All Poems
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On The Grasshopper And Cricket
© John Keats
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
Ode To Psyche
© John Keats
O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
And pardon that thy secrets should be sung
Even into thine own soft-conched ear:
To Hope
© John Keats
When by my solitary hearth I sit,
And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom;
When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!
To Autumn
© John Keats
I
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
Ode To A Nightingale
© John Keats
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be
© John Keats
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
Bombay
© John Matthew
In your bosom we wake up with fear,
In your sky theres only unending tears,
You always roar, but within,
Hangs silence like a shroud of death.
Die in shame!
© John Matthew
You hide your face in shame,
But I can see your private parts,
Have you no contrition,
To expose yourself, shamelessly, thus?
Delhi A Re-visitation
© John Matthew
Its akin to visiting my foster mother, today,
That I am returning to you, mother city, after twenty years,
I look at your broad, bereft blood-stained streets, mater,
Through which emperors, prime ministers cavalcaded,
In victory and defeat, through gates and triumphal arches,
That murmur of the pains of your rape and impregnation.
Resolutions
© John Matthew
Resolutions I have made,
Kept, I have none,
Why do I have to make,
Resolutions anymore?
To an Online Friend
© John Matthew
May be the whole thing was a dream,
Pinched myself awake this morn,
To check if you are there, virtually,
And felt your sudden absence online!
Loneliness
© John Matthew
I pause midway in the in the whirl,
Of deadlines, things undone,
And average the sadness and joys -
There remains only loneliness,
Of which I see no cure,
No bitter palliatives, no anodyne.
To my son
© John Matthew
Dont be a slave to the work,
Of smart slave-drivers in cubicles,
Instead explore the works of men,
Who have experienced the truths,
And distilled in their words, wisdoms,
Which may grate your ears now.
Passing showers
© John Matthew
Yesterday a passing, transient shower,
Slaked my thirst so gently, softly,
Showers in March are unheard
In this arid part of the world.
Time Stands Still over Govandi Station
© John Matthew
A kite flutters,
On a high tension wire
Against a stark blue sky.
Beggar and old mother huddle
On Govandi Railway Station
The dirtiest station in the universe.
Sonnet for Mother
© John Matthew
Decked in blooms,
Swaddled in gold filigreed shrouds,
Smeared with perfumes,
She traveled into the clouds.
Muskaan A Poem
© John Matthew
When she smiles she sends happiness
A million pleasant thrills of the heart
To parched souls thirsting for love
In the vast desert of human affairs.
Being Me!
© John Matthew
Wild are my ways, wilder than you think
You will find me standing a little left of frame
You will find me a little away from the meeting place
I am that and much more, insignificant me.
Is White a Color?
© John Matthew
White, pristine, unblemished
They say it is not a color
I love white mists, clouds
Lingering on blue mountains.
The Bombay Train Song
© John Matthew
He hangs on dangling handholds
As the train sways and careens
Endless nondescript buildings unfold
Their secrets as the tired warrior returns.
