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........A CHANCE

You frowned at me,

I gave smile a chance…

Luck decided to abandon me,

I gave labour a chance.

Love chose to forsake me,

I gave life a chance.

All good things came back to me,

I gave Death a chance....

Comments

Thousif Raza said…
...it seemed nice but... why... i dont understand.............
IcE MaiDeN said…
I doubt if anyone understood more of this poem than I did.

Absolutely wonderful. :)

Luv,
Annie.
Ria said…
nicely written but cudnt get why the last line!?
Tulika said…
Wonderful indeed!

And I take the last line in real positive way..

Powerful Verse!
Chocolate Lover said…
woOoOow!
AWESOME.
LOVED IT :)
Vinz said…
Oops...

Certain things indeed come late..

well written...

Vinz :)
ABHISHEK SiM said…
i can only imagine the depths by looking at the surface. too profound. inspiring. prophetic.
freelancer said…
this is amazing stuff

deeply serious stuff but well on target
anubhavb said…
Nice but the last two lines are quite confusing...

I guess the open interpretation adds to the beauty of the verse.
Mayz said…
niceeeeeeeeeee!!!
Gagan said…
This is bloddy good....and sad!
ANWESA said…
@thousif,
well,somethings are not meant to be understood...was glad that you read me well..
ANWESA said…
@ice maiden,
thanks!!
ANWESA said…
@ria,
hmm..many seem not to get it...
ANWESA said…
@tulika,
thanks!!!
ANWESA said…
@vinz,
thanks...
ANWESA said…
@freelancer,
thanks for saying that...
ANWESA said…
@anubhavb,
nice to see you here....
ANWESA said…
@mayz,
thanks!!!!
ANWESA said…
@gagan,
thanks !!

it was great to hear from you...
Jogeshwar said…
profound.. yes. i agree with Abhishek
ANWESA said…
@Jogi,
I guess that runs in the Montfortian blood. Thanks again !

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I CANNOT REMEMBER MY MOTHER ~ Rabindranath Tagore

I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.


I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.


I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
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I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.