In the back-yard,
Spontaneous and talent-wise
Boundary, over boundary, single and others-
Each and every lively act of the magical bat
Enchanted the tumultuous crowd
To feel sporting in every winning or losing moment,
Emotional in their heartfelt expression
And proud to be a part of inspirational history.
In the front-yard,
The same thrilling act is still on-
But quite synthetic and script wise,
Well performed by a commercial rod
Ensnaring the luxurious mind and foolish brain
To feel more hilarious,
To become ever-blind
And compelled to be a part of a story-
Conceived and written by a non-sporting hand.
A big poultry farm-
a small step towards self employment
proceeded by three partners-
one is wakeful while others are sleeping
but they break their bread together equally.
except night, while a greedy fox
moves around the farm
embellishing itself with a hanging tongue,
and looks for a weak part of the fence.
Oh my God! What a commercial collision
that the fox collides against the active partner
who was also moving around the farm
and licking the fence with his long tongue!
Very soon, tongue handshakes with tongue,
a whispering cartel is made active,
a secret part of the fence
is made weak diplomatically.
and the stocks of chickens
starts disappearing one by one
to satisfy the more and more
hungers of the two amazing shrewd and greedy.
It’s not universally applicable
But some devotees of the divinity,
Seem to be gentle beggars
In the guise of humble devotees.
As a disguised beggar,
A devotee becomes a flatterer
Throughout his devotion to the God
As he keeps oiling him again and again,
Dropping his crocodile’s tears
In begging for his self-centered happiness
But drops neither tears
In showing his true love for his divinity
Nor his selfless formal inquiry
‘’How do you do my God?’
An innocuous is quite objectionable
For living somehow in a forest-
Quite a haughty in whispering
In the ears of an innocent
‘’Might is right’’
And in showing its sharp nailed paws
And burning eyes to him
To turn his days into scary nights.
‘’Is he too stoic to be reformed ?’’
A philanthropist with a lamp in hand
Asks the mirror
But dies leaving the question unanswered
And the lamp extinguished.
In the darkness
A consequent narcotic solo
Reverberates in the forest,
Makes it drowsy
And bewitches the innocuous too
To produce breads, ladders, toys and others
For the heart-quaking wild whisperers.
It’s to be believed or not
But a human body is to be flown
Like a kite in the sky
Caused by the restlessness of brain
And its tumbling down to knee
Making head blank and weightless
And body light to float in the air
In quest of something more.
It may be the sign of abnormality
Yet eyes are indifferent to the symptoms-
Reflected from the wonderful kite-show
Exhibited in the open sky of hunger
Where all go as they like
As hands start beating their own drums
Guarding their own ears
From the invasion of others’ beating,
Feet run faster than the mind
To reach ‘’El-dorado’’- the golden dreamland
Trampling others’ feet,
Heart hides again and again
In the pools of the clouds
And makes itself more mysterious,
But the old soul looks thoughtful and disturbed
Before going for long hibernation
Wishing ’’safe flying’’ to the floating body.