Defination Of A Sister -Sister Poem By Seema Chowdhary

 Seema Chowdhary

Defination Of A Sister

A sister always does things that are nice

She offers her services and good advice

And always whenever we feel blue

She shows us life’s brighter view

A sister always readily lends her ear

And share our smiles and good cheers

And always try to in her style

To bring us the joy of laugh and smile

A sister always shows in her way

How to brighten our rainy day

And share life’s secrets to show the cares

And all out things either common or rare

And today dear for you I really prey

And thank you for saying nice things to say

And proudly tell that you my sis

Are surely send as God’s gift and bliss

Broken Hearts in Paris - Sad Poem

Broken Hearts in Paris

I dreamt last night

Of the last night I saw you,

All covered in deadweight gold

And tarnished by its light.

You stood at the window,

An angel with burnt wings

And a soul tired of dancing.

"It's never easy backing out," you said.

"I know," I replied,

Our backs facing each other

And the voice not quite my own.

"Sometimes it isn't what we imagine."

You breathed against the window

And made a heart with your fingertip.

I closed my eyes

And put my forehead to the door.

When moonlight fell across the bed

You turned to me and said, "Paris, we

Should've gone to Paris. They have stars

And paintings, all the romance you can take."

I fumbled for my keys and opened the door.

"And broken hearts," I said.

Plenty of broken hearts.

When I Am Dead - Death Poem By Don Allan Dinio

When I am dead

Will you cry a tear for me when I am dead?

Will you tell someone that you miss me?

Will it affect your life at all and feel the loss of my company

Will you think of me, the good times and we’ve had, the laughs

We shared, the secrets we kept, and the challenges in life

We tried to solve?

Don’t feel bad about me. I had the good times of my life.

I tried the best I can and enjoyed the people I have around me,

Closes to me and related to me. They made me of who I was!

I took life as challenging… changed me for the better,

Failures were hard to take, mistakes we all do make,

But they are the best things in life to learn from.

Don’t feel bad for me because I left this world so suddenly because…

I was ready. I led my life from day to day.. I lived my life

As though it was my last. So it came to be.. so be it, I lived my life fully…

The rest is just history and should be fond memories!

Don’t mourn for me and lead a life a solitary.. the best in life is

Finding the best in people and people finding the best in you.

Your mourning won’t do me no good… but will just make you lonely,

Detached and inconsolable just because of me.

Take all the sincere condolences and bury them with me,

Always think of the good times we had… not the day,

I left you behind. Give other people a chance to know you…

Just like you did me, eventually, you will find another me!

Nice Birthday Poem By Don Allan Dinio

Another birthday

As we grow older from year to year,

We find ourselves conscious of the number of how old we get.

Whereas, we should be conscious of how much

We have accomplished in our lifetime;

How much we have survived another year of challenge;

How much we have maintained a harmonious relationship

With our family, our family, our friends, and our loved ones;

How much we have grown in wisdom and experience;

How much we have shared and contributed joy and

Laughter to others, sympathy and compassion

To those who needed it most and influenced and

Mad a big difference in their lives.

How much we have learned from life’s experience

Itself and from others shared such knowledge and

Aged wisdom to others and have grown within us

How much is there really in getting old knowing

We will only pass this way once in our lifetime?

How are we going to be remembered by our friends?

And loved ones when we are six feet down?

What matters most really is not how long we live…

But how we live life

Woman - Poem By Don Allan Dinio

Don Allan Dinio

Woman

You are the subject of my eloquent silence;

The food of my hungry thoughts;

The only purpose of my existence;

The object of my crazy dreams!

You are center of my lonely heart;

The philosophy of my life;

The reason of my logic;

The inspiration of my frustrated pen!

You are the ultimate end of my idealism

The source of my energy and inspiration

The essence of my being

The premise of my perfection

The enigma of my endless youth

Yet.. sometimes you are also…

The equinox of my own emptiness

And restless depression

Especially when you are not there..

No matter what I tried to be,

What I am, or what I have become!

Death In Shilling Poem By Saju Abraham

Death in shilling

It was one of those oratories on Sundays,

Walking down the narrow roads,

And into the foot of the hill

Borrowed backpack on my back

Full of cheap magic items

I was full of energy

But I was in for a strange Sunday

The poor hut an oratory

With its broken door shut

Bore a deserted look

I looked around for some life

And then I felt the tug at my sleeve

A tiny ward of mine looked up

Pulling me by the hand to the cliff

I saw a great crowd feasting

Everyone eating and drinking

Most of them red in the mouth

Betel leaves and limestone

Lots of laughter and banter

Lots of food and drinks in the hearse

Decorated with the best of shilling daisies

When I saw the old man laid out,

In his three-piece Sunday suit

I felt liberated unsure from what

Death primitively celebrated.

Lost Love - Poem By Saju Abraham

Saju Abraham

Memories of her rise

Like blood on jagged glass

Each time it brushed

A fresh drop trickled down

Currents of agony strike

Leaving me in constant pain

Walking me up of my numbed state

Do I want free from it?

Don’t I wish to run my hand

Over the jagged ends of glass

To feel that feeling again and again

Love boxes you in that feeling

But lost take love takes you to a treasure

A treasure you want never put down

The Flower Boat

Robert Frost

The Flower Boat

The fisherman’s swapping a yarn for a yarn

Under the hand of the village barber,

And her in the angle of house and barn

His deep-sea dory has found a harbor.

At anchor she rides the sunny sod

As full to the gunned of flowers growing

As ever she turned her home with cod

From george’s bank when winds were blowing.

And I judge from that elysian freight

That all the ask is rougher weather,

And dory and master will sail by fate

To seek the happy isles together.

For Once, Then Something - Poem By Robert Frost

Robert Frost

For Once, Then, Something

Others taught me with having knelt at well-curbs

Always wrong to the light, so never seeing

Deeper down in the well than where the water

Gives me back in a shining surface picture

Me myself in the summer heaven godlike

Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs.

Once,  when trying with chin against a well-curb,

I discerned, as I thought beyond the picture,

Through the picture, a something white, uncertain,

Something more of the depths—and when I lost it.

Water came to rebuke the too clear water.

One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple

Shook whatever it was lay there at bottom,

Blurred it, blotted it out. What was the whiteness?

Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.

Winter Night - Designed Love Poem

Winter Night

Poem

You Tell Me That You Love Me, Poem

Poem

You Tell Me You Love Me

Love By William Shakespear

Poem: Love

William Shakespear

TELL me where is Fancy bred,

Or is the heart or in the head?

How begot, how nourished?

Reply, reply,

It is engender’d in the eyes,

With gazing fed; and Fancy dies

In the cradle where is lied

Let us all ring fancy’s knell:

I’ll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell.

All. Ding, dong, bell.

It was a lover and his lass Poem By William Shakespear

It was a lover and his lass

William Shakespear

IT was a lover and his lass,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

That o’er the green corn-field did pass,

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,

When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;

Sweet lovers love the spring.

Between the acres of the rye,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

These pretty country folks would lie,

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,

When birds do sing, hey dind a ding, ding;

Sweet lovers love the spring.

This carol they began that hour,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

How that life was but a flower

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time.

When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;

Sweet lovers love the spring.

And, therefore, take the present time

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

For love is crown & grave; with the prime

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,

When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;

Sweet lovers love the spring.

Poem: Romance By Edgar Allan Poe

Romance

Edgar Allan Poe

Romance, who loves to nod and sing,

With drowsy head and folded wing,

Among the green leaves as they shake,

Far down within some shadowy lake,

To me a painted parquet

Hath been- a most alphabet to say-

Taught me my alphabet to say-

To lisp my very earliest word

While in the wild wood I did lie,

A child- with a most knowing eye.

Of late, eternal Condor years

So shake the very Heaven on high

With tumult as they thunder by,

I have no time for idle cares,

Through gazing on the unquiet sky.

And when an hour with calmer wings

It’s down upon my sprit flings-

That little time with lyre and rhyme

To while away- forbidden things!

My heart would feel to be a crime

Unless it trembled with the strings.

Song From The Ship By Thomas Lovell Beddoes

Song From The Ship

Thomas Lovell Beddoes

To sea, to sea! The calm is o’er;

The wanton water leaps in sport;

And rattles down the pebbly shore;

The dolphin wheels, the sea-cows snort,

And unseen Mermaids’ pearly song

Comes bubbling up, the weeds among.

Fling broad the sail, dip deep the oar:

To sea, to sea! The calm is o’er.

To sea, to sea! Our wide-winged bark

Shall billowy cleave its sunny way,

And with its shadow, fleet and dark,

Break the caved Tritions’ azure day,

Like mighty eagle soaring light.

O’er antelopes an Alpine height.

The anchor heaves, the ship swings free,

The sails swell full. To sea, to sea!

The Evening Was Lonely By Rabindranath Tagore

The Evening Was Lonely

Rabindranath Tagore

The Evening was lonely for me, and I was reading a book, till my heart become dry, and it seemed to me that beauty was a thing fashioned by the traders in world. Tired I shut the book and snuffed the candle. In a moment the room was flooded by the moonlight.

Sprit of beauty, how could you, whose radiance over brims the sky, stand hidden behind a candle’s tiny flame? How could a few vain words hidden from a book rise like a mist, and veil her whose voice has hushed the heart of earth into ineffable calm?