No...
"well, uh...umm, hmm, haw, hmm..."
Incidently, is this an attempt to be funny?
--- In [email protected], Abhishek Hazra <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
wrote:
>
> <The context has made the poem tear-jerking>
>
> well, uh...umm, hmm, haw, hmm...is the above an ironic
> utterance on the notion of the 'melodramatic'??
>
>
> --- Farah <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
>
> >
> > Your poem, as always, is very beautiful. It's
> > atmosphere conveys such sadness; its like the tress
> > are mourning the loss too.The context has made the
> > poem tear-jerking.
> >
> > Thankyou for sharing it...
> >
> > Farah
> > --- In [email protected], jane bhandari
> > <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
> > >
> > > What images of diminishment.
> > >
> > > I have a winter poem here for you. Similar feeling
> > of sadness and time running out, written while I was
> > waiting for my father to die.
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > THE TREES
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > Here, the trees crowd closer.
> > >
> > > Even in the dark one feels their presence.
> > >
> > > In the stillest night they stir, and rustle
> > >
> > > With the shuffling sound of retreating feet,
> > >
> > > Mourners murmuring as they depart.
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > After the first gales, leaves lie across the grass
> >
> > >
> > > Like corpses, whispering death in ghostly voices,
> > >
> > > And the wind keens through the empty branches,
> > >
> > > Sharpening their edges against the bitter sky,
> > >
> > > Cutting it into a grey shroud for dead summer.
> > >
> > >
> > > Jane Bhandari
> > >
> > > Farah [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:
> > >
> > > Time slipped out of my hands
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > Time slipped out of my hand
> > >
> > > Like sand.
> > >
> > > Sifting out through an open fist
> > >
> > > And the little left upon my palm
> > >
> > > Was also soon gone
> > >
> > > As if blown away by wind.
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > I watched with disbelieving eyes,
> > >
> > > This strange, bewildering performance
> > >
> > > As it passed the frenzied vigor of avalanche
> > >
> > > Then slowly pulsed down to a mere trickling
> line�
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > Farah Shams (1999)
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > Age
> > >
> > > Time passes,
> > >
> > > For some slowly.
> > >
> > > For others_ running.
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > But in the end
> > >
> > > All are same.
> > >
> > > The bodies once young
> > >
> > > As strong young trees
> > >
> > > With tough branches,
> > >
> > > Sturdy roots
> > >
> > > Are reduced to mere skeletons
> > >
> > > With bare thin limbs
> > >
> > > And only a trickle of life
> > >
> > > Flowing in the trunk�
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > And then_ they're lonely.
> > >
> > > With memories like gusts of wind
> > >
> > > Blowing, echoing, rumbling
> > >
> > > Through their bodies.
> > >
> > > Forcing the stiff branches to creak
> > >
> > > The hollow, empty body to groan�
> > >
> > > Till the nearly dead roots
> > >
> > > Can no longer stand this onslaught
> > >
> > > And then, they too uproot.
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > Farah Shams (1999)
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > Tree Tops
> > >
> > > I watched the rising trees soar up, so up
> > >
> > > Till I had to lie on ground
> > >
> > > So I wouldn't fall when I looked up
> > >
> > > And how I wished that I could too
> > >
> > > Soar up, so up�
> > >
> > > Until those down below
> > >
> > > Will have to lie down too.
> > >
> > > But I was no tree, no plant with roots,
> > >
> > > A plain mortal I was_ but yes_ I could!
> > >
> > > I had two arms and legs that walked
> > >
> > > So I climbed to the top�
> > >
> > > When atop the highest tree I stood
> > >
> > > And looked below to my beginnings
> > >
> > > I realized with sudden clarity
> > >
> > > The wisdom of me being not a tree_
> > >
> > > Then some one too with arms and legs
> > >
> > > Would one day climb, and stand on me!
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > Farah Shams (2000)
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > --
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