Monthly Archives: April 2015

Indian Dreams

a poem by

Friends we’re not… nor lovers true
Incomplete dreams that brew
In little mud cups you threw
Upon the platform after a cup of tea or two
Crushed under the mighty train
Swept away by the languishing rain
Of reality that is inane… mundane
Nothing matters in the end
Betrayal… feelings that rend
Your heart in two
Nothing left… no me, no you

When she smiled at me

a poem by

When she smiled at me…
When I saw her, she smiled
Smiled at me.

I really, really fell in love
With her.

She stood for me, till I moved
Just looking at me.

I stared at her cute, small eyes
She dint even blink it.

I stood in a crowd junction but
She only looked at me.

And felt flying there up,
Between clouds.

Every one looked at me, me smiling
At the girls poster foolishly!

Without Withal and Wilt

a poem by

Life is so sweet as breeze,
Will fill us with faith and grace;
Where heart is pure, there turns peace.

Life is so sweet as music,
Singing, swinging inside, reside in us, as magic;
Like little light of candle, kindle and kind to drive the tragic.

Life is so sweet as bud,
Wafting wings of invisible, immense incense above the mud;
AS Divine wind to overture thy wand to bless, recess in mute mind.

Why I Write

a poem by

People often ask me,
For the reasons why I write,
It’s a question that stumps me,
And I ponder with all my might.

I guess I write because,
I see the beauty when it’s stormy,
I stop to smell the roses one petal at a time,
I’m just kidding, that’s just too corny.

I write because I’m terrified,
Of people and their ways,
Political correctness is the tune,
To which everyone in society sways.

I write because it’s easy,
To vent the anger of the mind,
It’s the only thing pure in this filthy world,
That can hope to us all bind.

I write because I’m no great orater,
With a aura of passion and power,
To wake the people of the earth,
From this reality so bitter and sour.

I write because I find,
The stereotypes that must be broken,
To free us from the dark ages,
And from this life of sin.

I write because I’m tired,
Of the conservatives of this land,
That walk in a by gone era,
And bury our nation in the sand.

I write because I’m angry,
That it is religion that tears us,
Which god would condone the killing of an innocent,
Or the flaming of a bus?

I write because I see,
A nation that is not free,
It is bound by its leaders,
Who awaken the banshee.

I write because I wish to share,
My vision in prose and rhyme,
Go ahead, arrest me if you will,
In my heart I know it’s no crime.

Face of Truth

a poem by

World is a matter of light and shades.
Everything shines after brilliance of truth.
Darkness dips its brush in fluorescence,
Puts blush of a rouge on her face.

There is in the duality of world,
Evolves a black side and a bright side.
All love a world under flood light,
Shines showing spring flowers of life.

Nothing exists as single in this universe.
If one is real, the other is a reflection.
A shadow follows every matter no matter.
Ultimately consumes one another.

Sun eats away moon on an eclipse day.
It is Moon’s day to eat the sun on a lunar day .
Twins strike entire macrocosm each day.
Microcosm remains inside as seeds.

Masters who ascent to a higher realm;
Settles there in pure gleam of ecstasy.
Holy Mother of universe observes, and
Transforms each one into unique unity.

In the high realms of effulgence;
Remains none other than purity, the face of truth.
Fire sanctifies each life to knowledge,
Tongues of fire licks away impurities.

Whole of cosmic dream merges into one delight.
Enters into end of knowledge- into silence.
Wisdom dawns from the enlightenment.
Beauty of muteness appears like a dawn!