Embracing the Tepid ‘Fall’!

If writing a poem is a difficult task, reviewing it is even more difficult! Very few people can do poetry while many people can love poetry. Since the appreciators are many, one would think that it is quite easy to note down some appreciatory thoughts and remarks. However, putting these very thoughts in a neat and sequential manner and coming up with an effective review can be as hard as correctly expressing a sudden joy, or ecstasy.

In today’s edition, I present to you an unpublished work of an excellent poet of my generation – his name is Dr. Rabinarayan Dash. Dr Dash is a medical practitioner by profession and a poet by passion. The poem that I am sharing with you propagates so much love, and so much fragrance inside me that, despite facing a lot of challenges, I hope to come up with a good salutation in the end. Such is the power of this piece of marvel!


I start from where I ought to start. The entire poem is first shared. After that there will come a short appreciation – in my own words, and in my own expression.


The poem, the verses:

On the body of the leaf of the autumn

the dew has gathered its strength

and it has tried to reflect

the multicolored self.


Coming down a step I could stand and stare

I could feel the walls of colors

and float in the river of desire.


The dew touches the fingers of the sun

and reflects back my sordid images

I am trying to find a way out of despair

that has settled in the soul's deeper layer.


[13 October 2015, Poetry by: Dr Rabinarayan Dash]

The skeleton, the craft:

Autumn is real, autumn is true, and autumn is tough! On one hand it extinguishes joy, and on the other hand, it brings us face to face with reality. When autumn is expressed through literature, it must be an experience. A quality poem has its language, its pulsating tune, its water-tight meter, its subtle rhythm and its lilting rhyme. These qualities are present in abundance or in proportion in a poem. The poem above is an enriching example of what a perfect poetry could possibly be. All the verses are independent, but similarly lyrical. The words are selected with great care, there is equal balance on each side of the lines in each of the verses. It seems to be not an ounce more or an ounce less when it comes to holding on to the balance. A quick soft reading of the word-string thus evokes precise rhythm.


The imagery, the soul:
A genuine poet, who knows the craft, knows that craft alone will not make his day! This is as true as it gets. A poem – in its proper and beautiful form – is very different from prose, not just in terms of its constitution, but also in terms of its hidden imagery. Imagery blended with craft makes a poem a poem. Going back to where I started, autumn is a gateway to hollowness. But in this piece, the poet has set out to present some other elements of the ‘fall’. He brings in a symbol, which in this case is a dew drop. The dew comes through as an element of connection between the perceptive world and the seasonal world. It is, as though, connecting two worlds through two different thoughts. Dew is ‘the lively unit’ that can reflect, color, glitter, touch, spread and bind emotions. By doing these, it is creating an imagery – as does a rhododendron in the Arctic stretch or a cactus in the desert field. The perception – human and earthly perception – needs this tool. The dew comes in all seasons, but perhaps, it is during an autumn day that its prominence is felt the most. If that was not the case, how would an ordinary human gather enough strength to counter a haunting autumn day? How could it see the last ray of hope brought about by the crimson ray of the shining autumn sun?






Though any writing is incomplete without an inference, poetry is often made to stay incomplete and unconcluded. A major reason for this is – poetry is as unpredictable as the nature. That is why even ‘fall’ could be celebrated, for, celebration through poetry is a contradictory experience. In that contradiction lies the delicacy, grace and charm of literature. This simple fact is what poetry lovers fail to jot down, even though they can very well appreciate it.

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