IF I POETISE A MOTHER..

Eyes that shine with experience,
Wrinkled lines on the forehead,
Subtle and solemn face
that hides fears,
And Smile of a silly teenager.
Eyelashes wet with worries,
Some silvery hair strands waving out,
Endless prayers of well being,
She recites
And sole responsibility of hers,
She believes,
To seed happiness into lives of loved.
O! Maybe the angel itself has taken birth
In human form,
To set free the mortals
From worldly tribulations.
Indeed She is a mother.

What’s a world without the gentle caressing of a mother….?

She’s the one who shows the least pain when we fell and have a wound. She hides her worries for you. She is the one who stays up late just so you could complete your studying for the examination next day

When you grow up in a teenager, she deals with your new grumpy side where you say idiotic things to her, she never even take those words and stick to them and be mad at you for your whole life. Still she is the one who helps us when we have an emotional side up on.

And when you do grow into a beautiful woman or a handsome man, she gets filled up in pride and watches you carry out your life as perfectly as she aspired.

In and all, she spends her whole life growing you and then when she leaves this world, she is all satisfied and contented as she completed as sole responsibility.

A little tribute to our mothers.

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.

“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.

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 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


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.