Category Archives: Attitude

The most dangerous people!

a poem by

They look normal, they may seem silent,
But their hands are never at rest.
They all the time look pleasant, but thoughts from them are abundant!
Never take a writer for granted,
They are snipers, armed with thoughts and words,
Writers are the most dangerous vipers in this world,
The most intelligent actors, free birds,
Who can use sentences as swords!
They know how to aim with lines,
Plan with prose and target with rhyme
They teach the world, how to fire with paragraph
And use poetry like a gaff!
They know how to wipe tears,
And also take revenge through their verses.
Writers know how to immortalise their kills by poems
And even convey their love by poetry as medium.
They know how to suppress, they know how to express,
They know how to impress, they know how to protest.
With words they confess, they caress,
Hide their fears and tears, with letters and feelings in excess!
If you fall in love with a writer,
You’ll never die at all,
Create enmity with a writer,
Then you create your own prestige to fall!

Insecticides

a poem by

O’ the houseflies in my dine
Craving noodles like a vine
Licking through my milk-bowl line
Once you taste that’s no more mine.
That’s no fine!

O’ the mosquito in my bed
I’ve no All Out, no mosquito shed
Nothing such to lay you dead
But you got be malaria-fed!
That’s so dread!

O’ the cockroach in my bathroom
I never used Odonil or a broom
To get your honour face its doom
But you chased me out so soon
You get no boon.

O’ the wasp in my garden
Won’t spare you, you’re no burden
You’ve bitten me thrice in life
That stung like the butcher’s knife
Your buzz do not please my mind
For I know you’re hatred-bind
For which now, I’m no kind.

My inner beings by now abide
Embrace the power of insecticide

On a cool cool night

a poem by

On a cool cool night,
riding my motorbike,
I feel all right,
like a bird light light.

With wind in my hair,
and zeal in my soul,
I glide on the road,
like a graceful foal.

With God in my heart,
and eyes on the prize,
I travel in the night
to the realm of light.

How bad could be life,
I have suffered all plight.
In the darkest time
shall the sun rise rise.

With God on my side,
I will win this fight.
I will cry no more,
I will fly high high.

On a cool cool night,
riding my motorbike,
I feel all right,
like a bird light light.

Pride

a poem by

What good does pride do?
Alone in the world it leaves you.
If the trees had pride,
Where shall the birds have gone?
Oxygen and air we might have none.
If the clouds had pride,
There’d have been no rain
Prayers and chanting just in vain.
If the earth had pride,
We might have fall
None to bear the burden of us all.
If the moon had pride,
There’d have been no silvery night
Darkness must have given us fright.
‘You’ and ‘me’ lets forget the difference
Accept this truth and become good friends.

Selfie

a poem by

Selfie
Curious enough,
she took some selfies
to find
the existence of
either
the genuineness
or heartiness within.
First selfie had
a dark region
as she used to say ‘I have it’.
(somewhere…)
Then
it had someone else’s shadow
in front
as a Shikhandi,
like she used to keep
at times,
against some, driving from back.
Later
followed few selfies
like
how variant
her mindset exactly is.
It
looked
arrogant…
mysterious…
unpredictable…
feelingless…
unattached…
untrustworthy….
hurting…
sadist…
some times over confident
many times lack self-confidence
some times dramatically down to earth
many times a Nautanki…
shocked
to see all these,
she continued
the experiment of
finding,
if there is
a drop of heartiness
exists
within her…
At that moment,
Mega pixels
shut themselves Off
saying,
‘we cant help you
since
the dark region of your heart is
more than
what
you thought to be
in your vision ‘.
hence
we close our eyes’.
Stunned,
she watched the image
fading away.
In no time,
the Mobile
lost its charge
signing off,
‘never use me
to find you again.
Because,
you are not genuine,
so
leave me alone…
never to see you again…

Thesaurus

a poem by

Think
feel and endure

Imagine
visualise and experience

Initiate
spread around and support

Smile
realize and stimulate

Probe
discover and understand

Encourage
appreciate and approve

Explain
elaborate and ensure

Recreate
resolve and restore

Retract
rejuvenate and reform

Guide
show the path and be with

Teach
how to learn and instill

Resist
rescue and be alert

Believe
behold and bestow

Uncertainty

a poem by

Uncertainty is killing
It’s very unforgiving
Making life confusing
Not sure of future that’s coming.

Uncertainty is a state of our mind
When no answers can be found
For the situations that are not sound
As desperation is taking over the ground.

Uncertainty is always there
Feeling that life is going nowhere
Bringing sadness that’s difficult to bear
Pouring problems onto in full gear.

Uncertainty is not certain always
It comes and goes in life as phases
Bringing periods of dark days
Surely, they will be testing times.

Uncertainty will face the defeat
When you refuse to bend at its feet
Having will power stronger than concrete
And the readiness to fight it and beat.

Uncertainty can surely be handled
Have positive thoughts fully loaded
With determination to face the grind
Praying with faith and hopes abound.

Fearless Shelter

a poem by

Death chasing me, I chase your beauty with
Never say die passion not so hard but delicate
Place of your heart,
But bad intentions spread all over
Not let one step toward each other
No sign of blinking is enough, to live on
Bonded beliefs signed on paper seems
Humiliation of relation
And ask anybody for a cup of tea and chat
Feels underestimating cheap like whore
And what is exposed and disclosed self bio
So both never dare to ask and uncertain
Of positive reply from, live safe in moral
Trap very better
Losing one unique chance of meeting of two souls
Like two planets encounter after thousand years
Yearnings only, found no shelter to die fearlessly

Backyard and Frontyard

a poem by

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 Commercial Collision

a poem by

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.

A Devotee or A Beggar

a poem by

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?’

Might is Right

a poem by

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.

I am not yours

a poem by

I am not yours,
But you are mine;
Just because of you,
My future will shine;
You are awesome,
I am just fine;
I like your smile,
It’s like a desi wine;
I like your style,
When you give me a romantic sign;
If you ever hurt me,
Surely, I will die;
But remember, I am not yours,
But you are mine.