POEM FOR FRIENDS

            The Mirror I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful ‚ The eye of a little god, four-cornered. Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness separate us over and over. Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish. by Sylvia Plath

    The Solitary Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands: A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings?— Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending;— I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The

        The Road Not Taken  Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. ~by Robert Frost

    T.S ELIOT PRELUDES 1 The winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o’clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a gusty shower wraps The grimy scraps Of withered leaves about your feet And newspapers from vacant lots; The showers beat On broken blinds and chimney-pots, And at the corner of the street A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps. And then the lighting of the lamps. by T.S ELLIOT

“Joy whose hands are ever at his lips; bidding adieu Where beauty cannot keep its lustrous eyes Or new love pine at them beyond tomorrow” by john keats

SONNET xxviii Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st; So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. by william shakespeare

ABOUT POET Harivansh rai bachhan is one of the greatest poet of india . He had written too many Famous Hindi poems , His poem are heart touching.He is best known for his writing “ Madhushala ”,” Madhubala ”, ” Satarangini ” ,” Tera Haar ” etc..He is also father of amitabh bachhan and grandfather of abhishek bachhan. In 1976 he received padam bhusan for his Hindi Literature. Here on this site poemforfriends.blogspot.com , I have published his Famous friendship poem  ...मै यादों  का किस्सा खोलूँ तो, Harivansh Rai Bachhan's poem on FRIENDSHIP in Hindi      ...मै यादों  का     किस्सा खोलूँ तो,     कुछ दोस्त बहुत     याद आते हैं.... ...मै गुजरे पल को सोचूँ     तो, कुछ दोस्त     बहुत याद आते हैं....   _...अब जाने कौन सी नगरी में,_ _...आबाद हैं जाकर मुद्दत से....😔_ ....मै देर रात तक जागूँ तो ,     कुछ दोस्त      बहुत याद आते हैं.... ....कुछ बातें थीं फूलों जैसी, ....कुछ लहजे खुशबू जैसे थे, ....मै शहर-ए-चमन में टहलूँ तो, ....कुछ दोस्त बहुत याद आते हैं. _...सबकी जिंदगी बदल गयी,_ _...एक न

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