Macchars don’t wear sweaters


Posted on: December 30, 2009

love is not a pair of scales,
virtue and vice, weighed on each side,
a tipping for virtue, rewarded with love,

for which cheated wife, did not forgive her mate?
which coldly spurned lover, did not think twilight thoughts of his beloved?
and sigh, at what may have been, and might still be (oh, desperate hope)
which mother, did deny her comforting womb, to her murderer son?

love, rather, is a fickle little devil,
inclined towards beauty and power,
but not always,
it owes no’one nothing,
not as true as it is made out to be,
but all consuming,
for a time at least,
till it renews its search for a muse,

so stop playing your game of “should”,
as that is not love’s game.
stop harping upon your graces,
and curse the sky,
because love never was about deserving was it?

12 Responses to "Love"

Wow! Wow! Wow!

This is incredible! I love this love poem! 🙂

Man, how *do* you make it look so damn effortless?

Dost, y\the writer in you is achieving one milestone after the other. Keep writing more often

brilliant!! bestest,, my fav,

t.h.i.s. i.s. b.r.i.l.l.i.a.n.t.

more of this, please!

Very, very good stuff. Keep them coming!

One thing I like about your new “realistic” style is the shift from continuity of supercillious sarcasm, a kind of restraint and moderation, a greater boldness of self disclosure, One can call a stone a stone and that’s it. Ernest Hemingway, I am sure you know was a master of the plain and staccato style of writing.

“Every man speaks and writes with intent to be understood; and it can seldom happen but he that understands himself, might convey his notions to another, if, content to be understood, he did not seek to be admired; but when once he begins to contrive how his sentiments may be received, not with most ease to his reader, but with most advantage to himself, he then transfers his consideration from words to sounds, from sentences to periods, and, as he grows more elegant, becomes less intelligible.”
Johnson: Idler #36 (December 23, 1758)

Hi Pankaj……i really loved this poem! In such simple lines, you said so much!

which coldly spurned lover, did not think twilight thoughts of his beloved?
and sigh, at what may have been, and might still be (oh, desperate hope)


I am quoting this poem on my blog.

Hi Pankaj 🙂

Long time!

You too have stopped blogging? Howz life?

hi japinder. look who is talking. well, ive been uninspired lately. but i do have a couple of blog entries in the works 🙂 how are you?

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