Melancholetta

Role

Vaibhav Verma (veerya@gmail.com) sent this poem in an email. The poem, and his comments:

Role

There's no Oscar for extras.
If you live
live on the screen.
If you die
die in the last scene.

- Harris Khalique


Read this in this delhi based publication called Little Mag, they usually translate stuff by Indian authors in Regional Languages. Harris Khalique is a Pakistan young poet who lives in London and writes in English and Urdu.

posted by Dileepan @ 2:17 PM 2 comments

Children - Kahlil Gibran

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."

And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends youwith His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that
is stable.

-- from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

posted by Woodworm @ 6:02 AM 0 comments

Found this while surfing through some blogs

ONE ART
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

-Elizabeth Bishop

posted by chitra @ 12:51 AM 1 comments