Tag Archives: MUSIC

Invaded Identity

a poem by Mirza Sharafat Hussain Beigh

I am me
Who said this?
So is my body
An invaded custody
Occupied by her
Thoughts and memories
Two sided glossaries
Not a reflection is mine
That would determine
My own identity
Out of my sanctity

I may be a string
Of any cacophonous Sitar
Where she creates
On my wounds
Riot of sounds
Without bounds

Notes to Nocturne

a poem by Vidya Vijay

When the antique organ is played,
The crowd they don’t hooray.
Instead they show their say,
In a more subtle way.

Beethoven touched those keys,
He showed us what he means.
His music left us keen,
to hear his symphony.

But, oh the great mozart,
His music was like a tart.
Sweet and short, tied up in a knot.
But still, no one could defeat.

In reality they fight,
Both the black and white.
But in music they unite,
Creating melody just as bright.


a poem by Devaki Purohit

Wouldn’t it be proper?
To have a-every-season-lover
A monsoon heart
Ready for adventure
And art
A wild spirit
Ready to climb hills
And travel places on a one way ticket

Wouldn’t it be proper?
To have a-every-season-lover
A warm heart
To keep the winter apart
To snuggle and dream
Next to a crackling bonfire gleam
To be happy beside a hearth
Spinning tales of the skies and the earth

Wouldn’t it be proper?
To have a-every-season-lover
A restless heart
For the approaching fall
Like the shedding of autumn leaves
Take on newer threads to weave
Of life and love
And future which shines like a pair of purple doves

Wouldn’t it be proper? To have a-every-season-lover
A serene heart
For the summer part
To soothe your mind
With a plan to unwind
To explore the city nooks
Or venture out in search of lost brooks
Writing a new chapter everyday
And charting our own special way

Wouldn’t it be proper?
To have a-every-season-lover…

Art of Wings

a poem by Anand Bose

Winged art moving
Time as a poetic glazier—
It’s a music delighting eyes,
A dance that floats, stunning
The silence of eternity;
Watching them climb
Higher and Higher, their
Celestial robes having the
Precision of a mobile art
Gallery— I am standing
On the earth, while you
Open the art of an experience;
You disappear from my vision-
Yet you have chosen a destiny–
A white flame merging as a song
Of love, your breath now,
An ethereal cosmic whisper.

U. Sreenivas – A great Mandolin Musician

a poem by Satheesan Rangorath

He stretched his heart to the strings,
creating soulful sweet tunes of music.
Streams of Carnatic music infused,
flowed in to his Mandolin as divine fusion .
Mind, body and intellect merged,
making soul as tune and tone of songs.
Mandolin cords spoke his thoughts,
melting him down to the core of symphony.
His fingers wove magic in each note,
then he abandoned his name and form,
vesting his soul on stings of rhythm,
turning himself as cosmic dulcet.
One day he dissolved himself into infinity,
freezing into silence of eternal euphony,
manifested into fineness of celestial muse.