A poor man's lot
There besides the trunk of a leafless tree
Lies a human figure in beastly nudity.
It's breathing yet; it's not dead
But no one bothers, for them it is dead
It's dusty day, it's scorching hot
And this misery is poor man's lot.
poem by Om Chawla
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Death
Come O thou reliever from painful pains
And strike pestilent all vibrating things
Let not a life live;
No joy, no mirth, no laughter
No cheerful face there be seen.
O darkness descend and take the world in thy lap
O winds stop in thy lively course
O silence fall and let not any voice be heard
O save me from this bemoaning world.
poem by Om Chawla
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Ultimate Truth
Wherefore do thou pride in figure
decay and perish is universal
all the forms whatever their nature
self destruct in course of time.
Don't you think you are different
though pleasingly attired
and lovingly balmd
with aides acquired.
Keep in mind
and just ponder:
each face is modeled on a skull
all men are naked beneath their clothes
and towards destruction bound
is the ultimate truth profound.
poem by Om Chawla
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O Friend
O friend, tickle the strings of thy voluptuous lyre
And rend all air with musical sound-
Such sound, that I might drown
All my misery, my universe and my love
Yes, this love that cans't be mine
That gold will buy love matters not,
A fair foul fancy, if love were aught.
O friend play - dispel misery in the air,
Revive agonies, set my heart on fire
Play o play upon thy lyre,
that I may have extremity of despair. [1960]
poem by Om Chawla
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O Lord
Behold O Lord, behold this scene,
A woman selling her body away,
Dancing to the rhythm of coins
She must warm thy domestic curs:
She has a belly she must fill,
Thou deny her bread;
She was born and so must live,
Thou deny her death.
Immoral! Yes she is
But thou drivest her to this;
For thy worthy sons
Out of morality must not step;
And she must live a fiendish life,
For the poor soul is so cursed to breathe. [1955]
poem by Om Chawla
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Jab Samay Ki Dhara Ruk Jayagi [Poem in Hindi]
Jab samay ki dhara ruk jaayegi
Aur mitt kar ghul jaayega yeh tan,
Hava paani ya agan mein,
Ya raakh hi ban kar pada rahega
Kahein pathh par tere;
Mitt jaayega jab tan yeh mera
Aur jeevan ke uss paar
Bhatakti hogi aatma meri,
Tab kya hoga mann ka mere,
Kya yeh bhi mar jaayega?
Yeh koi tann toa nahin,
Aur na hi koi aakar hai isska,
Yeh jo vyaakul ho uthta hai,
Nainon ki maadakta se teri;
Tere hi sparsh ki khatir
Har pal
Har chhin
Hai sapne bunnta
Aur tadapta
Kya hoga iss mann ka priyay tab
[...] Read more
poem by Om Chawla
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Umar-e-daraaz [a poem in Urdu]
Umar daraaz huie toa kya hasil
Be-bassi, lachaargi, mohtaji
Umar-e-daraaz;
Ik taveel raat jiski saher nahien
Jo kisi unt ki mohtaaj hai bas
Aur woh unt bhi uske bas mein nahien
Umar-e-daraaz ki yehi dastaan hai bas.
Umar-e-daraaz mein
Apno nein dieay jo dukh
Woh toa seh bhi lein
Peeda apno ke dukh ki
Sahi nahi jaati,
Woh jinhain itney naazon se paala
Unki takleef toa dekhi nahi jaati;
Laakh chhah kar bhi
Kuchh na kar paane par
Ahsas-e-be-bassi aur badh jaata hai
Umar daraaz huie toa bas yehi hai hassil
Be-bassi, lachaargi, mohtaji. [2012]
poem by Om Chawla
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Bindu. [A poem in Hindi]
Ik roop naino se man mein uttra
Mano dooor kshitij par ik madham sa bindu ubhara
Dhire dhire meri aur badha
Bindu bana ik chand
Roop ne karvat li
Hua chand se pyar
Tab hua milan
Ik madhur milan
Ik sukhad milan
Mano do aatmain samaa gai hoon jismain
Tab samay ki dhara baha ley gai
Milan ke is sukh ko
Usi kshitij ki aur
Chand phir ik bindu bana
Sukhad milan ki dard bhari yaad
jaise dooor kshitij par ik madham sa bindu
Chand ik bindu
Bindu ik roop
Bindu ik yaad
Bindu ik dard
[...] Read more
poem by Om Chawla
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Sawan Aaya [A poem in hindi]
Baadal aaye aur hain barse
Loag kahte hain sawan aaya.
Dharti thi tapti
Aag thi barasti
Jalta tha har ek badan bhi
Iss sawan ki phuhaar ne
Kitni rahat di in sab ko
Haan priyey yeh sawan aaya.
Iss pal priyey Tum jo hotien
Hotien jo tum
Hota aalingan
Bheegta tann mann
Lagti ik agan
Tum jal apsra si lagtien
Aur main tumhein bahoon mein layta,
Priyey kitna anand tab hota
Sawan mein tera sangg jab hota.
Par priyey tum kya jaano
Iss sawan mein
Dooor desh mein
[...] Read more
poem by Om Chawla
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Birds Nest
Have you not seen the bird
flying far, again and again
collecting straws to weave a nest-
a home- for its young ones to be.
As eggs are hatched
out come the young
chirping or crying, to be fed,
the bird flies again, and again
collecting grains
to feed the young
who cannot fly
It chews the grain but does not swallow
beak to beak it feeds young fellow
caressingly and lovingly
so all are fed properly.
Young get wings, by and by:
and coaxed by the mother bird;
attempt to fly.
Then suddenly one day
the young one flies far away
[...] Read more
poem by Om Chawla
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