Author Archives: Parneet Jaggi

About Parneet Jaggi

Parneet Jaggi teaches English in a Post Graduate college in India. She has four collections of poems in English-" Beyond Words" (Writers Workshop, Calcutta, 2018), "Show me How Not to Grow" (Cyberwit, Allahabad, 2017), "Live Love Light" (Writers Workshop, Calcutta, 2014) and "Euphonies Of Heart And Soul" (Cyberwit, Allahabad, 2013). Her poems have been published in journals like The Enchanting Verses International Journal, the Taj Mahal Review, Contemporary Literary Review India, The Criterion etc. Her books, "Matthew Arnold and the Bhagavad Gita: A Study of His Poems" and "Social and Economic Values in the Teachings of Sikh Gurus" reveal her love for religion and philosophy.

Sounds in a Potpourri

Clarion sounds of birds
mingle with the screaming horns,
A blend crosses the ears
each day as life passes,
the acoustic tastes change tremendously, 
Ears becoming dauntless
with sounds in a potpourri,
odours poured in profusion, 
sounds coming from nowhere,
Trains, tractors, birds, bees,
thunder, thuds, shouts,  screams,
repressed, restrained human voices-
buried, manifested, distraught, distressed.
Lovely roulades of nature subdued,
we fail to appease the clamour. 
Concinnity is missing amongst the chorus,
Picayune sounds hold the stage.

Splendour of Roses

The splendour of roses-
standing erect, elegant,
displaying the hue-
 neither pink nor red,

a bit orange, a little peach,

as a fort of a maharaja emitting the royal resplendence

through the candelabra reflecting myriad colours.
A territory of joy,
transcending human language.

How many new colours should I coin?
Each flower is neither  pink nor red,

a bit orange, a little peach.
A hundred more names
 through the pages of the dictionary

reach my mind,

yet  the colouring of these  aromatic gifts

remains an enigma.

They bloom, they smile, they perish.
I learn in each spring that
 roses in my garden
are just a contrast with the green grass.

Love Transforms

It is not about loving a person
or a cat
or a lovely garden reflecting myriad colours
or a gift kept close to heart
or a car that fulfills a hundred dreams
or a house where  soul seems to reside
or the attires that give the joy of being you.
Love surpasses all.
A wave  carries with it loads of energy
emanating from invisible cores of the being
circulating all around 
to lend  a fresh vision-
a vision of eternity, 
wherein the mundane considerations  find no  place,
where the  organs,
though still the same,

 refuse to behave the way they are trained,
Eyes shut themselves to open to subtler visions,
Ears turn inward to a wordless world,
Mind waits not for the lover to appear and make love.
Pain within carries the strength
enough to move the planets.
This is how love transforms. 

The Divine Calculator


I wonder at the divine calculator

Where each digit carries

the weight of millions of micro digits

 divided into still smaller fractions.

How the flow of karmas is discerned and recorded

 when humans conceal tonnes of trash

 in the dark recesses of their

highly mechanized, unyielding brains.

How records of eon have been impeccably kept

without an assistant .

The immaculate regulation of rewards and punishments

 leaves one in a wonder,

beyond the grasp of the tiny machine

the world takes pride in.

Trail of Trees

Passing by speedily

trees of memories

enter the empty spaces of  mind

to stay there for years to come.

Trail of incidents

passes by in the same manner,

disturbing the connate spaces

of  mind,

Deterring it from treading

the path of peace.

It takes ages to deterge accumulations .

A short journey

fills the basket of memories to the brim


a motley of emotions-

drip drop drip drop

leaving one busy for a lifetime,

wiping out stains

of a volatile flow.

One keeps busy ,

looking out of the window

of the moving train,

collecting visions,

gathering memories,

breathing  joys.

Moraine gathered by glaciers

waits for showers ,

Takes months and years

to wash away.

A Gift

Went around searching

the market, the mall, the narrow alley,

all brimming with colourful

bargains to take home.

Went around peeping through the windows

of bedazzling jewellers,

looking for a glittering relic,

to honour you.

Tried much to look into my wardrobe

to part with a special possession of mine.

Tried still to craft a necklace

of the  rare jewels I had collected over the years.

Thought over to present you a token of my talent-

 an immortal melody in my voice,

write a lyric or an ode to our friendship.

But I found them all low for you.

The  pedestal holding our love is high,


my prayer is the only gift

I offer

 in no wrappers,

or sparkling ribbons tied around,

just silence and a glitter in my eye.

Reducing Humanity

Concinnity we wish on earth

Effulgence we desire in personalities

Beauty we want to relish all around

Peace we prognosticate

Ebullience we look for in ourselves.

But the arduousness to expunge others,

devising canards

is getting intrinsic

as haemoglobin in blood,

using chicanery in all spheres

reducing humanity to a mere formicary,

walking in long queues

from paths of heaven to gates of hell.

Time in Love


 Time presses the neck

like a beaded choker

glittering with stones of myriad colours

 fascinating the world

like nectar to a humming bird .

It strangles,

 restricting each breath to flow freely

 at least the counted ones ,

one’s number is ordained –

they say so.

 In love, each little moment

is a moment of immeasurable counts,

 while the world rejoices

 at the lost sanity of another creature.

Aroma of Love

One emotion encompasses all piety,
not needed to showcase
in the splendour of colours and perfumes.
Love has its own colour- matchless.
An aroma,
that swirls inside the core of existence. 
The heart may be made of cells-
(living or dead)
or whatever else scientists may name.
Aroma touches the core,
spreads like smoke,
invisibly in the whole being,
emanates from the voices
and gaits of lovers.

Aroma of love embraces
all pathies, isms and faiths.
A  puff  of locked gases
which can be locked no more,
erupts like a volcano,
flows down , 
stratifies uneven lands.
Hot molten lava of love
holds the power
to eliminate filth of the world
and to erect high peaks 
on new mountains.


Love This, Love That

‘Love this, love that’,

‘Like this, like that’,

seems like a script given to act,

a few moments of rehearsal,

then the performance,

then time to slip back to one’s tiny shell,

As  Cleopatra sits on a burnished throne on stage

to find herself back on floor back-stage,

Come back again,

the script is ready,

‘Love this, love that’,

Like this , like that,

love the dog on the street,

an ant entering the hole,

the cow feeding its calf,

not to forget the peepal tree

emitting oxygen day and night,

and yes, one’s parents too,

each lesson taught in books,

defining words,

constructing languages,

barriers along with,

when the heart feels not the same.

Where has the inherent humanity gone?

‘Love this, love that’

has to be taught each day

to prevent grasslands

 turning into arid deserts.