Contents Read the poem About the poet Summary ‘My grandmother’s House’ is a nostalgic poem penned down by the popular Indian author and poet Kamala Das. In this poem, the poet pours down her heartfelt remembrance of the days spent… Read More »Analysis of ‘My Grandmother’s House’ by Kamala Das
Palem Apokpi, mother who gave birth to me, to be a man how I hated leaving home ten years ago. Now these hills have grown on me. But I’m still your painfully shy son with a ravenous appetite, the boy… Read More »A poem for Mother by Robin S Ngangom
Not once can I sayI am the captainbehind this wheel of fire.I remember misplacinga bronze bellsomewhere, sometime.I left behind many untended hearths.Rushing back I discoveredsomething had changed me.I can sayI am this or that,that I envied the characterof water and… Read More »The Strange Affair of Robin S. Ngangom by Robin S. Ngangom
I remember the night my mother was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours of steady rain had driven him to crawl beneath a sack of rice. Parting with his poison – flash of diabolic tail in the dark room –… Read More »The Night of the Scorpion by Nissim Ezekiel
It started as a pilgrimage Exalting minds and making all The burdens light, The second stage Explored but did not test the call. The sun beat down to match our rage. We stood it very well, I thought, Observed and… Read More »Enterprise by Nissim Ezekiel
Her hair was black as a raven’s wings, Her cheek the tulip’s hue did wear, Her voice was soft as when night winds sing, Her brow was as a moonbeam fair; Her sire had joined the wake of war;- The… Read More »An Orphan Girl by HLV Derozio
There is a house now far away where onceI received love……. That woman died,The house withdrew into silence, snakes movedAmong books, I was then too youngTo read, and my blood turned cold like the moonHow often I think of goingThere,… Read More »My Grandmother’s House by Kamala Das
I don’t know politics but I know the names Of those in power, and can repeat them like Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru. I am Indian, very brown, born in Malabar, I speak three languages,… Read More »An Introduction by Kamala Das
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which… Read More »Death be not Proud by John Donne
As the slave departs, the Man returns- Campbell How felt he when he first was told A slave he ceased to be How proudly beat his heart, when first He knew that he was free! To noblest feelings of the… Read More »Freedom to the Slave by Henry Derozio
