Stiff like water, humans precious
Their egotistical sublime
Unlike a river,
Like a horse of a long race,
Leaves a lot of space
For kindness and grace.
Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, a renowned poet and writer from Chandigarh, India, shares his mystic poetry
Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, based in Chandigarh, is an Indian poet and scholar credited with 170 plus books of English literature, philosophy and spirituality. He won great Serbian Award Charter of Morava and his name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. He was honoured with Seneca Award LAUDIS CHARTA by Academy of Arts & Philosophical Sciences, Bari, Italy 2024. He is Founder President of the International Academy of Ethics and conferred Doctor of Philosophy (Honoris Causa) by University of Engineering & Management, (UEM) Jaipur. Email anandjs55@yahoo.com
Biblio-link: https://sites.google.com/view/bibliography-dr-jernal-singh/home
THE EGOTISTICAL SUBLIME
Water can be stiff in its constitution
And steadfast in its nature
Who can complain
When it overrides you
Or just underwrites you
And takes your breath away?
But a river is to blame
If it does not negotiate its way
It handles naughty waves
And does not mind
If someone from the bank
Jumps in to have a bath
Water has an exalted ego
And it won’t let anyone
Play with it
If it finds something fishy,
It loosens vampires
And brings down empires.
Humans too precious
Their egotistical sublime
Stiff like water
The weather they face
Unlike a river who leaves
Space for kindness and grace.
Stiff like water, humans precious
Their egotistical sublime
Unlike a river,
Like a horse of a long race,
Leaves a lot of space
For kindness and grace.
***
THE POET
When you read my poetry,
If you see me nothing
Except me, my frailties
Which I profer as great strengths
If I talk only about
My achievements, my cap
Which wears many a feather
If I have nothing else to talk
Except what I have said
In my this poem and that
In my this book and that
Branding about what I say
If from my text you are missing
He is missing, she is missing
The pain of the earth
Is missing
What use is my joy
In what I have written
Which you must know
And I brandy about.
The highest peak
Proud in its singular glory
Bends in humility
When a powerful soul touches it
Lofty minds are humble
Because from a high cliff
They can see
The shallows and the heights together.
Who does not want to be remembered?
Loved and desired?
What if
I too harbour that wish?
Oh! How I was filled with myself
In my text I find my own pain,
My own joy
And nothing except me.
I touched none
Who could weep over my death,
Who could feel my loss
And remember me when I am gone.
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