Letters to My Love… (2)

You are the smile on my face, inspiration for my foot steps, and motivation behind my breath. No less, and a lot more! How many times do I want to tell you that I love you, but there are not enough words. And, the words commonly used are not dignified enough! O Love! O Love! O Love! You teach me how to live. You are an example of life itself. Actually, you are ‘the’ Life. Your eyes are full of dreams, even at dusk! Who knows it is a new beginning! Your lips have freshness of rose petals, and, your smile is like that of an infant!

You made my life what it should have been ideally.what it was, when you first met me, but a replica of hell.my eyes were as dark as starless nights, my lips were dry leaves, and smile that of a dying person. You made me live, you made me love, you made me the Love!

Letters to my Love… (1)

It is a midget like expression in comparison to what I feel for you, and, what you feel for me! Mere ‘I love you’ is not enough. I wish language had such a thing as expression in it, then I would have told you what you mean to me…

You are not a flower, whose life is a day or two; nor are you a moth, who dies for the love of light! You are light itself- one who can consume a million moths and still dazzle the Sam- patiently and peacefully.

You are not the universe, for universe is too tiny, you are not anything, nothing in particular but everything that one can be, and that which one cannot be. You are not ordinary, nor is my love for you. My love is not a mere spark, or a bonfire lit in controlled circumstances; my love is a fire that can consume forests , villages and cities alike, and still be unsatisfied. You are that first drop of rain which lands on this rage, and instantaneously calms it down.

For how many times do I want to tell you ‘I love you’; but, words are dwarf and you are a giant. From where should I bring such words as may define- no, definition is not all inclusive- from where should I bring such words as may express what you mean to me. I wish, I could become like you and each and every thread of my being expressed ‘you’.

….Sahar Raman Deep

Author of ‘The UnSaid: Listen to the Silence “

The UnSaid: Listen to the Silence… a book by Sahar Raman Deep

Poetry comes from the highest happiness

or the deepest sorrow.

….A. P. J. Abdul Kalam

Embrace!

As puss comes out of a wound

My anxieties came out of me

Such was the effect of your embrace

O child of resonance !

As tears come out of dry eyes

As breath flows

In an attack of asthma

As a blister bursts on the skin

Of a child

An ah came out of my being

And I wondered

What was it

That just hug me

An angel or devil?

Or,

Plain innocence!

The UnSaid: Listen to the Silence

 

Dear friends, I am glad to announce that the ebook version of my first chapbook ‘The UnSaid’ is available on Amazon.com for preorder now. The paperback will be available on Nov. 7, 2018. I hope that you like the work.

Thanks.

Sahar Raman Deep.

 

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The Most Painful….

The most painful
Is the loss of consciousness
When one does not feel
The pain of fellow beings
Human or otherwise

The most painful is the
Loss of a dream
Which one had woven
Whole childhood
In an innocence
Devoid of the worldly consciousness

The most painful is
The sting of a bee
Which wakes you up
And make you realize
You are alive
And cannot go about
Like a dead person

…. Sahar Raman Deep

 

What Fifty Said by Robert Frost

When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal being cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.

Now when I am old my teachers are the young.
What can’t be molded must be cracked and sprung.
I strain at lessons fit to start a suture.
I got to school to youth to learn the future.
Robert Frost

Ideally, a human being is a lifelong student, and everyone and everything in nature is his teacher. Infact, according to the eastern tradition, nature is the best of teachers. It lets oneself be. There is a story narrated in one of the Upanishads of the Vedas, that a student, after serving the guru for quite some time, thought himself to be perfect for initiation. But the teacher thought otherwise, so he sent the disciple to the jungle to graze the cows. At first, this seems to be cruel and unkind on the part of the teacher. But, on a closer look, we find that the teacher has given the student enough time to be by himself and nature and unravel many of its mysteries, thus realizing his natural potential.

The modern day education, as talked about by Robert Frost in his poem ‘What Fifty Said’, is confined to the four walls of classroom totally cut off from nature. Students sit together and learn, not at their own pace, but at a pace set by the teacher. All must learn the same lessons, and come to same conclusions. Individuality of a student is killed in the process.

‘I gave up fire for form till I was cold’

This kind of education system was designed for the industrial era to create obedient and disciplined workers to work in various factories and offices of the rich. They had set a mould- of a job the students must do after graduating. But, it was very painful to the free nature of an innocent child, just like being cast in a metal, as Frost says. Most people are never able to break free of this cast.

The ‘old’ in the first line of the second stanza refers to the age of the poet, as well as the old education system he has been educated in, which is a misfit in today’s world. Now, the teachers are young, and know the new methods. But, before something new is learned, the old must be unlearned. And, it is a painful process of breaking and a making.

‘What can’t be molded must be cracked and sprung’

(Does this line refer to a new kind of mould replacing the old one; but nonetheless, still a mould?)

The main emphasis in this stanza is on the fact that now we are looking towards future, and future in itself embeds hope in it.

But, the question is, has the future of education come yet? We still have those old classrooms, even though a sophisticated projector has replaced the black board. We still need students to cram their lessons, at least at the lower grades, and pour out the same way. What Frost was envisioning in this poem was a lifelong process of learning and development. Now we need to make our students learn to think; and to question- for questioning is the new knowledge.

… Sahar Raman Deep

 

 

 

 

A Late Walk by Robert Frost

When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.
….. Robert Frost

Robert Frost is a well known poet, known for his monologues; he does not need any introduction, so I shall go directly to his poem ‘A Late Walk’.

The title of the poem itself suggests the relativity of the present moment in time- it is past the moment that was perfect. The perfection may be of the poet’s life, of the season, or the day. It may be the poet’s individual experience which he has elevated to the whole of universe. The rattling leaf, the whir of sober birds, the withered weeds- they are not merely signs of an outward gloom. They represent a disharmony and imperfection too. And this imperfection may very well be that in the mind of the poet. May be he has not been able to preserve something precious to him, or in him, something which was not only worldly, but something transcendent too. May be he has lost his wholeness, so that he is doubtful that even the dry brown leaf may be disturbed by his thoughts. Earlier, he has scared the birds hidden in withered weeds.

This brings us to two things. The first is that the disharmony and gloom outside is natural. The imagery of autumn tells us that. At the same time, the the fear and discord has also been created by the man himself. Like, the birds get disturbed by the poet’s presence. The dying leaf is, feared by the poet that it may have been disturbed by his thoughts. At a certain level, whole of the nature is communicating with each other wordlessly. Discord at one place creates a discord everywhere. For example, when Macbeth kills the king, the birds cry all night and the the horses in the stable fight with each other indicating to the general public that something terrible has happened.

The poet is self conscious of having lost, or about to be losing, something precious. It may be his own self. The ‘you’ that he talks about in the last line may be his own consciousness, and gifting it the last aster may be his last attempt at saving his conscience. The personal being of a poet is not limited to his individual self, rather the the whole of the universe is engrossed in it. Of course, the ‘you’ can be his dying love too, which may be a person or a thing or an idea or ideal much adored by him.

The symbol of evening is also very striking. It is sad. The birds are whirring in the ‘withered weeds’. The general tone of melancholy becomes obvious with ‘ sadder than any words’. But, at the same time, evening comes and goes away with a promise of new dawn. Moreover, it is ‘a late walk’ not ‘the last walk’.

…Sahar Raman Deep

 

Yardstick of Success

In no hurry
Am I
To be with him
Or with them
The lights of soul
 
I am content
In the mess
That I am
For mess is what
Defines me
 
Hundreds of books
Scattered on bed
Chair is a wardrobe
And so is my floor
Papers are not in files
But mixed up with clothes
So are my thoughts
Mixed up with 
Feelings
Feelings mixed up with
Passions
And passions
Mixed with breath
 
What if I am
So disorganized
Organization is not
The only key to success
 
Contentment is!
…Sahar Raman Deep

What I Want

 

No

This is not what I want

No 

This is not what I seek 

No 

This is not what I aspire to be

 

I am an atom

In the freely flowing 

Breeze 

I am a particle of water

In the intoxicated stream

I am none other than 

The speck of light

Leaving the sun beam

 

I seek the suns

I seek the oceans

I seek the skies

I seek not

The dummy gods

Whom my mind can comply

May it be Apollo

Or Indra

Or Science

 

…Sahar Raman Deep

Well Wisher?

you
the lamp of my eyes
subject of
many a poems i wrote
asked about
me
my health
my wealth
about everyone
i carry in my relationships
i smiled at your
obvious concern

but sitting alone
i wonder why
you never ask about
the light
that enlightens my soul
the glow of my face
hardly hidden
the diamond
i showed only to you…!

…Sahar Raman Deep

 

 

Freedom Was Her Name!

when you knew
you will not be able to
preserve
what makes her
beautifies her
is the very core of her being
something which
made you
fall in love at first sight-
why did you
even try to
possess her in the first place?
all the golden walls
of your love
could not save her

Freedom was her name!

…Sahar Raman Deep 

 

Drowning in My Own Self…

drowning in my own self
unable
to find a way out
of the abyss
that i am

long
long ago
a fairy had landed
on the thorn that pricked my heart
she tried to free me
but started bleeding a lot
her heart
her soul
her spirit
were wounded
she cried tears of blood
and all that I could do was
give her a
faint smile

this pain
this trauma
that she left with me
of not being able to
help her
while she was
helping me
is the deep scar
on the face of moon
incidentally
my heart-
a mass of white ashes
broken peaks
and dry rivers.

and I burn like stars
which are
no more visible
in the night sky
i burn myself
i burn myself
i burn myself
to be alive
for
the day I stop burning
i shall be no more
than a mass of
gray ashes

…Sahar Raman Deep

 

 

A Void, An Emptiness…

A void
An emptiness
A hollow deep within the heart
Where you used to reside…

Your words
Stingy as they were
Still pricking the heart
Venom spreading in all the mind

Dying
Or trying to die
My fate lies in my past
Not a truth that cannot be denied

Very bad at creating verses
Living the unmusical life
With all the guitars and drums
That i have

…Sahar Raman Deep

 

 

Knowing You

i do know
your name
and your face
and i certainly can
recognize your voice too
it’s been a long time
we have been together

i know a lot about you
your family
your friends
your likes and dislikes

but i am
still looking for you
within you
as if
i do not really know you

…Sahar Raman Deep

 

Flight Without Wings

Flying high in the sky
I noticed
I did not have wings

Abruptly did end my flight
My debris fell into the sea
No one even noticed

I rummaged through
What was left of mine
Accidentally
I found my lost wings
Now worthless and unusable
Discarded on a pile of trash
By the sea side
Along with the scissors
Which had cut them

I held them close to my heart
Tears flowed and thoughts flowed
Till life came to my feet
I stood on my own
And once again took a flight
This time to reach the heights
Even though I know
I do not have wings

…Sahar Raman  Deep

 

Personality

my untold story
 of pains and smiles
 is what keeps me
 intact
 should i spill the beans
 all the beans
 in front of
 the world
 always seeking
 something new
 to make fire of
 and crush under feet
 and tease
 for
 friends turn foes
 in times of need
 what shall remain of me
 which i can hold on to
 in the time of loneliness

....Sahar Raman Deep

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Buying Time

He said
After spitting all the venom
Let’s leave now
He looked
Impatient to say good bye
Visibly
Irritated from my presence
Unconsciously though
Love lingered
In some corner of his eyes

Patiently
I ordered dinner

…Sahar Raman Deep

Its Christmas time Gift your loved ones loads of love

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The Beauty of Nature…

The beauty of nature
My love
My beloved
And our belonging-
To each other
To those who are
Our’s
And to the whole world
Which is
A part of us

How blessed are we
To have the world family
Cheering for us
On our biggest day
The day of our union

…Sahar Raman Deep

 

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Light Snow…

Light snow
Paying obescience
At the feet of
Naked trees
Like
Urea nourishing
Wheat fields
Like light
Shining on seas
Like you looking
Into my eyes

…Sahar Raman Deep

 

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Creation

I had no idea
What creation feels like
Till the moment
I looked into his eyes
The passion they home
The love they don
And the heart full of thoughts
So that I felt
I was being consumed
By a flame
That was never ending

It felt as if
I had become a seed
Which he had planted
In the ground of his soul
And
By opening myself
Upto the water of his thought
And nutrients of his love
I was sprouting into a bud
Small, yet fresh
With big promises of
Developing into a fruitful tree
Who can generate
Seeds herself

…Sahar Raman Deep

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When I Write…

when i write

i am talking to myself

about the hidden mysteries

of cosmos

i am exploring

what lies hidden

in the obvious

like a woodpecker

digs into the bark

it’s interssting to note

how people make faces

hide behind veils

put on masks

just to seem pleasant

but

break the most precious of all

the hearts of loved ones

stain the most pious

their own souls

when i write

i see through faces

sometimes the ugliness is horrifying

but most of the times

the beauty is mesmerizing

i try and look at the beauty

when i write!

…Sahar Raman Deep

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Trust

i am not a fool
who trusts you more than her life
i am a loving being
pure
as nature had created me
i seek not barter
i love the way
you look at me
with eyes full of awe
and admiration
and wonder
as if
i am the only woman
you have ever seen
all others were
dummies of womanhood

i like it
when you say
i was seeking you
since ages
now that i have you
i am never going to
lose hold of you
you say this silently
by a sheer touch of your hand upon mine

i am not a fool
i am love itself
you have made me
Love!!

…Sahar Raman Deep

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