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Poetry: A Logic Or Philosophy

Poetry is a blend of Logic and Philosophy

Picture credit_pixabay

So our lovely readers, the masters of logic and the hidden lovers of philosophy. Do you mind calling a poetry ” the stanzas containing logic” or you would oppose this and retain the defination of poetry as ” the stanzas containing philosophy” ?

Well, in my case I won’t mind calling a poetry as the collection of logical stanzas expressed in the words of philosophy!
I will tell you the reason…

Sci-fi Vs Poetry:

You often read sci-fi and those who find you reading such books, consider you as a person with brain and logic. Now what I wonder is logic in these sci-fi novels. Are they really factual scripts?

If you really think that creating suspense in a novel with a sci-fi story by introducing super powers is an art, then I appreciate your sense of logic. Yes, I really do!!

Reading and writing poetry is often considered as an absurd job as poetries are substances of no logic. Then what explains the logic through a sci-fi?

I often hear that poetries are imagination of a poet, they are philosophical substances without any logic.

This makes me wonder if poetries are philosophy and philosophy does not relate to logic, then everything the philosphers explained about the world, the universe etc. are absurd. Right?

I personally love reading sci-fi novels, but I find them contradictory to be called as “factual”. The writers of such scripts are artists but they are not true authors.

I once read an interview of a sci-fi writer who admited that sci-fi writers are not true authors.

Poetries are result of inspiration

A poetry is inspired by something. This inspiration can be a gift of love for a person, love for the nature, love for religion, faith etc.

Besides, a poetry is an expression of what the poet is going through, or what a person, a human being suffering from that situation might be feeling at that moment!

So poetries are inspire the life of people. They are probably not a result of intellect but they’re the part of what that person with intellect might be going through.

Perspective of literature

Poetries, in many senses, represent a different perspective of literature. But this perspective is often not accepted.

Most of the perspectives of literature are represented through fictions or novels. But the touch that a narrative song provides to the piece of work, is above all the other means of expression.

They are stories, but they are able to be sung. So they have the power to occupy a special room in our mind and heart as well.

In Nutshell

Actually, I personally love to read poetries. So, my reasons won’t end at all!! But one thing I must mention. And that is the way you put yourself. What do you think, why people listen to someone and ignore the other one? Even though the second person speak the same words, he’s being ignored.

So it all depends on the way you put yourself.

The same goes with the readers and writers. You will be read till your style of writing attracts the reader.

Simply speaking, songs are loved because they bind the listeners. Similarly, stories are read because they bind the readers.

So if you have the capacity to mix both the song and story phenomena in your writing, don’t you think it would attract readers!!

I agree that everything it won’t work, but you can try it atleast in an informal way.

So yes! If anything has the tendency to bind a person in its words, it has to contain something logical inside it.

And still if you believe it to be a bunch of philosophies, then I would love to let you know that “Poetry is a blend of logic and philosophy”.

It literally has the characteristic to make you fall for it everytime you read it.

So that’s all for today. I didn’t wish to be dogmatic in my arguments. But if I did, I heartily apologize!!

Love you all and wish you a very happy Diwali eve,

To Success: A Poetry

Success too, is a love

Image credit_pixabay

I came to you
Or you came to me,
What the world finds true
Isn’t what I wish to see.

I ran into you
Or you ran into me,
What these roads find true
Isn’t what I wish to see.

Yes I’ve awaited you
But you too, did the same,
I found you as the god’s clue
But you too, were a player of this game.

I hit you harder
Or you crumbled me into a fist,
Which of these hurt louder
Is either a riddle or a twist.

This story was a conspiracy
Or this conspiracy was my destiny,
Or both have come to visit me,
for this life was a tyranny!

For so many times
My love was Cursed,
But I never stopped making my rhymes,
For this heart was still not bruised.

A day or two passed as waves
And my head was still awake,
Who told you that a sunset saves
The cursed soul beside the lake?
The water will make you sweat
And the darkness will let you brake,
Once you leave your heart
These people will make it shake.

Millions of albatross will come
But no one will bring my luck,
And I know it well,
For everytime I wished to climb,
I was forced to fell.

But now that I know
You’re useless without me,
So what I believe is true
Is what I wish to see.

Who ran into whom
Is nothing to do with me,
You’re bound to follow this lady,
For that’s what I wish to see.

I’ve seen you with so many ladies,
Hugging you in front of me,
But you’ll dream of my soul,
For that’s what I wish to see.

Neither the albatross can bring you here,
Nor this luck is bound to tear
My destiny apart from you,
For this world will see what I’d wished to be true.

So guys, this was something after a very long time and we really apologise for this. We will definitely try to be active after this.
Talking about the poetry, it might appeal to be a love poetry dedicated to a person or the writer’s beloved (most probably). But this time, it’s a twist!!
Guess what??
It’s a poetry dedicated to success. Or more precisely, a work of apostrophe. So it becomes quite easy too, as you are completely aware that no counter argument is gonna come from the other side. A completely dogmatic conversation..hope you enjoy it and keep challenging your success to follow you. We just wanted to twist your mind by giving such a title to our poetry, so thanks for reading it till the end!!

With lots of love,

Journey Of My Life: A Poetry

Is your journey going well?

So dear lovely readers,
Hope you are doing well.. This day literally seems like, this is about journey, the journey of life, which has to come to an end someday and all our wishes have to die with this body. This short poetry is about how we turn helpless once this body leaves our soul. We even don’t have the right to choose the colour of our shroud.
And most importantly, this poetry is not just about our helplessness but also an imagination of that another world and its beauty. It is an imagination of how this world would look from there..so let’s see the whole image through these lines..

Journey of life is a lonely path full of aloneness

PC: Pixabay _image

Here This Journey Goes

Sometimes, I wonder how beautiful it would be to be dead..
Perhaps I won’t be seen in this soft bed anymore in the morning,
Perhaps I won’t be felt by those green grasses looking my way anymore in the evening,
But I’ll see the unseen peace of this world captured under my eyelids and I… I’ll be free to choose the picture, I wish to see from my captured collection.

Sometimes, I wonder how lovely it would be to see my people trying to keep me alive..
In their memories, in their dreams, in their world, in their journey.
Perhaps I won’t come to wipe their tears,
Perhaps I won’t hold them tight to feel me,
But my smile in their memories will soothe their heart
And my dreams will never let them go apart.

Sometimes, I wonder how colourful that world would be..
Which no one has ever seen,
No one has ever felt.
Perhaps the colour of this world was mine,
Perhaps my art in this world would die,
But that would be different.
And there, it would be absolutely apparent.

Sometimes, I wonder how elegant it would be to lie on a flower bed..
And it would be nothing but the watery love that they would shed.
Sometimes, I wonder how beautiful it would be to be dead..
Perhaps I will miss this soft bed,
Perhaps I will wish my shroud to be red,
But no..white would be my destiny,
As all of my journey, I have been craving for peace
So it has to be awarded to a body which is dead.

What I have been gifted with,
During all this journey of mine..
Is as glaring as a star,
Which would never loose its shine.

We hope you like our poetries and articles. If you wish to read more poetries composed by Mistella then click to our Poetries category.


Atal Bihari Vajpayee: What You Need To Know

“Some people are not dead, they live in the lines of their books,  the words that they have collected to create a masterpiece,  keep them alive forever.”

One of such wordsmiths was our former Prime Minister, Atal Bihari Vajpayee. He was a true person, a true human, a true artist and a true politician.

Born in the year 1924, Mr. Vajpayee played an important role in the Indian freedom struggle. He was a part of the Quit India Movement and was even arrested and sentenced imprisonment.

Mr. Vajpayee was the first non-congress Prime Minister, who completed his five year period in the office.

As his  political life is known to most of the people, we want you to know a bit about his artistic or poetic  life. He was literally a great orator and dedicated his life after meeting a Stroke in 2009, to his poetic life. His art of writing was beautiful, emotional and inspiring.

He always tried to give some brave message through his work. His book containing his poetries was published as ‘Meri ekyavan Kavitayen’ (My 51 poems).

His poems were so beautifully constructed that every line of it touched the heart of the reader. Unlike all other professional poets, he used to write in simple words that were easy to be understood by anyone. 

I personally love all his poems but one of them titled “Maut Se Than Gayi” is a part of my favourites list.

At the news of the death of such a great poet- politician, different person reacted in different way and even opposition parties, his competitors, are a part of this condolence. Here we present use some of these reactions:

“I visited him this morning but didn’t imagine that the end will come so soon. He is, undoubtedly, one of the tallest leaders in post- independence India..” – Mr.Naidu stated.

“Had he not taken that firm stand, I would not have become the Speaker. Not just that, I could reach the position of Chief Minister of Maharashtra due to the BJP’s and Vajpayee’s support..”- Mr. Joshi told a Marathi news channel.

“Atalji emerged as a popular national leader who believed that power is a means of service and led a spotless political life without compromising on national interest. And that’s why the people across political and social boundaries showered him with love and respect..”- Mr. Shah tweeted.

“His captivating leadership qualities, mesmerising oratory, soaring patriotism and above all, his sterling humane qualities like compassion, humility and his remarkable ability to win over adversories despite ideological differences have all had a profound effect on me in all my years in public life..”-Mr. Advani said.

“Am deeply saddened. A great loss for India..”-Kejriwal tweeted.

“Extremely sad to hear of the passing of Shri Atal Bihari Vajpayee, our former Prime Minister and a true Indian statesman. His leadership, foresight, maturity and eloquence put him in a league of his own. Atalji, the Gentle Giant, will be missed by one and all..”- said President Ram Nath Kovind.

“A reasoned critique in opposition and a seeker of consensus as PM, Atal Ji was a democrat to the core. In his passing away, India has lost a great son and an era has come to an end. My deepest condolences,”-pranab mukharji, former president of India said.

“Atal Ji’s passing away is a personal and irreplaceable loss for me. I have countless fond memories with him. He was an inspiration to Karyakartas like me. I will particularly remember his sharp intellect and outstanding wit.”- Narendra Modi, our present Prime Minister expressed his mourn.

This great human being is a legend and he won’t die ever as he has made his special room in the heart of humankind. So, finally we pray his soul to rest in peace in the heaven. Probably such great people are loved by god and I truly believe that he would keep writing his poems in the heaven and god will keep listening them..

Finally, I can’t stop myself of posting his one of my favourites poem. So here it is:

मौत से ठन गई!
(Battle With Death)
ठन गई!
मौत से ठन गई!

जूझने का मेरा इरादा न था,
मोड़ पर मिलेंगे इसका वादा न था,

रास्ता रोक कर वह खड़ी हो गई,
यों लगा ज़िन्दगी से बड़ी हो गई।

मौत की उमर क्या है? दो पल भी नहीं,
ज़िन्दगी सिलसिला, आज कल की नहीं।

मैं जी भर जिया, मैं मन से मरूँ,
लौटकर आऊँगा, कूच से क्यों डरूँ?

तू दबे पांव, चोरी-छिपे से न आ, 
सामने वार कर फिर मुझे आजमा। 

मौत से बेखबर, जिंदगी का सफ़र, 
शाम हर सुरमई, रात बंसी का स्वर। 

बात ऐसी नहीं कि कोई ग़म ही नहीं, 
दर्द अपने-पराए कुछ कम भी नहीं। 

प्यार इतना परायों से मुझको मिला, 
न अपनों से बाक़ी हैं कोई गिला। 

हर चुनौती से दो हाथ मैंने किए, 
आंधियों में जलाए हैं बुझते दिए। 

आज झकझोरता तेज़ तूफ़ान है, 
नाव भंवरों की बांहों में मेहमान है। 

पार पाने का क़ायम मगर हौसला, 
देख तेवर तूफ़ां का, तेवरी तन गई। 

मौत से ठन गई।

(A battle! 
A battle with death!

I had no intention to grapple,
there was no agreement to meet at that inflexion,
Yet blocking my path, she stood there,
Seeming larger than life.

How long does death last?
A moment, perhaps two..
Life, a sequence, transcending today and tomorrow.
I’ve lived to the full,
‘ll die as I choose,
‘ll come back,
Why to fear to march on?

So, do not come creeping and quitely,
Attack from the front and then test me.
Unaware of death,
life’s journey unfolds.
Evenings sketched with dusky kohl, nights,
the rhythm of flute’s note.

I do not say no pain is there,
There’re sorrows, of my own and of the unknowns.
So much love that I earned from the aliens,
that no complain is left for my people.

I’ve faught with every challenge,
and have lightened the quenched candles in storms.
Now that it’s shaking tempest today,
my boat is a client in the arms of cyclones.

But the morale of victory,
seeing the frown of tempest,
the countenance stiffed.

A battle with death.)

I have tried to provide you a rough english translation of Mr. Vajpayee’s beautiful poem. Hope you like and understand it in whatever language you prefer to read, but all I wish is, to let you know the intensity of his love for poetries and life.


Between The Hours

Image credits: Pixabay

Between the hours,
I crossed the scorching heat and reached the bowers.

Between the hours,
I greeted the sun, a goodbye
and it went behind the towers.

Between the hours,
I saw the horizon hiding behind clouds to welcome the showers.

I watched the people rushing to some places to hide,
their office bags held tightly at their side.
I too,
rushed to my place,
but hiding from rain was not my case.

Between the hours,
I remembered of my garden
where the ground was full of flowers.
I imagined all the beauty which might have spread all around.
It would be a wonder to behold,
to see them dancing on the rain’s sound.

Between the hours,
I rushed to home almost running,
but suddenly saw the towers,
where the clouds were returning.
I got that the showers will end between hours,
and I..I won’t reach the garden to see my flowers.

But when I will ask them how did they feel,
they will respond me  blushing and sprinkling the drops of love on my cheek.

The aroma of love cooked in the garden, will be spread from the ground
and all the happiness of my flowers will be reflected in those birds’ sound.

The roses might be still dancing,
and the daffodils..they would be bouncing.

Oh! They might be  talking to the birds, but no.. I want to listen them first.

And now that the sun is back,
its heat feels like a smack.
I should rush with more pace,
as the heat may dry my wet flowers and make them upset again.
And I will keep running hours on end, like an insane.

With a puzzled mind,
I came to my place
but the garden was empty and no flowers were left.

I came to know that my Jasmine and Roses,
and all the Daffodils
dried without water before two weeks.

So, between the hours, I opened my drawers
and saw them in pictures,
as all those showers
couldn’t save my flowers.

Marriage (A Poetry)

So, we’re excited to share a short poetry-cum-story with you people, where a woman is bound to stay in a marriage just because she is a “woman”, who thinks that she loves her husband. Let’s see what exactly this love  is:

She Lives In His Wallet

He sleeps in the next room,
about five Steps from mine.
once I was a bride and he was the groom,
but then we never even sat together to dine.

He talks to her picture
which can’t speak back.
But my presence is obscure
and I’ve no one to talk about the lack.
He takes me to the shopping
but pays with the wallet where she lives.
I never dared of stopping
my husband, as it is “love” in which he believes.

It may be love
that stops me from telling him about her.
I had met her in a poetic club
where his memories still made her stir.
It hurts to be an edge of this triangle,
but my customs bind me here.
I too, wish them to make an angle
but my traditions don’t allow me to move there.

They’re childhood sweethearts, one she had told me.
I can see how desperately her eyes awaits his glimpse for once to see.
I wish if I could gain some courage
to see them together,
And free him of this cage
And let him live with her forever.

So did you like this poetry cum short story? Give your feedback in the comment box!

See you soon guys. Till then be brave and have courage to face the reality.



Relation Between Art And Artist

What is art,and who is artist? Love is art and the lover is artist. Your habit is an art and you are artist. Artists are everywhere and so the art. If you can talk, it’s your art. If you can think, it’s your art. Every creature is made by the same artist and thus, all are made artists.
Dedicating a small poetry to “you”, the artist reading this:

Art and the artist

That star twinkling in the sky
Is an artist.
The sky in itself being a lie
Is an artist.

The leaf dancing on the beat of the air
Is an artist
The air playing the tune with care
Is an artist.

The lover persuading his beloved
Is an artist.
The beloved letting him unreproved
Is an artist.

The bird flying away from the cage
Is an artist.
The cage confronting the owner’s rage
Is an artist.

The father teaching his kid to walk
Is an artist.
The kid walking away, giving him a shock
Is an artist.

An artist chooses what he is made for
And loves what is made for him.
An artist needs no people for him to adore
For, his art never let his nights turn dim.

Artists are not made
But millions of them are born every moment.
Art is their shade
And sun is just an object to pass comment.

What To Do When I Am Alone.

Being alone is the best way to live freedom. But sometimes, we mistake “aloneness” as “loneliness”, which is a call for depression and a number of negative mental conditions.
Aloneness is a state of joy, a state of fullness and a state where you are complete in yourself. You don’t need a companion to entertain or praise you anymore. You are completely aware of your praise worthy qualities and you are capable of praising yourself. While, loneliness is a stigma that tends to keep you isolated. Isolated in a world where you were born alone to enjoy your aloneness. But your stigma turns your own world seeming strange to you. You will find your surrounding begging you to remember yourself, the old you, but you will be lost in your own house.
You may think of losing yourself, and that’s fine. But why not lose ourselves in something that we never did before? Why not go on a date with silence? Trust me, silence sings better than all the singers with guitar in their hands and shouting uselessly on a mike!! Just hear the silence.
In order to let you know about the art of silence which you always ignore, we have composed a poem. So let’s jump to know a bit about silence.

Here is the poem regarding SILENCE.


I wish no birds singing in the garden,
I wish no dog barking on the road.
I wish to beg a genuine pardon
From the silence for always being ignored.

I wish no prayers on the lips,
I wish no cries on the speakers.
I wish to mute every word that slips
Off the mouth, with its venom spreading like creepers.

I wish no applause for a wonder,
I wish no praise for bravery.
I wish to go and surrender
To silence and get hung at the calvary.

I too, will beg pardon
To scare away the birds from the garden.
But I wish to hear no voice
For, the voice of silence is my only choice.

I wish to listen
To the song of silence.
Since long it’s voice is hidden
In this strange world of violence.

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