you are going to love it 🙂
For talking about the voices in poetry, we need to talk about Mahakavi Subramania Bharati.
Chinnaswami Subramania Bharathi (1882 – 1921) was an Indian writer, poet, journalist, Indian independence activist and social reformer from Tamil Nadu, India. Popularly known as “Mahakavi Bharathiyar”, he is a pioneer of modern Tamil poetry and is considered one among the greatest of Tamil literary figures of all time. His numerous works were fiery songs kindling patriotism and nationalism during Indian Independence movement.
He says, “When I was a young poet, I was committed to the Muse totally. But circumstances have led me to renounce my absolute dedication to pure poetry.”
‘Pure poetry’ Apparently, Bharati had two voices in him and one was his private voice, rhapsodic, lyrical and spontaneous and the other, his public voice that led him to identify himself with the political and social causes of his slumbering nation.
Kuyil Paattu (Cuckoo’s Song) is simply a remarkable illustration of the poet’s private voice. It deals with neither a political nor a social issue. The poem reads as though it wrote itself. It is in direct conversation with the reader, emanating as it does from the inner voice of the poet. Bharati calls it ‘a dream’ and mischievously adds, which reads like a challenge, “if the learned Tamil scholars are able to find a philosophical meaning for this poem let them tell me.”
The poem reads like a fairy tale not committed to logic or reason. It is just a fantasy. The dream constructs a story and there is a story within that story. The reality comes at the end, as the poet wakes up to find himself ‘living in his old house, surrounded by his ancient mat, writing pen and scattered manuscripts and magazines.’
The recurring theme of love is expressed in exquisite poetry in a universal language, unburdened by thematic or critical conventions. It is a pure poem of sheer aesthetic charm that does not assume the moral responsibility of offering any message to the reader.
An excerpt from an English translation- The cuckoo sings its love for the monkey:
‘Oh! My divine Monkey-Lover!
Can any woman resist your love?
Man thinks he is the Lord of the Earth!
Maybe, he is for such mundane matters
As institutionalising things!
But look! Your incomparable hairy chest
And gentle speech,
And your bewitching hunch that adds a gait
To your walk and stature
Of no less charm
Can man be equal to you?
True, he competes with you
Covers his body with umpteen clothes
To match your silken charm from head to foot,
Apes his face and chin with hairy growth
In poor imitation calling it beard and moustache!
Leaps and jumps as you do
But, he does in a drunken state,
But, yet, tell me
Where will he go for a god-given tail?
This is a lovely prompt as Diary writing was my favourite for a very long time until when my routine left no time for me to write it regularly.Then i gave it up altogether as it is no point writing it at some day later when you dont even remember how you felt about it at all 🙂
Some people have too private stuff (Secrets) and it is fun to go back and read them much later.And for others who can lay their hands on it,ahhhh there you go,the more they are intersted in our life 😉 Apart from this risk factor,
- It makes us fell lighter by letting go off all our stain by expressing our selves out
- It serves as a reminder for any pending tasks which were left unnoticed.
- Helps us keep our resolutions on the track
- Serves as a record of all incidents pertaining to our life if we need to verify them anytime (necessary and unnecessary too…lol)
And heres my relationship with my Diary :
Oh dear!!
It seems to be very clear
Now you see that I am clever
How precisely I have told
On whatever I have got hold
“Do you remember yesterday’s picnic,
How stupid of aunt, to be a cynic”,
“You know how boss scolded me today
For delaying my team on Monday”,
“On that day, I felt very lonely,
When my hubby left so suddenly”
Let me tell you one last thing,
So that todays last line can be filled
Though not to my hearts full I can explain,
But I better make myself plain
Before, I could forget any other thing.
Then I thank you for listening to me so patiently
Though you are mine, I could say independently.
You are my only best friend,
Who listen to me till I end!
You are the one who let me express
My feelings of bliss and depress
So, do not stare at me like that,
Because I am talking to you,
OH My Dear Diary.
© uniqusatya, All rights reserved
Even with the change of the generation and the technology,some things doesnt seem to change.Maybe because they are so deep rooted in the society that it needs another son of #God or a form of God himself to come down to end such incidents from taking place.
I am talking now about an almost month long issue which seem to go nowhere,apart from the processions and demonstartions.But who should really act on it?
Who are they? Brought dismay, Native locals, or anti-social? Have no souls to steal our girls, with guns they speak, show they’re weak
When the inner thought,
left to rot,
Dead you are,
and none on par,
in your burial bed,
out of victims dread,
with the evil shroud,
that you loved © uniqusatya, All rights reserved
Heres a round up of the entire issue :
http://edition.cnn.com/2014/04/24/world/africa/nigeria-kidnapping-answers/?hpt=hp_c2
P.S: Part of the poem was originally written for Damyanti’s uncharted worlds.
Simply Poetry 
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