A Great Love For Human Dreams.
Some poets are easy to get at. Anybody can understand them. They speak to the heart of the common and the intellectual alike and are understood by them likewise. With their poems, you could go on a trip or go to sleep. You could even murmur some lines of their poetry while shampooing your hair in the shower. Some poets do not auction themselves easily and their beauty is not chronic. They are hidden like pearls in oysters and you’ve got to dive them out of the depths of oceans. I am not speaking of academic poets, but I simply presume that the words of such poets are welcomed only by the book shelves where just a few steps away, behind the desk that receives the on callers, there are young souls who sit inattentively while either reading from their easy catch poets or telling each other of pearls they have lovingly smelled and found. Now, what kind of a poet is C.P.Aboobacker? In my view he is a beautiful union of both groups. And yet if I admire his poetry, it is because, I find no distinction between his life and his pure poetry.
Forough F
arrokhzad , Iranian poetess in a letter writes: “ I know many poets who are poet only on the paper and the moment they finish writing a poem , they become again the same greedy, honey, stingy man .As if all their cries and tears are for a plate of rice !”. The life of C.P. Aboobacker as a serious social activist, from the first years of youth proves the union between his poetry and his life. In an interview with Iran News he says:
“Without poetry, I would have lost my love; love of all sorts, paternal, parental, conjugal, mystic, spiritual and what not! Without poetry I would lose my river and meadows; I could not swim in sunshine; I would not have transgressed the frontiers of countries and climbed up mountains and conquered seals coming out from oceanic depths. I would not tender the fifth moon and love it in a form of smiling lips; I would not sit on the stone mass where I spent with my childhood friends of whom some are no more now. I could not have suffered the humilities of life; I could not have, above all, fought against injustice and cruelty”.
Viewing at his ezine ,we can find poetry and politics, the same roots of a great love for human dreams .
Farideh Hassan Zadeh(Moustafavi)
Some poets are easy to get at. Anybody can understand them. They speak to the heart of the common and the intellectual alike and are understood by them likewise. With their poems, you could go on a trip or go to sleep. You could even murmur some lines of their poetry while shampooing your hair in the shower. Some poets do not auction themselves easily and their beauty is not chronic. They are hidden like pearls in oysters and you’ve got to dive them out of the depths of oceans. I am not speaking of academic poets, but I simply presume that the words of such poets are welcomed only by the book shelves where just a few steps away, behind the desk that receives the on callers, there are young souls who sit inattentively while either reading from their easy catch poets or telling each other of pearls they have lovingly smelled and found. Now, what kind of a poet is C.P.Aboobacker? In my view he is a beautiful union of both groups. And yet if I admire his poetry, it is because, I find no distinction between his life and his pure poetry.
Forough F
arrokhzad , Iranian poetess in a letter writes: “ I know many poets who are poet only on the paper and the moment they finish writing a poem , they become again the same greedy, honey, stingy man .As if all their cries and tears are for a plate of rice !”. The life of C.P. Aboobacker as a serious social activist, from the first years of youth proves the union between his poetry and his life. In an interview with Iran News he says:“Without poetry, I would have lost my love; love of all sorts, paternal, parental, conjugal, mystic, spiritual and what not! Without poetry I would lose my river and meadows; I could not swim in sunshine; I would not have transgressed the frontiers of countries and climbed up mountains and conquered seals coming out from oceanic depths. I would not tender the fifth moon and love it in a form of smiling lips; I would not sit on the stone mass where I spent with my childhood friends of whom some are no more now. I could not have suffered the humilities of life; I could not have, above all, fought against injustice and cruelty”.
Viewing at his ezine ,we can find poetry and politics, the same roots of a great love for human dreams .
Farideh Hassan Zadeh(Moustafavi)
