The Taj Mahal

by Tony Grannell   Mar 7, 2020


When mornings rise in splendour’s awe,
behold! The Taj Mahal.
A testament of marbled grace
where sleeps, Mumtaz Mahal.

Of yore till now in quietude,
at peace where lovers rest.
The Shah Jahan, wherewith his bride
neath domes and minarets.

Of blood and sweat, of artisans,
from stone, a carved lament.
In Agra she awaits the souls
to laud what heaven sent.

Where madding hearts are pacified,
where the weary find respite.
Romantics come to worship love
and poets crave the light.

Her spires donned in chiseled leaf,
in artistry complete.
The mason’s flair devoutly blessed
to master each motif.

Calligraphy with fervour scribed,
so sad a heart professed.
Such pain engraved in ancient script,
‘O Soul, thou art at rest’.

Of vines weighed lush with sculpted blooms
and fruits of polished stone.
How columns praise the seams of light
and hail the light, their own.

Her dome, the crown of passions lost,
a palace born of tears.
Hold sway the quiet to raise the dead,
to greet the astral spheres.

But mastered once, the art of love
in stone and symmetry.
A place therein where calm resides
in death’s serenity.

From heaven fell a marble tear,
the jewel of love’s mirage.
Where suns and moons devote their light
in reverence to, The Taj.

3


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Milly Hayward

    You have a talent for breathing life and vibrancy into situations and places. This poem spins and whirls and takes the reader on a rich and colourful visit to a monument and pays tribute to it's beauty and impact. A beautifully carved observation that sees much more than most visitors will ever see. Milly x

    • 1 month ago

      by Tony Grannell

      Hello Milly,
      I am most pleased you enjoyed my guided tour of The Taj, spinning and whirling around the columns - waltzing, we were - hahaha!
      Your splendid response is very much appreciated.
      Fond regards, Tony.

  • 1 month ago

    by Maher

    Mr Grannell, you've done it again. Especially here:

    Of vines weighed lush with sculpted blooms
    and fruits of polished stone.
    How columns praise the seams of light
    and hail the light, their own.

    I need not explain why this verse in particular, as its beauty is pretty self evident. Thanks for sharing :)

    • 1 month ago

      by Tony Grannell

      Hello Maher,
      It took an age to compose this one, especially so, your chosen stanza, that is why your words find me delighted and most appreciative. Very kind of you.
      Do take care now, Tony.

People Who Liked This Also Liked