Only ten percent of our life and time is ours
We are absorbed in people we love or hate
We are possessed by passions
Of love and jealousy.
Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, a renowned poet and writer from Chandigarh, India, shares his mystic poems
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 honored 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 FESTIVAL OF FIRE
Only ten percent of our life and time is ours
We are absorbed in people we love or hate
We are possessed by passions
Of love and jealousy
Which we often mistake
As a sign of competitive therapy
Necessary for a break.
Memories are the real rulers of men,
All our actions build
Pyramids of memories
Which are home to our best thoughts
We are never alone
Even in our utter loneliness
We are remembering someone.
Whose company we cherish.
Desires are maids in multicoloured dresses
Come to the festival of fire
And we can see the ramp show
And the cat walk
In their best dress and undress
Like orchestra dancers,
They are only earning a living
Not always vile, only drugged with hope.
What is bad if in situations beyond repair
Rather than take to the ceiling fan
We rest our head
In the lap of desires
Sweet passions,
Mingled with hope
And construct a dome of pleasure
In the dark ranges of the mind?
It is not bad faith,
To choose to live on some how
If not in bricks, on their shadows
This is what hopes, in essence, are.
Isn’t it better to turn a desire,
Rather than go to a riverside
And tempt its waves to swallow you down?
***
OF GEMS AND STRATEGEMS
There are hundreds of pearls
Lying dormant and unknown
In the vaults of nature
Some whom waves of time tumble up
Come into public view
And are regarded as precious
Real gems remain busy with their own
Creative Muse and have no time
To play to the gallery
The cheering crowds
Who shower love on people
Are not necessarily unfooled.
Because men sometimes create waves
To tumble their destinies up
They are no gems, but strategems
True geniuses work underground
And men discover their greatness
From their works
Much after they have left
Uncared for and unrecognized
Some badly contested too
While the world which believes in
The make believe, laureates only people
Who can manage the show
Smart minds who can advertise
Themselves and their wares,
Good or not good does not matter.
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The poems are really thought- provoking and inspiring one. Exploring Universal truths,and different traits…
, time is precious but some waste their time !!!