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"abhimanyu" poems
It was made of cement and lime, And expected no praise or any rhyme. It was placed in the park, Amidst few trees and growing leaves. He used to come on every twenty seventh, On dot from 6 to 8 in this heaven. He was punctual even in rain, Determined to reach the bench in pain. It was the bench who was the witness, The only witness after God’s inference. It is the bench who can answer, The repeated questions he used to repeat. He was so soft on that hard seat, And waited for that long meet. He used to be quite in his thoughts, Recollecting the moments just passed. He could speak only to his soul, Sometimes to the bench in whole. He cried inner in and outer out, On that bench his heart out. No matter what, he was always there, Be it rain, a fever, omen happening, Infected, dejected or rejected signing. He was there , yes he was there on the bench. The bench wished to speak, For it could bare no more weight, The weight of his heavy heart, And his cry for the constant try. He was told by many for its of no use, To wait for the gone and the wrong. But he was adamant to protect his chaste love, And to defend his chaste vow. After a year and after lockdown, Now the bench is empty, With no weight of him, Nor the wait of her. The bench seems to be happy for knowing, That he has learned lessons from his love. Though the bench could never speak, Yet he always heard the voice beneath. He no longer waits on the bench, Nor has any tears to shed. But he misses the bench, More than her and less than her love. Dedicated to the bench in that waiting park. Thala Abhimanyu Kumar Dated: 27/06/2020
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Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 2:07 AM UTC
The Bench Story
It was made of cement and lime, And expected no praise or any rhyme. It was placed in the park, Amidst few trees and growing leaves. He used to come on every twenty seventh, On dot from 6 to 8 in this heaven. He was punctual even in rain, Determined to reach the bench in pain. It was the bench who was the witness, The only witness after God’s inference. It is the bench who can answer, The repeated questions he used to repeat. He was so soft on that hard seat, And waited for that long meet. He used to be quite in his thoughts, Recollecting the moments just passed. He could speak only to his soul, Sometimes to the bench in whole. He cried inner in and outer out, On that bench his heart out. No matter what, he was always there, Be it rain, a fever, omen happening, Infected, dejected or rejected signing. He was there , yes he was there on the bench. The bench wished to speak, For it could bare no more weight, The weight of his heavy heart, And his cry for the constant try. He was told by many for its of no use, To wait for the gone and the wrong. But he was adamant to protect his chaste love, And to defend his chaste vow. After a year and after lockdown, Now the bench is empty, With no weight of him, Nor the wait of her. The bench seems to be happy for knowing, That he has learned lessons from his love. Though the bench could never speak, Yet he always heard the voice beneath. He no longer waits on the bench, Nor has any tears to shed. But he misses the bench, More than her and less than her love. Dedicated to the bench in that waiting park. Thala Abhimanyu Kumar Dated: 27/06/2020
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Ethics of war were not followed, Neither by the army under me, Nor by that wise commander, I shattered all the regulations, Especially the ones formulated by me. I, Đroņa, was a war criminal, They had him surrounded when I commanded Abhimanyu's killing. Classical rules of war idealized, Don't attack the outnumbered enemy, I helped form the Chakravyuha, A forbidden aggressive war formation, 'Abhimanyu' was killed by many, He was so outnumbered by our army, Đraupađi, his mother, cursed me, She cursed I'll die lamenting my son.
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Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 12:49 AM UTC
The Guilt Of Guru Đroņa
(Before read Abhimanyu was a young and great warrior of the great War of MAHABHARAT. This poem is a part of long poetry written by me and translated by karishma ji. If you all responded and want to know more about abhimanyu i post next paragraphs) THANKS KARISHMA JI FOR TRANSLATION) Poem is:- Courage knows no limits of age A battlefield has no role for cowards Those cannot struggle Who fear their own mortality Those who are cowards get scared and blame others as the cause Those who break the bounds of time Are immortalized in history There are some bounds for God and Devil However, for man, what is impossible There one such brave victor of time A warrior, a winner of hearts Arjun was his father, Subhadra his mother, The vigour of bravery runs in his bloodstream. Yudhistir and Bhim were his uncles, He was the nephew of Shri Krishna, Bhishma his grandsire His arms were made of steel, his chest was broad, His body muscular however gentleness abound At the age of sixteen he was a shining sun Drums of war were music to the ears of Abhimanyu
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Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 3:51 AM UTC
Abhimanyu (part1) :- Mohit mishra
(For better understanding read my poem Abhimanyu (part-1)) TRANSLATED BY KARISHMA JI (Thanks to her) When Kurukshetra* was burning in the flames of war God of death had opened his third eye When the heads of men were being chopped When Jackals were tearing apart the corpses on the ground When blood thirsty men were waging war against themselves When arrows notching the bow caused uncountable deaths Goddess of war was dancing on mortal bodies Wicked witches laughed at the loss of human lives Laps of mothers were suddenly empty Dust covered the parting of hair where vermilion was once applied** The fire which raged the whole nation – Bharat Was the great war, known as Mahabharat*** Earth was covered with blood and tears Chariots overran the bodies of men Warriors were trying to quench their greed Trying to slake their bloodlust These were the descendants of the same ancestor Some were younger brothers and some were their elders But brotherhood was sacrificed to statehood Eyes shone only with passionate savagery * Kurukshetra – name of a battlefield ** Traditionally, Hindu women apply vermilion to a parting of their hair after marriage *** Mahabharat – an epic narrative of the battle of Kurukshetra
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Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
Abhimamyu(part-2):- Mohit mishra
My Infinity, my love, my soul’s darkest fire, In your absence, my heart is a desolate desire. Morning sunbeams that once warmed our entwined skin, Now bring only sorrow, dear, and longing within. Chinna, your touch was honey to my lips, My girl, our love was a sweet wild eclipse. In your eyes, my heart would find a home, Dear, with you, I was never alone. Remembering the rides into sunsets, side by side, Around Gudivanka beating with pride. There were definite promises with no shame, Only love towards each other’s name. But now, bangari, you are lost in wealth and fame, Missing love, the touch and the voice which whispered my name. Do you realise, my love, what money couldn’t buy? A heart that beat for you alone, a love that said “ you are mine.” Dedicated to that longing Love. Thala Abhimanyu Kumar S Dated: 25/05/2025
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May 24, 2025
May 24, 2025 at 11:54 PM UTC
Longing Love
I saw him near this road, When I was about to board. I left him on its way, And measured my college way. It was evening when I returned, I saw him lay as in way the same way. I took pity which usually I don’t, But I couldn’t leave knowing I don’t. It was a stray one I believe, As the scars were fresh on him. With scribbling jaws he called, For this man to watch. I am not an animal lover, Trust me I am not, But I felt the blood on him, And made a move to save him. I fed him bread and I, Led him space in the entrance. With no time he started playing, And started making me special. I use to see him before, And after college hours. He was happy to see me, With that innocent face. After few days I noticed him barking, For no reason stamping. I found his eyes with an another, Yes another on the other side of the road. From that day he wouldn’t eat, Nor go for sleep be it day or long night. There was a revolt and eagerness, I understood the reason for the freedom. Though I never chained him, Nor were the gates closed. I chose to let him go, For it was the time to go. I never heard about him, For few months and days, But on my return from work, On an Autumn evening guess what? I saw him dead on the road side, With all flesh flushed. It was an accident, Yes ,it was an accident. Was my mistake to notice him? Was my mistake to feed him? Or was my mistake to let him go? I think right now I can only lament . Dedicated to the dog known and unknown. Thala Abhimanyu Kumar
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Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 2:08 AM UTC
A Dog Has Died
I saw him near this road, When I was about to board. I left him on its way, And measured my college way. It was evening when I returned, I saw him lay as in way the same way. I took pity which usually I don’t, But I couldn’t leave knowing I don’t. It was a stray one I believe, As the scars were fresh on him. With scribbling jaws he called, For this man to watch. I am not an animal lover, Trust me I am not, But I felt the blood on him, And made a move to save him. I fed him bread and I, Led him space in the entrance. With no time he started playing, And started making me special. I use to see him before, And after college hours. He was happy to see me, With that innocent face. After few days I noticed him barking, For no reason stamping. I found his eyes with an another, Yes another on the other side of the road. From that day he wouldn’t eat, Nor go for sleep be it day or long night. There was a revolt and eagerness, I understood the reason for the freedom. Though I never chained him, Nor were the gates closed. I chose to let him go, For it was the time to go. I never heard about him, For few months and days, But on my return from work, On an Autumn evening guess what? I saw him dead on the road side, With all flesh flushed. It was an accident, Yes ,it was an accident. Was my mistake to notice him? Was my mistake to feed him? Or was my mistake to let him go? I think right now I can only lament . Dedicated to the dog known and unknown. Thala Abhimanyu Kumar
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It is okay for it is today, You may be sad or bad, Happy or frustrated, Too deep or concentrated, Remember or trying to forget, Cherish or regret. Let this day make you proud, Put you in guilt or keep you still. Just laugh aloud or cry silently, Feel sorry or smile patiently. Forget your present for a moment, For a day, this day. It is good to remember your past, Remember the best and worst memories. It is good to be sad, And it is good to know, You are still intact. Yes, there are no more proposals, No more expectations, No more United but, Its fine to be nostalgic, For today, this day. It’s fine to be ashamed, Once in a while, And to run from the past, But remember it was you there, It was you who experienced. No matter what you are today, What you want to become tomorrow. It’s all fine to do this once in a while, Once in a month, one day, this day. Dedicated to past in my present. Thala Abhimanyu Kumar Dated: 27/05/2020
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Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 12:11 AM UTC
Once In A Month
As I grow closer to her, Curiously and impatiently, I can feel the touch, Her pied beauty very much. She is of variety, In her colours in abundance, So subtle in nature, Lies her beauty in mighty. There is wide space in her heart, Which can shelter my love and art. For the creator created her first, And she is never here to impress. I wish to settle in her, For as many days I live. Yes, I want to keep her love within, And Alas! It’s a way of being. Dedicated to her abundance love. Thala Abhimanyu Kumar Dated: 20/07/2020
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Jul 20, 2020
Jul 20, 2020 at 3:15 AM UTC
Love In Abundance