I have been writing poetry, deriving solace from the spring, heralding change – a brilliant reminder that nature remains untouched despite the encroachments that have been made on her beauty.
The fiery touch of Corona virus that nature has sent to show who is in command, is just the beginning of a new era for mankind who didn’t bother to heed the warnings. William Wordsworth’s prophetic lines come to my mind:
“To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.“
I’ve kept my cool by keeping my thoughts positive, by reiterating the message of the universe that nothing is permanent.
I’ve been listening to music more than the news to keep my sanity.
I come from the family of doctors and many of my dear ones are directly involved in the task of offering their services, I call them the soldiers of present times and salute all those who are fighting the monster called Covid – 19.
We shall overcome is the refrain that rings in my ears everyday.
Mother nature has been too kind, ‘we should never take anything for granted,’ we heard that phrase a thousand times but never paid any attention. We need to respect her message and her creation.
Remember, we are doing no honor to her. We are doing all this for ourselves, to save us and keep our dear ones safe.
After paying for our negligence, we would get another chance. That’s the law of nature. As a renowned urdu poet Sahir Ludhianavi wrote, “Raat bhar ka hai mehmaan andhera, kiske roke ruka hai savera…” (Translation: Darkness is just a guest of the night, who can hold back the morning?)
Poetry is said to be good for the soul, as it soothes our emotions, helps us dig deeper into thoughts and dreams and makes us discern the aesthetic pleasures around us. If you avoid poetry and prefer thrillers, probably you have never been exposed to the love of reading a good poem.
Nurturing the love for poetry starts in childhood. If you are a parent, read a poem everyday with your child. Ask the child what s/he likes about that poem. If the child likes it, don’t hestitate to read it everyday but add another one. Begin with simple and short poems.
Encourage your child to collect little poems and make a scrapbook. You can browse poems for kids online. Think about your favorite poets and poems you liked as a child or as a youngster. Share those thoughts with your children or siblings. Discuss what makes you like poetry.
Encourage your child to write a short poem. Bette A. Stevens offers excellent guidelines for writing haiku (an unrhymed poetic form consisting of 17 syllables arranged in three lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables respectively.)
Why is poetry disliked? Whenever this question haunts me, I try to look back to search some answers. The only poetry we were exposed to in schools, was the rhymes and that too in Kindergarten.
While reading story books is stressed upon but good poetry books are not easily available. Either they haven’t been written or their level is too high to be understood by children.
Some poems that we meet in textbooks fail to inculcate the love for reading of more poetry though ‘Mr. Nobody’ stayed in my thoughts and I love it even today.
Here is the fun poem: I wish more such poems could be written!
Mr. Nobody
I know a funny little man, As quiet as a mouse, Who does the mischief that is done In everybody’s house! There’s no one ever sees his face, And yet we all agree That every plate we break was cracked By Mr. Nobody.
’Tis he who always tears out books, Who leaves the door ajar, He pulls the buttons from our shirts, And scatters pins afar; That squeaking door will always squeak, For prithee, don’t you see, We leave the oiling to be done By Mr. Nobody.
He puts damp wood upon the fire That kettles cannot boil; His are the feet that bring in mud, And all the carpets soil. The papers always are mislaid; Who had them last, but he? There’s no one tosses them about But Mr. Nobody.
The finger marks upon the door By none of us are made; We never leave the blinds unclosed, To let the curtains fade. The ink we never spill; the boots That lying round you see Are not our boots,—they all belong To Mr. Nobody. – Walter de la Mare
Whenever a door squeaks, I think of Mr. Nobody!
Poems for children and middle schoolers have to be short and simple. The following poem by Robert Frost could speak to them if imagery is explained by the teacher:
Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice. – Robert Frost
Love for poetry is also connected with how well the poems are taught by our English teachers. Some just read them and inspire children to analyze. While it may be good for developing critical thinking, discussions have to follow to share the opinion of others.
Creative writing workshops in schools that focus on poetry writing develop sensibilities at an early age. Do you have any memories of writing poetry in your school?
In honor of National Poetry Month, two of my poetry books are being offered for just 0.99 cents. If you love poetry, grab your copy now. Thank you. Please share this post at your favorite social networks.
This image evokes the memory of a sagacious song that each bounce of water whispered into my ears; the unforgettable lyrics… having the quality of a lilting and enchanting tune, unique in its form.
As the stream gurgled down with glee, I tried to sing with it and soak in those fleeting moments of unexpected joy. I marveled at its sparkling surge and luminosity that never loses its sheen.
I admired the freedom that nature endows us with!
I wondered at the message that was written on its ripples, the message of surging ahead, of making its own way through the impediments, of singing happily despite the turbulences created by the unforeseen circumstances.
Isn’t life like that? Can we detach it from water, its lifeline?
Is it imaginable without the rocky surface and inevitable incidence?
Can we stop its flow and speed? Can we evade change?
Its childlike innocence, its radiance, its twists and twirls remind us of little joys of life. Its depth and fortitude speak about the stormy weather, which is knitted into the fabric of our lives.
