Prof. Abha Bhardwaj Sharma

Abha Bhardwaj Sharma is a Professor of English Literature with over 30 years of teaching experience. She is the founder of Miracle English Language and Literature Institute and the author of more than 50 books on literature, language, and self-development. Through The Literary Scholar, she shares insightful, witty, and deeply reflective explorations of world literature.

Anglo Saxon History of English Literature Part 1

From The Professor’s Desk Introduction to the Anglo-Saxon or Old English Period The Anglo-Saxon or the Old English Period The Anglo-Saxon period in English literature, also known as the Old English period, spans from approximately 450 AD to 1066 AD. During this time, the Anglo-Saxons, who were Germanic tribes from present-day Germany, Denmark, and the

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Lyric-Scroll 030 : The Rose That Grew from Concrete by Tupac Shakur: When a Petal Punked the Pavement

A Poem Where Nature Rebels, the Streets Get Philosophical, and Resilience Grows Between the Cracks ABS Believes:Some flowers bloom because they’re nurtured. Others bloom because they weren’t supposed to.Concrete doesn’t scare a rose that knows what it’s worth. Tupac: The Poet Behind the Persona Before he was a rapper, icon, or revolution with a gold

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Lyric-Scroll 029 : Half-Hanged Mary by Margaret Atwood: Witch, Woman, Survivor, and the Ultimate Middle Finger to History

A Poem Where Death Pauses, Patriarchy Panics, and a Woman on a Rope Redefines Power ABS Believes:Some poems aren’t written—they’re whispered by the nearly dead.And sometimes survival is the loudest poem of all. Atwood: Chronicler of Wrath in Whispered Monologues Margaret Atwood doesn’t write women. She summons them. Half-Hanged Mary is one such conjuring—a poem

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Lyric-Scroll 028 : Ars Poetica by Archibald MacLeish: When Poems Were Told to Shut Up and Just Exist

A Poem Where Silence Talks Louder, Meaning Retires, and the Lines Try Not to Mean… Anything ABS Believes:Some poems don’t want to be understood. They want to stand in the corner looking timeless and mysterious.Poetry isn’t supposed to explain. It’s supposed to haunt. MacLeish: The Poet Who Gagged the Poem and Called It Art Archibald

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Lyric-Scroll 027: The Sun Rising by John Donne: When Love Hit Snooze on the Universe’s Alarm Clock

A Poem Where Time Gets Cancelled, Science Gets Flirted With, and the Sun Is Just a Nosy Boomer ABS Believes:Some mornings, love doesn’t rise with the sun—it tells it to shut the blinds.Donne didn’t just defy nature—he metaphorically slapped it with a silk bedsheet. Donne: The Metaphysical Flirt Who Made Suns Nervous John Donne was

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Lyric-Scroll 025 : Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Pleasure-Domes, Prophetic Poets, and a Dulcimer That Broke Literature

A Poem Where Palaces Float, Rivers Run Deep, and No One’s Entirely Sober ABS Believes:This poem wasn’t written—it wandered in.Sometimes a dream builds better architecture than any empire can. Coleridge: Poet, Prophet, and Possibly Too Close to the Poppy Fields Let’s begin with a quick historical footnote: Kubla Khan is what happens when you mix

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Lyric-Scroll 024 : To Autumn by John Keats: When Ripe Fruit, Gentle Breezes, and Poetic Overload Met Their Muse

A Poem Where Nature Bakes Itself Golden and Sings Softly About Rotting Beautifully ABS Believes:Keats didn’t just write about Autumn—he airbrushed it with metaphor and sprinkled it with warm-toned immortality.Some seasons don’t fade. They ferment. John Keats: The Master of Melancholic Ripeness If Shakespeare had a botanical cousin who wept over sunsets and hallucinated the

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Lyric-Scroll 023 : Invictus by William Ernest Henley: When Your Soul Wears Steel-Toed Boots and Stares Down the Universe

A Poem Where Pain Bows, Darkness Waits, and the Poet’s Spine Doesn’t Flinch ABS Believes:Some poems wear armor. This one is the armor.If dignity had a literary anthem, it would rhyme like this and walk like thunder. Henley: Poet, Amputee, and Unshakable Human Tank William Ernest Henley didn’t write Invictus to impress the Victorian literati.

Lyric-Scroll 023 : Invictus by William Ernest Henley: When Your Soul Wears Steel-Toed Boots and Stares Down the Universe Read More »

Lyric-Scroll 022 : Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden: When Love Was Silent, Hands Were Cracked, and No One Said Thank You

A Poem Where Regret Wears Slippers and Affection Heats the House Before Dawn ABS Believes:Some poems are whispers you hear years later.Love isn’t always loud—it’s sometimes just boots, cold air, and someone waking up too early for your comfort. Robert Hayden: The Poet of the Unsaid Hayden didn’t write to dazzle. He wrote to unearth.

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