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 Born with the curse of poverty,

In a pit of a Hell,

I never got the chance to dream like,

Everyone else.

Always haunted by the phantom of tomorrow,

I wasn’t allowed to dream,

But was someone who just grow up,

Chasing a gleam.

One fine day, they came to me,

Telling me, I can also live.

And have a right to dream.

Endowed me a book in my hand,

And a meal in other to keep me going unrestrained.

I learnt how to write,

Had a daily meal to eat with pride.

 I began to see,

 Even in the darkness of night.

 Finally, I started hoping a Life.

Every next day,

Was an adventure in itself.

My journey from home to school,

Was like hell to heaven.

As we say,

Good days are rare,

 And bad ones keep stare,

One common day,

They served us poison,

Carelessly or consciously,

Which I don’t know.

But they killed the spirit,

Inside a nurturing Soul.

They killed that single hope,

Which I fear,

Will hardly ever grow!

I

An Urge to Write a Poem

An abrupt stimulation captures the body,

As suddenly as it could.

Before the body understands the urge to write a poem,

Words start pushing the mind in a quantum.

Sensations and feelings overwhelm the mind absolutely,

While the words keep coming like a flood,

With none making sense at all,

Make the mind numb,

And hamper it’s leisurely stroll.

Slowly the mind reacts to the actions of the body

Through a deep and tranquil contemplation.

It starts fastening the flood of words

With those irresistible emotions,

As to seek an escape from this world.

Contemplation then bless the mind

With a proper motive to write.

That is how the poem finds its beautiful way,

And comes to life.

Keep breathing…

From person to person,

I sense a kind of insecurity.

A fear which asks them to resist the change.

And to reside always in their already set range.

 

Afraid of moving on,

And not to let go of the things we crave for,

Adds to the problem,

Thus, force to live inside that comfort zone.

 

But moving on plays a role so important,

What it demands is only a bit of indulgence.

The only way to cope with the complexities of this life,

Is to keep breathing.

Take a breath in, take a breath out.

And Just like that,

Let the things in and let them go out.

 

When you move on,

Do it with a little bit of pride.

Like, you don’t need this world,

But, it is the world that needs you,

Calm, serene yet full of life.

A Light That Guides My Path…

Between You And Me….

Days have become weeks, weeks have become months.

Months are now going to be a year.

But something unvoiced is still there,

Between you and me.

You are blowing with the winds,

I am trusting my instincts.

Both of us are going apart,

With similar ache in our hearts.

Sometimes I wonder,

Does this distance really matter?

Between you and me.

One day, while walking in the crowd,

I felt something very familiar.

And for one more time, we were together.

Neither your lips uttered anything, nor I tried to say.

The only thing that conversed,

Were our eyes which refused to blink on that day.

And for a moment we realized, what it is,

Between you and me.

Frantically I tried to gather my wits and go another way,

Only to find that you held my hand and your eyes forced me to stay.

I was refraining myself from being so close to you once again.

But somewhere, I knew, I was trying in vain.

For I was already captured by the feeling,

Between you and me.

Calm, empty, yet so deep,

These were the gestures, your eyes offered me to read.

The silent conversation of hearts conveyed everything which lips couldn’t.

Then something within struck.

And, one more time, I slip myself into a sweet oblivion.

Things have been changed so far, and as we grew apart,

I recognized, your love is your art.

And that is why distance does not matter,

Between you and me.

In Utter Loneliness..

It is in utter loneliness that creativity blossoms.

Thoughts blow away your mind,

Confinement of feelings and ideas seems almost impossible.

Creativity knocks at your door.

It’s upon you- if you understand the opportunity,

And originate the best out of it.

 

There was a time when you were dying to meet yourself,

And have a little communication with your personal self.

Now, when the moment has finally arrived,

You are not bothered to do what is right.

 

This is irony which life is filled with.

Almost everything comes when, You make the shift.

Solitariness is no more desirable nor it is tolerable.

Although it’s the point of time, you can do things adorable.

 

You shouldn’t be worried ,

But must enjoy it,

For creativity is still standing at your door,

Waiting for you to cry your heart out.

Then you would realize yourself, that no body has got it all,

Life is just a blend of rise and fall.

Finally Dead !

You don’t have any idea, how the hell it feels.

Having thousands of ring tones buzzing around,

Kill all my desires and dreams.

I was the only hero of their lives.

Until you become common, and threatened me to thrive.

Your ringtone is not less than a death song to me,

And thus I declare you my wildest enemy.

There were days of my name and fame,

And you take the calls as if it is a game.

Sometimes I feel like killing you, but then I see each one around holding you.

I get utterly disturbed, when they say holding me-” Call me on my mobile oh stupid you!”.

It hurts, it aches, your every tone almost kills me inside.

Yes I am calling, your own Landline. 😦

To My Dear Friend..

Its a huge luck, I am blessed with a friend like you.

Everyone is not lucky enough to have such mien in their lives all through.

I never cease to forget the time we shared,

May be for that was the only thing I could treasure.

You defended me through good and bad,

I however always realized feelings unsaid.

               We never needed anything else except each other,

                All we wanted was to be together .

                 But fate had different plans for both of us,

                  And you went there , where I couldn’t reach.

                    My destiny left me quite ambiguous,

                  because you were the one I preach.

        That all has become past now,

          I always wonder , it passed how.

        The mere thing I can bring out to you

         is that I can never procure one like you.

      And our friendship in our hands we’d tightly clutch,

     So these miles wouldn’t dampen our bond with it’s touch.

Note: Credit for the last two lines goes to one of my online friends  Shweta ^ ^

Picture says..

 

I am a picture and you are the frame,

Even when the picture is at fault, you take the blame.

Your radiant presence keeps the pic alive,

Otherwise life seems no more than a strive.

Having you around  means life is other way round,

Like I am a song and you are the sound.

You give a soul to my beauty,

People say now it is your duty.

I love the way  you hold me safe,

All the time you have been so naive.

This picture is worthless without possessing you outside,

I am the heart and you act like a body beside.

When a frame falls, picture becomes dead,

For the day it leaves, is the day of picture’s end.

The way this frame captured me long enough,

I felt the warmth of its love’s puff.

The only thing It wants from you is to never get apart,

So that the soul remain present in the dead picture’s heart.