World Poetry Month: Day Two

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World Poetry Month: Day Two

World Poetry Month: Day Two
World Poetry Month: Day Two

Today, we’re celebrating one of the most beloved English poets, John Keats. His work is known for its beauty, vivid imagery, and romantic themes.

Keats wrote during the Romantic period of English literature which was characterized by a focus on emotion, imagination, and nature.

One of his most famous works is “Ode to a Nightingale” which he composed in May 1819 while sitting under an old plum tree.

In just 8 stanzas, Keats poetically describes both his pain and joy in relation to the nightingale’s song. The poem ends with Keats finding solace from his suffering by saying: 

His poem “Ode to a Nightingale” is a timeless exploration of themes like mortality and beauty and their fleeting nature. As you read this poem, take some time to reflect on the fragility and wonder of life.

Happy World Poetry Month! Let’s get started.

“Ode to a Nightingale” by John Keats ▶️

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,—
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
And mid-May’s eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

Best Poetry Of The Day

The best poetry of the day is crafted with skill and care, taking readers on an emotional journey through vivid images and thoughtful words.

It stirs the heart, evoking a deeply personal connection to life’s most meaningful moments.

The best poetry celebrates the beauty of the world, offering a glimpse into its hidden mysteries and intricate details. Its messages are timeless and remind us to cherish every moment and appreciate what we have.

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  1. #rntalks


    O spring ! you are so divine
    Is welcomed with full might
    With full fervity and delightful mind
    Your arrival blooms the earth
    Hues of rainbow spread here and there
    The sun seems to be more vibrant
    Becomes more powerful than ever before
    The coolness of the moon pleases the soul
    Though it is wintery shroudness
    But spreads happiness everywhere
    New lives could be seen
    Flowers bloom , mustard plants waves
    The fields become green and green
    The trees could be seen in full bloom
    The earth gets covered in carpet grass
    Seems to be a mirror for everyone
    Happiness sings everywhere
    Birds sing , bees hum , butterflies flutter
    Pairs of love dances in solitude
    Smiles on their face brings delightedness
    New hopes emerges with full might
    O spring ! you are such
    Which unites the body and soul
    Makes the universe more alive
    The depression and anxiety disappears
    Healthy thoughts appear
    As honeyed air could be felt everywhere
    Which soothes the body and mind.

  2. #RNTAlks
    साँपसीढ़ी और जीवन

    यह जीवन भी है साँपसीढ़ी का खेल,
    रंग बिरंगी गोटिओं का मेल l
    सब चलते हैं बारी- बारी,
    खेलें सब हैं अपनी पारी l
    डाइस का तो देखो कमाल,
    कभी एक और कभी छ: बार बार l
    कोई धीरे से आगे बढ़ता ,
    कोई बड़ी सीढ़ियाँ हैं चढ़ता l
    कोई साँप के मुँह पर आकर,
    वापिस पीछे की ओर है ढलता l
    कोई बेचारा किनारे पर आकर
    रहता सिर्फ है हाथ मलता l
    गोटी के 99 न. पर आते ही,
    वापिस 3न. पर आ ठहरता l
    जीवन की गति विकास भी ऐसा
    सफलता-असफलता का फलसफा ये कैसा! “साँप सीढ़ी का खेल है जैसा “कर्म अगर अच्छे हुए, सोढ़ी दर सीढ़ी चढ़ता है l
    कर्म अगर हो गए बुरे तो सिर्फ हाथ ही मलता रहता है l
    सीख यही मिलती है सबको इस खेल में,
    डाइस सोच समझ कर होशियारी से चलो l
    सीढ़ी दर सीढ़ी आगे बढ़कर 100 न. तक ,अपनी जीत हासिल करो l

  3. // वो लंबे बाल //

    उसके खूबसूरत लंबे बाल सबको बहुत थे लुभाते
    बचपन से ही सुंदरता में उसकी चार चाँद लगाते

    फिर वक्त बीता, कुछ यूँ फैला बालों का मायाजाल
    कि एक बाँका नौजवान हो गया उनपे निहाल

    चट् मँगनी – पट् ब्याह कर लाया उसको घर
    अब तो होने लगी उन जुल्फों के साये में ही उसकी हर शामों सहर

    चाहता था वो कि जिंदगी बस अब यूँ ही जाए गुजर
    लगने ना पाये उनके प्यार को किसी की नजर

    पर वक्त का पहिया कुछ घूमा ऐसा
    जो नहीं होना चाहिए था हुआ कुछ वैसा

    एक सुबह जो निकला वो घर से तो लौट नहीं पाया
    बेरहम वक्त ने कुछ ऐसा रंग दिखाया

    देखकर पति की मृत देह, सुधबुध खो बैठी वो अपनी
    तभी कानों में पडा ये……हाय! लंबे बालों वाली है ये कुलच्छनी

    जिन लंबे बालों ने जोडा था उसका नाता
    उन्हीं को अब दिन – रात कोसा जाता

    उसके उन लंबे बालों को यूँ गुनहगार ठहराया गया
    कि पति की तेरहवीं से पहले ही सर को उसके मुँडवाया गया

    बिना किसी विरोध के करती रही सहन, उस्तरा उन बालों पर
    निर्विकार भाव से बैठी वो, देखती रही बस आखिरी नजर

    समझ नहीं पायी वो….
    क्या उसके ही लंबे बाल
    बन गए उसके पति का काल

    क्यों दिये फिर ईश्वर ने उसे ये लंबे बाल
    करती रहती है अब वो दिन – रात
    खुद से यही सवाल ।।

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