English Literature – Words ….on my heart’s paper boat – Hemant Bawankar

Hemant Bawankar Words ....on my heart’s paper boat (This poem has been cited from my book “The Variegated Life of Emotional Hearts”.)   The mist soft wind a piece of sunshine between the clouds miles away on foreign land slips on old city old buildings old forts, palaces on the surface of the river and on the lake every afternoon far away up to where goes my vision.   And then, suddenly words seem to flow, on my heart’s paper boat on black road like river far on the turn downhill and finally lost by the lake by the river and old city old city lanes.   Then shattering earthy scent of the homeland words start squirting floating and soaking my heart’s paper boat with words to conscience eyes and far on mountain slopes a black river like roadsides roofs of houses and house where lives a piece of my heart under the shadow of a beam of sun rays.   © Hemant Bawankar ...
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English Literature – Poetry – * A Journey called Life! * – Mr Piyush Lokhande

Mr Piyush Lokhande   A Journey called Life!   Darkness of the night sky with diamonds twinkling, The stars don’t disappear, they keep blazing. Mystic and supernatural is the aura rendered blissfully, For the stars whisper the dialect of the unspoken instinctively. Roaming-about, discovering places and unraveling hidden secrets sounds so intriguing, All this doubles and triples while embarking. Travel ain’t just an activity but a part of our very life, Making one’s mind ain’t as tough as fire and ice. Soaring high up above the horizons and limits, Carving a niche amongst the not so infamous. Diversified food, culture, ethnicity and religion delivers immortal meaning, For journey is not meant to be traveled but lived without intervening. Trivial and insightful thoughts have their value in gold, Being reciprocative of what your dreams are about knows no threshold.   © Mr Piyush Lokhande...
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English Literature – Poetry – * When the Night Goes Dark!!! * – Mr Piyush Lokhande

Mr Piyush Lokhande   When the Night Goes Dark!!!   (e-abhivyakti welcomes Mr Piyush Lokhande.  Mr Piyush is a brilliant young poet and we present his amazing poem When the Night Goes Dark!!!.)    It feels so lonely and fearful when the night goes dark, Hear the hounds from the distance while they bark. Embarking on an unending journey, a traveler starts, Nocturnals coming out from their shades and the moon’s dim arc.   The wanderer wanders amidst the dusk so black, Seeking and searching the purpose of his very existence Like a lost duck separated from his trustworthy pack.   Haunted and bewildered by the wilderness around, The poor soul’s eyes lit up sighting a hut by the nearby ground. Topsy and curvy pavements lead onto a ray of hope, Only to be obstructed by a dim shadow lurking in a bright night cloak.   Shimmy gray eyes of an aged damsel inquire the traveler’s intentions, Food, thirst and a place to rest gain an instinctive ascension. Touched by the tourist’s sorry state, queen nods hesitantly, Warm cup of soup and soft cozy blanket...
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English Literature – Poetry – * Heart, eyes, and tears * – Hemant Bawankar

Hemant Bawankar Heart, eyes, and tears   (This poem has been cited from my book “The Variegated Life of Emotional Hearts”.)   These tears are surprising which are very close to every heart.   There is a strange relationship amongst heart, tears and eyes. Even though, staying away from the heart, these are close to every heart.   By the way Eyes cry many times in life. Sometimes they cry in joy. Sometimes they cry in sorrow. Sometimes they cry when we are awake. Sometimes they cry when we are asleep.   People Say - the woman is so sensitive having a source of tears in her eyes.   However, I had seen him turning away, and wiping his eyes at the time of his wife's adieu.   I had seen tears in his eyes at adieu of his sister and daughter too.   I had seen tears in his eyes even when, as a social responsibility he brought one daughter from another home with the feeling of adieu of his sister and daughter too.   I had still seen tears of joy in his eyes when you had given presence in your mother's womb.   I had still seen tears of joy in his eyes when he...
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English Literature – Poetry – The Guest – Ms Neelam Saxena Chandra

Ms Neelam Saxena Chandra The Guest (The English version of Ms. Neelam Saxena Chandra's   poem revealing the truth of life  पाहुणा )   I am myself on this earth Like a guest, I don’t have the right To call the house as mine, To call the things as mine, To call the jewellery as mine!   Relationship is also not mine, Relatives are also not mine, You are also not mine, I am also not yours, Everything is but an illusion!   There is only one truth- We have come to this earth only for a little while And if we can spend it with love, It will be the best! © Ms Neelam Saxena Chandra...
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English Literature – Poetry – Locks of Superstition – Hemant Bawankar

Hemant Bawankar Locks of Superstition (This poem has been cited from my book “The Variegated Life of Emotional Hearts”.) In Verona Juliet's balcony, below the balcony, Juliet's statue and behind the statue hung in the grill countless locks. The old town of Bamberg in the heart of the city Regnitz river’s bridge and countless locks hanging on the fence of the bridge cables.   Under the bridge on the cool surface of the river Regnitz duck pairs disport unaware of superstition of modern western culture.   There is an illusion that locks that hung off the way will make their matches 'unbreakable' 'everlasting'.   I heard that - often locks are hung and relations are broken Juliet remains the same and Romeos are changed.   Though, we are not an exception we are too somewhat superstitious. We do also visit Temple -Mosque Church - Gurudwara shrines of the prophets.   Knowingly or unknowingly we also prayed and tied threads for our posterity for their safety with this hope that - if children are well and well survived then not only couples none can break the homes. © Hemant Bawankar...
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English Literature – Poetry – Words ….and Poetry – Hemant Bawankar

Hemant Bawankar Words ....and Poetry (This poem has been cited from my book “The Variegated Life of Emotional Hearts”.) My words never sleep. When you are sleeping then and even when I sleep then too.   These words are my existence my identity.   When the world sleeps in their own sleep, then these words awake me and make me feel that some words are innocent unknown to each other I try to associate them in my vocabulary in my brain and try to tell them – It is only their identity. These words sometimes correlate with each other and sometimes slip from the hand slip from the heart and slip away far away … to the other bank of the lake to the other bank of the river far away on mountains on forts built on mountains on ocean on another shore of the ocean climbing on my heart.   The words are independent. None can bind them, one’s brain even and even boundaries of the nations too.   Whenever, I feel lonely alone in silence, these words try to tell me songs of lakes and songs of springs.   Breeze over green fields and green meadows.   Fearful stories of hills dark forests and history buried in and under the historical forts.   These words have their own identity in my heart in my vocabulary.   My all words are superb extremely superb to me.   Sometimes, I get some insensitive words in the journey of life they disturb me. I had to keep them...
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English Literature – Poetry – Tragedy of Humanity – Hemant Bawankar

Hemant Bawankar Tragedy of Humanity (34 years ago in the night of December 2-3, 1984, MIC gas was leaked from the Union Carbide, Bhopal. My poem is a tribute to all those people who lost their life in this incident.  This poem has been cited from my book "The Variegated Life of Emotional Hearts".) I heard that in unknown nations unknown human beings were knowingly or unknowingly burnt alive killed in gas chambers burnt in radiation.....   Since then our humanity has been lost in space and slept in vain.   Remember those moments when MIC1 was leaked from a pesticide factory in that dark night when the entire world was sleeping and an innocent child was weeping embraced by the poisonous gas in the dead mother’s lap.   A youth just slept taking his last breath on a nearby road who was blessed for longevity by an astrologer.   Alas! That innocent child.... and so-called long-lived youth are the sign of thousands of dead human beings. On that night black or white rich or poor and beyond the definition of racism were not running but, entire humanity was running.   Those who smelled MIC1 slept with last breath and those who could not... they are sick and approaching to slow death with the side effect.   We can only remember their...
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