Weeds justified

Now, certain things 
which don't hold 
a meaning still exist..

Wise men 
advise to remove 
them expecting 
fools to do such 
thing..

I've seen people 
instead of removing
weeds, become one 
of them, just to have
an experience at least..

What they gain, 
they in fact forget 
to calculate their
benefits in the end..

The world's a mess,
weeds all over, wise 
men are either dumb
or busy experimenting,
having fun amidst 
chaos..

Weeds justified,
Allover!
Let them grow..

Ah, poet, the evening draws near..

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)

"Ah, poet, the evening draws near; your hair is turning grey,
"Do you in your lonely musing hear the message of the hereafter?"


"It is evening," the poet said, "and I am listening because some one may call from the village, late though it be.
"I watch if young straying hearts meet together, and two pairs of eager eyes beg for music to break their silence and speak for them.
"Who is there to weave their passionate songs, if I sit on the shore of life and contemplate death and the beyond?

"The early evening star disappears.
"The glow of a funeral pyre slowly dies by the silent river.
"Jackals cry in chorus from the courtyard of the deserted house in the light of the worn out moon.
"If some wanderer , leaving home, come here to watch the night and with bowed head listen to the murmur of the darkness, who is there to whisper the secrets of life into his ears if I, shutting my doors should try to free myself from mortal bonds?


"It is a trifle that my hair is turning grey.
"I am ever as young or as old as the youngest and the oldest of this village.
"Some have smiles, sweet and simple, and some a sly twinkle in their eyes.
"Some have tears that well up in the daylight, and others tears that are hidden in the gloom.
"They all have need for me, and I have no time to brood over the after life.
"I am of an age with each, what matter if my hair turns grey?"




- from (II) "The Gardener" (published 1913).

"To Thomas Atkins" by Rudyard Kipling

I have made for you a song,
And it may be right or wrong,
But only you can tell me if it's true.
I have tried for to explain
Both your pleasure and your pain,
And Thomas, here's my best respects to you!
O there'll surely come a day
When they'll give you all your pay,
And treat you as a Christian ought to do;
So, until that day comes round, 
Heaven keep you safe and sound, 
And, Thomas, here's my best best respects to you!

Poem: "When I have Fears" by John Keats

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain
Before high piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of high romance,
And think I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the fairy power
Of unreflecting love; then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.

                                                                 John Keats (1795-1821)

Playthings

Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning!
I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig.
I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour.
Perhaps you glance at me and think, "What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!"
Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud-pies.
I seek out costly playthings, and gather lumps of gold and silver.
With whatever you find you create your glad games.
I spend both my time and my strength over things I can never obtain.
In my frail canoe I struggle to cross the sea of desire, and forget that I too am playing a game.


-A poem from the collection 'Crescent Moon' by Rabindranath Tagore