History, Legend, life, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, Self-Help, Spirtual

Devil in a Sea of Men

Disguised in the

hollow curves of

your eloquent words,

do I hear a vicious

hissing ; whispers of

a conniving heart?

Why do I visualize

a serpentine on the rock?

I’m not beguiled by

your deceptive talks.

By the tinkering of your

silver coins.

For I’ve on my hump back

burden of enough winters

to mark a

Devil in a sea of Men.

loveliest soul
Love, Nature, poetry, Spirtual

A Believer

Me a speck of dust

insignificant particle 

May be a believer or 

may be not….

Yet here I am…,

here I am with

topaz rays of the

glorious Sun on my 

malformed face.

Azure brook flowing

gently through my

blistered feet.

Fluttering of crushed

leaves, music to 

mine ears.

Buzzing of bees, melody

of  fallen florets.

Beats of mine unborn in

the womb of violated

Earth

May be a believer

or may be not…

Yet here I am.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Open Kitchen
Love, Obituary, Spirtual

Divinier

Today a melancholic evening ,  I decided to

take a walk in pristine white snows wearing 

gloomy leather boats trudging heavily on

 eerie icy paths leaving  behind a

place once called home

 

While on way, I am met by a withered skeletal  

tree standing his  ground despite the havocs

 caused by ice and water  waving at me with

his trembling Parkinson’s  branches, 

grinning at me in a peculiar

fashion of  old men. 

 

Crescent moon shining like a soothsayer’s  

crystal it’s whites reflecting the whites of

snow prophesying , that moment of

redemption is near  revealing a 

vision through it’s translucent 

lights

 

A puny little squirrel trails  along  may be

looking for some company  chirping about the 

the loveliness of weather while nibbling

on a decayed nut, playing 

hide- seek with me.

 

Northern wind like a nagging aunt blowing 

here and there doing her wintery chores, with

careless locks of snowy flakes on her forehead

poking in my affairs and blocking

my way ..

 

Exhausted sat at the banks of a frozen creek,

from behind a mist a limping shadow in pale

moonlight comes forth,  I realize he is the deer

I hit last year with my silver car, his large

kohl eyes penetrating mine, in an act of 

forgiveness he gracefully allows me to

share his space, 

 

The  gloom nestled in me dissolves, I know

on this evening I am touched by the

diviner as I went home

carrying the nut! 

 

 

 

Silence
Love, Nature, poetry, Spirtual

Shooting Star

The day  I pass on and become a shooting-

star, disintegrat into million 

dazzling particles

 

Think of me an anonymous vision 

who came and went on

 

A mundane dream who lived well and 

relished all the bounties 

 

An unveiled phantom who roamed the

narrow aching streets as the

northern lights,

 

A faint glimmer who flickered when 

the winds were harsh and the 

tempests raging

 

At twilight when withered wax had 

deliquesced, I a  common vision

simply melt down ..

 

 

 

 

 

Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Love, Nature, Spirtual

The Loveliest Soul Of All!

One fine day, the prophet of love summoned his four apostles to bring forth,

the most lovable soul, the emissaries laughed for bestowing upon the task so

basal” how difficult it would be?” Grinned the one with an air of disdain but

with the task in hand and the urgency of the prophet, the four proponents glided

in opposite directions to search for the soul  loveliest of all!

 

First encountered a lover embracing his beloved vowing to lay his humble life

for love, the apostle heavy-hearted flew back after making a note, the second

apostle came upon a man of who held an expensive banquet in the name of immortal

love, having made a note too he soared back on his winged clouds to the prophet.

 

The third prophet had a rare rendezvous with a blind poet, writing love ballads on

dry leaves, the apostle had tears in his eyes and feeling assured  he met the most

lovable soul in the world, went back to the prophet. The last apostle wandering whole

day in vain discovered a farmer delicately burying a little pomegranate in moist soil

 

Bewildered for the apostle has never seen such sight went close and heard “my poor

baby pomegranate couldn’t breathe onslaught of storm anymore,” the apostle went

back to prophet disappointed for not meeting the lovable soul he bet. Each emissary

narrated shares of their soul’s glory, after a patient hearing, the prophet proclaimed

the humble farmer burying his pomegranate fruit of having the soul loveliest of all!