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M. V. ATRE (Maharashtra)

Dr. M. V. Atre was born on August, 4, 1938 at Nasirabad Sind (now in Pakistan)  He did  M. A., Ph. D. and  D. Litt. in English Literatur. After teaching English in various institutions, he is now leading a retired life. He has to his credit eight books of poetry.
Notable books : (i)
Smouldering Embers (Poems-1999), (ii) Erotic Eloquence (Poems-2000), (iii) Lovebirds and other selected poems,
Ode to Bombay and other selected poems, (v) Silent Reach
Notable Awards & Honours (i) Nominated as Special Executive Magistrate,(ii)  Merit Certificate by THE QUEST , Ranchi,
Winged Word Award by International Literary Foundation, Chennai, (iv) Diploma di Merito by Echizioni Universum, Italy
Address : # 401, Pathik/C-Wing, Gokul Garden, Thakur Complex, Kandivali (East), Mumbai-400 101(Maharashatra) India
Phone :
email :

Poems by M. V. Atre

In of Python

Throw not stones at me
I'm badly bruised
I'm profusely bleeding
Why are you so furious at me ?
What's your grudge against me ?
What harm have I done to you ?

Your abode is deep forest
Why did you come near our village ?

Have I committed any sin thereby ?
Gopal's is the bhoomi entire .

'Tis nothing but an utopia
the bhoomi is ours where dwell we
we can't tolerate encroachments
Deserting your own dwelling
You came close to our village
Created terror by swallowing
Our dear deer for no fault of its
Why did you do that ?

I was famishing, I wanted food,
I wanted to satisfy my hunger
Don't you satisfy yours ?

Our pets are precious to us
By swallowing our beloved deer
You've committed a sin
Why mustn't you be penalised ?

Something's wrong with you
How can you be so judgemental ?
I've not committed any sin
I was lying loath over there
The deer itself came infront of me
I was dying of hunger
Swallowing is my nature
I acted as per my nature
Not that I wanted to hurt you.

We can't digest your idealistic arguments
You have done harm to us
You must be punished.

I heard : 'You're the best creation of God'
Does your such violent behaviour prove it ?
No, not at all. 'Tis a lie.
You're sans 'the milk of human kindness'

Allow me to go
I need ample rest to digest my food
Your brutal attacks allow me not to move.

We shant allow you to move
We enjoy hitting at you
And see you bleeding
You must die.

You're sadists
I can't rest nor will you either
Fie on thee
I die.


Horrible humdrum
convinces and compels us
to welcome change.
Mad of fragrance
musk - deer runs willy - nilly
to invite its end.
People are moulded mugs
Moradabadi without
bottom and base.
Clouding the bright sun
is a good fastidious fun
will it last for long?
Aren't we caught in
sixtyfour squares of the
black - white chess - board?
Thundering waves
race madly to batter
and to break the crag !


Aren’t we timepieces
which need regular winding
every twentyfour hour
lest we would stop?

Our second, minute and
hour hands keep our
tick – tick on so as to
suggest our working

We have an alarm hand too
alongwith its setting key
to make us mime and chime
at a pre-set time.

Working and winding
winding and working
must follow the suit
lest we would die.

No winding no tick – tick
No chiming no nick – nick.


Behold yonder
dazzling dewdrops
studded on green grass
as pearls proud
beautiful shining and attractive
feast to our mortal eyes.

But do they not
disappear like ghosts
with magic mantra and
the tender touch of
the golden sun-streams.

Unlike feeble weak and
ephimeral dewdrops
let us strengthen our life
with tough targets and
some mission to achieve
lest we would die like
unsung desolate dewdrops.

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