A Dewdrop Ghazal


Get me worms of silk for the runes and a dewdrop,
Seven folds of veil for a cocoon and a dewdrop.

The mirror is in youth, and the jasmine in bloom,
Smoky is the kohl like the moon in a dewdrop.

Someone chiselled a solitaire on the finger of my beloved,
I will dance with her shadow on the lagoon of a dewdrop.

A pack of wolves ravaged a blossom last darkness,
The sword of law is a tender harpoon of a dewdrop.

The toccata of rain on the tin top all night,
The destitute feast in spittoons and a dewdrop.

Zealots of a toy god slaughter real people,
And soar to the heavens on balloons of a dewdrop.

Uma, give us bread and justice unfettered,
Dreams of life fade in the noon like a dewdrop



  1. This one is a sad ghazal Umashankar ji depicting the sad state of affairs prevalent in society a ghazal ful of heartbreak and sorrow

    Dreams of life fade in the sand like a dewdrop.

    Innovative , poetry touching thoughts —thanks for sharing

  2. You didn’t do the formal penultimate rhymes, but there is still much to enjoy in the sounds of this ghazal —the toccata of rain on the tin top all night—for example. The imagery is so very rich, here, Uma, and full of beauty that one is happy to pause on each couplet, and return again to savor the thought or take in the sadness.

    1. I never was a stickler to rules; no wonder I gathered no moss. The spur for this ghazal wholly belongs to you, particularly to that wonderful creation, ‘The Child Inside. I was tempted to attempt the format, but just as you say, I slipped somewhere.

      1. I don’t think you slipped at all. I figured whatever you did, you did it by choice, which is a whole lot better than doing things by rote. I am honored that mine was a spur to this ghazal. It’s a beautiful poem and I hope you will write more of them like this.

        1. By the way, what I meant by the “penultimate rhyme” is the formality that before the dewdrop phrase in each of your couplets there would be a word that would carry its rhyme to every next couplet…..like pea, sea, glee, hyperbole, bumble-be…etc…in The Child Inside.

          1. I understand that goes by the name of ‘Kafiya’ and ‘a’ is a lame excuse! But I was aching to write this piece and wasn’t blessed enough to have struck the true penultimate notes. Next time my Muse comes knocking, I shall tell her this upfront.

  3. Melancholy and beautiful, Uma. My mind’s eye saw dewdrop turn to tear drop and back again. I needed this reminder that even as dreams fade like dewdrops in the sand, dewdrops will come again. Thank you, old friend.

  4. yes, sadness is there, pathos is there,cruel times and realities are there but the delicate handling make it hauntingly beautiful.Every time I will hear the sound of rain outside my window, I will see the ‘moon in a dewdrop’ …..delicate imagery stay with me for a long time.

  5. “Dreams of life fade in the sand like a dewdrop.” There is a wonderful completion to this line as my blogging days move into their final week… thanks for being that grain of sand – in the eye, under the nail…

    1. As you arrive at that imaginery point on the meridian of writing, you have also chosen to recede into silence at your blog and elsewhere; here I am, desperately looking for your footprints, stunned by the magic and imagery in the comment, perturbed by its purport, but glad that Methuselah was here.

  6. Dreams of life fade in the sand… only to sprout afresh with the first rains…

  7. The youth is in the mirror….beautiful. Reading poetry from you for the first time. Melancholic yet so refreshing.

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