he does very well,

For  a dedicated worker, nothing acts as a spell.

And he deals with the authors,

Much different from the others…

Twenty four hours a day is not enough

"GO RHYMES GO"

Go rhymes, from my poetic heart,

As best as an eminent painter's art.

Be not shy to collect all her feelings,

Return back quick and tell me her ailings....

Desolate she sits with wet eyes,

To impede the tears, hard she tries.

Go rhymes go, kiss the lass and come,

And I'll present you on a paper, back home....

Never the weeping eyes looked beautiful more,

Her beauty hits my heart like tides hitting the shore.

Bearing the heaven's light, my angel is here,

Go rhymes and awaken the hidden happiness in her....

Her emulsive smile is what I long to see,

Her eyes are deeper than the deepest of seas.

Her Love is prettier than the prettiest of maidens,

And My Love has touched the pinnacle of heavens....

Go rhymes go and present her a fancy garland,

After dragging her out from the weary land.

Bring me her tears which my eyes will shed,

Go rhymes go and return back blessed.....

"THE POET INSIDE ME"

The evil night was dark outside,

Disturbed I walked towards the mirror,

Stood infront it with dazzling eyes,

And the flickering candle flame added light....

Taken aback was I,looking at the blurred image,

When I noticed my eyes drowned in pain,

Could vividly get the inside picture,

Of everything that they witnessed....

The lucid pen that my thin fingers hold,

How can it write on a topic so very well??

To this query of mine,replied the night,

"Your pen writes from the ink of your heart"....

To the mirror,looking still,I asked my heart,

"Where from you get such immense feel"??

Replied then my heart with a soft voice,

"From your eyes that observe things very deep"....

Then I stared at the candle's burning flame,

And thought deep about the blurred image,

Which it did cast on the mirror eyes,

Then I got the answer to my inside query..

"Am I really a poet"?? Let my poems say.....

"THE IMAGE OF A THWART....."

Here I do present the image of a thwart,

Returns who to the home with the same heavy pant..

Throws he himself to his rejected bed,

After returning from work with a tensed head....

Twelve hours a day he works,

Twice an hour,his forehead,he smacks..

What mildews him is the cruel job's burden,

Wants he relief from this dejection all of a sudden....

Rest he needs in the solacing solarium,

But the incomplete work keeps him in a state of glum..

The "eau-de-cologne" too can't refresh his mind,

Thus turn splentic,the people of his kind....

Sundays too he doesn't get the leisure time,

It is for him that "Resting is a horrendous crime"..

Often tries he hard to express his creativity,

But lack of time ever keeps him in mental ambiguity....

At eve,the jubilant soiree,he can't attend,

At night, to sleep in peace,he can't pretend..

"QUIT HIS JOB"!!He is not that mettlesome,

Finally,Its constant frustration that adds to his troublesome sum....

"A WALK WITH GRANDPA"

Strolling along the dusty roads,

With my bold bald grandpa,

I could feel the drastic change,

Of this contemporary world....

Listening to the talks of the past,

Looking at the folks of this era,

I walked silently like a lost man,

Calculating the contradictions,too vast....

With small steps being advanced,

Both walked together hand in hand.

It felt as if he is my complete world,

Nostalgic waves then did hit my heart hard....

An old respected man as he is,

Salutations came to him after every feet..

When he called me "Baba" and clasped my hand,

My heart felt free as the flying little birds....

The twenty minute walk,

Made me to long for those eve hours,

When I used to sit on his extended laps,

And listen stories about the giant "Hanuman"....

With this thought in my longing mind,

We reached at the gate of our home,

Weary,he walked towards the entrance,

And I with him,recalling this "Indelible walk with Grandpa".....

"MY PA(DEDICATED TO MY FATHER)"

He is simple, sir,

Like the heart of a baby,

He is truthful,buddies,

Tis’ true as the Life-death reality..

His dedication to parents,

Reflects he is so humble,

Work,Wealth and Wife,

Are no barriers to him when parents in trouble…

His Love for his child,

One can never imagine,

No irritation of his child,

Can avert the man from running after him…

He has never beaten his child,

Nor even scolded him,

Always he smiles and says,

“He is still my baby,breathing his first breathe”….

Forty miles,he walks to the temples,

With rain thrashing his body,

This he does not for himself,

But for the welfare of his loving family……

The Materialistic Feel,

Has never touched his heart,

He Is such great  a man,

Who deserves to take God’s part……

People mock at him,

Often without care,

He neither reacts nor changes,

My Pa’ is constant as the pole star….

He is not a rich man,

But his Heart,

I can say,

Is the most expensive one…..

I simply Love him,

I can’t express it,

It can’t be expressed,

The Poem is done and my eyes are wet…..

"AT THE DEAD MAN'S OBSEQUIES"....

At the dead man's obsequies,

Dont shed tears,

For he is free,

From the obsequious bond....

Tears wont be the antidote,

For the dear loss of the mortal,

Instead pray for its soul to rest in peace,

That has made its way to the celesteal world....

The angelic palm of any angel,

Too couldn't act as a tourniquet to its blood-sheding body.

For the dagger that stabbed him,

Was the sharp dagger of betrayal....

"BENEDICTION FOR THE BANE"!!!

Let thine numb mouth start the REQUIEM..

At the burial of the dead,

Look, the bawling ground kissing its demised head....

After the white cloth covers its fast dreaming eyes,

After the coffin swallows its profuse bleeding body,

After the mass returns back to the mundane world,

Tis' tranquility that would reign silent sob of the graveyard....