PadmaShree, Sri Jayanta Mahapatra once said,"There is something in me that refuses to die. It’s there, somewhere deep inside me perhaps. And this is poetry."
The genesis of POETICbug was thus an act of unleashing the curbed thoughts in the form of poems. POETICbug,says, "I praise; I dare; I invoke care; You write, recite my glory; I am, Poetry."
-Taking forward the spirit of poetry !
There's a mountain somewhere that waits for a path,
There's a river that urges to clean her dirt,
There's a land, parched long to crop,
There are hands stretched forward in hope,
There's a border always on fire,
There are riots within that never retire,
There's a town congested in her smoke,
There's a cyclone awaiting to choke,
There's a stampede of billion desires,
So many superstitions yet to expire,
But this day,
A reminiscent of her freedom stories,
Inordinately hopeful;
Mother India smiles, free from all worries.
[Just like we have a lot of worries in our lives, so does our nation, India. There is this one day, our birthday, when we forget all the worries and smile in joy. So does our nation, India.]
Luck
smiles on,
in a charm;
What more you want?
Instead have believe. Perseverance to strive,
Unabashedly sanguine,
Even on wretched ship, looks fine.
Just like this, an artisan's sculpture,
Sculpt a life yourself sans luck's charming smile.
The form of this poem is ETHEREE(Forward). It has an interesting play of syllables in each of the 10 lines giving the poem its structural appeal.
The Forward Etheree has increasing syllables with each line from 1 - 10.
The Reverse Etheree has decreasing syllables with each line from 10 - 1.
There are souls that ignite minds, Giving wings to fly, above and high,
Shining bright as they live along,
In simplicity their kind dwell,
Hoarding aspirations,
Achieving goals,
Inspiring the common as they soar,
When they walk beyond the horizon,
To those lands far, far away,
They leave behind their success trail,
And a legacy for us to emulate.
(A humble Tribute to one of the most loved man of India.)
Chit chatter, whoop, screech,
We come in a group, hanging on trees,
Dancing and jumping on branches together,
Babies holding onto their mothers,
“Naughty little troop” is our name,
We love playing so many games.
Brown round bodies, hands and feet,
A long winding tail; bananas we eat,
We love each other and live in a pack,
Just like you, we also laugh,
So, now do you know, “Who am I?”
Think a little while and give a try.
