POETS’ CORNER

Poems foreverPoet of the week – Robert Browning Robert Browning was born on May 7, 1812 in Camberwell, London, to Robert and Sarah Anna Browning. He was inspired by the works of Shelley. In 1833, Browning anonymously published his first work, Pauline. Some of his famous works include Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came (1855), My Last Duchess (1842), Pippa Passes (1841), Dramatic Lyrics (1842), Dramatic Romances and Lyrics (1845), and The Bishop Orders His Tomb (published with Dramatic Romances and Lyrics). Browning finest work is considered to be Men and Women, a collection of poems dedicated to Elizabeth.Browning married Elizabeth Barrett, a poet, in 1846. The couple moved to Florence, Italy, and had a son three years later. In 1861, Elizabeth died and Robert and their son moved back to London. On December 12, 1889, Robert Browning died in Venice, the same day that the final volume of Asolando was published. He was later buried at the Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey, London.Who?By Mashaal FaridCouldn’t look back, running fast forward And it ran after me; Grey and hollow shellWhile I stumbled upon a rockHorrified; I tried looking backCrack sounds and open woundsShrieking, shrilling, and skin shreddingBut why is it so?That triggered this sight...A sense of my lost lemanIs it really the haunting ghost?Or am I the hunting demon?Sunflower By Ayesha NadeemThere she was,Draped in a blanket of golden sunshine,Stretching her arms in bed,Ready to blossom. LifeBy Fatima Zohra FarooqiMaybe life is shards of glass And I,I am but a hopeless wanderer Looking for all the pieces To join together And try,Try to make sense of what it’s about But all these shards have sharp edges And all,All I can fathom till now is that It hurts.....But maybe one day When I am done joining All the pieces together Would it seem beautiful,Making this journey worth it.JoyBy Mehma Kunwar I have seen dead hearts and dead homeswrapped tactfully with carnival garlands,echoing sounds of laughter, signalling the presence of life. so don’t mind me when I say joy is exactly as blind as love.A hundred winters in our heartsBy Sa’ad NazeeriHave you ever felt friendless?I have, it feels like a Romantic Breaking out of Puritan prisonThe freedom gained from this oppression Goes uncelebrated Into your countenance it creepsCeases the vagrant eye to wanderSmiles steal away The Frank-Slade air appears on your faceThen feels as if we’re oppressed By the same freedom we fought forFrivolous eves and frivolous morns Pass without any stirs or stormsSo does one delirium Only to come backAt the blink of a momentThe moment that makes you unassailable The moment that tempts you to go aloofBut the moment lasts not longerThan a single-night-blooming cereusThe need yet again oars us back Into the uninviting bosoms- Of our sweets and amigos.Disrelish is a heartache; Love is a heartacheAh! The contrast between the two.Flames of thoughtsBy Ali Asghar GhaniBurning down of words in the mouthproducesflames of thoughts in the mindCompiled by SKKindly send your contibutions at: uspoetscorner@gmail.com

from The News International - US http://bit.ly/2HeoO42