Dry judai branches and flowers, we grow and fall, if you come, let's talk… If you wake up raw and sleepy with the dust of your footsteps, you will come and talk. Seven boys plucked the bubbles, the dry branches of judai sprouted in the sea, we grew and fell, the forest was drowned by the path, and we stood on the bank and sang in the memory of Gulmahor at night and tears were shed in memory! Who knows why now Zazhun Jirwaye, diey die to koi mariee… The branch of dry judai will grow and fall… – Anil Joshi Lakar- The entire poem is a beautiful reflection of the pain of the creator! Everyone comes, but the one who should come, who can be called 'you' with love, is the longing of the man throughout the poem! In Phagan the branch is withered and the flower is blooming and withering. Also, where do flowers end up in the news? He believes in the growth of the skin and the fall of the skin! An artist's voice is loud, his words are true, but he has to spend time waiting for what he wants to say and to whom he wants to say it. Talks have to be done but time is spent waiting for someone to listen. Phagan is the blooming season. Fall has come in the season of bloom. It has come to feel like 'falling' to live and 'to live'. Sleepy but was asleep – who is it? Living in illusion, when will we serve awareness? The awareness of the creator is also manifested in art itself. When he comes to understand the art as his own, he eats the child's mood by weaving five-seven bubbles on the edge of the art creation. On the way of Adabid trail, there are jungles. It seems that steps are taken and after the steps are taken, the back road is erased! Miracle will be the name of this. Ask the one who loves the heat of Gulmahor, the work of tears! The idea of dying leads to living. This is the state of the creator in every human being. He who wants to live has to love Virah. That which is eternal is Virah. No one has come and the time to wait for it becomes present even after it has arrived. We breathe a stale sigh of fresh living daily, because we wait for ourselves. There is a hidden confidence in this poem of affirmation of life. Everyone has a diary of things that have been going on in their minds before someone comes and talks between them. Anil Joshi is an accomplished poet. Let's enjoy more with his second song. We melted the snow birds, brother, bit by bit. We will uncover the deadly summer floating in the loo, the drops of the melting body will cover the lotus petals. Leaving behind the falling feathers left Bappor! We melted the snow birds, brother, bit by bit. Let there be marbles between the green and dry forest, if the evening falls in the sky, let it be golden. Night fell and cuckoos flew over the branches, we snowbirds melted, brother. }
Image Credit: (Divya-Bhaskar): Images/graphics belong to (Divya-Bhaskar).
Life's Nod Poem: Two Words Interspersed Dior…
