Poems by Jayant Sharma

That Funeral…

a poem by Jayant Sharma

That funeral…
O god!
How can I forget that?
My most valued thing
Was now soulless… helpless.
He started for his last journey…
On four shoulders…
The ever-energetic person was no longer lively.
He was then laid on some woods,
Tears enrolled in my lids,
My heart became as hard as it could.
A fire stick then moved towards him,
How could I forget that striking flame?
At last he was left with flames,
This forever ended all our games.
The most cherished body soon became ash,
I went down like an air crash.
I was too small to understand life and might,
Just tears… innocent tears blocked the sights.
Next morning I searched for him
Everywhere I can,
There was no place left to scan!
Then I realised what that was.
He is now in my heart locks…
Only in my heart locks…

Fly Alone

a poem by Jayant Sharma

As a warrior on the mountain shore,
As a big star over small stars,
As a wide sea over small pools,
As a shark over small fishes,
As a sun over the planets,
You were over me.
Never did dew visit my eye
Never did a roar claim my ears,
Infusing qualities in me,
‘You were great’.

As a maker of melodious tunes for me,
As a light of hope in darkness,
You made life easier for me.
Sorrows looked unfamiliar,
Tears seemed to be human needs,
As an angel you made things easier for me.
He was respected, honoured and loved by all.
‘He was great’.

I miss you o god-like man,
I miss you!
I know that you can’t return,
But do meet me anywhere you can.
Now where are those kind deeds gone?
Now never I see a light of hope,
Now never I hear that voice again,
Just a face comes in my mind-
Little wrinkles, grey hair,
White teeth, two dimples,
‘A great personality.’

I’ve lost a friend,
He has left me to ‘Fly alone’.

She!

a poem by Jayant Sharma

A pair of blue eyes stares and haunts my soul,
An ignorant smile teases and my mind gets a fall.
Some fingers disturb me with a warm scent,
Cloudy hair is the place where I’m sent.
A damping voice echoes in my ears,
A foggy figure makes me forget all fears.
A silky touch makes my sleep run away,
I am filled with a search.
I am filled with dismay.

It might be her eyes,
It might be her smile.
It might be her fingers,
It might be her hair.
It might be her voice,
It might be her touch.
But who is ‘she’?

Friends are forever…

a poem by Jayant Sharma

Emotions have now started to
Shadow that mirth of successes,
With destinies defined, we’re now
Ready for further messes.
Now I realize I’ll be parting
With my own impression.
Now it’s time to stand upright
Amidst adversities in a lone season.

All those milestones had our
Footprints together,
We surely passed all
Moments like each other’s ladder.
Lone pair of electrons are but
A pair,
‘N’ a pair is enough for
Lubricating life with glare.
We had had the meanest out of
The time we shared,
That ‘_28200’, that ‘quan’ and all
That fun is for a myriad.

Our friendship shall remain green
Like a pirouette remains spinning,
Let the heartbeat of time
Remain fluctuating.

‘She’

a poem by Jayant Sharma

A pair of blue eyes stares and haunts my soul;
an ignorant smile teases and my mind gets a fall.
Some fingers disturb me with a warm scent;
cloudy hair is the place where I’m sent.
A damping voice echoes in my ears;
a foggy figure makes me forget all fears.
A silky touch makes my sleep run away;
I am filled with a search.
I am filled with dismay.

It might be her eyes,
it might be her smile.
it might be her fingers,
it might be her hair.
It might be her voice,
it might be her touch.
But who is ‘She’?

Teenage

a poem by Jayant Sharma

From thirteen to nineteen,
from schools to college canteen,
from bore studies to a joyous scene,
from reality to a world unseen,
from master to mister teen,
from chocolate faces till hair intervene,
from short pants to style with jean,
from remembering birthdays to remembering valentine,
from cartoons on t.v. to movies on a big screen,
from a child to an adult man,
the ‘teenage’ is hard to scan.

From ignorance to sensibility,
from ineligible to eligibility,
‘teenage’ increases capability.

From cycles to motorbikes,
from video-games to cricketer’s strikes,
‘teenage’ starts changing likes.

From butterfly catching to chasing girls,
from oily hair to hyperon curls,
‘teenage’ changes skulls.

From bone-statues to cool biceps,
from giving claps to gifting slaps,
‘teenage’ has many traps.

The seven years of teenage pass
like seven days of a week,
this time is cherished…
when freedom is at peak.
Let every teen remember this,
‘enjoy teenage or a dream you’ll miss’.

Fly Alone

a poem by Jayant Sharma

As a warrior on the mountain shore,
as a big star over small stars,
as a wide sea over small pools,
as a shark over small fishes,
as a sun over the planets,
you were over me.
Never did dew visited my eye
never did a roar claimed my ears,
infusing qualities in me,
“you were great”.

As a maker of melodious tunes for me,
as a light of hope in darkness,
you made life easier for me.
Sorrows looked unfamiliar,
tears seemed to be human needs,
as an angel you made things easier for me.
He was respected, honoured and loved by all.
“He was great”.

I miss you o god-like man,
I miss you!
I know that you can’t return,
but do meet me anywhere you can.
Now where are those kind deeds gone,
now never I see a light of hope,
now never I hear that voice again,
just a face comes in my mind-
little wrinkles, grey hair,
white teeth, two dimples,
a great personality.

I’ve lost a friend,
he has left me to ‘fly alone’.

Friends are Forever

a poem by Jayant Sharma

Emotions have now started to
shadow that mirth of successes,
with destinies defined, we’re now
ready for further messes.
Now I realize I’ll be parting
with my own impression.
Now it’s time to stand upright
amidst adversities in a lone season.

All those milestones had our
footprints together,
we surely passed all
moments like each other’s ladder.
Lone pair of electrons are but
a pair,
‘N’ a pair is enough for
lubricating life with glare.
We had had the meanest out of
the time we shared,
that ‘_28200’, that ‘quan’ and all
that fun is for a myriad.

Our friendship shall remain green
till like a pirouette remains spinning;
let the heartbeat of time remain
fluctuating.

I…

a poem by Jayant Sharma

O pity! How lonely is ‘I…’
No one at side, no one near.
It is worse than a grave digger.
How alone!
How selfish!
How mean it sounds;
no friends, no ties, no nature’s crown.
Oh! ‘I…’ breaks relations.
O God ! Erase ‘I…’ from the words on tongue,
remove this curse from life my lord,
may ‘We…’ be the light of the rising sun.
O esteemed Lord!
Give this shadow thine estate’s way.

I love my pet, still…

a poem by Jayant Sharma

Hearing no sound while pushing open the gate,
I felt something missing; But I ignored it.
Opening the door I felt uncontended,
Yet I ignored it.
Lying on the carpet, I felt lonely;
but now I realised….
I’d lost my pet… I’d lost a friend.

That bark on hearing a ‘tik’ at the gate-
showed signs of joy for a cautious pet:
that jumping on two limbs showed truth-
showed true love in a real sense;
that two cute eyes and a still black nose
peeping through snow-white hair-
looked like a moon smiling rare.
I miss you my pet. I miss you.
You were never someone else,
I shall ever seek for that ignorance.
You had four limbs but you were over those who have two,
I miss you… I really miss you…
Where are you?

Dreams

a poem by Jayant Sharma

As far as thought walks,
as high as imagination goes,
as deep as love dives,
as personal as an underwear,
‘dreams’ are certainly what is our own.
There’s no prohibition for dreamers,
there are no limits for such strikers,
directing our own feelings,
visualizing our thoughts,
fulfilling our needs,
recalling our deeds,
‘dreams’ do matter.
Seeing far with closed lids,
talking favours with dead tongue,
discovering imaginations,
inventing ideas,
‘dreams’ can be wonderous.
Meeting the lost friends,
talking to passed-away grands,
judging ourselves,
washing off the brain-remainders,
‘dreams’ are really our own.
No rules, no ties… I love dreaming.
Do I???

Vocation

a poem by Jayant Sharma

The guitar tunes now seem to tire,
the vigour seems to melt, the rain seems to overpower fire.
A vocation, just one, is the only desire.

Let not the aves turn on me now,
‘coz I have two lives to feed and a boat to row-
the two, who since twenty years, view in me, their mights secure,
the two for whom I’m the only light, I’m the only cure.
A vocation- no kite, no bike- just one, can lead to the shore.

I’m the idol for the younger ones,
but this mirage, I want to show, is not of the misruns.
O God, thou art is fire,
O God, let me have my desire.
No more frens. No more ties.
No more styles. No more dreamy flights.
A vocation, just one, is needed in files.
A vocation, just one, can bring back smiles.

Being the eldermost of the youngers in the family,
the future of it is based on me entirely.
For the new generation to start, I’ll have to enter the world now;
it’s me who’ll have to make way without melting snow;
a vocation, just one, will have to follow.

I know that ‘fire’ shall return once more,
the season of darkness shall also feel insecure.
I’ll work hard. I’ll not stay mute;
after all I’m the youth, the vigoures youth.
vocations, not one, shall see this route.
Hopefully… this’ll be the route…
Hopefully…

Justice

a poem by Jayant Sharma

Hold this quack you evil monster,
The sea-waves bring alarms… You’ll drawn O’ sinister,
Let him be poor but he is never alone,
‘Justice’ is that power… It’ll echo soon.

The ends ‘N’ means,
The sky ‘N’ the core,
All are bound by Justice for sure;
The rich-man’s dish ‘N’ the pauper’s bread
Both are now equally blessed.

Every dark night follows a sun-shine end,
And for those of night, the moon is waiting in the stand,
The silver lining on each dark cloud,
It’s the voice of ‘Justice’, crying aloud.

Fashion

a poem by Jayant Sharma

An ablution of the older view,
an abandonment of what was once ‘new’;
the criterion that has future in too,
“fashion” makes ‘change-law’ to accrue.

Latest trends are the acoustics,
majority-power forms the basis;
zooming ahead step by step,
“fashion” has abysmal depth.

Anti to superstitions,
forcing induction on teen-generations;
our soul has beauty but external is human,
“fashion” is that external’s beautician.

A tomorrow for today,
has always something ‘new’ to say;
striking bull’s-eye everyday,
will “fashion” have a horizon anyway?

Worthless Money

a poem by Jayant Sharma

Far enough but too near, I was active in my own semi-conscious mind;
in my own quest world I was walking with a line of currency pieces,
trying to gather all,
trying to leave all behind.

I could feel the warmth, I could feel superiority;
I was going insane, I was holding priority.
Soon a lady passed by me but feeling the warmth she came to my side;
a few other children, men and even animals committed the same ugly-suicide.
I was too proud ‘coz I had all, a lady, some children and several men to be counted;
but soon this pride remained uncounted.
This time I came across all my near ones who have passed away,
whose love and care couldn’t return to me anyway.
All those worthless notes now seemed bits for dustbins;
all those with me now seemed dummies with renewed skins.
Soon a child crying near his mother’s dead body,
made the atmosphere a little too muddy.

My heart was weeping but those notes seemed still;
I realised “money is but external… it’s our faith… it’s our self… that’s really real”.