In the poem Catharsis, urging of a dream, love, ambitions, and goals
But tears are meant to be silent Freezing in depths of heart, Thickening layers of crimson pain Soaking merrily in drizzling lanes, Piling on every hour. Away, away! For I will fly, and spread my wings across the azure sky, Shredding off hopes and plausible goals, to try with all my heart, behold.
Who taught me? What I am following? That always brings about by consequences and fault of others and selflessness. However, being worthy and unworthy, but there is a God with us. Ultimately, one day, we realize and stepped out of hell and save ourselves.
The church taught me that my body was a weapon, and the consequences were always my fault; the church taught me no matter how good i was i was never worthy of love because ultimately, I was flawed and unworthy of being saved and I should be grateful that I had a god that was forgiving enough to accept me as is— it's no wonder I always suffered with self-image and self-esteem and was riddled with anxiety, because the church taught you no matter how good you did in life that none of it was ever the effort of your hands, nor should you ever be given any credit; I am so grateful that one day I just woke up and decided that I wanted to live my life differently, and I wanted to do what was best for me and I wanted to love myself and be myself and live without fear of their hell because hell is trying to be someone you are not in order to please others because some people will never be happy with you, even if you did everything they think or said you should.
The poem Rebel is a story of a girl who gets advice of fear, dare, don't fly. The poet at the end of the poem gives an excellent message.
There was once a girl, ages ago. She had big dreams and with big wings, she dared to fly But they said she would burn, ‘Don’t fly too close to the sun’- So, she did what she was told. There was once a girl, ages ago. She raised her voice, did not keep quiet But they said she had to obey, ‘Or you will go astray’- So, she did what she was told. There was once a girl, long ago She was tired of running, scared of falling But, they said, she could never say no ‘Go with the flow’- So, she did what she was told. ‘Do what you’re told’ ‘Don’t think for yourself’ ‘Do not disobey’ ‘Don’t be bold’ Or you’ll be free.
How to know the price from knowing to understanding each other better in relationship. This poem is perfect for everyone.
Rather than a warrior in a dress, but that's on you for not reading the fine print; I told you that I had a temper, but you challenged that, as if you could know me better than even myself— well, do you see my temper now burning in the chaos of the most painful sunset to graze your eyes or in the wrathful songs of the moon? Perhaps you see it in the inflection of my name as it whispers across your brain, in losing, you, I was able to find my magic and reclaim myself and my voice; I loved you so much I was willing to lose myself but I didn't need to get lost in the melody of your darkness or your many tongues of lust, but now I know better Than to wear rose-tinted glasses because all they do is shatter and present the truth that you wanted to hide behind the illusion of everything honest— I am grateful for finding and reclaiming myself, of getting back some of the birds of me that, I thought, would forever be lost and growing new flowers in the garden of my heart that I never knew I could know; but I wish it hadn't come at the price of knowing you.
Dizziness worse in dark, when it talks about flirting and broken heart, this poem must read for every reader. The poem well explained on the relationship and love.
You told me I had coffee colored eyes, then you stopped drinking coffee; told your mother it was like I had always been there but then abandoned me when I needed you most to leave me in my darkest and heaviest thoughts— I was sad, at first, when you let me go; but now I am grateful that I was never caught in the gilded cage of your lust because I bet that I would be the most miserable creature, if I were trapped by your side for eternity with the knowledge that you're not a man who is true or sincere— just someone who promises forever without meaning them, and one day it will come to burn you; if karma is feeling generous, she'll let me watch and I will do so with a glass of champagne in hand, watching as you fall into the dizzying darkness you tried to bury me in.
Poem on lemonade explores the relation between a daughter and father
it's Father's Day, and I have complicated emotions about it; makes me a little sad that my stepfather and I aren't close and that my biological father was nothing more than a nightmare in the lives of both me and my mother— makes me jealous of all the people with good dads that actually love them and have relationships with them and the girls and women that get to have those father-daughter dances at weddings that I've never ever once had, makes me hungry for a relationship I'll never have; because whilst my stepfather loves me and I love him there's a lot of pain and rage and resentment there, too; it wasn't always bad, but it wasn't always good, either— So, I stand here with this bittersweet lemonade of emotions, wishing there was more sweetness because it's mostly bitter, and I've never liked bitter drinks.
Subhadra Kumari Chauhan (b. 16 Aug 1904– d.15 Feb 1948) A typical Indian housewife and a matured woman at sixteen parenting five children. We can imagine that how experienced she was that time. It is true that maturity comes by experience. Thus, one who travelled through several emotional phases of life. The treasured memories often make us fall in love with writing. And, hence it was Subhadra Chauhan. Despite her being mother, she took parts in Satyagrah and reasoned the first Indian female became Satyagrahi. Being a protester at the age of 20 she got arrested in Nagpur, jailed twice in the British Government.
However, her career in politics, her evolving interest of writing caught the attentions of many country lovers when she wrote a poem on Jhansi Ki Rani (queen of Jhansi during the British Empire). The poem upon reading brings emotional fearless potential in any Indian. Therefore, it pumps up the readers with the feelings of patriotism. Thus, she became the most celebrated poet in the Indian literature.
The dynasties that shook the throne had raised eyebrows, There was a new youth again in old India too. Everyone knew the price of lost freedom, Everyone had decided to run Firangi away. The sun-shone in fifty-seven, that sword was old, We heard the story from the mouth of Bundel bard, Fought gallantly, she was the Queen of Jhansi. Kanpur's maternal grandfather's sister-in-law was adorable, The name Lakshmibai, that child was the only one of the father, She used to study with Nana, she played with Nana, And was the only friend of Spear, Shield, Kirpan, Dagger. He remembered the tales of Veer Shivaji. We heard the story from the mouth of Bundel bard, Fought gallantly, she was the Queen of Jhansi. Was it Lakshmi or was it Durga, she herself was the incarnation of bravery, Seeing the Marathas would be blown away by the blows of her swords, Plenty of hunting and playing fake battle-array, Military encirclement, breaking the fort, these were her favorite games. Maharashtra-Kul-Devi, Bhavani was also her adorable, We heard the story from the mouth of Bundel bards, Fought gallantly, she was the Queen of Jhansi. The engagement with the glory of bravery took place in Jhansi, Rani Married, Became Rani Laxmibai and came to Jhansi, Greetings rang in the palace, happiness prevailed in Jhansi, She had come to Jhansi like the disgrace of Sughat Bundelas. Chitra found Arjun, Shiva got Bhavani, We heard the story from the mouth of Bundel bards, Fought gallantly, she was the Queen of Jhansi.
सिंहासन हिल उठे राजवंशों ने भृकुटी तानी थी, बूढ़े भारत में भी आई फिर से नयी जवानी थी, गुमी हुई आज़ादी की कीमत सबने पहचानी थी, दूर फिरंगी को करने की सबने मन में ठानी थी। चमक उठी सन सत्तावन में, वह तलवार पुरानी थी, बुंदेले हरबोलों के मुँह हमने सुनी कहानी थी, खूब लड़ी मर्दानी वह तो झाँसी वाली रानी थी॥ कानपूर के नाना की, मुँहबोली बहन छबीली थी, लक्ष्मीबाई नाम, पिता की वह संतान अकेली थी, नाना के सँग पढ़ती थी वह, नाना के सँग खेली थी, बरछी, ढाल, कृपाण, कटारी उसकी यही सहेली थी। वीर शिवाजी की गाथायें उसको याद ज़बानी थी, बुंदेले हरबोलों के मुँह हमने सुनी कहानी थी, खूब लड़ी मर्दानी वह तो झाँसी वाली रानी थी॥ लक्ष्मी थी या दुर्गा थी वह स्वयं वीरता की अवतार, देख मराठे पुलकित होते उसकी तलवारों के वार, नकली युद्ध-व्यूह की रचना और खेलना खूब शिकार, सैन्य घेरना, दुर्ग तोड़ना ये थे उसके प्रिय खिलवाड़। महाराष्ट्र-कुल-देवी उसकी भी आराध्य भवानी थी, बुंदेले हरबोलों के मुँह हमने सुनी कहानी थी, खूब लड़ी मर्दानी वह तो झाँसी वाली रानी थी॥ हुई वीरता की वैभव के साथ सगाई झाँसी में, ब्याह हुआ रानी बन आई लक्ष्मीबाई झाँसी में, राजमहल में बजी बधाई खुशियाँ छाई झाँसी में, सुघट बुंदेलों की विरुदावलि-सी वह आयी थी झांसी में। चित्रा ने अर्जुन को पाया, शिव को मिली भवानी थी, बुंदेले हरबोलों के मुँह हमने सुनी कहानी थी, खूब लड़ी मर्दानी वह तो झाँसी वाली रानी थी॥
Also, read about Patriot Evoking Poem Of Kazi Nazrul Islam, The Rebel and Kipling’s Poem: “The White Man’s Burden” On Colonial Control.
Saint Savata Mali, or Saint Savatamali (b. 1250—d. 1295), the first saint of Maharashtra, was born in a small village called Aran, Mhada, Solapur.
Saint Savatamali was well-known for his Abhang. His devotion for his sacred life and morals are in abundance. Like Tukoba, Savata also used to sing the glories of Vitthal (God) by working in his farm. That time, India was a pure farming country.
Savata was a devout follower of God, Vithoba. Once upon a time, when Savata was busy in bhakti movement, he had guests. They were in-laws. Due to his busy schedules, Savata had lost his temper and yelled at his wife, Janabai. The calm and forbearing nature of Jana did not react to the fiery behavior of Savata. As a result, she was already aware of the lovely and kind company Savata used to keep.
प्रपंचीं असूनि परमार्थ साधावा । वाचे आठवावा पांडुरंग ॥ उंच नीच कांही न पाहे सर्वथा । पुराणींच्या कथा पुराणींच ॥ घटका आणि पळ साधीं उतावीळ । वाउगा तो काळ जाऊं नेदी ॥ सावता म्हणे कांते जपें नामावळी । हृदयकमळी पांडुरंग ॥
Along with marriage life, be devotee of god and continue living our regular life. Take a name of god every day-to-day. Never look at anything high or low. Old stories are old, you cannot change them. Therefore, the life, death, crime, and escape are the simple haste, nobody can deny. Let's go for a while. For my love and devotion, I consider seating on the thorns and meditate, still there would live a God (Pandhurang) inside my soul, at the lotus base.
Savata, considered the earliest saint of Maharashtra before arrival of Sant Namdev, Chokhamela, Dnyaneshwar and the great bhakti movement of Marathi poet, Tukaram Maharaj. The meaning of Savata is purity in personality and passion for truth, and abundance of devotions possess in the accent of his name. The same way, Tukaram explained it in his soul scrubbing poem, Vrukshavalli Amha Soyari. However, it taught us how to admire our planet and its creatures and find the meaning of life.
God is always with you
Saint Savatamali
The same way, Savatamali says that our work is our God. We should love our work, what we do, from the bottom of our heart. That dedication helps ourselves achieve the trust of the god. Moreover, that is call inclination toward a peaceful life. Therefore, upon successful doing your duty, it is toward a worthy meeting with god. Furthermore, the life goes smoothly and there is no trouble any more.
आमची माळियाची जात, शेत लावू बागाईत कांदा मुळा भाजी अवघी |विठाबाई माझी लसण मिरची कोथंबिरी | अवघा झाला माझा हरि
स्वकर्मात व्हावे रत, मोक्ष मिळे हातो हात। सावत्याने केला मळा। विठ्ठल देखियला डोळा।
योग-याग तप धर्म । सोपे वर्म नाम घेता।। तीर्थव्रत दान अष्टांग। याचा पांग आम्हा नको।।
प्रपंची असूनि परमार्थ साधावा। वाचे आळवावा पांडुरंग मोट, नाडा, विहीर, दोरी। अवघी व्यापिली पंढरी.
माळियेचें घरी सावंत जन्माला, पावन तो केला वंश त्याचा धान्य ते अरण, रत्नांची खान, जन्मला निधान सावंत तो सावंत सागर प्रेमाचा अगर, घेतला अवतार माल्या घरी धान्य त्याची माता, धान्य त्याचा पिता, साठविला दाता त्रिलोकांचा नामा म्हणे सुफळ झाला, वंश उधारीला मळियाचा
Savata was born at gardener’s house. However, by doing that, the caste became sacred and became a mine of gems. The credit goes to the greatness of his mother and father, who got the donor of the three worlds (heaven-death-abyss). Saint Namdev said, the lineage borrowed done successfully.
Mirza Galib Shayari is a thing of today and tomorrow. Once he said: “We don't like running in our veins, what is blood when it doesn't drip from the eye.”
रगों में दौड़ते फिरने के हम नहीं क़ायल, जब आँख ही से न टपका… तो फिर लहू क्या है.
Ghalib
Writing such punchlines could only be the great and famous Ghalib (pen name). His real name was Mirza Asadullah Baig Khan Ghalib (27 Dec 1797–15 Feb 1869), Indian poet of 80s when Mughals were disappearing and the era uprooted by British Raj. His writing life began at the age of 11 in his favorite languages (Urdu and Persian). However, his audience loved his poetry in Urdu. He could also write and read Persian too.
Galib was born in Agra to Mirza Abdullah Baig and Izzat-ut-Nisa Begum. His mother was a Kashmiri. Ghalib saw pain and struggles since his childhood, he got his first shock when his father died. Ghalib was too young. His father died in the battle of 1803, the battle of Laswari. It was second Anglo — Marathi War occurred on November 1, 1803 near Laswari village, Alwar.
Therefore, the poet raised by his paternal uncle for few years, and again Mirza got another shock when his uncle passed away. During those days, his poetic tiny brain was under development through those ups and downs of his life. However, he grabbed those emotional era and imprinted inside his heart-to-soul.
Di se teri Nigaah jigar tak utar gai,
dono ko ik adaa mein
razamand kar gai
दिल से तेरी निगाह जिगर तक उतर गई,
दोनो को इक अदा में रजामंद कर गई |
From the heart,
your eyes went down to the liver,
agreed to both of them
in a single gesture
The sparkling thoughts started gathering in him at the age of 11 and got married at the age of 13. Does marriage teach a man like him? One who is very young to understand or to taste the life. How can one prepared to get married at such a young age? Therefore, his intelligence marked in the history through his imagination skills, mostly in love and affairs putting them together. It is possible when one who gone through sorrow and grief could be the one. Furthermore, reading this biography, it takes you through ups and downs from his young life to through married and then old age. Mirza Galib Shayari in India is famous across the country.
Dard jab dil mein ho
toh dawa keejiye
Dill hi jab dard ho
toh kya keejiye
दर्द जब दिल में हो
तो दावा कीजिये
दिल ही जब दर्द हो
तो क्या कीजिये
When the pain is in the heart,
give it medicine
Heart only when it hurts
so, what to do?
This world is a child’s playground for me. A spectacle unfolds day and night before me.
Ghalib
According to Ghalib, the poet is one who gambled, got into the jailed and has beaten with sleepers by lovers. He exactly expressed to one who has many emotional attachments. The one who passed through many struggles, crimes could evoke a lot of emotions on pages. However, the life of Ghalib had never been a straight, simple, and easy. He was taught from the life’s great lesson and experiences. Therefore, it's inspired thoughts his soul built from. Once he was also fell in love, but jealousy had never been onto his mind.
Ghalib thoughts that loving a person does not mean achieving, staying together or take the control of it. But, love it from the heart, spend some time with the person you love, share good and bad experiences and support each other mentally. No one has been skipped the travel of life’s struggles. The poems of Ghalib also said that married life is a prison of sorrow from bondage, and one who is bound left no one free from them. In central Kolkata, free school street is now Mirza Ghalib Street.
The prison of life and the bondage of sorrow are one and the same
Ghalib
Why should man be free of sorrow before dying?
The book, The Last Mughal: The Fall of a Dynasty, Delhi, 1857 written by William Dalrymple wrote that Ghalib was called “ladies man” the most of his writings (Shayari and poems) written on love themes. His most loved city was Delhi,
“I asked my soul: what is Dilli, she replied: the world is the body and Dilli is its life.”
Furthermore, read soul scrubbing poem Vrukshavalli Amha Soyari by saint Tukaram and Saint Kabir's famous poetry searching for truth.
daughter of three great Maharashtrian saints, Nivruttinath, Dnyaneshwar, and Sopan. Muktabai (b. 1279—d. 1297) was an Indian saint and poet. She was the one who saw poverty and closely watched the thirstiness and shock of losing her parents.
However, she and her brothers dared absorb the illiterate orthodox Brahmin caste’s pressure on their family in their young age. Muktabai’s elder brother, Dnyaneshwar Mauli was a prominent figure who wrote Dnyaneshwari at the age of 16 and lived for only 21 years (went in a cave for deep meditation to contemplate higher consciousness and never returned).
Muktabai was a daughter of Vitthalpant Kulkarni. Kulkarni's family was from Apegao, Paithan, a small town in Maharashtra. He had four children, Nivruttinath, Dnyaneshwar Mauli, Sopandev and Muktabai. Muktabai received abundant education and knowledge from her brothers. All of them had studied the Vedas (the foundation of classical Hinduism).
Muktabai's father committed suicide by jumping into a river, with the ultimate reason being the end of his ascetic life and the deception of his family by orthodox Brahmins. Vitthalpant after marriage, had decided to go for an ascetic life for the rest of his life. It had happened, however, when Vitthalpant met his guru, Ramananda Swami, in Kashi (modern-day Varanasi). After a few rituals, Kulkarni was initiated into Sannyasa without worrying about his marriage or future troubles.
When Ramananda visited Alandi, he met the wife of Vitthalpant, Rukhmini. The swami understood everything about Vitthalpant and his background. Therefore, upon his next meeting with Kulkarni, he was forced to quit the sannyas (ascetic life) and advised to start his married life again. Thus, obeying the guru was in Kulkarni's blood. Thus, Vitthalpant agreed.
Therefore, the orthodox Brahmin caste community of Alandi excommunicated the Kulkarni family and took them on as its own. The entire Brahmin family must remain united and continue to chastise the couple's children. The Kulkarni's survival in Alandi became difficult. They received no bhiksha (donation) or lending from their neighbors. These ordeals harmed the parents' feelings, and their children continued to refer to themselves as "children of a hermit" (Sannyasi). All the approaches were turned back. Soon, the family abandoned.
The couple made the decision to commit suicide as a result, believing that their children would be granted justice, rights, and a place to live in the community after they were gone. However, it does occur, but only after a certain period of time. Four of them became saints, studied the Vedas. Muktabai became a student of Nivruttinath. They all started spreading peace and love in the community. They had acquired the blessed energy and started showing them their status, where they actually stand.
More in Poets
Though he has no form My eyes saw him His glory is fire in my mind That knows His secret inner forms Invented by the soul. What is beyond the mind Has no boundary. In it our senses end.
Muktabai possessed such a divine power that her vision was so powerful that nothing could escape from her eyes. Even doing of the God. And, then, her eyes found him (God, who has no forms). Rare eyes could find such superhuman energy that the poet referred to it here as a power of God. He has no shapes, however, available everywhere. The poet's mind includes every soul on the planet, as well as everyone who knows his victorious fire energy.
Only selected superhuman gets it and God knows that who are they. However, it is shapeless, but his inner mould that make up by the soul (however, every human out here on the planet possessed the one). Therefore, our mind has endless thoughts and has no walls that could hold us back from thinking. It is the only one called soul, has all our nerves end.
In the year 1297, in MuktaiNagar city, where her big temple built. The region's ancient temple of Goddess Muktabai, being honoured as god of the region.
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