Poetry Spotlight: Pam Handa on Dreams

Hi, readers!  We have a real treat in store for you today, a poetry spotlight.  In these poetry spotlights today and in the future, we will be showcasing poetry by some very talented poets.  These poets have graced us with their presence.  

With us today is poet Pam Handa.  Here is a little taste of her poetry and her views on dreams.




Dreams


Dreams are made of tinsel fairy tales

Told in distant lands o'er hills and dales.

One's subconscious mind they race to embrace,

Yet suddenly they disappear without a trace.

These prisoners on parole are larger than life itself,

No wonder we place them on its top-most shelf.

The compelling power that on us they exert

Makes humanity reality long to forever desert.

In sorrow they make us see life's varied dimensions;

In joy they take us to ride rosy reflections.

They can make us feel springtime in freezing winter

Or carry us to the North Pole in the midst of summer.

These radiant birds blatantly lie to one and all,

Who often in life's journey are about to fall,

And need to clutch on to their flighty wings,

For all the hope their awesome magic brings.





                     Dreams and Realities


Realities are the opposite things-

To dreams well known for sharper stings.

Between success and failure making one swing,

With sadness unwanted changes they ring.

They're made of strange stuff that drags one down

To earth tearing one's imaginary fancy gown.

The fall from above makes it crystal clear,

It is realities not dreams one has to fear.

Both open the doors to infinite possibilities-

In their own domain expose countless abilities.

They make Heaven and Hell blossom on this earth,

Distributing tears sometimes, but oftentimes mirth.

Both have a daily pass on life's express train,

They are regular travelers sunshine or rain.

Both come and go as and when they please,

For us earthly beings they are a terrible tease.


                       


Where?

Where did we meet the first time?

In dreams of course!

Where have we been since then?

In realities for sure!

Where will we be tomorrow?

Who cares be it with joys or sorrow
 

Poet Bio

My name is Pam Handa nee Kochhar. I was born in New Delhi but have spent most of my life in Ghana and the UK. I graduated from the Sacred Heart College Dalhousie, in India. I received my Masters degree from the Punjab University as well as a gold medal for coming first. I started my teaching career in the English Dept of the same university. I married Dr Prem Handa, a Paediatrician, in 1968 and in 1972 we emigrated to Ghana. Today, I am the author of two books recently published by Trafford in the USA. 




Of Kismet and Karma, my first novel, is a cross-cultural blend of fact and fiction, based on my personal experiences in India, Ghana and the UK. My anthology of poems is entitled Wings of the Heart. Both books are available on Amazon.com, as E-books and in all Barnes and Nobles shops. The EBOOKS are really cheap. Get hold of them and spend time on going back to all that stirs the very soul!



Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/PAM-HANDA-NEE-KOCHHAR/121487404694554

Twitter:  @handapam
 


Books:


http://www.amazon.com/Of-Kismet-Karma-Cross-Cultural-Self-Discovery/dp/1466967951/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1373653884&sr=8-1&keywords=Pam+Handa 



 http://www.amazon.com/Wings-Heart-An-Anthology-poems/dp/1466970359/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1373653884&sr=8-2&keywords=Pam+Handa
 

1 comment:

  1. Soul To Heaven

    It was the sound of her last word
    I listened to and just had heard
    Before to God she soon did go
    Leaving me on earth here below.

    Many memories of her came to me
    Which I wanted to be reality
    But would pass by and not last;
    All had become part of the past.

    Away to heaven and God she's gone
    And near pond was doe with fawn
    Reminding me much of my mother
    Who I always loved like no other.

    By has past with all the time in it
    Which in future will eventually fit
    When the day was done at its end
    And message to mother I will send.

    Mom much I still love you so
    And always tried to make you know
    So much to me, you have meant;
    Your soul to heaven by God was sent.

    ReplyDelete

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