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Five poems by Vivekanand Jha.


1. Humanity Died


There was a gathering on the mid road

I have also excited to join them

Expecting some interesting things to see

I found humanity has met with an accident

It bleeds and cries in pain

And seeks some solace from onlookers

Who called themselves

Wonderful and beautiful creatures of the world.


We remain mute spectator

As if it were a scene of movie.

None of hands heave to help him:

In some they were blinking like a cursor

In some they were like a flip-flop

In some they try to reach

But their deaf and stony emotion

Fail to respond.


But the heart of Atropos in heaven

Melt as He listend the pain and moaning

Of the humanity and He extended His hands

To support and succour

And we found humanity died.




2. My poem falters and falls


I write with ink of blood

To testimonialize and give

A touch of eternity to it

But my poem falters and falls

In the poetry of the world.


I pluck words from

A flowry and ornated garden

And weave a garland of them

To adorn the world

But they trample it

Under their feet

Like they crush the stub

Of the cigarete to prevent it

From catching the fire.


I discover the words

Hidden in the unhaunted

Recess of the mind

And juxtapose them

Like an ideal couple

Of bride and bridegroom

At bridal chamber

And turn my poem on new leaf

But they tilt their stony eyes

And turn deaf ears to it.


I infuse my heart and soul

Into the poem

Thinking it would be

The best and the last of my life

But they simply say:

Since it is the beginning

You would learn by mistakes.




3. Dawn dwells on the bank


Swim across the river of dense dark

As on the bank dwells the dawn

Let the tears trickle from eyes

As it has only the magical power of Puck

That would transform them into smile.


Let the whole world in jealousy burn

As it is only parameter of how much

You have developed and grown.


Let diseases and failures

To make you cripple and weak

As they are only tonic

To lead the path to succeed.


Let the time

To mock and scorn

One day when you would die

It would only mourn.


Advance ahead

With same zeal and zest

As he who tries

Only he climbs the Everest.




4. An elegy to the poem


I send you to represent

In various magazines and ezines

From my country

To the world of every region

But you fall victim

To the predators

We call them poetry editors.


They are prepared

with ready witted reply:

to the guidelines

your submission doesn’t comply.


Some says:

Thank you for your interest

But we decided to pick up the best

Some says:

You are committing a crime

By composing the poems in rhyme.

Better if our guidelines you rehearse

As we consider poems only in free verse.


Some says:

We don’t accept

Unsolicited submission.

So before sending works

You must seek permission.


Some says:

Sorry, not what we are looking for

Best of luck for publishing them

In other journals.


Some says:

Our magazine is limited

To the poets of our nation

So we don’t accept submission

From out station.


Some says:

Your submission permanently fails

As we don’t accept it by email.


They don’t have time

To read and waste

Stereotype reply

They simply copy and paste.


Some says:

Due to large volume of submission

It is not feasible to give

On all critical depreciation.


Some says:

We have decided

To pass on these

But next time don’t forget

To send, please.


Some says:

We only publish

The works of established poet

So keep on trying,

Watch and wait.


These are only

Small lists of rejection

Poets are victim of

Numerous persecutions.


I keep on sending

In spite of your insults

The poets do poetry

Irrespective of the results.




5. Dispossessed Motherland


I am from the land

Reduced to handful sand

Where is only mud

Left by devastating flood.


Here is no crop to reap

But only blood to creep

On our fate to weep

And feet not rise to leap.


Here is no food to eat

No room to express the wit

No place to peacefully sit

Good enough to cause the fit

As we are by poverty hit.


Here is no fuel to be lit

No milk in the mother’s teat

We have only dust to beat

Bleak and barren land and wit.


Here is no work to do

So we have earning few

And we have courage to muster

To gather the bread and butter.


Here is no life utility

Here is only killing by brutality

Which exposes administrative futility?

By their nature of duality.


Here is no feather in the cap

Only the news of kidnap

In the mean time you nap

Child is dispossessed from mother’s lap.


Here is no morality to be taught

If you do death to be bought

Don’t give the suggestion unsought

Which only misery to be brought.


Here is only the battle to be fought

One-year flood is another year drought

We are caught in the current of time

There is no difference

Between the age of old and prime




Here is no moment of auspicious, only ill omen

People are living in the devil’s domain

To earn livelihood, what can do the men?

Go miles and years away to deadly den

Lovelorn of their children and women.


Here is no magic wand

Men beat their own drum and band

Here are only foes, hardly any friend

Here is none for mistakes to amend

Here is no right for dignity to defend

This is a dispossessed motherland

This is nothing but a Waste Land.



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