Five poems by Vivekanand Jha.
1. Humanity Died
There was a gathering on the mid road
I have also excited to join them
Expecting some interesting things to see
I found humanity has met with an accident
It bleeds and cries in pain
And seeks some solace from onlookers
Who called themselves
Wonderful and beautiful creatures of the world.
We remain mute spectator
As if it were a scene of movie.
None of hands heave to help him:
In some they were blinking like a cursor
In some they were like a flip-flop
In some they try to reach
But their deaf and stony emotion
Fail to respond.
But the heart of Atropos in heaven
Melt as He listend the pain and moaning
Of the humanity and He extended His hands
To support and succour
And we found humanity died.
* * * * *
2. My poem falters and falls
I write with ink of blood
To testimonialize and give
A touch of eternity to it
But my poem falters and falls
In the poetry of the world.
I pluck words from
A flowry and ornated garden
And weave a garland of them
To adorn the world
But they trample it
Under their feet
Like they crush the stub
Of the cigarete to prevent it
From catching the fire.
I discover the words
Hidden in the unhaunted
Recess of the mind
And juxtapose them
Like an ideal couple
Of bride and bridegroom
At bridal chamber
And turn my poem on new leaf
But they tilt their stony eyes
And turn deaf ears to it.
I infuse my heart and soul
Into the poem
Thinking it would be
The best and the last of my life
But they simply say:
Since it is the beginning
You would learn by mistakes.
* * * * *
3. Dawn dwells on the bank
Swim across the river of dense dark
As on the bank dwells the dawn
Let the tears trickle from eyes
As it has only the magical power of Puck
That would transform them into smile.
Let the whole world in jealousy burn
As it is only parameter of how much
You have developed and grown.
Let diseases and failures
To make you cripple and weak
As they are only tonic
To lead the path to succeed.
Let the time
To mock and scorn
One day when you would die
It would only mourn.
Advance ahead
With same zeal and zest
As he who tries
Only he climbs the Everest.
* * * * *
4. An elegy to the poem
I send you to represent
In various magazines and ezines
From my country
To the world of every region
But you fall victim
To the predators
We call them poetry editors.
They are prepared
with ready witted reply:
to the guidelines
your submission doesn’t comply.
Some says:
Thank you for your interest
But we decided to pick up the best
Some says:
You are committing a crime
By composing the poems in rhyme.
Better if our guidelines you rehearse
As we consider poems only in free verse.
Some says:
We don’t accept
Unsolicited submission.
So before sending works
You must seek permission.
Some says:
Sorry, not what we are looking for
Best of luck for publishing them
In other journals.
Some says:
Our magazine is limited
To the poets of our nation
So we don’t accept submission
From out station.
Some says:
Your submission permanently fails
As we don’t accept it by email.
They don’t have time
To read and waste
Stereotype reply
They simply copy and paste.
Some says:
Due to large volume of submission
It is not feasible to give
On all critical depreciation.
Some says:
We have decided
To pass on these
But next time don’t forget
To send, please.
Some says:
We only publish
The works of established poet
So keep on trying,
Watch and wait.
These are only
Small lists of rejection
Poets are victim of
Numerous persecutions.
I keep on sending
In spite of your insults
The poets do poetry
Irrespective of the results.
* * * * *
5. Dispossessed Motherland
I am from the land
Reduced to handful sand
Where is only mud
Left by devastating flood.
Here is no crop to reap
But only blood to creep
On our fate to weep
And feet not rise to leap.
Here is no food to eat
No room to express the wit
No place to peacefully sit
Good enough to cause the fit
As we are by poverty hit.
Here is no fuel to be lit
No milk in the mother’s teat
We have only dust to beat
Bleak and barren land and wit.
Here is no work to do
So we have earning few
And we have courage to muster
To gather the bread and butter.
Here is no life utility
Here is only killing by brutality
Which exposes administrative futility?
By their nature of duality.
Here is no feather in the cap
Only the news of kidnap
In the mean time you nap
Child is dispossessed from mother’s lap.
Here is no morality to be taught
If you do death to be bought
Don’t give the suggestion unsought
Which only misery to be brought.
Here is only the battle to be fought
One-year flood is another year drought
We are caught in the current of time
There is no difference
Between the age of old and prime
Here is no moment of auspicious, only ill omen
People are living in the devil’s domain
To earn livelihood, what can do the men?
Go miles and years away to deadly den
Lovelorn of their children and women.
Here is no magic wand
Men beat their own drum and band
Here are only foes, hardly any friend
Here is none for mistakes to amend
Here is no right for dignity to defend
This is a dispossessed motherland
This is nothing but a Waste Land.
* * * * *
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