Haiku poems

This is for the first time I’ve tried writing a haiku poem(s)!
Although it’s a genre focusing on limited verses with intensified, direct expression; it’s also one of the hardest since it includes expressing yourself in concise form.

Haiku (俳句) is a type of short form poetry originally from Japan. It consists of three phrases written in a syllable pattern of 5, 7, 5. It has a cutting-word at end of each line and a word with a season’s reference. In English and in other languages, haiku have their own styles but they do incorporate aspects of the traditional haiku form.

A haiku poem depicts a clear expression, but my style definitely tends to lean towards writing with hidden meaning and symbolism.

Do comment if you liked them or if any specific one catches your eye!

#1. Rainbow

Haiku #1 – Rainbow

#2. Inked Paper

Haiku #2 – Inked Paper

#3. Spring

Haiku #3 – Spring

#4. Haiku

Haiku #4 – Haiku

#5. Moon

Haiku #5 – Moon

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Compose your own haiku poetry and post them in comments!

A Tragic Loss – a poem

A Tragic Loss – a poem

In this poetry, it is attempted to depict a parent’s terrible loss of his young child.

The poem begins with woes & despair befallen the poet. It sets the theme of a huge tragedy that might’ve struck him. Next, it is stated how the laughter and cries will be missed. The silence of a room is to symbolise the loss of a person.

In third stanza, the poet cries of how he’d never get to see his child grow. But also hopes to meet him/her again and he’d get to fulfill his wishes after his days have passed. The fourth stanza portrays the pain being felt by the poet while bidding final goodbye to his child. He says that his child’s body is like all his dreams he had for the child – all shattered and lifeless.

In the last two stanzas, the poet concludes that the pain of losing one’s child never leaves a parent. No loss or grief in this world could be greater than losing one’s own child.

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Many a poetic devices and figures of speech are used in this poem. For e.g. :

  • Line 8: room given quality of being silenced (personification), loss of a person symbolised through silenced room.
  • Lines 3 – 4: rhetorical questions to emphasize how difficult the living has become.
  • Lines 19 – 20: indirect association of eyes and tears, although used in different contexts (tears to never dry & eyes as seeing the burial).

Can you find more of such devices?

Also, do comment below on what you think of the poem…

A Poet’s Words

A Poet’s Words – a poem

This poetry lays down points as to how a poet’s words are not some common words. Through the subject of words, the poetry conveys the importance of a poet’s work. While there could be poetries written solely as an activity of leisure or hobby, there are certain poets who touch spheres of philosophy, spirituality, meaning and much more merely with their composition of poetries…

The Ink of Life (a poem)

The Ink of Life – a poem

Poetry is not always how a poet wants to portray. Many a times it is imminent that readers find the meaning in a poetry in context of their own perspective.

Read this poem and let me know if you find it in any way relevant…

The Ink of Life

It seems smooth and shiny at a first glance
The paper of life, multifaceted
But as one traverses it and times pass
It crumples and greys, gets dilapidated

It crumbles, wrinkles, and slashes at places
It’s neither tear proof nor is durable
At times the writer’s hand moves smooth across
At times drags behind, unfavourable.

But with all the experiences it gains
The hand keeps moving, doesn’t halt to rest
It’ll keep on scribing words and memories
With a hope vivid and a spirited zest

To mellow your heart, fill you with delight
It’ll conjure words, beautiful and ornate
But some will bring you utter despair; for,
Also it’ll scribe some sad, unforunate.

And so it’ll write with a special ink
A concoction, unlike any potion.
A mixture of life-giving fluid, and, a –
Sorrow-melting liquid of emotion

With the pen made of will and destiny
Until the ink of blood and tears runs out
It’ll keep on immortalizing his tale
And etch writer into eternity…

~ Moiz H.

What should I do?

Of this heart full of love, what should I do?
Of these eyes full of you, what should I do?

The woes of falling in love were well known
Of the heart’s naivety, what should I do?

I’ve become known as lovesick; of this fame –
Earned on losing myself, what should I do?

The restlessness of soul will never cease
It being bereaved of life, what should I do?

If its dust have not your footsteps in fate
Of mine, a grave such cursed, what should I do?

~ Moiz Hawalchi

You’re Not a Human ~ a poem

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(In case it’s unreadable on picture, here’s the poem)

You’re Not a Human

Had you belonged to same race as me
Everything could have been just fine
No, you cannot be a man like me
Your color is very unlike mine

We used to enslave the kind of you
The memories are still so much fresh
Do we just readily accept you
And put all our differences to trash?

We look down on you, beings inferior
No matter what talents you possess
Nor your morals do mean anything
Nothing about you can deem us less

This divide we do not create now
It’s naturally in us all imbibed
For years and years so deep innately
The differentiation is inscribed

I agree you breathe and live like me
No human faculty you may lack
But surely you are not a human
For, the color of your skin is black…

~ Moiz Hawalchi

This satirical poem, with a theme of how difficult it is for one to accept & love another, is to honour all the innocent lives lost due to racism, communalism, hatred, fascism, bigotry and such innately deep found differences.

It’s strange that people can find so many reasons to hate one another but cannot suffice on humanity, love, equality and acceptance as reasons to live together as one kind..

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The flower will blossom again… (poem)

I wrote this poetry few days back. With the theme of a lonely flower in a forest, it has a very deep underlying idea. Read the poem and then read on ahead my idea of writing this poem.
I hope you’ll like it.
Do let me know in the comments what you think!

Poem:

IMG_20200412_110859_341

Since I talked about a deeper idea this poem covers, here’s a bit of explanation of the poetry:

The poem talks about a flower which stands lonely amidst a thick forest.
There are various times described where it keeps on blooming and enduring the tough (sometimes gets company from a bee!).
The flower although lonely, is very much lively for it finds its own happiness from its nature of being joyful & warm.

Now, when a calamity strikes, when the forest around burns; miraculously, the fire spares the flower. But then with all the destruction around, it loses its beauty and droops.

The first few stanzas signify the importance of the flower keeping happy with itself; to brave through thick and thin and make the most of the lovely times.

Next, when calamity befalls on the entire forest, it becomes clear that even though mentioned to be alone, the flower still was a member of an ecosystem, a society. That no matter how alone it’d seem to it (since no other being of similar kind was with it, i.e. there was no other flower around), it was never alone. It had the jungle and it was a part of a larger picture. So even though it’s untouched by fire, the calamity still affects it.

In the concluding stanza, the same idea is conveyed that the jungle breathes as one.
And, even though it is destroyed, it still hopes for days when it will become as vibrant and lively as before..
That is when the flower will blossom again…

Question:
(this is the underlying idea)
Can you relate this theme to our lives?!!

Love and beyond… (a short read)

I was in search for a story for Valentine’s week for my article. But this time I needed something fresh. Not the same old lovey-dovey narrative.
One of my friends gave me the address of his uncle who, he said, lives mostly a secluded life. He said I wouldn’t regret it.
Frank, his uncle, had agreed after a lot of persuasion (by my friend) and finally appointed me time for an interview.
I was sitting on a couch in a two-bedroom house located in the suburban part of city with two coffee mugs on table and Frank, 72, sat on his chair right in front of me. His grey hair, upright stature and very serious look gave me feeling of a retired army person.
A woman, who looked like in her 60s-70s too, came out of one of the rooms looking lost.
“Where is Arthur?”
Frank told her he’s at school.
“Who are you?”, she questioned him.
“I live right next door, remember? I’m Frank. Let us put you in bed, you might be tired.”
Frank took her into the room, the lady still looked confused.
After a while, Frank came back and sat on his chair.
“Who was the lady?”, I asked.
“Well, she’s one of the person you’re here for, besides me.”
I was confused.
“Your wife, then?” I inquired.
“That wish was never fulfilled”, Frank said without any change in his expressions.
“Who’s Arthur?”
“Her youngest son. He’s gone abroad and he’s not young anymore.”
I might’ve had a perplexed look which Frank read and immediately began with the story…
“I met Martha in High School. We were the best of friends. We grew very close. By the end of college, we knew we’d marry one another. We spent most of our time together caring for one another, fighting, quarrelling on petty things, but most of all, in love.
Her parents were quite well to do and didn’t agree when they came to know about it. She was married off in a rich household. I was devastated and I knew she was too.
My family pressured me and I married too.
Lives went on. She bore three sons. She was more fond of the youngest, Arthur.
I had a good life too, unfortunately I didn’t have kids.
About 20 years later, I saw her again, she worked in an office just next to mine. Her husband had passed off two years before. Her hair had started greying.
I was living a long solitude life after my wife left me within five years of our marriage.
We became best of friends yet again! She talked about her life, how she managed the kids now, how she overcame difficult times all by herself. We had a lot of evening coffees together. Occasionally I’d stop by her house to have dinner. Her sons liked me. We had a great time together for the next two years but neither of us really hit off with any romantic thoughts. One evening, she suggested I should date someone and I joked saying I was getting old. She looked at me for long and then smiled, shaking her head. Perhaps, I didn’t figure it out then what she was trying to say.
Two years later she changed the city. She got a better job, her eldest son was in college. We still remained in touch. She occasionally called to check up on me and I called sometimes to know how she and the kids were doing.
I lost contact after a while.
About a year ago, a mutual friend called me up. She said Martha was in a nursing home. I went there. I was told she was diagnosed with dementia and was here for quite a while. Her sons all went abroad and had settled leaving her here, although Arthur’s cheques of her fees came every month.
She doesn’t remember much these days and often goes back to behaving as if in some past memory.
It’s been a year since I brought her home. She might not know me anymore but I plan to take care of her for as long as I live.”
Frank looked towards her room and then blankly looked on…

IT Life (The Interview – 1)

Feeling slightly nervous, but all prepped up for the interview, Rajesh set out early in the morning so that he could catch the early bus in order to avoid rush later on.

Rajesh had been desperately looking for a job change opportunity and this one came up out of nowhere. All his friends who had joined along with him had switched to other companies in search for better opportunities (opportunities refers to only money here!). As soon as they completed 2 years and the bond period with this organization (not that they wanted to serve 2 years. It was the bond!), they started switching. And how! Everyone Rajesh asked was attending some or other interviews, mostly on weekends but quite often on weekdays too.

Referred to him by his colleague in current organization, who had a friend in the company Rajesh was applying for, Rajesh didn’t feel like
missing the opportunity. He had a week’s time to prepare for the interview. ‘Prepare’
here doesn’t include clothes, gestures, body-language, etc. Rajesh had been to far too many interviews to not know these basics taught in Interview self-help books. These preparations came naturally to him by now and were secondary. The preparation here refers to rote learning of related as well as unrelated subjects for the job position. Rajesh was a Java developer. That’s it. He had only coded with basic Java language so far in his job. He didn’t know any front-end development or Database programming. But his preparations consisted from core Java learning to many other coding, front-end & database languages. It then, by the end of the week, stretched to Cloud concepts, Automation Testing, DevOps, and such hyped, ‘cannot-be-understood’ concepts.

How did he manage so much? Well, to start with, obviously being skilled in Java coding wasn’t enough for interview. So he started with its theory learning (cramming). Then, he moved on to other advanced languages and then onto other unrelated concepts. It was of course difficult to manage since the only time available to him apart from his 9 hour-job + 2 hour commute was mostly at night. But Rajesh was intensely intent on cracking this interview so he couldn’t care much about sleep this week.

Saturday morning, he saw only few students and some professionals (perhaps interview attendees like him) in the bus. He reached 5 mins late than the expected time and went up to the company’s gate. This company was in a building, having an entire floor dedicated to its workplace. There were several other companies too, operating on various floors in the building, in that, the building had a huge common campus & facilities.

Everywhere at the entrance, there were staff from respective organizations, shouting company names and giving directions. Rajesh found out the company he was attending for and took the crowded lift to his floor. His floor was filled with long queues and people moving about. At the desk, he got his name, current company, designation, etc. registered, submitted his CV, took the receipt and stood at the end of a long queue.

(to be continued…)

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