And then under it
Where raindrops fall
On a languid rocking chair
Sublime I carve.
The exuberant memories on
The visceral flyleaf
With demons of words
Falling like nebulous tale.
I on the symphony of words
And music with rhythm
Forget what is sorrow
With vestige of terror.
So again I proclaim
My right to poetry
For it is the air I breathe
And the world I live.
So now on the rocking chair
The idyllic queries ask
Questions decrepit yet ethreal
What is poetry?
I will answer the query
Based on my contemplation
That is neither vast nor small
But either Lithe or hoarse.
Poetry to me
Is music of clouds
Falling like rain
With blessed word drops.
It is the wind cold
Changing to breeze
With shiver along the
Horizon to cease.
It is the tranquillity of moon
In the Night starry sky
When it shines with delight
And looks shy.
It is the lustre of Eyes
Of a child just born
With a toothless smile
His face I see on.
It is the  last words eloquence
Of the dying  old lady
With his lover at his side
Smiling and whispering a final goodbye.
It is the beauty of flowers
Like the dreams I see
With open eyes
And I smile at its prophecy.
It is how the grass is more green
and the sun more bright
Or how sky is endless
With war raging in sight.
It is even the question mark
That dangles within
The philosophy people precieve
Of their own countless sin.
It is in the xeric rose kept in books
And the stiffness they contain
With a fragrance of love long buried
And a tale never told.
It is even in you
So it dances on
the music of your heartbeat
Rhyming with steep.
And i on the rocking chair
Satisfied with my answers
Put down the flyleaf
The pedastal of poetry.



Extinguished flame

And then it went cold,
As the last flame,
Burning bold
Died still within yet without,
Like the silence was ever ,
Now heard To shout
broken forever.
The taboo which stood aghast,
Beyond him with faith,
Of buried past
In depth.
It stood with a facade smiling,
A cold and a goofy grin.
Sweat was shining
The candle with fleeting flame,
Has long eloped in dark,
Its penumbra same,
Cried lark.
So the minister in his fortress vast,
Stood without shame on
The deeds of past,
He laughed a hearty manical laugh,
Bold, cynical and untouched,
Cold calculating chafe
Humor crushed.
So with pockets swelled of offerings,
And his heart content with bliss,
dismissed the sufferings
Like forgotten wish.
The minister with high look of air,
dismissed the shade
Of worry and fear.
Arrogant made.
A bribed dark king of corrupts,
On whom the dim anger,
As struggle erupts
He held onto his position torn,
Like a casted sin of all,
On ill and worn
Throne tall.
He filled with money his casket,
Which belonged to others,
Like a broken basket
Of feathers.
A dictator of mindless bragging,
The minister corrupt stood,
Mumbling and ragging
damage he could.
Murderer he was by the killing spree,
That went forth under his nose,
From his orders deep
found funeral rose.
He was pompous and held a post,
Was partial and not quite worth,
The position he held most.
My wrath
I told him not and he grew by day
Filled with pride of wrongs
He did to say
Bloody fangs
I say he is a devil in disguise
Ruining all happiness
Blood shot eyes
Are mess.
I say kill him to clean the beloved earth
But again I deeply ponder that he to
Make us killers Is not that worth
So again we leave.
Hatred runs in blood, on anger we feed,
To break, to take revenge we breathe
As tree of poison grows from seed
Bearing the fruits to keep.
I now understand that how everywhere
A minister like him stands erect
Because we fear somewhere
Of his tact.
Today I look, at the Extinguished flame
That once burnt with dignity
And I vow my name
At last for justice.


Tragedy Unmasked

Fire bended,
Breath was suspended,
As slowly the atmosphere,
Misty and fizzy,
Was filled with fear.
Dumbstruck glance,
For one instance,
Looked away,
Like guilty in itself,
And wronged to say.
So once again,
In the poisoned rain,
Where water died,
And hope with joy,
Was tormented to hide,
Stood he alone.
With a melancholy tone,
And a red nose big,
The joker stood.
Wearing red black wig,
On his face,
The cold facade,
With humour dead,
And silent eyes,
With tears shed.
In rhapsodic shower,
without any power,
Cynical he Stood.
Searching happiness,
Only if he could.
But none he found,
Not even a single sound,
And he was disgusted,
When understood,
How people were rusted.
They were made of tin,
Even own kith or kin.
For they cared did not,
And alone,
His battle he fought.
He made people laugh,
Even when himself chafe.
But people coarse,
And utmost hoarse.
In that poisoned rain,
He understood again.
How he meant nothing But,
Coloured piece of leech.
And then his mind shut.
And on the pavement,
He sat to lament.
As tears on coloured cheeks,
Dropped and dropped,
And the joker shrieked.
He then with cold,
On his life lost hold.
And fell with water ,
encompassed around,
As his heart did shatter.
The next morning came,
News very lame.
A small para was given,
To the creater of bliss,
And his name as joker written.
The news went forth,
That a joker died of cold.
Fallen he was found,
On the pavement,
With water all around.
No one cared how,
Died the joker now.
But Next morning,
Everyone bold as brass,
Went to circus shouting,
With joy all aloof,
To enter the circus roof,
For the joker was replaced,
Like no tragedy ever happen,
Or no dead joker was faced.


A game of chess

Life is a game of chess
Said the old player
He had deep emerald eyes
And he never played fair
The people heard him
And slowly the light became dim

He narrated a tale bygone
With flags and empires great
Once there was two cities vast
With bright and dark fate
One was evil with glory bright
The other dark and ready to fight

One opposed the other
And other the first
However hard they tried
They could never trust
Blood ran down the river
Even in summer or winter shiver

They taught each other lessons
Soon forgotten with delight
They killed with passion
With no end to the ethreal fight
They wounded and they died
Like their fate were tied

And one day a drought hit
The bright Kingdom with force
The dark empire suffered flood
With nothing for resource
They blamed each other for it
And the disaster that had hit.

The bright king contemplated
Whom to consult in need
For his repository were empty
And he had mouths to feed.
He recalled a bird he held
miraculous and magically tailed.

It could work wonders vast
Like no one ever heard
His body bright with feathers
And the power there lurked.
The king ordered him to go
To the kingdom of his foe.

On the other side
The dark king held a frown
The water overflowed everywhere
Yet not a bit to quench the crown
And then the magicians arrived
With a knife carved with delight.

They presented it to the king
As a solution to problem bold
He doubted but yet he took
The knife with handle of gold
He took it to study it’s effects
he was always worried about theft.

The bright bird soared high above
To the kingdom with roofs high
But who stood against the fate
Not even rulers great or time
So one day the knife by fault
Was thrown in air with halt.

The luck was besmeared
Of the two kingdoms together
For the knife hit the bird
And both fell in sea like feathers
The bird died with a knife alone
In heart at bottom of sea unknown.

Quest was started in search of bird
The bright king was troubled
For his precious weapon
The miraculous bird.
Was no longer to be found
He waited for some news or sound

After the search in vain
He decided it was the deed of dark
He was troubled with drought
And now was taken his lark
So He ordered a army to be build
For the dark king to be killed.

The dark king on the other hand
Frowned and cried for his knife
Which was supposed to end flood
On which depended his subjects life
The knife was magical with power
To put an end to rainy showers.

He contemplated long and then
He arrived to a conclusion
The bright king had his knife
And to kill him was the solution
So he ordered people to be armed
For the bright king to be harmed.

Bright army with flag white
And the dark with red
Were ready to kill each other
To kill or be dead
So they stood face to face
In the endless quest or chase.

So the battle began
With swords and shields new
Each evening it stopped
With mercy vert few
Soil changed colour as innocent died
Like ocean with some bloody tide.

Battle was fierce
And both knew not to bow
So with ego enormous
They went on with the show
Not caring for lives to end
Nor for ways to mend.

But the angels were angry
With this lack of unity
They decided to talk
To both king for a treaty
They came down to be respected
But both with ego disrespected.

The angels with angers cursed
The empires to be drowned in sea
And with wrath infinte
they changed cursed the army
With both the kings together
To become wooden pieces forever

And so they became carved
Piece of wood to be toyed around
And so in this way
The game of chess was found
The player ended the tale at last
Like a spell finished very fast.

So with joy he took the box
Filled it with pieces of wood
Carved like kings and pawn
The listeners silently ate their food.
And with a final goodbye
The player went to his way high.


A sinking tragedy.


It was a beautiful fusion of ebullient lights
Lighting the pathway to halcyon hearts.
Singing and dancing was in sight,
On the first day to make a Mellifluous start.

All kinds of people shared the same dream,
Of being the part of an unsinkable trip.
With the same pulse but different rhythm,
They sang and danced on the ship.

From the deck of third class a boy stood up,
Holding the hands of his father looking at the sea.
Above him holding an amorphous gaze,
A lady also admired and hummed a lilt.

The same life of water and wood they lived,
Under the scintillating lifestyle of changing forms.
Feeding on the hope of seeing shore rancid,
And just staying out of the ways of harms.

Parties, Dances, Feasts, and unlimited enjoyment ,
And a crepuscular, Obstreperous room filled with people.
Journeying lives hanging by a filament,
It was like a voyage of all crystalline and ethereal.

And amidst all each one held a heart’s piece,
Somewhere on the shores of the destiny.
Somewhere in the sleepy hollow to coalesce,
And each soul renewed as music filled the harmony.

But when everything is sweet and sonorous,
Things usually suddenly turn into ashes.
And the same happened with the people as chorus,
Of tragedy hit like an iceberg shattering lives of masses.

Music played for hours on the deck along,
But it was no use calming the blaring cacophony.
People shouted like maniacs as water sang a tearsome song,
Waves danced along on the shores of the destiny.

Life boats were lowered as reality shattered the dreams,
Where incorporeal death seemly traveled.
Repugnant water entered the mouth and children screamed,
Slowly the cold, nebulous tale of death unravelled.

Water cold eloped all, like starving flames,
As the corpse of the third class boy came afloat.
Some lives held the pieces of Ineffable wood, calling names,
Languid Lassitude stuck in the heart, like water in the boat.

Why did it happen is a not a question to be asked,
Maybe we were to be warned about our position.
Or maybe it just wanted to show our mistakes masked.
Or to play it was maybe nature’s turn.

I know the cause but oblivion to its reason,
It was just the rusted ship and it’s memories
The unforgettable mistakenly cold season,
The way the sailors asked idyllic queries.

And memories dive in the pile of innocence death ,
As the tombstones were made in the water.
People lived lives with nothing but a filament faith,
As they choked and lives just faltered.

And so the people slept in the warm waves of sea,
Eyes closed forever and broken hearts scattered .
Being remembered till end of time, yes till eternity,
As the big and Redolent ship shattered.

Sunk forever the unsinkable great one,
Into the vast enourmous passage of time.
Down and down it went into the bottomless pit tearsome,
Being part of the oceans Luminescence rhyme.


Sporty sport


A swift and twist in game

I feel the heat rising
And my cheeks turning red
Flushing purple with pressure
And black in place instead.

Tomorrow is the match , and,
After the struggle over cold facade
I am ready with a smile
Not my own but entirely made.

I feel the temperature,
The sweat trickles down my brow
And i toss restlessly
Each second till the morning show.

It is hard to blink an eye
When scruitinizing i sat
Upon the toss to be held
Like a thirsty hungry rat.

I am confident,
Not of the result to say.
But i will play fair,
Even with the hurdles in the way.

I am ready to lose,
My very own identity
But with a fight it will end
No one will end it but me.

Come join hands in my dream,
Because united my team stands.
Along the shaky walls,
A struggle to win in different lands.

How i wait To change in the jersey,
At the very first ray.
See smiling faces of friends,
And meet the rivals in waylay.

Match, that’s what’s dancing in my mind
Why can’t I shake the knotty feeling
and the bottom less pitch of my stomach
The dreamy wounds of loss are healing .

I inquire after my own health,
For I feel my hands getting cold.
And I wipe the sweat off my brow,
And stand steady , stable and bold.

This match, it may decide my career,
Or mean nothing at the end .
It depends on me out there,
And the ways I mend.

I walk swiftly to the field,
Looking all around me.
The spotlights are all fixed,
On the nervous wreck that’s me.

They admire the courage we show,
Never trying to look inside
The fight we are fighting each moment,
At this moment are cast aside.

I quicken my pace ,
Happiness at the moment is a lie
My friends I am going to oppose
I look into their blood shot eyes.

And one, Two and three,
Here starts the match with heat.
Every twist is a lap in pulse,
And every turn a lost heart beat.

My mind turns to the farthest corner,
Of my very own journey.
Trying to get tricks to win,
Without any tomfoolery.

With each passing second ,
The game is slipping from control,
I feel the adernaline run,
To make a good comeback at a loophole.

And here is the time out,
As water drips down my throat
And I feel my lips quivering
At the very thought of losing.

The thought is enough to irritate me,
And give me a good start up.
As I start again with a bang,
A flaxen leap towards the golden cup.

And the second half goes well.
As a feeling of sportsmanship overpowers me.
And my mind dances on my own tune .
As I listen to who won the match , what is it me?

Ah! Yes with the golden cup in hand,
I am above clouds all nine.
My rival join in my happiness ,
Because at the end of the day, everything’s fine .

And I host a party,
As a real smile plays on my lips.
Dancing on the horizon of bliss,
And yet that adrenalin rush I miss.


India at Zenith.


Tiranga *

It had to be today
When we became independent
And india shone
No longer slave of company india East.

Rejoice oh world
Because today history was written
With golden letters
It was engraved of blood and patriotic smitten

India, whose roots lie,
Somewhere until the other world
And whose fragrance is around
Which no coward had made

‘ganga’ ‘yamuna’ ‘krishna’ ‘kaveri’,
Whose washes the feet
And himalyaa smiles
It’s the place where cultures meet.

From the flaxen heaven to earth
I found a nation standing ,
Alone, Afloat
And I smiled as the Tiranga* was high above the landing.

A jewel of earth
A place of peace
A birth place of religions
Still a fighter of justice

The long forgotten nation,
Was once again alive
With the vortex of change
And Cascading love

The crepuscular sky
The lit stars
And amongst them
An ethereal being India

The incandescent Mellifluous country
Is the outcome of deaths and sacrifices
If it’s felicity all around
It was Gandhi, Nehru,
Bose and many more.

Bow your head in name of those great souls
Marching forward in a myriad
And singing the lullaby of harmony
Ending the decrepit long known fight.

World are you aware of its riches
It’s accomplishments
It’s love for another
And it’s Redolent Radiant.

So listen I am the child of the nation greatest
I am the outcome of civilisation beautiful
I am the life of a struggle long known
I am the first remnant of India at Zenith.



Was brooding over a story some hours ago . The poem is the out come.


Cheers . Be safe . Be happy. Take care .

End of a nonpareil tale.


A true teacher .

Tears slip,
Slowly , marking there ways,
Down the cheek,
Like falling from the mountain,
To the unknown valley.

The country, it shrieks,
With pain, glum and dolefulness,
Deep in the heart,
Knowing the gem it lost forever,
The soul into open air.

And yet a hope is born,
To be bred by the stories
Tales of undefeated afloat one,
The one famous one,
The  legend of India.

Hear oh the listeners!
Hear the chronicles of nonpareil,
A Heartbeat of millions,
Gone in the sluttish memory
In the twinkling of Eyes, to be remembered forever.

From the dead slummy streets of ,
Rameshwaram, to the Presidential palace,
Or to be engraved till the sun loses its last ounce,
Into the heart of every one,
Each alive one.

How hard he worked
Is a folklore in itself,
As the hands changed surroundings,
From the fresh pages of newspaper, 
To the missiles launched to heaven.

The Nobel boy he was,
No one knew,
Would transform into something,
So great , so admirable,
As to hold a place in each heart.

A fighter to lose everything,
Filled to the brink,
Where he dived to find,
Something he did not have,
He knew to be a winner.

Yet humble he stood,
Like on the doorway to heaven,
Whose part he was ,
Like the end less oasis of effort,
He got the real Dream.

Dream is not something you see while sleep,
It holds power to not let you sleep, He announced knowing the strength of words,
He stated the future to us,
Sit think and muse over again.

“An eye of the bird” was what she asked,
Got Agni* in return,
Smile for you are the outcome ,
Of that anew talent,
A new source of belief.

Hope was the feather perched in his soul,
Cause he danced like the vortex of development,
Quenching the thirst of generations,
Cascading the vivid memories of,
Desperate hard labor.

Behold! Oh the listeners,
Know of his great excellency ,
Cause he was the one great leader,
A teacher of coming tomorrow,
And a saver from yesterday’s foolish trickery.

I bow my head , my heart Shattering silence,
My tears dropping along on the very verge of dilemma.,
And I again pray to god ,
For the great human he was,
That he found his safe haven.

Agni* –  is a short-range ballistic missile developed by DRDO
of India under the Integrated scientist Dr.A.P.J.Abdul Kalam.
Literal meaning fire.


Infinitely dream

I feel the sleep overpowering me,
I close my so heavy lidded eyes,
Hearing the so sweet lullaby,
And try to look through the night sky.

I go into a dream of being unseen,
Through ways still unknown to me
Taking me further all the way,
All the way to the cheerless sea.

It engulfs me , eats me
And i become its undeniable part,
I try contemplating but then words fail,
I hit hard as the vortex of reality smiles.

Its hard to understand when you scrutinize your fate.
And think about bygone times ,
When you were not there to correct the mistakes,
done by people you didnot knew .

But still as the silence folds,
And the days drag along,
And i stand alone on the horizon of pain,
Ready to be pushed in the coming hurricane.

But when the wind blows,
Cascading the sweet memories of tear stained deaths
And i look at what took place,
I finally do understand that this hurricane was not ours .

But one came as a silent tribute,
To the thing which future holds,
They closed there eyes as i opened mine,
Blinking away unknown to what took place.

Smiling away pains aint easy but we do,
Just smile to each one of us,
You do not know who they lost today,
Or what will happen to them tommorow.

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