HARJEET SINGH - POEMS

Harjeet Singh is an Indian English poet and short story writer. He has earned a Master's degree in English from his district college Hoshiarpur (Punjab). His father, Principal "Joginder Singh," was a keen lover of the English language and his guidelines have made Harjeet able to grasp some of the fundamentals of this language. His work has appeared in Indian Ruminations, Conceit magazine, Stray Branch magazine, Children Churches & Daddies,  Literary Yard, "Across the Wall" chapbook, Scarlet Leaf Review, Indian Perodical, The Enchanted File Cabinet 2018 Conceit Magazine. He is a denizen of district Hoshiarpur (Punjab).He can be approached while searching in Google "Harjeet Singh poet or poems".

​Son of a Shoeshiner

​An opulent district businessman
lunched in a restaurant,
After lunch, he tipped the waiter five rupees 
It boggled the server’s mind and he spoke,
“Sir a few days ago on this desk your son lavished
me with one hundred and fifty rupees after lunch,
“You are a captain of industry!”
Now, the businessman broke his silence
and uttered: “Of course he would pay such cash
because he is the son of a rich industrialist".
But I didn’t forget bygone days,
How poverty swallowed my father.
Wellaway! he didn’t watch my single success,
my richness!
I am a son of that poor shoeshiner 
Who on many occasions used to polish the shoes
of affluent class for nothing, gratis.
And he kept struggling to earn
five pennies a day.

In the vast lake

Man of letters enters the vast lake
with soaring hope.
In the vast lake he reads the art of
past  great personalities
Who have earned name and fame.
Over there he meets his coevals.
Being fledgling he suffers so much.
He tries to seek some place,
He does his best to swim along with  the dominants
He struggles with the storm of several waves
Some are topsy- turvy and some are so chilled.
While going in the depth of lake,
While swimming fast,
He has to save himself from sharks, crocodiles
As their attack can destruct his literary voyage
If his creative fragments are sans mentation.
In the vast lake  he encounters with the standard of language, themes, subject-matters 
and universal forms.
Besides, the tastes of audience and his own 
personal whims.
Sometimes he approaches at a distance
From where he can watch the dominant ones
from behind.
Sometimes with remorse he thinks to 
abandon all contests and competitions
In the vast lake.
Because  he lags behind.
He becomes self-distrustful.
But one thing that tortures him
why he is not among others.
Where does the fault lie?
He begins to swim again with dejected zeal
Because he is well aware, only continuous swimming could save him from drowning.
No matter he lags behind
Or at nearby area with dominants
Constant travelling can keep him in literary background.
Maybe in future some literary shark would
do the evaluation of his work and 
would discuss his art before others,
That couldn’t get full- fledged fame in bygone span.
It is an honorable point on his side
That he has joined that vast lake to which
No one can cross so easily.
One who crosses successfully, he is victorious.
He will survive after so many deaths.
Posterity would know him through verses.
So he will have to swim, to travel long.
He will have to excogitate,
He will have to delve themes.
He will have to develop creativity.
And  to nudge such inclinations
Which induce him to hunker down.




Every writer wants to appear in college or school literature but there are so many writers in the world .Who would survive like Shakespeare or other writers.So I called "In the vast lake".Everyone is writing with a point of view that his writings be read by college students in future.But out of thousands who would survive.But hope sustains life.


Sharks, crocodiles-- critics who criticise someone's art.

​Professor B.N Thapar said

​Donate books when scanned
You would not dismiss from mind
Like lala Hardayal (a scholar).

I recall my days,
Your wine mask(face), gainly profile
Like you mine was gules(red).

A well-groomed young soul,
Knack also runs parallel.
A rising genius.

Before drawn-out spell
Sir, your augury went true,
I have been bookman.

Iambics, trochee,
rhyme ballads have been my prey
And vice-versa.

Besides, I have made
A personal stanza in
Literary street.

Seven line stanza
And seven syllables in
each and every line.

Because my first name
contains seven characters,
Expressly “Harjeet”.

“Former vs latter”
And “Humanities teamed up”
To boot, “Sans Soulmate”

First two poems got
Printed in United States,
Last, in canada.

Oh! surprisingly,
You were discussed oftentimes
But never thought hard.