha, ha.

To her shooting stars, I say aeroplane,
To her misty dusk, I prove dusty smog,
To her smoky chimneys, I point machine,
To her dancing breeze, I light up to smoke.

When she misses her naughty village birds,
I play the song of Rihanna so loud.
When the city burns golden stars, it hurts,
For she watched the winning of moon in bout.

When the village Mom must raid her boys home,
Beggars raid the poor hearts of passers-by.
When a bunch of peaceful town folk should roam,
Thousand half-busy-bunches foul the sky.

When I end my joke, I silently cry
For Nana is dreaming amidst my joke.
And that joke makes her poetic soul so dry
For Nana is dreaming amidst my joke.

For the contest "I Started A Joke"
Dated : 29 Nov 2017

Details | Isor Chand Poem

Take Back This Flower You Once Gave

Take back this flower you once gave.
I beg you, please accept it back.

Your gift meant the greatest value,
Your flower priced above my life.
To others, it might mean nothing
But to me, it was everything.
I never expected such gift:
Such present to such low fellow.

Nights were sleepless to think of her,
Morns were restless to preserve dew,
Days were forgetful while watching,
She compelled watching as living.
Everytime she bloomed to fresh hue
'Twas her beauty-bait she showered.

Take back this flower you once gave.
I beg you, please accept it back.

Flowers were my aspiration
But now I like nothing that glow
And my heart avoids offering -
As for the part of my toiling.
Enough of love, enough at all:
"The scars of love heed no potion".

Do take back those flowers you gave
And all those heavy favours back,
Please do accept these back, I beg.

Details | Isor Chand Poem

When the Heaven Cry

Murky sky, dusty breeze and muddy Earth!
Crying heaven, sticky soil, the fall rain!
After summer, before winter at dusk,
When the grey old twigs bow for aging husk
Soaring eagle and messenger pigeon
Surrender to tears with their wings afraid.

The wood so thick and bare, the sky unbound;
Height lover and home lover chose to stop
Cloud wanderer meets the chimney cleaner
Not so near to feel, not far to ignore
Talk not to see and move near not to talk
Both dripping, both waiting with those heads down.

When the heaven cry! When the heaven cry!
Home is wild! Wild is home! Till the tears dry.

Best Poems Written by Isor Chand

Friendship

I Forgot To Love Myself

Few Words From Our Mother Earth

My Lady Lotus

A Child Collects Some Sand

The Castles of Princes

Kite Flying In Night

When I End My Joke I Silently Cry

Take Back This Flower You Once Gave

When the Heaven Cry