Letter Poems
A Cracked Letter
by Bharati Nayak
I chanced to see the letters,
You wrote me a long long ago,
Each alphabet,
Stood before me with an image,
That hid so many stories, and
So many tender moments of affection.
I held them in my palm,
Smelt the scent,
That was hidden under each syllable.
......
Dear Miss Emily
by James Galvin
I knew the end would be gone before I got there.
After all, all rainbows lie for a living.
And as you have insisted, repeatedly,
The difference between death and the Eternal
Present is about as far as one
Eyelash from the next, not wished upon.
Rainbows are not forms or stories, are they?
They are not doors ajar so much as far—
Flung situations without true beginnings
Or any ends—why bother—unless, as you
......
A Letter To Mahi
by Pratik Shaw
Dear Mahi,
You remember when Priyanka asked,"Pakka na bahut time hai na humare pass?". Now it feels that she was a bit wrong. But Mahi you did finish off in style, not just in the 2011 World Cup but in every match you played for the nation, for us , for Ziva. Yeah, we know that you shouldn't have been dismissed the way you were, but believe me the player who did run you out would now be saluting you and would himself see you as an inspiration.
Sorry we could not give you the chance of lifting the World Cup again but yes, I can assure you that the people you gave hope to, happiness to, will surely lift you in their shoulders and will proudly say that this right here, is our hero, our saviour, our Mahi.
And if you are thinking that this is the end, then I must tell you that you are still going to feel a lifetime of love, from your friends, your family of the 1.3 billion people and maybe even from the whole world because it is not just the game you played that made us respect you, but the hope that you gave us.
You might have won a lot of matches, but the number of hearts you won were surely uncountable and far more greater.
This World Cup people more than winning it for India, wanted to win it for you.
And from my side, I am sorry but like Sakshi, I also am not such big fan of cricket, and I usually not have the TV on when the match is played but whenever it is on, its to see you. People dont just love you for your game, but because all of us, see a version of ourselves in you, who come from middle class families where mother say to their sleeping kids, "Ye itne kam me nahi manega", where we hope to do big, to have the love you gained and rise to excellence.
Thank you Mahi for everything you gave us. I hope we, once again, could have the 'Dhoni' cheer which will be so deafening that you will hear your own heart beating the sound "Dhoni Dhoni Dhoni". We are waiting for you to show up somewhere and not "Phir Kabhi" but very soon because we are too "Besabar" to see you again with your smile .
......
From The Lost Letters Of Frederick Douglass
by Evie Shockley
Dear Daughter,
Can you be fifty-three this
month? I still look for you to peek around
my door as if you'd discovered a toy
you thought gone for good, ready at my smile
to run up and press your fist into my
broken palm. But your own girls have outgrown
such games, and I cannot pilfer back time
I spent pursuing Freedom. Fair to you,
to your brothers, your mother? Hardly.
......
Epistle From Esopus To Maria
by Robert Burns
FROM those drear solitudes and frowsy cells,
Where Infamy with sad Repentance dwells;
Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast,
And deal from iron hands the spare repast;
Where truant 'prentices, yet young in sin,
Blush at the curious stranger peeping in;
Where strumpets, relics of the drunken roar,
Resolve to drink, nay, half, to whore, no more;
Where tiny thieves not destin'd yet to swing,
Beat hemp for others, riper for the string:
......
A Cracked Letter
by Bharati Nayak
I chanced to see the letters,
You wrote me a long long ago,
Each alphabet,
Stood before me with an image,
That hid so many stories, and
So many tender moments of affection.
I held them in my palm,
Smelt the scent,
That was hidden under each syllable.
......
A Letter To Mahi
by Pratik Shaw
Dear Mahi,
You remember when Priyanka asked,"Pakka na bahut time hai na humare pass?". Now it feels that she was a bit wrong. But Mahi you did finish off in style, not just in the 2011 World Cup but in every match you played for the nation, for us , for Ziva. Yeah, we know that you shouldn't have been dismissed the way you were, but believe me the player who did run you out would now be saluting you and would himself see you as an inspiration.
Sorry we could not give you the chance of lifting the World Cup again but yes, I can assure you that the people you gave hope to, happiness to, will surely lift you in their shoulders and will proudly say that this right here, is our hero, our saviour, our Mahi.
And if you are thinking that this is the end, then I must tell you that you are still going to feel a lifetime of love, from your friends, your family of the 1.3 billion people and maybe even from the whole world because it is not just the game you played that made us respect you, but the hope that you gave us.
You might have won a lot of matches, but the number of hearts you won were surely uncountable and far more greater.
This World Cup people more than winning it for India, wanted to win it for you.
And from my side, I am sorry but like Sakshi, I also am not such big fan of cricket, and I usually not have the TV on when the match is played but whenever it is on, its to see you. People dont just love you for your game, but because all of us, see a version of ourselves in you, who come from middle class families where mother say to their sleeping kids, "Ye itne kam me nahi manega", where we hope to do big, to have the love you gained and rise to excellence.
Thank you Mahi for everything you gave us. I hope we, once again, could have the 'Dhoni' cheer which will be so deafening that you will hear your own heart beating the sound "Dhoni Dhoni Dhoni". We are waiting for you to show up somewhere and not "Phir Kabhi" but very soon because we are too "Besabar" to see you again with your smile .
......
Epistle To Mrs. Scott Of Wauchope House
by Robert Burns
GUDEWIFE,I MIND it weel in early date,
When I was bardless, young, and blate,
An' first could thresh the barn,
Or haud a yokin' at the pleugh;
An, tho' forfoughten sair eneugh,
Yet unco proud to learn:
When first amang the yellow corn
A man I reckon'd was,
An' wi' the lave ilk merry morn
Could rank my rig and lass,
......
Epistle From Esopus To Maria
by Robert Burns
FROM those drear solitudes and frowsy cells,
Where Infamy with sad Repentance dwells;
Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast,
And deal from iron hands the spare repast;
Where truant 'prentices, yet young in sin,
Blush at the curious stranger peeping in;
Where strumpets, relics of the drunken roar,
Resolve to drink, nay, half, to whore, no more;
Where tiny thieves not destin'd yet to swing,
Beat hemp for others, riper for the string:
......
From The Lost Letters Of Frederick Douglass
by Evie Shockley
Dear Daughter,
Can you be fifty-three this
month? I still look for you to peek around
my door as if you'd discovered a toy
you thought gone for good, ready at my smile
to run up and press your fist into my
broken palm. But your own girls have outgrown
such games, and I cannot pilfer back time
I spent pursuing Freedom. Fair to you,
to your brothers, your mother? Hardly.
......
