(Photo of Harjeet Singh)


Eternal Companion


She is such a great companion

When she holds someone’s hand

She never leaves, never leaves.


If he wants his hand to be freed

Her grasp is ever so tight

That he cannot be unshackled.

She brings him in high Ŗight

Often keeps her owner awake

While it’s midnight.


As pleased as punch in his paradise

But almighty (greatly) saddened in his heaviness,

Like a ghost cannot be touched

Like a saint’s halo lives with him,

No liaison is immune to inurnment.

But true to type in lasting her link,

Though pages in archives remain



Author's notes on the poem:  Men die but “writing” never.

When someone begins to write and he becomes popular. He can't abandon profession in between. After death writing keeps link with dead person.S o I used 'she'

on the behalf of “writing”. What’s more, “writing” is  a female character in many languages. For example “Wind” is a female character in English language.


high flight—writings provide honour world wide no matter writer lives alone

Paradise---happy writing as comedy

Heaviness--sadness as tragedy

As pleased as punch--very pleased


Liaison--link with people

“Writing” is felt but can’t be touched like a ghost

Yellow--in libraries books are with yellow pages as have been so old and writers are not alive physically but still they exist in yellow pages.                  


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 a single one of my successes,
my richness!
I am a son of that poor shoeshiner 
who on many occasions used to polish the shoes
of the 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 the standards of language, themes, subject-matter  
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 of 
abandoning all contests and competitions
In the vast lake.
Because he lags behind.
He becomes self-distrustful.
But one thing that tortures him is
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 can save him from drowning.
No matter he lags behind
Or at nearby area with dominants
Constant travelling can keep him in the literary background.
Maybe in the future some literary shark would
do an 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.


Author's notes on the poem: 


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

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



© Harjeet Singh


Bio:  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, 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).