“The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!” | John Keats

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone,
Bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and lang’rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise –
Vanish’d unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday – or holinight
Of fragrant-curtain’d love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight,
But, as I’ve read love’s missal through to-day,
He’ll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.

source: Poetry Foundation


Books in Focus

The beauty of Life

These mountains, a solid architecture,
a life with the green canvas, all over it,
like a bold green flesh, raised by the sun,
the summers, winters and spring passing,
it stays still, never complaining, about anything.

In summers, Sun melts him, like fire vomiting dragon,
his little trees and plants die due to illness,
lack of water causes death to beloved animals,
he keeps mum, waiting for the spring.

Spring and rain, their arrival, bought in happiness,
a joy to the jungle, little animals get their veggies and water,
but never settled, they get lands slides, some trees die,
some animals die, the rain wipes out his tears,
waiting for winters, never complained.

Winters arrival, the blanket of huge snow,
the beauty tends to flow, from the bottom to the sky,
flawless and joyful, the earth becomes cold,
Small roots of small plants, can’t bear it,
Some homeless animals, buried inside the ice,
he cries and smiles,
but never complained.

Nurtured by nature, the strongest,
the wealthier mountain knows,
The beauty of life,
sun and moon, heat and cold,
life and death, death and life.


The Misery of Pain

In the misery of pain,
the hurt beliefs of life,
never fought to forget,
What was causing it.

Never went for the fight,
Never stood to the right,
sitting in corner of the world,
Never spoke about the tides,
Which’re making him sank,
day by day.