love
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Love, Nature, poetry

Love

Love is in the sigh of an aching lover

It is at the feet of an aging mother

Love is in the petals of a beautiful rose,

It  is in the farewell of a soldier who goes

Love is in the act of a divine consummation 

It  is in a pleasure of an orgasmic elation 

Love is in first showers of awaited rains

It is never done for any mundane gains 

Love is in everything that God reserve

It is what you and me rightfully deserve

 

 

 

 

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Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Legend, Literature, Love, Nature

Refuge

I took refuge in myself as a

hermit in an ancient cage,

enduring the thunders and 

the howls of angry wolves

in my brain, as the centers

would not hold, no one ever

cared for my broken words

so I started to scribble long

verses on my aching heart

while taking refuge in my

my withered soul caged by

the barrage of human folly. 

wild flowers
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Literature, Love, Nature

I Am A Wildflower

I may not be the exquisite rose of your French orchids,

or the fragrant Jasmine of your manicured lawns.

A wildflower of some unknown species, yes I am of a wild tribe!

The type that grows on the sides of your very dirty roads and

muddy paths, the kind whose seeds are never sowed

and fruits shall never be reaped.

 

Do you know that in my womb, I too carry a fragrance?

A pungent smell which never made it to the bottle of any perfume.

No lover ever came knocking on my humble door. No never!                      

Such abhorrent is my appearance that my beauty is never a joy to any.

My petals are never given a chance to kneel at the altar of any shrine,

for the pundits prophesied, it would have been blasphemy of some kind!

 

But I continued to sway when the cold winds would blow and

bloom whenever the benevolent Sun would shine.

I flourished, even when the florists at my site continued to whine

I thrived when the rains were scarce at an hour when suddenly the eclipse

took over all the Suns, and the Moon simply refused to show up.

 

So you ask me why?  For I possess a zeal, a yearning to live, so strong that even

when I am trampled on your dirty roads, I never cease to grow….

and continue to grow and like a phoenix rise from the ashes.

I am a wildflower, the kind that grows on the sides of muddy paths.

prophet
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, poetry, Self-Help, Spirtual

The Prophet

Met a wise man once,
Not a chiseled, silver beard monk,

But a weathered limping man.
A prophet he started to narrate a tale,

Not a saga of god and ablutions
Nor sordid scripture of poverty around

Standing majestic on the banks of holy river
He whispered softly in my ears

listen to the melody of the flowing water
Touch the humility of the trees

Feel the burden of the Mother Earth
Enjoy the seven colors of rainbow above

Tell me about God, if you a saint?
Mischievous he started to laugh,

So he spoke the words of wisdom,
A hypnotizing  look and calm demeanor,

God painted on the canvas of nature
A beautiful portrait of you my child

The first word of God is Adam,
The last word of Adam is God

God can not exist without man,
For creation is the master of creator my lord.

Stupefied I stood on the holy bank,
As prophet knelt and kissed my hands.
 

 

 

 

Lunacy
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, Self-Help, woman

But I Am Happy

In all my innocence, I thought you will listen gently to

the beats of my heart, I cried and howled as I was

alone and scared I knew we both spoke different

languages but still put my trust because I yearned to

speak and liberate myself from the fear and the million

different voices in my head but you mocked and tried

putting few words of your choice in my mouth and shut

it forever while I suffocated and cried but silently because

you didn’t like the sounds of sobbing I made and now

you claim I am mad because,I only talk to winds and trees

and never seek your company, For the allegations of

lunacy, I’ve been accused so many times and stripped

of any shame and dignity, but I am happy , yes you

heard it right as  happy as one can be and that’s my

only vengeance. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

feminine, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, Self-Help, woman

Sometimes I Sip Sooty Coffee

On my way to home, there are moments when I casually sip

a dark sooty coffee, ashen black to remove the stubborn

charcoal stains from  my green heart, legacy of a sheltered

sub-urban life, I meander through the curvy narrow lanes,

stretching wide from top like sagging bosoms but contained

through metallic wired frilled brassieres and net fences. 

Streets can run crazy wild too, trees must be primed, petals

must be counted appearances have always mattered.

Holding the erect blank cup, for it has no colors of flags

no slender waited figures of  pouted mythical women

I measure my hours with careless sips of coffee

scratching my head as to which way to turn, as I am

bad in directions, I knock on several dilapidated

neatly kept homes, gosh they all look same, even the

garbage outside bear uncanny resemblances, I try to

wait outside several cobbled  streets with long

Victorian names King George Edward Philemon

second or third or may be fourth, scratching my head,

I wonder whether to turn left or right, go straight

or turn back, I see random common faces trudging along

taking  heavy steps who have similar frugal existences,

mundane chores, ordinary lives not literary enough

to pen in Queen’s English, as I wait for my turn on

King Henry Pokemon fourth or fifth bus stand

I deliberately miss my Peter-Pan as from the corner

of my eye through hazy blurred glasses, a spectacle

extraordinaire out of a rising chemical smoke of 

a burning cheap plastic, I catch a site so rare, a dainty

disheveled vision of a homeless man ogling at me through

his piercing eyes, winking at me, In a single moment we

have an understanding  of seven births and deaths we

both don’t make any effort to find our homes.

a hand out of sea
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Love, Nature, poetry, Uncategorized

A Dying Man

Yesterday saw a dying man
lying breathless on the cobbled
pavement, near the majestic Promenade

A face so fragile, marred by the ailment
called life, a look of a victim 
and hardships endured

An appearance of a sullen
disappointment, masked beneath 
the scaly, withered skin

Hanging on to one thread of breath,
life gradually dithering, 
in his emaciated body.

Cries of pain and suffering 
echoing a tale of broken, 
promises and misfortunes so heavy.

Crowds gathered around to,
witness the grand finale; the 
the spectacle of death so cheap.

A sigh of relief a gentle,
reassurance, glance at the sky
for thank god, it wasn’t me.

Creaking sound of creature’s
cries, torturous unbearable
to the refined human ear.

Terrified at the final performance
crowds dispersed, thinking of
the share they might have to offer.

Life oozing out of the blob
of flesh, a gush of air exhaled
from the parched mouth. 

A faint voice, oh god!
lighting struck, ending the tale 
of a man who lost the battle too soon

Tanya Shukla