Poems on "Thoughts"

Untitled Minimalist

a poem by

Rita Malhotra Dr

Every thought belongs to the fragrance
Of the yellow-white blossom in my vase
Every gaze to its feminine grace
Nights only find the scent of love
In the interlude of dreams
I shall never sell the stars again.

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Never had good as old

a poem by

Thangameenakshi R

What a time, what a way of life,
Still bouncing back are my memories in the wake of stride,
Knowing not what to do, I hover over my thoughts
To find the days when there was no seek and hide!

Why should I grow, is what I have not understood,
For I always thought I got what I could,

No, nobody has ever been so merciful and blessed,
The days I spent in my old house with which I am always obsessed.

Could you ‘guys’ take back this life in exchange for the cold breeze I felt in my past,
I would give much more than I thought for this if you said me the cost.

Oh!common, not again a poem on the nostalgic dreams, said everyone,
Even though they all were wanting to live again and again but did not agree to one.

The fresh greenery I imagine and feel all the time or may be when I am immersed,
Could anyone take out this thought from my mind with some new technology I asked!

Nobody came forward, for they understood what I felt,
Cause, it was the same feeling and thoughts that made them quite interested!

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You

a poem by

Sanal Kumar

You had been just an ordinary flower
In an ordinary garden like ours
You growing there
Yet graceful more
Until you being plucked by that soft myterious wind
To be replanted in that glitzy garden of ours above
You glowing there
Yet shining more

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They call me The Abyss

a poem by

Nishtha Vyas

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.

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In the end, the Sea

a poem by

Sunil Rajagopal

Where goes the sun at
long day’s end? To douse his red
flames within the Sea.

Where goes the monsoon
and her clouds after their dance?
To drink from the Sea.

Where goes the river
after meandering course?
To sleep in the Sea.

Where goes the Hilsa
tired from swimming up the flow?
To die in the Sea.

Where goes the sailor
who returned with his bounty?
To live in the Sea.

There may come a time
when I too shall return home,
to be with the Sea.

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Tears

a poem by

Srihari

Sound and light are so loud
Walk and talk are so harsh
Sun and moon are so far
Food and water are so abundant

Earth and air are so vast
Creation and destruction are so many
Heart and blood are so close
Hand and foot are so near

So
Let the tears and souls wash away
The happiness and sadness
Let it bring joy and hope

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Why?

a poem by

Vijaynath

Why the sun rises from the east
and the night comes after the day?

Why the sky so high and stars so
shy and beyond our reach?

Why the wind cannot be seen and
light cannot be touched?

Why the smell has no colour and
sound have no shape?

Why the mind is so vast and
thinking so narrow?

Why the love is so sweet and
hate too dry?

Why the trees are tall and
leaves fall down?

Why the flowers bloom only
for a while and gloom?

Why happiness is short and
sorrow linger on?

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Grieving for a Noble Soul

a poem by

Shanthi Rexaline

Somewhere deep down a sense of pain,
Inexplicable, given the lack of any gain,
An ingenious flame flickered away,
After igniting many a mind.
The tears that rolled down,
Like having lost one’s own.
What makes him a standout?
Not the one to have clout,
Or trappings of wealth that speak loud,
Neither a prince charming,
Nor an imposing figure that’s alarming,
A standout all the same!
By his peculiar coiffure,
Childlike mind,
Infectious smile,
Burden and vision for the nation,
Humble beginnings,
Made in India label,
Faith in the youth,
Relentless pursuit of knowledge,
Blemishless public life,
Love for children.
Mere sharing his birth month,
Brings smile to my face,
As though the connect vests,
All his commendable virtues.
How he would’ve wished,
To lead India into 2020,
As a nation that boasts socio-economic equity,
Crossing over the threshold,
Into a developed nation,
Integrating the best of all time and places.
This humble Octogenarian from Rameshwaram,
Effusive in his credits to teachers,
Never missed an opportunity to be with students,
Left the world being among them,
He took off with wings of fire from Shilllong,
Only to leave behind millions inspired for long.

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Guru Devo Bhava

a poem by

Tirumala Swetha

When god thought to distribute,
Wisdom in all his creations
He thought and thought in deep solitude,
And then realised to make a teacher,
Teachers are angels who come from heaven,
To make us know about the subjects seven,
Teachers fill the knowledge
Till the brim of our brain,
They with their efficient guidance,
Make all bad qualities drain,
You have been a great preacher,
You have always encouraged us
You gave us good advises
Which will help us till our life ends…
Oh teacher! Oh teacher! What else should I say,
Be with us throughout the bay!!!

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My Thoughts

a poem by

Anu Pillai

How do I explain the pain in my heart
Which is filled with your thoughts
That is never ending
Wish I had another life
To explain to you that
How much I miss you
As each day goes by

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Wake me up

a poem by

Sindhu Sreekumar

How on earth could life be still running its course,
When I still struggle to drag myself
Through my days.
Nothing changes,
They say, ‘change is constant’.
Every day that tends to end with my sleep,
Every morning, that begins with an alarm.
One of these days, my son shocked me out of my shell,
He dared to change the tone of my alarm.
Don’t worry, nothing drastic happened.
It’s back the same old way.
I am not yet awake.
I haven’t yet taken my first step,
To stop them from dumping waste on the road.
The day I do it ,
I live.

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Crunch

a poem by

Girish Elchuri

When you are in a crunch
Problems come in a bunch
You feel like digging a trench
And hide from the life’s stench.

Every phase in life is not the same
Ups and downs are part of the game
You need to learn on how to tame
Putting the hurdles to shame.

All thru it’s important to stay positive
In any situation, complex or primitive
Even you become emotionally negative
Deal with them by being creative.

Remember, you cannot run away
And have to face it, what may
Have faith in God and pray
To emerge victorious one day.

Put focus on your efforts
And hope in your prayers
It’s only hard work that matters
For you to punch and put the crunch in tatters.

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The Relic

a poem by

Ramachandran C

When he lived, no one loved him,
none approved him.
He was not a common stuff;
but, designed of precious silk.

He made an orb for him
And cut his links from the fraud,
As the sea separates the land,
The sky distances the earth,
The justice; injustice
And tried to be placid.

There was a fencing around him
With insight, competence, and accolade,
He believed ‘good’ will be good for all
Didn’t know only to some.

He couldn’t perceive,
The superlative enemy of man is Man.
He believed in concord:
The mass bestow’d him discord,
He tried to love every one
But, got abandoned soon.

Those who went near
Found him quite virtuous!
(the most omitted for their luxury!)

They made an augury
“He is not fit for the globe!”
They smashed him!
the next day assembled near his mausoleum
Fought for a relic
To exhibit their intimacy with te just.
They composed anecdotes of his miracles
Which he was want of any!

They made him God, or His Son
Who lived for other’s welfare,
They made his name an adage;
A definition of honesty,
For which he lived and died.

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Corruption

a poem by

Sudhimati K.V.S.

Plough the land and pull the weed,
Burn the weed and burn the seed,
Grain and fruit our children need,
Tomorrow is what we should heed.

It spreads far; it spreads wide;
Allows no grain to grow beside,
It sucks the earth and drains its mirth,
No healthy fruit can take its birth.

Too many hands with too many tools
For too many days and too many nights
Should burn the seed and pull the root
To allow the growth of grain and fruit.

We may suffer today; you may starve tonight;
But be sure my young man, tomorrow is bright;
Ye can feast your eyes with magnificent sight
Of future children dancing with spright.

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An Epoch and Apostle

a poem by

Purushothama Rao R

He is a lucky chap
Needs no prop
He never pits as a flap
And always rejoices just by a clap

He works hard with the words in calmness
And chisels any raw idea to its utmost fineness
And strives hard to make it a resonating piece
In hearts and souls of all the readers in quiet and cool trance

He gets up from the bed with the cooing of the cuckoo
And starts his day dedicating ample time to language and literature
He carves the suitable words wherever it is felt appropriate
And idioms and phrases used by him become quotes of tomorrow

He lives in hopes and perspire in aspirations
He is a teacher and preacher in his own style and sheen
And reciprocates nature in its own terms feasible
He loves flowers and its fragrance scented out

He is an epoch and an apostle shining in the sky
And acts like an ambassador advocating prosperity in peace
And strives effortless to bring the brightness in delightful stance
To the planks of earth without any shy

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