Saturday, July 10, 2021

Dusky one (Shyamal Si) - A 'Poetry Film' by Meena Chopra

 

This is a translation of Hindi poem 'SHYAMAL SI' in English. It is being released on YouTube. It is a poem dedicated to the youthful spirit and aspirations of all young women stepping into womanhood. My daughter Tia's zeal, explorations and her adventurous spirit, along with her resilience, gave birth to this verse. Link to Hindi Poem: https://youtu.be/5aSigOvYqpg

Wednesday, October 14, 2020

On the occasion of #HistoricPlacesDay.


Monday, April 9, 2018

I stick to the moist damp earth
fearing devastation.

My mouth is full of clay. 
Is it the smell of the soil that I eat? 
The dry coarse earth? 
Is that me?

Monday, May 2, 2016

Monday, March 28, 2016

Confines

I sit near 
a clear flowing stream
trying to read
but my book
does not open
I try hard
eves dropping
to descending shadows
from the mountains
but it seems
my password is lost
in a dark lagoon.

Words have taken the wings
soaring,
valley below is deep
my fist is tight
eyes swollen
tired and sleepless
words are seamless.
They are lost
in a whirlpool.

Why?
Why can I not
read my book
for once at-least?

-Meena Chopra

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

The Mystery Book

I am a faceless face
in a real time display
structured and showcased
in a trendy way

Disguised 
behind the cleverly constructed images.

The shadows
constantly knock  
my doors and windows
colliding 
till they fall down
fractioned,
splitting in sharp
glassy pieces
piercing,
till I bleed.
My doors and windows are admant
they remain closed.

I am  heedless and distant.

I tweet reality every day
but I am blind to
the silent charisma,
surrounding mysteries
of my hidden mystery book.
because
I am a viral socialite
standing on a virtual plane
humanizing
a faceless face
on Facebook page. 

Post by Meena Chopra.

Monday, May 19, 2014

Reverberations


The thrills masquerade
Far away,
I shrink in a black hole,
searching?
The charismatic remote leisure,
Strengthning
facing
the deserted truth.
A plunging darkness
bare as death,

and a dot
disperses a line
in a voluminous circle,
folding the fire
a living time.
Images annihilate.
The bodyless prevails.

What was it?
That whispered
Reverberations
in a chilled silence.

From my book 'Ignited Lines'
 
Post by Meena Chopra.