I shall conquer

I shall conquer the world’s untamed heart,
it is no easy task to be famous and cherished,
the murky rivers of obstacles with effort should part,
and my fierce words echo even after I perished,

It is no easy task to be famous and cherished,
great sacrifices and tireless pursuit is of the order,
and my fierce words echo even after I perished,
will worthy words be found from all this fodder,

Great sacrifices and tireless pursuit is of the order,
the race is on but I lost in my bewitching slumber,
will worthy words be found from all this fodder,
a squire to this knight needed so right words lumber,

The race is on but I lost in my bewitching slumber,
the murky rivers of obstacles with effort should part,
this lonely knight shall steadfast hindrances plumber,
I shall conquer the world’s untamed heart.

At high noon

At high noon the sun scorched my bike seat,
yet I got an errand to do in that searing heat,
I cursed activity that made my lazy self roam,
errand for my benefit, to land on my two feet;

I can unbidden talk and write of mist and foam,
can stare and admire the haughty high dome,
but sick when asked to wait and then interact,
do instructed, get task done, before going home;

as a poet of yore am I not relieved of mundane act,
when asked to get groceries and stuff, how to react,
I roared in my bike challenging the world and the sun,
I can weave garland of pearls from words with tact;

I can bend the sky to bow the earth, not easily done,
I can make dolphins fly and eagles swim, what fun,
I can enthral the world with joy and glorious rapture,
I can’t and won’t ever again for the mundane run,

with words simple and mind unsound beauty I capture,
unmindful of the smirks now for my bounty is in future,
verses strike the heart and tug at soul, a quaint picture,
things for survival uncared, the world with words I fracture.

Waking late

Waking late I take out my tooth brush,
and amply apply the flavoured paste,
she strokes her paint brush with a hush,
I cleanse my teeth and she her art taste;

laid to rest the easel and laid the breakfast,
by the time lazy me bathed and came clean,
clean of the little lies and claims made in past,
dripping wet, my body and her eyes, with a sheen;

I eat while she sits there thirsting for small talk,
tasty aloo parottas made with love and care,
yet I take for granted and not commend her work,
as I finish she regretfully nears the easel laid bare;

unaware she loved me more than her genius art,
art that earned the bread and board for both of us,
I lower on the couch before the telly she bought,
telling her I would start my business of war surplus;

she smiled and her eyes beamed hopefully at my lie,
she didn’t want money but only that I be happy till I die. 
but try as I can I can’t change the folly of my ways,
how us? She was a helper and I was one of her strays. 

 

I write with ease

I Write with ease and shall write as I please,
oh world, swallow my words and hold me high,
I will conquer all before ends my life’s lease.

for etched in me are the pain and the mysteries,
that I chase away each day with my toil and not cry,
I write with ease and shall write as I please.

chasing lofty aims I seek honey with the bees,
dare stop me in my quest, oh, fate, you do try,
I will conquer all before ends my life’s lease.

I shall strive to give shade though I lack it, like trees,
some seasons been good to me, though some left me dry,
I write with ease and shall write as I please.

with time, effort and company the pain does decrease,
some day will totally cease, for my dreams I’ll fight till I die,
I will conquer all before ends my life’s lease.

those that scorned shall come flocking like geese,
my words conquer, me the one without words, ever shy,
I write with ease and shall write as I please,
I will conquer all before ends my life’s lease.

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle in to that good night is a poem by Dylan Thomas. It is the first and only poem that I have read on this topic of old age and death where the old are asked to rebel and revolt against the impending death. All others including my feeble attempts on this topic ask to embrace the eventuality. This poem is a stark contrast to it. If I remember correctly this poem is mentioned on the movie ‘Interstellar’ by Christopher Nolan.

Another unique feature is that the poem is written as a Villanelle (or Villanesque). It is a very unique structure and it will be explained later in the post. First let us grasp the magic, the poem is given below, followed by a brief paraphrase and discussion of the Villanesque form. Much of the material of this post is taken from other posts.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The gist of the poem is thus. The speaker demands that people “rage, rage against the dying of the light.” He insists that elderly men should “burn and rave” against death as if they were young.

  • Stanzas two through five introduce four kinds of men: wise men, good men, wild men, and grave men. Wise men understand that death is inevitable (“know dark is right”), but knowing this doesn’t make death any easier.
  • Wild men live carefree lives and learn too late that they’re not immune to death. Good men cry because they weren’t able to do enough in life. Grave men, already near death, see what others cannot.
  • In the final stanza, the speaker begs his dying father to “rage, rage against the dying of the light.” He says it forcefully, like a command, revealing his grief at the thought of losing his father.

A villanelle is a fixed-form poem consisting of five tercets and a quatrain and also follows a specific rhyme scheme using only two different sounds. A tercet is a stanza with only three lines, and a quatrain is a stanza with four lines. Thus, the villanelle has nineteen total lines. There is also a pattern of two refrains, which are repeated lines in a poem or verse. Therefore, in a villanelle, two different lines repeat throughout the poem. Specifically, the first line recurs as lines 6, 12, and 18, and the third line recurs as lines 9, 15, and 19.

In addition, the pattern becomes even more complex with a specific rhyme scheme. The rhyme scheme uses letters of the alphabet to show which lines must end with words that rhyme. In a villanelle, the rhyme scheme is ABA ABA ABA ABA ABA ABAA. This means that the final word in the first and third lines in every tercet rhyme together, and the middle lines also rhyme with each other. In the quatrain, the first, third and fourth lines rhyme with the rest of the ‘A’ lines, and the second line rhymes with the rest of the middle lines, or the ‘B.’ In this way, only two different rhyming sounds are used throughout the entire poem. This intricate pattern is hard to master and with it to create magic as this poem above is simply mind blowing.

There are other posts in this blog that talk of other famous poems. Given below their links.

Charge of the light brigade

La Belle Dame sans Merci: A Ballad by Keats

Solitary Reaper

Happy Reading.

Oh! mind

Oh! Mind, you devil, I savor you over the flesh,
wisdom and taste are my nectar, not wealth,
adventure, beauteous contemplation, gush,
yet society’s contempt, love’s scorn, creeps in stealth.