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.
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.
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.
This too shall pass,
Yet another assurance to give,
But, still the same old chores.
A mundane soul wanders around,
Buried under mediocrity and overwhelm,
Breathing upon self condolences
That hardly last any long
A search for self peace, becomes
yet another matter of stress.
Never mind the extra burden,
A detour, a short break, little smiles,
Few moments of delight,
But, everything becomes null,
As arrives yet another dreadful night,
For tomorrow anxiously awaits,
The same old mundane routine.
This too shall pass, this too shall pass,
the feeling of hollowness,
flowing through the blood.
resonance of a palpitating heart,
striking in the empty body shell.
fear gushing through the vein,
choking every cell of hope.
in the darkness of a brightly-lit room,
continues the vain search for life.
Through mediocrity and self doubts,
Vandalism of our own true self,
Through the judgemental eyes,
Self inflicted humiliation and defeat,
It is a story everyone lives from within;
Only few of them escape,
Rising above every self limiting,
Energy draining, negative thought,
No audience, no panel of judges,
Amidst a dead, pin drop silence,
Applauding their own piece of art.