Rivers have this say:
dip into flowing waters—
And rest. More will flow.
haiku
27 Wednesday Apr 2016
27 Wednesday Apr 2016
Rivers have this say:
dip into flowing waters—
And rest. More will flow.
20 Wednesday Apr 2016
Posted napowrimo.net, National Poetry Month, poetry, urdu, writing
inI’ve arrived at the realization that writing poetry in Urdu is a strange internal struggle. I can feel the urge inside to express things, but the absence of a proper Urdu and Farsi vocabulary leaves me stunted. Nevertheless, after many tries over many months, I did finally write a few first pieces. They are thusfar title-less:
1/
Jaa rahey ho tum iss baar
saari kashtiyan jalaa kar
Jale magar har baadbaan kaise
jab tak ho kashti aashiyaan mera
2/
Aarzoo hai teri,
bann na chahe tu
door manzilon ki subha
na dekhe aitraaf
kitno ka din hai tu
3/
Khuda teri rehmat par
hairat se beharqat hoon
Aga hoon, yun koi amaal nahi
jis ke badle tu ne meri ammy banaayi
Ibtidaa hui jahan,
qabl e ibtidaa,
Uss aarh se kaha tu ne:
Naam tera,
meri rahmat se hai
Begharzi jaise barsaat mei bhi baarish
Chamakti roshni dhoop se bhi tez
teri amanat, inaayat hai yeh
Sada hai dil ki mere khuda
yeh meri duaa rakhna
Qabil ko qabil banaa
ke har saakit raat
har bhari dopahar
har dhoop kinarey par—
qabil banaa teri iss rahmat ki
20 Wednesday Apr 2016
Posted haiku, National Poetry Month, poetry, writing
in12 Tuesday Apr 2016
Posted napowrimo.net, National Poetry Month, poetry, Uncategorized
inNaPoWriMo.net prompt for April 4, 2016:
And now, for our (optional) prompt. In his poem “The Waste Land,” T.S. Eliot famously declared that “April is the cruelest month.” But is it? I’d have thought February. Today I challenge you to write a poem in which you explore what you think is the cruelest month, and why. Perhaps it’s September, because kids have to go back to school. Or January, because the holidays are over and now you’re up to your neck in snow. Or maybe it’s a month most people wouldn’t think of (like April), but which you think of because of something that’s happened in your life. Happy (or, if not happy, not-too-cruel) writing!
I wonder why he said it
while I wonder if i know.
The poets declare
conditions of mankind
Indeed it feels
April too often
is the cruelest month.
06 Wednesday Apr 2016
Posted National Poetry Month, poetry, Uncategorized
inTags
bollywood, gulzar, majrooh sultanpuri, National Poetry Month, poetry and lyrics in bollywood, poetry in bollywood, prasoon joshi
“Urdu is a lashkari language,” the elders always say.
Lashkar here refers to army troops that frequented Hindustan (India) well before the area was divided the way it is today. Muslim conquests brought a wealth of different languages together as troops would flood in from different regions across the continent. Over time, Farsi, Arabic, some influence from Turkish and many shared roots in Sanskrit led to a beautiful, highly poetic language today known as Urdu.
Over the years, political and religious opposition within India has inferred associations to the languages: Hindi being the language of Hindus, Urdu the language of Muslims. The Indo-Pak partition further carved this divide, but not everywhere.
Languages are sacred and don’t always evaporate so easy from mere hominine conflict. And one of the surprising and most prevalent places these languages still exist in harmony together is none other India’s massive film industry: Bollywood.
Many Indian poets and writers today compose using a large breadth of Urdu. These include individuals like Gulzar and Javed Akhtar among many, many others. Lyricists help erase the air of divide as Hindi and Urdu, both mutually comprehensible, flow together beautifully in bollywood song verses.
I’ve selected three samples to share. A lot gets lost translating over, but I’ve added the meaning as well as some notes on phrases that need a little more explanation. Since these are intended to be song lyrics, the occurrence of each word has even more effect in audio. I’ve included song clips of the lines I’ve shared after each verse:
Sample 1-
Translation:
Lose not heart nor let yourself stop on the path
When on these thorns, you tread
soon will you meet the shadows cast in the blooming spring
Lyricist: Majrooh Sultanpuri Film: Imtihan (1974)
Sample 2-
Translation:
Stride not into the garden
with yellow sunlight donned on
The bumble bees will tease you—
walk not into the flower beds
Softly, softly laugh again
Beautifully, beautifully laugh again
Like the freshly fallen leaf
lying on the lush green lawn
The seven colors of Spring
are wrapped up
in one gesture of yours
Rain,
and clouds
are all like you.
Lyricist: Gulzar Film: Saathiya (2002)
Notes: the word ‘sabz’ roots from ‘sabzi,’ the Urdu word for vegetables. It’s used here to describe the lushness of grass.
Sample 3-
Translation:
The way alleyways are the life of a neighborhood
the way buds impatiently insist on blooming
like the fists of winds that belong to the weather
they are the answered prayers of our elders past
See that they are not lost—
these stars on earth.
Sometimes they speak like a little grandmum
Sometimes they bounce about like splashing water
Sometimes they become a string of innocent questions and curiosity
Like laughter sounds within an isolated space
Like happiness feels on lips that have long not smiled
They are like light that rains upon homes, making destinies bright
They are like the moonlight that shimmers in the lake,
like the shoulder of someone beloved, among a crowd of strangers
like the whimsical river raises foam and says something
like the sweet nap that comes while sitting around
like the loving, soft stroke and tap
like music that sounds on the ears, every moment,
moment after moment
See that they are not lost…
See that they are not lost…
Lyricist: Prasoon Joshi Film: Taare Zameen Par (2007)
Notes: this entire song is about the preciousness of children. A variety of metaphors and analogies are used to describe children, illustrating what they mean to our lives.
04 Monday Apr 2016
Posted napowrimo.net, National Poetry Month, poetry
inNaPoWriMo.net prompt for April 4, 2016:
And now, for our (optional) prompt. In his poem “The Waste Land,” T.S. Eliot famously declared that “April is the cruelest month.” But is it? I’d have thought February. Today I challenge you to write a poem in which you explore what you think is the cruelest month, and why. Perhaps it’s September, because kids have to go back to school. Or January, because the holidays are over and now you’re up to your neck in snow. Or maybe it’s a month most people wouldn’t think of (like April), but which you think of because of something that’s happened in your life. Happy (or, if not happy, not-too-cruel) writing!
—
The Cruelest Month
I have tried, and tried and failed.
The cruelest month won’t call out to me.
What sings instead is early January
the year lies ahead, hazy bright
And calms my soul the September sun
dimming down,
glad tidings of autumn days to come
I think back even, to the greens of May
though summer never felt like relief
yet last year its lushness took me from beneath
The morning cold of December days
feels like I can breathe again
I half walk, half dance,
down the frosted streets
Even August in its peak of heat
has given me
beloved memory
No,
not one cruel month
calls out to me
to say that for any month would be cruelty
For there are signs in altering night and day
We deceive ourselves by the sun
when months are really pulled
by gleaming moonlight
never stopped in the same place
never telling of the same time.
03 Sunday Apr 2016
Posted happiness, life, napowrimo.net, National Poetry Month, poetry, time
inWe live seasons
together, apart
Travel stories
of friends and fruit
between us two
You send patches of violet to me
and I, iris blues to you
that your eyes may feel
as happy mine
all at once, in one time
that we may live together, apart
We whisper what our minds see
and learn, back and forth
my right side paints worlds for you
your left opens paths for me
‘neath passing clouds
that cover my skies
then drift up to you
sending many water kinds
Yet how peculiar that all things
in time do not run alike
I see rain one day before
but the sun rises, sets
where you are first
And when Sirius rises, twinkles icy blue
its sits the same about your window sill
for some distances are larger than ours
worlds stand high beyond the stars
And from that point it becomes so clear
we both lie under a larger plane
where past, present, beyond
are all in one
where we live together
under highest Grace
01 Friday Apr 2016
Posted National Poetry Month, poetry, Robert Frost, winter, writing
inThe most active month by far in the short history of my blog was April 2015. I started off sharing the first poem I ever memorized and soon the posts just flooded beyond my expectation. It was among the most thrilling time periods in the entire year. It was such a delight to meet poetry again after years and years apart.
This year my goal is to write a lot more during National Poetry Month, but I’d like to start off much the same way, by sharing work that’s existed long before:
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.