ORIGINAL POETRY

POETRY POSTS

  • Few but all things will change

    Few but all things will change,
    after this night of nightmares ends,
    the way we looked at the world and now we do,
    the death that seems new normal will haunt;
    the path we mustn’t have taken,
    the dread of death must have been stopped.

    The boundary-wall of blood weaving its height
    and never looks down,
    the sprawling hands of death catching the light:
    an eagle who scavenge in town,
    Nothing to spare but to kill and drink,
    the blood of smiles, and flesh of hopes.

    This darkness in lights and everything seems bright,
    so bright to see them tomorrow and day after,
    the passing days and unbearable tides.

    The crushed tomorrow and cursed today,
    the night of deaths and moaning days,
    a death as dust and a thought embedded:
    nothing ever last is and it shall go,
    but imprinted on hearts will never fade away.

  • A PIG IN a DUMPSTER

    The blind eyes of Dhritrashtra,
    A born garbage in lion’s den,
    Unfortunate CM of Maharashtra,
    A dark, stinking brook in disgust,
    a man deepens down in chair’s thirst.
    an immoral, undemocratic, a shit of lie in cluster,
    honks naturally, a pig in a dumpster.

    For a man, undeserved of the chair,
    We’ve seen the nude dance of betrayal,
    the seller of his royal heir first,
    and then the powerful vote of the people.
    For dark world of which brought fight,
    The pandavas, the truth won at the end.
    Everyone will clap when your injustice will die.

    Then what to expect from the people around,
    A mason of lie and the psycho thirst.
    For you must try for hide to hide,
    You will have a much-awaited fight,
    And like a fire which kills the petrol,
    You’ll utterly fail.

    So, you keep heightening the bars,
    the truth will jump out again,
    for no matter you keep burying truth,
    it will pop out yet again.

    For everything has to be weighted,
    Here and here, just here.
    Keep your craps inside of you,
    Don’t spit, don’t stop,
    Wait for a time of revaluation,
    You’ll be diminished to the ashes,
    O’ pig in a dumpster.


  • A FAMILY, NOT AT HOME | FRIENDSHIP DAY SPECIAL | POEM
    Shared, Cared, celebrated,
    the moments of fallen days,
    nostalgically memorized,
    some path traveled with an army of own,
    the ruling legends, a family, not at home.
    A group of persons,
    met in different phases of life,
    a stranger at first,
    and a friend at the end.
    some met at childhood,
    some at young
    and some will be with me until I die.
    They taught and learned,
    lessons and chapters,
    of life and lies,
    the funny, the funky,
    bros and sis of mine.
    With pros and cons,
    with twists and turns,
    we burn a lot, we fought a lot
    and survived, at the best of all.
    we had hard times,
    we had best times,
    we are growing,
    we’ll have more times.
    Let’s not thank,
    just live along.
    If life got a second,
    from its end,
    Let us ask for, one more friend.
    HAPPY FRIENDSHIP DAY

    Read complete poem here


  • Confluence of love | REPOST
    The love of yours, To the love of mine,
    The affinity of heart-beats, To remain alive.
    The eyes of yours, And the eyes of mine,
    Enough to see, The world of ourselves.
    The arm of yours, To the arms of mine,
    Enough to reside, For the whole of our lives.
    The lip of yours, To the lips of mine,
    A completeness, And cheers to the life.
    Your trembling soul, To my closeness,
    Your bowed eyes, And my yearning life,
    Makes it adorn, The coveting soul of mine.

  • FIRST LOVE | REPOST

    The way she passed the bridge of my memory,
    I lost my way out of the senses.
    The lights of courage in me was diminished,
    Flaunted by the winds of first love.

    Her gaze of glitters stared at me,
    Like she holds secrecy of wings,
    A breath that dissolved in me,
    felt like a fragrance of undiscovered life.

    I hated being intimated my own thoughts,
    But it does happen to me,
    Like a life that was not the same ever since.

    She could have seen me,
    A glimpse of me to her,
    Or a never-ending gaze,
    Could be something there,
    I must have done,
    But that moment of love,
    Is a love that loses to win.


  • A MASTERPIECE| REPOST

    Sitting besides the blue-ish river of Atlanta,
    Staring, the filled sky with grains,
    Glittering in the nights.
    He beseeches for a masterpiece.

    A thought, that can change,
    his life, before, it ends.

    Carving, through the muds of soil,
    he began his journey of life.

    Some emotions, like an ocean,
    with devotion, and his imagination,
    created some wonderful creations.

    Dolls, to play with,
    Sculptures, to decor with,
    Utensils, to cook and eat with.
    Love and emotions put into it,
    to live with.

    Paving ways to the thirst of his creativity,
    to accomplish, its starvation,
    to achieve its thoughts, of giving life,
    life to the cluster of soil and water.

    Now scattered, within itself,
    asks for relief, in search of something,
    a masterpiece,
    to mark his name,
    in the history of this world.

    Never found, was a masterpiece.
    Found, was never a masterpiece.
    Life squanders, to a limitless,
    infinite, search for the pearls.

    Never seen but catching,
    Attentions of all, calling,
    hidden inside,
    deep and within,
    the structured, boundaries of flesh,
    Craving, is a masterpiece.

  • Poem Excerpts: THE FABRICATED LURE

    The divine ride of my bicycle through hazy humanity,
    innocent replica of tomorrow how dim witted!!
    slow-thicken and twisted, lullaby of lies we heard,
    melody of myths, each passing day subsides.
    the goodness, the beauty and the morale of life.
    ashes, ashes, all fell down.

    Read the complete poem

  • THE FORGIVEN BETRAYAL

    Oh! When the heart flutters with the beats of love, it’s the most serene feeling in this universe. But what anyone can do when the love of your life is the reason for your existence, and is taken from you or betrays you. you couldn’t just put that love behind and move on,can you?

    The love never dies and so does your feelings. If by any chance you’ve got to know that your love was not the one who betrayed you, but the destiny did, you want your lifeline to hold you when you count your last breaths.

    Oh! This feeling!!!!! It takes my senses to another level….

    Presenting you this piece of mine….to say the above in some woven words…

    THE FORGIVEN BETRAYAL

    Oh! The light of faith has gone
    And the serene blindness in it,
    Warmth of the hearts dulled
    Have icy questions in it…
    The silken thread of trust
    Is somehow, broken,
    And the feathery feelings
    Are now, just a token…
    The pious love never gets faded
    Though,
    Wails with the tears of betrayal,
    And stands still on that trail
    where the hearts met…
    Ablazes everytime,
    when the lost time flashes in the mind.
    But flies in heaven,
    When relives the moments;
    Yes! Those one of a kind….
    On the deathbed,
    The last wish is to hold hands,
    The warmth would return,
    The cracks of heart would heal…
    Peaceful smile on the lips
    with the touch of beloved,
    And the eyes would close,then
    Forever,
    As everything’s now,forgiven….
                                                        -MANU


  • THE FABRICATED LURE

    The divine ride of my bicycle through hazy humanity,
    innocent replica of tomorrow how dim witted!!
    slow-thicken and twisted, lullaby of lies we heard,
    melody of myths, each passing day subsides.
    the goodness, the beauty and the morale of life.
    ashes, ashes, all fell down.

    Then ticked on the Life’s clock, adult reality,
    Full moon brings the darkest night agitated,
    for people are bats who sleeps upside down,
    they chant of modesty and truth fabricated,
    Deadly roses, delicate and sublime,
    The moment you see it, the moment you die.
    Ashes, Ashes, all fell down.

    Truth is the rotten dung in the dumpster,
    Honesty is cowardice, love is miserable-lore,
    For I know the truth of the selfish bones, I lie.
    Assumptions, Beliefs and a relentless dream,
    of an ethical, modest and fascinating us,
    for you and I, we’re not the priest,
    Ashes, Ashes, all fell down.


  • THE PEN OF CREATIONS

    It’s enfolding, the forgotten me,
    the dead me and the rising me,
    a prose of love,
    and some poetries of life.

    It stretches me out,
    from the life of hazards,
    to the life of wonders.
    Like a lyrics,
    Written on breaths,
    It sings inside,
    to make a charm,
    Blowing up the faces.

    It feels the joy,
    Of creating thoughts,
    the ink of zeast,
    Filled to the life,
    Writing on the lives,
    Of an small ant,
    to huge vampires.

    It surrenders to me,
    the weapons of creativity,
    To pave a way,
    for a blind kid, like me
    Who can’t see the life,
    the life of wonders,
    Filled with joy.

    To the heaven, which is here,
    And nothing is beyond,
    it blow up the mind,
    to fill the with lights,
    The light of creativity,
    for the lives with art.

  • SOLD DOWN PEARL

    Before the early birds could sing a love song,
    Collecting the monumental lure of her love,
    He left her marooned in demise for long.

    She, who weighs priceless in heavens,
    Awaits in demise, disbelief, and fear.
    Pierced into her heart, the brand of love,
    Makes the night sob in delusional despair.

    Babbling in the air, sorrow and tear.
    The herd of bleeding memories,
    raising above the clouds,
    Wailing, in grief of the dear.

    The bruised heart foresees a day,
    a day of love which won’t tease,
    and the heart will live,
    not today but tomorrow
    or maybe some other day.


  • Everyone has a story, some untold, some are weaving.

    The pond,
    the lake,
    and the little lotus,
    Everyone has a story,
    some untold, some are weaving.

    these stories are real,
    like us,
    but, they never share us,
    like we never share ours.

    They play,
    they love, and they get hurt,
    they feel broken and fight for their survival.

  • PERHAPS | POEM

    Premise
    The possibilities of the livings drives them forward. With all the heart wrenching predicaments of life, they still breath, they still live it to the fullest…

    Only in the glimmer of hopes…..the sparkles of probabilities….the happy ones, the fulfilling ones…All the hardships seems dwarf when the canvas of life projects beautiful prospects of future…

    Especially to the ones which struggle to get mouthful of food….the shattered huts and the smelling arenas tell their stories of wrenched life….Still the poor lives…the eyes search for just one flicker of hope….flames of possibilities..

    Here’s a piece to magnify this feeling….

    “PERHAPS

    Perhaps the armour of the poor
    is just a myth…
    Endless sufferings
    And
    Deep scratches on the soul,
    Yes indeed, it’s a rippling lie…
    The flashy cards flared up
    and the hollow promises,
    The deprived eyes
    and the questioning faces,
    The sunken cheeks
    which not blushes pink,
    The chapped lips,
    Far from being scarlet.
    The lost smiles
    and the tarnished thoughts,
    No cloudy dreams,
    In vicious cycle, they’re caught..
    Necessities turned into needs
    Chirpings into wails,
    Knowledge means nothing
    And Oh! The ship that never sails..
    Perhaps…
    Or indeed, if I say,
    The dreams of newborn,
    In these shattered walls,
    would end up in dismay…
    Perhaps..


    New Arrivals


                                                  

  • “I do love you” |Poem

    In midst of life,
    In lies of the world,
    In my craving thoughts,
    I breathe of disguise,
    I am not your worthy,
    neither trust Worthy,
    But I do love you.

    For that reason,
    Or for many reasons,
    I blush at you, or
    for silly jokes you have,
    I might tell you some day,
    Or may not tell you ever,
    But I do love you.

    There’re flowers I look at,
    the same way I see you,
    I smile for them,
    I don’t touch them,
    But I do love them.
    The freshness I find in them,
    I find in you.
    For this reason,
    maybe the only reason,
    I do love you.

    You know even if don’t,
    I will continue loving you,
    Like i’m standing
    in the burning sun,
    I feel no sun, but calmness,
    For you’re standing,
    in front of my eyes.

    For the feel, no one does,
    But I do.
    For life no one have,
    But I do.
    In the pride of loving you I say,
    I do love you.

  • Burnt Arms of Roses hurt

    Stuck within the walls of nonsense,
    Stung by the venomous society,
    Hiding scars of her heart, hopeless,
    Gazes, the chopped wings of her.

    The alluring blush has long gone,
    Left is the flesh forlorn.
    Deserted in the dust of humanity,
    Burnt arms of Roses hurt.


  • A fond Adieu |Poem Excerpts

    Trembling with fear of losing him,
    she stares the lamp at the corner,
    and he stands to leave.

    As they walk in silence,
    nothing much, but smiles of love,
    accompanied,
    her eyes beseeches him to stay,
    and his charming eyes,
    filled with opportunities,
    of this blind world,
    never cares.

    Read the complete poem Here


  • The Dirty flowers in the garden of God

    Flowers in the garden of god,
    the aesthetic, elegant mankind,
    flourished from one to the other,
    an infinity of beauteous nature.

    Somewhere, bestrewed with heavy
    Leaves of cruelty, sits some flowers,
    Covered in Bosky roots of hunger
    and poverty.

    In the brume of misery,
    they ask for nothing,
    but a mere question
    of blooming,
    at odd time,
    at odd place,
    in odd conditions,
    is this life is given or forgotten ?

    This injustice of god still prevails,
    they need much but never given,
    How cruel of creation?


    New Arrivals

  • Rain of Love |Revisit

    Let it wash,
    the old memories,
    the hurts and pain,
    to blossom again,
    in the rain of love.

    A me in me,
    dying alone,
    let it soak,
    the mud again,
    make me alive,
    alive again,
    O’, rain of love.

  • Time escapes

    Time escapes,
    faster,
    wildly,
    unrealized,
    unpresented,
    but slow for the fastest.

    In the arms of heaven,
    it never sits,
    but keeps running,
    towards
    a never-ending race.

    We,
    On the other side,
    Keep waiting,
    for the right time,
    to strike,
    for good,
    or for fortune.

    It never,
    Strikes the clock,
    the way we want,
    the way we wish,
    and, we keep waiting.

    the better is,
    not to sit,
    but to run,
    faster than time,
    realizing,

    but not looking at it.
    For what we know,
    we can’t stop,
    never we can,
    so, run faster,
    and leave it to rest.


    New Arrivals

  • The brave ashes

    On the sore of a river,
    beside the ponderous forest,
    from the burning dry woods,
    they were born.

    They smell poignant,
    a grief that expanded,
    from the dead wood,
    till they’re burned to charcoal.

    The whirling of them,
    with the smoke feels like,
    milk centrifuged in churning,

    The black smoke with white ashes.
    they travelled with the air,
    from plants to plants,
    from trees to trees,
    from land to waters,
    from everywhere to nowhere.

    Some of ‘em just stayed there,
    with the burning wood,
    they found peace with themselves,
    others keep roving.


    From green flesh,
    to the brown wood,
    and to the burning,
    then to the ashes,
    is a journey,
    which the brave ashes
    keeps living after dying,
    so many lives,
    so many times.

  • The clock on the lost wall

    Right there,
    on the wall of lost time,
    sitting is a clock.
    Looking through the eyes of time,
    everything and everywhere.

    There isn’t solace,
    but a sadness that keeps getting deeper with time.
    If you know and look into it,
    you will find it hard to understand.

    The petrichor,
    the dusky smell of wooden trench,
    used long back to make its body.
    The rare collection of colors put into it.

    Wind in its own acoustic comes to make him feel the lost time,
    like a golden memory which cherishes us to laugh and cry at the same time.
    It does seem like how the bread of memory pilled with lost time taste.
    Maybe there is no other beauty glow like the time.
    It keeps the beauty of dusk and dawn,
    the sun and moon, the dark and the day, the world and I.

  • Kasturi | Poem Series | Part 1

    Two ends of a sphere,
    Me and my Heart.

    One lives with me,
    one lost
    to never found me again.

    When I recall sometimes,
    of my heart,
    a fragrance of ‘Kasturi’ smells everywhere,
    when couldn’t find it,
    i sit in solace.

    In the night,
    when memories sears me apart,
    i think of my heart.
    A heart which could’ve been here now,
    but it isn’t here.

    Every thought of lost heart,
    which comes
    with the thoughts of her,
    is like the mild wind of summers,
    or, like a shade to me,
    for I’ve been burning in the sun,
    whole my life.

    She wasn’t a part of me,
    never she was.
    I never loved her,
    never did she.
    I never asked her,
    never she said.

    But

    She never left me,
    never she did.
    she stays in me,
    and in my memory,
    Like a masterpiece
    of the time.

    Kasturi – Meaning ‘Musk’ – Ornamentally “Smell rare to find”.

    (To be continued…….)


    Books in Focus


  • Poetry | Less Human than Human

    We have always been less human than human,
    In the glare of pathetic greed, we are leading,
    Like never before, or like every Single time.

    There isn’t any sign of togetherness,
    Good deeds, a better past, or our glory,
    If there is, it’s rare, so we share.
    Shamelessly.

    We don’t deserve what we have,
    What’s bad is caused by us.
    Despite we have been gifted enough,
    We never cared enough.
    I can’t cry for the humanity,
    Coz, I never found it,
    not in me, not in anyone.

    But,
    When a mother dies,
    Her child in the womb,
    Burnt in her life-giving shed,
    It ruins every single existence.

    Now, when it turns out,
    You burnt her,
    You killed her,
    You did it for nothing,
    Or for whatever.

    When I consider myself,
    as Human, as they, who did this,
    this feeling of life touches
    the shame of my existence.

    The thoughts, the feelings,
    You couldn’t feel, neither she could tell.
    but the mud she painted on our human face,
    will never fadeaway.

    May God gift you to a better world.
    “In the shameful existence of mine,
    I write.”

  • The beauty of Life

    These mountains, a solid architecture,
    a life with the green canvas, all over it,
    like a bold green flesh, raised by the sun,
    the summers, winters and spring passing,
    it stays still, never complaining, about anything.

    In summers, Sun melts him, like fire vomiting dragon,
    his little trees and plants die due to illness,
    lack of water causes death to beloved animals,
    he keeps mum, waiting for the spring.

    Spring and rain, their arrival, bought in happiness,
    a joy to the jungle, little animals get their veggies and water,
    but never settled, they get lands slides, some trees die,
    some animals die, the rain wipes out his tears,
    waiting for winters, never complained.

    Winters arrival, the blanket of huge snow,
    the beauty tends to flow, from the bottom to the sky,
    flawless and joyful, the earth becomes cold,
    Small roots of small plants, can’t bear it,
    Some homeless animals, buried inside the ice,
    he cries and smiles,
    but never complained.

    Nurtured by nature, the strongest,
    the wealthier mountain knows,
    The beauty of life,
    sun and moon, heat and cold,
    life and death, death and life.


  • The Misery of Pain

    In the misery of pain,
    the hurt beliefs of life,
    never fought to forget,
    What was causing it.

    Never went for the fight,
    Never stood to the right,
    sitting in corner of the world,
    Never spoke about the tides,
    Which’re making him sank,
    day by day.


  • Presence is You

    In the glare of little sunshine,
    In blossoms of pink daffodils,
    With buckets of happiness,
    Presence is you.

    It’s you
    in the first rain to the fists,
    In the closed eyes of the nights,
    It’s you – Seeking a heart,
    to console, and to burn it.

    It’s you
    in the slump of dreams,
    In the wonders of rains,
    With the brand of stare.
    In the rivers of romance
    dissolved is you.

    It’s you,
    for an ever, to a forever,
    and never to be never,
    Presence is you.
    It’s you for a forever,
    It’s always YOU.

  • The drops of fog

    Writing on leaves,
    the drops of fog
    some sublime poetries,
    of life & lies,
    burning and dying,
    true love in the eyes.

    Escaping from the arms of clouds,
    falling to the surface of grounds,
    it cools the heat all around.

    Scattered onto the soil,
    it asks for an another life.
    a life of time, for a lifetime,
    nothing it says, but denies.

  • A Life with Lenity

    Whimpers in the maze of tough thoughts,
    A life with lenity.
    A thought of seeking coincidence,
    With wondrous epiphany.

    A morning that seeks night,
    But couldn’t.
    A night that seeks dawn,
    But couldn’t.

    It stays within,
    And asks quietly,
    Whether you’re,
    what you are
    or not??

    When not heard,
    It stays where it belongs,
    Like a snail in its shell.

  • A mountainous Butterfly
    In the mountains, when the sunlight wakes her up, the morning begins, We see her brightly colored wings, She flies through the routes of flowers, rivers, brooks, and through the petals of blue delphiniums. Like a lady with courage and compassion, giving soothe to the eyes of lovers. like a queen of nature’s kingdom, who visits her kingdom, every morning. Greeting, praying, asking “how’re they doing.” She roams across the mountains and forests, rivers and seas, spreading love and colors, in a generous way, to the clouds, stones, and waters, in the zig-zag exploration of life.
  • First Love

    The way she passed the bridge of my memory,
    I lost my way out of the senses.
    The lights of courage in me was diminished,
    Flaunted by the winds of first love.

    Her gaze of glitters stared at me,
    Like she holds secrecy of wings,
    A breath that dissolved in me,
    felt like a fragrance of undiscovered life.

    I hated being intimated my own thoughts,
    But it does happen to me,
    Like a life that was not the same ever since.

    She could have seen me,
    A glimpse of me to her,
    Or a never-ending gaze,
    Could be something there,
    I must have done,
    But that moment of love,
    Is a love that loses to win.

  • A Masterpiece
    Sitting besides the blue-ish river of Atlanta, Staring, the filled sky with grains, Glittering in the nights. He beseeches for a masterpiece. A thought, that can change, his life, before, it ends. Carving, through the muds of soil, he began his journey of life. Some emotions, like an ocean, with devotion, and his imagination, created some wonderful creations. Dolls, to play with, Sculptures, to decor with, Utensils, to cook and eat with. Love and emotions put into it, to live with. Paving ways to the thirst of his creativity, to accomplish, its starvation, to achieve its thoughts, of giving life, life to the cluster of soil and water. Now scattered, within itself, asks for relief, in search of something, a masterpiece, to mark his name, in the history of this world. Never found, was a masterpiece. Found, was never a masterpiece. Life squanders, to a limitless, infinite, search for the pearls. Never seen but catching, Attentions of all, calling, hidden inside, deep and within, the structured, boundaries of flesh, Craving, is a masterpiece.
  • Ashes of Thoughts

    Stays somewhere,
    little ashes of thoughts,
    dawning in the middle
    of some stray stars,
    alone but surrounded,
    by meaningless bushes
    of burdens.

    A walking thought,
    starts running,
    on some unknown roads.
    irritated, hopelessly,
    trying to escape,
    from all the realities,
    that caused enough.

    A howling truth,
    begins to kill,
    every breathe in the flesh.
    like an enemy,
    of its own.

    Hope, a myth,
    breaking and germinating again,
    and at last,
    betrays us all,
    a life stays with hope,
    and dies, in hope.

  • The tryst of Love
    Hurt, deep, inside the heart, Crawling, Scattered, Whimpering, asking for help, stayed in him, the desires, the hopes, a thought, a thought of coincident. Afar, Running, Vast in the woods, alone, lost, star crossed, in the thought of, of being complete, staying, in the darkest hours, the hours of dark thoughts, her life echoing, to wait, till the end, an end, till their tryst. A walk of images, appeared, paving ways, roads to both, roads of possibilities, a life, beyond their capabilities, a life, there always was. Emerging, Changing winds, going through, with them, asked them, asked to follow. As they followed, to the unknown, against their will, Bestrewed, Beseeching, the destiny, to meet, to meet at their tryst. Reaching, at a dingle, the flowers, blossoming, the wind, never felt before, the eyes, effulgently, went an espy, an espy, of each other, as a stranger, Known, so much familiar, with faded, outline in memories. Time urged, to know, and to understand, just don’t let go, sit, talk, and begin, what was never started? Understand, trust, the destiny of yours, stick together, and never ever, be apart, continue.. your trust, tryst of love, to a never ending, a never-ending-end.
  • Words at eve of ’em
    Say it, the way it is, -She said So… it’s not the way, It has to be. “Why” – she questioned, Why is it not the way, it has to be..? Like a free waterfall, You are, my sweetheart. I am a stone merely on your way..you’re going to go anyways… Even if I will try, many ways, you’ll go anyways. Either you will think of the world or world will make you think of Me. Poured Romance will melt like ice and will float on water… I will cry in each piece… Even if I will, the pieces won’t be One…I will try and I will cry… But Nothing will be one. Everything is Physical, Everything logical… But not my Love… It’s pure and illogical. It breaths in hearts and pumps in vein… It goes everywhere but not in Brain, But not in the brain… You have logic, I don’t have…you have love, I don’t have… Even if you’re here… I feel the fear. Of losing you, it haunts like … I don’t know… Why this??… Why this?? … Let’s find our ways… Individual and independent, let’s meet somewhere. Sometimes… Somewhere?? Where Our souls going to meet… In the paradise! I think. Where Beauty would sustain and Romance will flow.
  • Paid for Pain
    They make them pay, for their dignity, they looted them, and they flunked their dignity. With the transaction of dignity, nothing exists like a human, they show their left dead bodies, they bet for them like scavengers, like every time they did to them, they will again crush the flowers, they paid for.
  • You’re loved
    Love of two, you came to life, Love of almighty and love of hopes, One love of two individuals, you are. Your hearts is love, you’re the love of your heart. This world loves you, with blessings, care and amenities it has. The trees, the roads, the house, your little room, loves you. The friends, the relatives, the strangers, loves you. The cold winds from mountains, travels to you, everyday, every second, to love you. The icebergs melt itself, everyday, to be a river, a lake or a sea, to travel you, they love you. They say to you, nothing, they ask you, for nothing, they just love you, with the each passing time, they make you feel, alive and fortunate, they want to say, in the most romantic way, You need not to worry, you’re loved.
  • A lone love
    Happening to me, is the love of lone, a love with me, for me from me. Carried away with thoughts, creating a thousand times, deleting it several times. I keep what I like, eliminating the odds, joining the dots, creating it, of my own. Without any fear of losing, Without any hope of getting, Hopelessly and fearlessly, Stepping ahead in love, a love with me, for me from me.
  • Unexpressed words
    Few words of unexpressed thoughts, Keeps burning, deep inside the hearts, from the realms of vast expressed lands, to the sky of lantern stars in the nights. It fights with people, who never cared, with attire and gestures of unwillingness, When it breaks out, it keeps mum. It sobs with loud voices in silent souls, with the starvation of living somewhere, it resides within two black pages, thine.
  • Unbind
    He fights with every erroneous situations, just to stay besides her, like a stack of rocks besides a river, to make her flow, without any fear of being lost. But for her, Sometimes, it creates a boundary. He knows its not to stop, But for her well-being. She knows it’s for her, but couldn’t hold for long. For care which comes with love, of not losing, someone you love. But care creates some periphery, and love disperse out of lacking spaces. ©nawaab
  • Drops of thoughts

    Few drops of unattended thoughts,
    travel all the way from the clouds of imaginations,
    not entertaining, but pertaining to something within,
    falls on dry hearts.

    It’s an amalgamation of a life,
    creating a covered, preserved and promising way of dealing,
    with pain and strains of lives.

    It regenerates lives,
    boosting energies of dead cells,
    and the tradition of sorrows and happiness.

    It opens up the eyes, closed with
    died thoughts of the unreal world.
    It feels, within a life, the chord of life
    and the cure to undied deaths.

  • A Family, not at home

    Shared, Cared, celebrated,
    the moments of fallen days,
    nostalgically memorized,
    some path traveled with an army of own,
    the ruling legends,
    a family, not at home.

    A group of persons,
    met in different phases of life,
    a stranger at first, and a friend at the end.
    some met at childhood,
    some at young and
    some will be with me until I die.

    They taught and learned,
    lessons and chapters,
    of life and lies,
    the funny, the funky,
    bros and sis of mine.

    With pros and cons,
    with twists and turns,
    we burn a lot, we fought a lot
    and survived, at the best of all.
    we had hard times,
    we had best times,
    we are growing,
    we’ll have more times.

    Let’s not thank,
    just live along.
    If life got a second,
    from its end,
    Let us ask for, one more friend.

  • The rain of Love
    Let it wash, the old memories, the hurts and pain, to blossom again, in the rain of love. A me in me, dying alone, let it soak, the mud again, make me alive, alive again, O’, rain of love.
  • The thought for life, is a thought of life
    A thought, to understand, the life, it’s importance, it’s nurture, making most out of it, getting best out of it. Let it live, in literal sense, Measuring, it’s caliber, it’s capacity, it’s capabilities, it’s wonders, it’s dangers. Life, it’s creation, it’s does and it’s don’t, It’s necessities, it’s requites, It’s purpose, a goal. It’s fractions, satisfactions, Values it should add, Values it should not, Peace, it’s mechanism. The inner selves, the outer selves, It’s pain, it’s griefs, It’s love, it’s hates. the things, to achieve, Before it ends.