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Escape
I, wish to escape; this reality so harsh. Run into a world of peace and solace. Harmony, love blows with the wind. Not a shiver of fake and sin.
Fading miseries, this survival instinct.
Just for once; if I could.
Sit on the sideway bridge, that stands in the middle of town. Clear sky and a garden nearby. Swans and swarms; goats and geese. All around; what a world to choose!
There, my Prince; neatly robed. just as water: clean and pure. My heart races; with smile of his: fast, “millionth of time”. .
A house: that can be Home. Families, friends; all close. Sharing success, losses all. none alone, but all along.
A night, never seen: glittering so beautiful . A calm, breeze caressing my face. Long, comforting lullaby; far from the woods.
Ah! Such lively this life looks: safe, secure and full of hope. Such catching, to my heart, even in dream, I dare not elope.
Wait, what! Why this bustling sound I hear! It shall not be real, I begin to fear.
Oh! My heart! My mind! Begin to tremble . It’s day of eleven, seventh of week.
Something, I may, never escape.
Sometimes, what; I wish to escape.
Poverty makes you cry
Poverty makes you numb,
Hand without hands.
A living zombie without death,
A contagious disease without any sign of recovery.
Nobody dies of heartbreak, but does lacking:
Hope : things can go well.
Trust: there may be a future.
Help: to survive another day.
Cactus has thorns, as it’s difficult to survive desert,
It’s heat and temperature may kill him unnoticed.
Situation defines, decides,describes destination,
No option to refuse or deny,
coronation of Crown,
Waiting pain, unlimited maime,
Everything meaningless, poverty makes you cry.
A night passing by
Sitting, by the window;
I can see:
Things and places, moving backwards.
There is calmness: of chaos and worry.
Fighting a duet, to win and end,for once, for all.
Few lights are off, few shining more,
In this sound night, what a mystery they behold.
Turned off lights; how nice, peace, and a good night sleep.
Turned on lights; how lively, vibrant and willingness; work more hard.
There are trees who have tale to tell,
Millions of journey who lived and passed by.
Ahead is a temple, closed but decorated,
Might be the God tired, reviving,
After hearing a tonnes of prayer, listed,unlisted.
Night,
A beauty in darkness, many of us holds.
Looking from the window, I whisper my favourite song,
Such is beautiful, this passing night.
I lived and loved,
Nature being natural,
A wide clean sky, with no clouds roaring.
A clear view, my eyes can catch,
Night
A reflection of “what”, “how” and “when”
“Why”,”where” and “who will”;
Questionnaires and answers yet to find, a short, but long,
Dare I not loose this opportunity, shall I not hold it tightly, a night so precious. not may happening at ahead, Who Knows Time
May, I Get A Bigger Hit!
Yes,
I adorn clothes their;
torn and worn.
I fill my stomach, leftover;
bitter and wetter.
I have messy hair,cheesy attire;
Dirt hooked up; crime booked up.
Now here;then there. Searching identity;
everywhere.
Sometimes beaten, sometimes chased.
Running away, where to stay?
Sky is my shelter, bare ground my bed.
When you cry, I mourn;
when you laugh, I sigh!
Watching you, observing you; I grew up. Saving self, working help; I grew up.
Dare I choose; If ever I could; Complain, compare.
“This justice, unconditional, worth, not to share”.
Yes, I am; nowhere near. Being like you, not in my list. I am in hurry; I am hungry. With a wish;
” May, I get a Bigger Hit! “
Tell me not
Tell me not, you are tired;
Consistent perseverance is lost, and persistency has torn you down.
Your agony of making great, has turned into settling lest.
Tell me not, you have learnt; play symphony of excuses and nay;
Dare you, forget your dreams, care you live with shame;
Unfinished task, existence crisis; not fighting back, but singing “why this? “
Raise your head with proud and hout,
Candle yourself with fire of desire;
Wait not, if noone helps, worry not, if noone works,
Tell me only, when you are done, singing song with musical rhythm;
Of success, of quest, of this, of that;
But giving up, Don’t tell me that.
RAY OF HOPE
Farcical joy
Memorising date and facts; mystery of history,
Well in past.
From might to could and right to should.
Textbooks to calendars; marked and noted.
Chapters which sung, the rusted gold, paralysed bone.
Here is,
Knight ready, his sword greedy;
Serve and save;
vanished and tarnished images of king and queen.
Dirge ballad, exalted force;
Human agony of mind, not heart;
flows.
Slashing without rhyme, lacking rhythmic line.
Graphic and plots, twisted with maline. Play judas and singing Facsimile.
Death bell played, before time.
Who knows, what’s one’s crime!
States besieged and perished,
Man to extinct, with fate sealed.
Left nothing, but dilapidated, obscured.
Few becomes the narrator;
Glorious war, Valiantly fought.
Many;
Unsung fool, murdered;
Yet justified.
Who fought whom, an eye for what;
be assured;
Impression will last.
Hold or let Go
What’s gone is bygone, rightly said.
How long a chef is going to cry for her fallen dessert, that she cooked with utmost care.
How long a Potter is going to stare at his broken ware, that he designed with so much dare.
What happened, just happens.
What broke, just breaks.
No one can capture that flying time, just because he has some grudges with the timely rhyme.
No one can erase, that memory of bad, howsoever sad.
How long a person, who was so deeply in love with her partner, going to destroy himself, by drinking to death, or smoking to rest.
How long a person is going to revenge, for the sake of betrayal, with himself at waste.
It’s not a question, but a thing to wonder,
Life is once, we all know;With time, we all grow.
Running, chasing, find and trace;
To save things; place, people and race.
Day we retire, with torn attire;
smelling with unwashed tears and tire. Will we be on jest, with little breath, at the end of, the so called Death?
WINGS, BUT NOT A BIRD
This pain on my wings, I got through falling down…
For once, I was the queen of my dreams,
For once I was proud of my wings.
Ask me not, where not did I fly, the garden, the mountain, the rivers the glittery town.
Over the cloud and close to sky, for once I thought, the world as my own.
What a pleasure, a history divine.
A love to life, a life not benign.
As of my proud, I flew through thunder, Oh! I fell down, as no wonder!
Falling high, my wings torn apart, hidden beneath the leafy blanket if nine.
As for now I can not fly, Can you guess, the pain of mine?
Watching others to fly and dance, I look above and begin to cry.
Though sometimes,
I question the cause; blame my vows.
But AM I A BIRD, IF DARE NOT TO FLY!
Mirth of fighting with the mighty wind,
Joy of singing with the rhythmic rain,
Way too worthy, than this lamely pain.
I might save my tears for late, if I fall again derailed.
But for now, I love, this sky;
I will start trying again.
AS FOR NOW, it’s wounded wing, BUT IT’S NOT AN WOUNDED BIRD…
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