Thursday, June 28, 2007

My tryst with poetry

Since childhood, when I used to read poems in school curriculum, I used to think that writing poems must be a 'cool' thing. I was always in awe of poets who could pen their thoughts in poetic & concise manner.

When I was in VII standard, my school decided to launch a school magazine and invited poems/articles for it. I belonged to green house; hence thought of writing a poem on it. I thought one needs to be logical while writing poems. Have rhymed words at the end of sentence, create the sentences that are in context of the subject by maintaining the order of rhymed words and the poem is complete :-). So simple, isn't it?

I built the list of words that rhyme to green. Words like clean, mean, dean, lean, queen, hygiene, scene, etc. made it to the list. This was just for first verse. On the similar lines, I created different lists for different verses. Now that I have you all already mesmerized by this logic ;-) , I don't want to rewrite the poem here. Copyrights problems, you see ;-)...he he

I was completely smitten off by poetry bug at that time. So, I and my partner-in-crime(I am seeing your faces nodding in affirmation) Vaibhav wrote this creative piece to inspire athletes for Olympics (in Hindi):

Doodh Roti khayenge
Dhast poost ho jayenge
Lambi daud lagayenge
Olympics me medal jeet ke layenge

No wonder, India returned empty-handed :-)

Now that I have grown older, have become more sane and matured; I have realize that poetry is not my cup of tea (so you can heave a sigh of relief). But, I am still astounded by the poetic works and continue to read poems and attend programmes whenever I get time. Internet and email forwards are also one of the primary sources of my poems database.

I especially like ones that are sprinkled with humor or carry philosophical message. Ralph Waldo Emerson, Robert Frost, and Sandeep Khare are some of my favorite poets. And here is one of my favorite poems - I hope that you would like it too - :

By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

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