What is in your fate, will be in your plate.
It is nothing but a waste of time,
comparing yourself with others,
being happy at their loss;
and sad at their gain.
Cold breaths erupt from the heavy heart
Weight of the world lies upon the shoulder
Million and one things tire the little brain
Blank faces show volumes of feelings
So much of open space around
Yet the world seems so constrained
on pieces of broken glass
falls beams of dreams
scattering all around the place,
searching for a crevice to dwell.
Value
What is the value of Human life?
For selfish interests of few,
Millions of lives are sacrificed.
In the name of Religion and
In the name of World Peace;
In the name of Countering Terrorists and
In the name keeping safe the boundaries
All of it is alike, all of it is a crime,
For millions of children till now
Have been massacred,
What harm did they cause?
For millions of women till now
Have been raped and killed,
What chauvinism have you proved?
Different names they wrap around
These inhumane acts of destruction
But they all lead to a similar end.
What have they achieved with power?
What have they achieved with Money?
What is the value of Human life?
Is there any answer to it?
Early
Pieces fallen one by one
Of her shattered heart
Between hopes and happiness
She lost everything she had
A long kept promise was finally broken
Together to grow old was their wish
But he ran a bit ahead of time
While she sleeps alone sobbing on her bed
He rests peacefully inside his coffin.
Night (draft)
Hand in hand, grasped tightly,
Through the mellows and the fields,
Looking above in the darkened sky
With the stars sparkling bright
Making it the perfect night.
The warm breathes of lovers
silently collide
With love bursting through
the moon light….
(to_be_continued)
Hungry Beggar
Dressed in torn clothes,
With a grimace of the face,
Uttering words of plead,
Roams around the old hungry beggar,
His skin wrapped around his bones,
With hardly any flesh in between.
Asking people for few coins,
So that he can feed himself some food ,
What else can he spend his money for,
A few coins won’t buy him anything,
Summer, winter or rain, everything is the same,
No shelter on his head, no place to reside.
“Why don’t you work? ”
“He’ll spend the money in evil”
Are the remarks of the miserly people,
Who spend their life in comfort and peace ,
Who cannot comprehend what poverty is,
Hiding behind sarcastic remarks,
All they do is save their money,
For who likes to give things for free?
In this world of greed and lust of money,
With a hope to get some pennies;
from the comfortably living wealthy beggars,
Roams around the poor hungry beggar.
Winter Delight
The stars fade away,
Welcoming the morning sky.
With the rays of the sun,
Ride along the fluffy clouds.
An air of freshness surrounds the earth,
As the fog slowly moves around.
The sweet chill of the morning breeze
Mixed with the warmth of a hot tea
With the birds chirping everywhere,
A serene way to enter the day.
What a delight to be alive.
Phillip Hughes
A dehydrated champion
splashing some water on his face
standing tall amid a fierce attack
killing every deadly blow with beauty
slashing at the low ones, cutting the high ones,
like an artist giving life to his canvas.
an undeniable promise of a bright future
with high hopes and big wings,
gliding through the clouds of success,
yet another day it was, holding strong he was,
one moment of rush and he fell on the ground,
waves of panic and worries flooded all around
with the prayers of the whole world behind
undefeated all his life, he lost his final fight,
but in a much better place, now he resides,
away from all the worries and troubles of this life,
in the hearts of ours he willl always reside,
as a young man with an overdose of talent,
Rest in peace dear young lad,
you’ll forever remain not out at sixty three.
Describing Her
Tangled between emotions
Her feelings ignite the passion
The soft melody of her breathe
Melts in the warmth of her hug
A feeling of eternal bliss
Her love pouring down like heavy rain
Wetting every dry inch of the heart.
Sprouting on the wretched soul,
Songs of harmony and love.
A breeze of freshness she is,
An unexpected drizzle of delight,
How many more wonderful things she is,
it is just so hard to describe.
The price of being good is to remain silent and suppress your existence. The moment you speak or think for yourself you become bad and selfish.
Melancholy 