Poems by Dr Lalit Mohan Sharma

Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού

Bio: Sharing English language and literature since 1973, Dr Lalit Mohan Sharma also served as Principal at government colleges like in Hamirpur and Dharmshala.
Besides being Director of HPU Regional Centre at Dharmshala, Dr Sharma has been member of NAAC’s Peer Teams. He has published poetry and novels in Hindi, and eight books of English poetry including one of translation from Zahid’s Urdu poems. Latest book is of Hindi Poetry, ‘पटल से प्रांगण तक’, Authors Press, New Delhi.  “A Little Fire”, book of English Verse will soon be out.
Dr L. M. Sharma is actively associated with NGOs like State War Memorial, Retired Professors Forum, Janchetna, as President, Dayanand Education Society, Vice- President Harmony Day Care Centre.
Dr Sharma has been anthologised in books of poetry, stories and academic research including ‘21st Century Critical Thought : A Dialogue with Post-Modern Voices, Vol I, Earth Vision. Publications.

A Country Too Many

In order to know what is in the guise
Of man, event and encounter, you got to
Surf the pattern, the posture and know
The why, the pause in time when you
Find the merry go round has you in trap.

At times you meet the man who invents
Each new day anecdotes which furnish
Fresh muscles to the telling of his life,
His image amplified though he is not
One of history but he stood by the road
Dug and laid by labour of history’s men.

Melodrama in his oration and roadshows
Devised an aura that packed such power
In his name and words as never before.

A man has too many grow within him,
Many a voice add timbre to his voice,
Words emerge from a long history and
Resonate in rhythms of his utterance.

Neither man, event nor encounter is
Just itself, but owes its being to more
Than the collective of the day can assume
To know on a day viewed as happening.
Many fall as victims in peripheral battles,
Or die unknown and unheard to history.
Then comes Gandhi, comes King Junior,
To finally fulfil Lincoln’s dream, bring
A century old revolt to final fruition.

Who Can Tell?

Wearing a red romper on a beachrock
You turned right to look at the horizon,
Sunshades perched high on the head,
Full face in half a profile, the arm fair,
Bare legs and feet bare in blue shoes.
Billowing surface of the sea is far off;
Shimmering waters turn away from
Sands barricading the sea shore.

Surfing on the sea, her mind conscious
Of the scenic spread of white in the sky,
Who can tell of what beckons her future?
What little dream she was dreaming?
As a centre of the universe, how shall
She connect with the peripheral,
And the central eminence of her world?

Of Love

Let me admit a colon, a semi- colon,
Even a sign of interrogation stare or
Exclaim in shock, surprise, sheer joy,
But never terminate with a full stop
The flow of love between me and you.

Open paragraphs could turn into pages,
A manuscript of minds out to decipher
The raw passion of one for the other,
With not a longing to possess for then
There’s not a threat of being in denial.

Like a work of art, a bonding of love
Stands apart from the rest of the world,
An isolation acts like an exclusive aura,
Words may dilute, the love gaze steers
Clear of mental walls and windows.

Love knows of pause as one between
Inhaling and exhaling of human breath.