Monthly Archives: December 2016

Emptiness – Random Thought

a poem by

Within the four walls I live.
My sorrows, my joys, my cheer here all I share I grief.
Sometimes pain I need to belief-
Sometimes fact I need to forsake or leave.
Within the four walls I live.

Colours I may like many but-
I always find me lonely,
Distracted I am to the darker shade.
Likes are disappearing and happiness seems to fade.
Give me some space I need to breathe!
Give me some space I need to breathe!

Companion I yearn…
In short span of life I have learned
Forbidden is love–
To forsake is tough!
Life, not a bed of roses,
Options are few, rare are the choices.
Agony within, frustrated thousand voices!
I am growing sick I want peace-
Within the four walls I live.

Kingdom and Traitors

a poem by

A kingdom of treasure,
Threatened by traitors
The traitors, who have no faith
The traitors who love to hate
The traitors who sell the spool
Of humanity, to the fool

The ones you believed in will keep you safe
The ones who’ll be your ears, if you go deaf
They’ll be the ones who’ll make you see
The world of peace, for thee
And when your garden won’t flourish,
They’ll be your gardener… You wish

Hoping that the land will receive springs,
The buds will bloom, sparrows get wings
Welkin will cry, felicitous
Crafting the blossoms from the fetus
Imagining you’ll be, desiring to harvest
The progenies, at their best

But what if your blessings go rust
Your blossoms palm off with dust
The ones you believed in
Turn nothing more than a din

For you, that feeling was obsess
And every effort for them was so less
Thou worked for them like a servant
But de facto, they were the serpent
With serpentine heart and brain
They threw your emotions down the drain

Thy mind’s eye was covered with a cloth,
Of service and respect, both
And you could never remove the bars
That caused you to fall in the mirage

But it wasn’t your mistake,
They were the ones, who were fake
They broke your in-frangible trust
For their bush-league lust
Their nasty deeds reached heights
Indulged trust and lust into fights

Helpless, hopeless, heal-less, thou were
But flames in eyes com-mixed with tear
Oh my lord, we are cheated
But the sound remained seated
Under the boots of the traitors,
Crushed to silence, oftentimes

Blessings got hexed, by the witch of falsity,
Trusts back stabbed, by the slayer of verity
But one fine day, the anger found a path,
The dark roads lightened by the wrath
United by the divine, led by the angel
The arms of humans, raised against the devil

Devil, hands-down, laughed against the roar
Angel, with the host, strengthened it more
Left devil self-doubting, devitalized
And the traitors went surprised
The ones whom they thought weak,
Foolish, disunited and meek

Broke the gates, burnt the farms with hustle
Slew the army, demolished the castle
Traitors got frightened, how to escape
Searched the path backdoor for their sake
Flames all around, armors flying
Vultures feeding, women crying

Angel with the chakra, appeared before each traitor
Slicing each head, spawning clatter
Host joyed, tears separating from eye
Contentment floating in the sky…

The bell

a poem by

The bell rang not once,
But several times
And it was the moment
She was waiting for.
She drew herself up
to her future.
She stood a while
for she wanted to feel
That once in a while magnetic
Life force vibrating in her soul
And then released the words from the imprisonment
Of her mouth
And whispered slowly
“Yes, I am”

New Found Love

a poem by

I feel so brand new
All thanks to you,
Your love keeps me going strong
Making me feel like I belong.
You are the ray of light
In all darkness of sight,
I was lost and alone without a clue
I felt like the ocean, so cold and blue.
I think of you day and night
When I see you I feel so bright,
Never had this feeling I’m mind
How your love for me could be so kind.
Although my love is still new
I think I am in love with you.
I love you from my heart
Meaning it’s forever, and never for part.

29 Nov 2016 The day Nagrota Bled

a poem by

Nagrota station is as beautiful as one can imagine,
the varied birds seen here are the source of attraction.
But alas, this divine scenery has turned into a dreadful ornery.
A place where the cuckoo bird sang a melodious song,
but now the crow caws a grief stricken song.
Flowers wilted after seeing the rain of pain,
birds gave up singing songs in disdain.
The encounter that changed many lives,
the whole day all we could was wait and sigh.
29th November was the worst day for the entire Nagrota station,
when the family members of the soldiers panicked with tension.
Our soldiers were so selfless, so brave,
for hundreds of families they saved.
But not all endings are a happy one,
Many lost their Father and Sons,
whom they hadn’t seen for months.
The pain could only be conveyed through tears,
what turn now life would take, they feared.
Soldiers defend their country and protect their motherland
because they don’t want other country ruling their land.
You take out faults in them,
But you don’t realize you won’t be here without them.
For how long will the soldiers keep their lives on stake for our sake,
Stop this bloodshed before it’s too late.

Things you could do if you were Fire

a poem by

You could heat the metal case placed above you
by coarse hands with hopes to prepare food
little morsels that they call a meal using your arms,
to fulfill childish hunger on a chilly night.
You could be wrathfully burning the innocent pages of a diary
that potentially held a universe of emotions,
powering the flames of anger and helplessness,
similar to those in the heart.

You could be the quivering flames of a diya
lit with immense devotion and downright credence in an invisible entity,
accompanied by murmurs, asking begging for blessings.
You could be the spectator of fervent,
blooming love at a campfire
while hands swivel around leaning bodies in search of warmth,
singing classics in unsteady voices.

You could be the blazing end of a cigarette
held to lips full of unknown despair,
clenched between someone’s fingers in poise,
while you slowly fall as redundant ash
and so does their smoky breath.

Feasting on Pain

a poem by

Feasting on Pain (to the victims of terror in recent times)
They are shedding tears, but I won’t write to wipe them.
They lost loved ones, but I won’t write to sympathize with them.
They are intimidated, but I won’t write to warm them.
They are petrified, but I won’t write to calm them.

Countless lives are washed away under bullet sheets.
They pulled triggers and terrorized us indeed.
Irrevocable wounds are buried under this smoke unknown,
While we raised our voices for ourselves alone

Outrageously the families are torn apart,
While a child questions,” Don’t you have a heart?”
The world also cries when the flag of inhumanity flies,
When the euphony and peace of the world dies.

Death parcels fall like gifts from the skies.
The rush of terror in everybody’s eyes,
Blood falls like water belittled so soon,
The smile in the morning is a marred face by noon.

This isn’t a movie which you can rewind.
An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.
“We rummaged their lives!” they say with boast
But feasting on pain is what pleasures them the most.

They are shedding tears, but I won’t write to wipe them.
Let the tears be our strength and I will write to fight them.
They lost their loved ones, but I won’t write to sympathize with them.
Let the pain be always in your eyes and I will write to incise them.

And I came back to You

a poem by

And I came back to You
after so many years,
The dawns as witness,
Winds’ savaged,
Seasons’ ravaged;
Knocked so very softly,
Hoping you won’t recognize;
Those watery eyes
That unknown lump of fear,
A single refrain humming-
Should I be trespassing?

But I have always known You,
Haven’t I?
You’ve grown,
Old, haggard and
A wee bit frail; Down
but not down,
As in ‘over’.
Your smile still lights up
the crinkled corners of your eyes,
That once spoke without a word.
Laid away dreams – you bring back alive.
Those I never cared to visit
till I came back to You,
Those I never cared to think,
Existed in You, besides.

And yet ‘I am the same’
You say…
Maybe or maybe not;
You still have that habit of confusing me,
And eliciting warmth on cold wintry days.
Winds’ savaged, Seasons’ ravaged,
Am I Him?
You putter, you stutter,
As you reclaim that day
when mortal words died
Like wounds healed, the
scars afresh each time;
When the gales of turmoil
could never still
‘Those our Times’
Now forgotten far behind.

Cruel soul, why me, coward?
Why rip away my hands and
Show me my face, today,
That I have tried so well
to hide from thee?
Morphed reflections stain the hourglass of
my Life,
Like dust streams down a window pane
Lashed suddenly by a jolt of morning rain.
In my helplessness, then
Why yoke me now, friend?

Love

a poem by

Real Remains
My heart for your real remains
My heart wins even if I lose you.
The deserts you made don’t count.
For what the selfish reasons behind,
could just be enough to get up to it.
The lights we both lightened,
have to be blown up for the acceptance.
Only the real remains could be fixed
that handles you from me up to end.

They call me The Abyss

a poem by

Deep, dark and infinite;
I may be a black hole, for I could take you in despite your might.
But I am in the space, the sea, the land and the winds that hiss;
Which is why they call me The Abyss.

A bottomless pit of silent power;
I grow in size with every hour.
I am neither good, nor evil, not a friend or a foe;
Just a hot mass of grey, engulfing you in my shadow.

Did you create me? Or have I always been there?
Am I your God? Do you take my name in your prayer?

Gaze into me, for you shall then see;
That when you gaze too hard, you turn into me.
If I am hope, you too become a desire;
And if I am the purgatory, you too will burn in my fire.