Creation and Criticism

Dr R.P. Singh (Ravindra Pratap Singh) is a Professor of English at the Department of English and Modern European Languages, University of Lucknow. As a creative writer, his plays— Flea Market and other Plays (2014), Ecologue (2014), When Brancho Flies (2014), Shakespeare ki Saat Ratein (2015), Antardwand (2016), Cahudah Farvari (2019), Chain Kahan ab Nain Hamare (2018) have received critical acclaim and popularity. Banjaran : The Muse (2008), Cloud , Moon and a Little Girl (2017), Pathik and Pravah (2016), Neeli Aankhon Wali Ladki (2017), Adventures of Funny and Bana (2018), The World of Mavie (2020), Two Violet Flowers (2020) represent his poetry. He is the recipient of thirteen awards like Swami Vivekanand Youth Award– Life Time Achievement 2020, ACCLAIM Award, Mohan Rakesh Puraskar (2016), S.M. Sinha Smiriti Award (2017) and Bhartendu Harischandra Award (2017) for his creative writing. Shikshak Shree Samman was conferred upon him by Government of U.P. in 2015 for innovations in teaching and commendable contribution in Higher Education. He can be contacted at rpsingh.lu@gmail.com

1. The Words

May the words move

straight , as they are,

in your cyber world

via dingy locks of memory lane!

Media meddles like Maya

to make them meek

under your mesmerism,

my affluence !

You’ve set the form abstract

no picture seen ,

as you , perhaps deter

the encroachments small.

Visible I feel your warmth,

these midnight moments,

of dedication and penance

yet no chance –

of the grace , eternal glance!

2. Six A.M. After So Long

Six a.m. after so long

we ,in slumber ,lulled to bed

nature in its fullest of the bloom

senses that claim, morning ups

yes , blues in hang ,

drag the charm apart .

A muffled up sight

sequestered to wet,

a heartless customs as they know .

The waves of pangs

yet the moistened course

to know ,

only some beverage to let it go ,

all humdrum … weight and box

says chum on phone,

this afternoon .

Rolling -trolling the rings now shed

the niche that was put on crest

six a.m. after so long !

Nature berserk as it was over

the charms yet refuse to bear the thud.

3. With Dried Up Eyes

With dried up eyes

this July,

visions are still sharp.

They move around

this up and down

but the grass is still parched .

Too much screen

has eaten up green

things come

so virtual,

six months so rolled

that waits in

nature

that used to be often real.

4. The Channels New

Petals so spread

in the warmth of

the rays ,

that eternal source

the giver of essence .

Petals so grew

in sun and rain

facing tremors and droughts

manifold .

A little bud

under the censors of a dreary insect

sustains to prevail

a game of faith .

A bond unsaid,

a bond unseen

a bond just felt .

It renews, yet a new pledge

every new day

and proclaims -

no strictures on us.

Friends,

every close of the day

with convictions a new

and a bond ,something freshly done .

This darker phase empowered

yes, strengthened

the soul ,begins the channels new …

in super order-

a Structure…the eternal essence.

5. They, Yet Smile

I sensed your brains

of me washing the script away -

you meant it that day.

Truth of course-

and a true comment .

May the words could narrate

the power latent ,

and the expanse infinite.

Who’s to sense ,

who’s to check

and who’s to pick ,

just concerns soft ,

sulky yet strange .

Words too carry sects

and colours,

channelize investiture,

are graded

in cadre,

and in caste.

They yet smile

and wash the layers off.

But what for,

you know,

the eyes,

the ears

the glances

the connotations

so on ....