Random rumination of a scribbling poet

Can I ever express?

Can I ever say?

murmurs the inner voice

The random ruminations

struggling details

endless musings

thoughts ceaseless

turbulent apprehensions

intense emotions

words falling way apart

when the ink of life flows like the Ganges….


the arteries suffocate

what hath the social environ done

strangling wishes in the cage

flutters the bird a last time

before she forgets her own desire

how then would the heart speak

after being buried in soil nine feet deep

why then the soul screams

in silence when neither the world hears nor


Is it the solitude that echoes

and relishes the scathing pain

the lump in choked throat

or the blood of a slit vein…

the smile of the sad heart

or a laugh lame

how would the heart start

singing its own tale?

nay, it doesn’t glorify

nor intend to sermon

Tis the lonesome want of a

scribbling poet

Ya! listen comrade

lend a moment ,close your eyes

hear my soul’s tale

as drenches the parched heart

in desirous rain!

Thy sobriquet

plucked I from the garden of epithets
a wondrous appellation
Sapphire! Thy sobriquet,
I sway gently in thy ecstatic kingdom
leaning against the sweet whisperings of thine creations
In moments together sitting parallel across the seven oceans
yet under the same vast expanse,
Thee soaking in the golden sun,
while I drench myself in monsoon showers
prompting minutes
of our pristine meet,
like an expected ephemeral juncture

“My Life ain’t a stage “

Endlessly my heart cried
eyes searching frantically in vain
“where art thou”
behind the curtain of life
is anything true or is all disdain?
My life ain’t a stage
neither I a performer to enact or flaunt
in mystical attire as perceived everyone
..I ,a mere soul
wish to be a lotus
blooming in the mud
admiring the sparkling moon afar
from the altar…
Allow me to be my real self
I neither wish to be a actor
nor my life a theatre…
Spare me O! world
from the pangs of hypocrisy
from the rings of falsity
let me break away from the glitter of gold and
tinkling of coins
I’m a mere soul
elated amidst nature
blissfully admiring eternal creation
I live for love and affection.

The delicate quill


photocredit: google images

the delicate quill scribbles
lore of sordid life
amidst the society of racial protagonists and authoritarians
few drops emerge on the paper
red scarlet, yeah ! they are grievous tears
fallen by tormented excruciation.
the words sharp, pierce the autocratic system
which hath remained despotic since ages and years
..will the ink paint the page
and eyes of hypocrites in true colour
wiping away squalid tales
and etching a prognostic message
for mankind and humans…

The Last Breath



The last breath and the heart sighed
Alas! Will my eyes close without a glimpse of the promise made,
through turbulence and storms,I have struggled…in an urge to sip a drop
of immortal
falling innumerable times,
stuck in between,
With zest I pulled over
off the dark plunging well of loss,
and continued to be strong…

yet today I lie
on the verge of death,
losing pulse,
faltering sense
awaiting the last call…
any minute ,
any instant…

Lips quiver, eyes sunk,
mind halts ,the beats stumble
a chilled touch
send shivers
Lo! I revive
what a miracle!
Sip, I
a drop of nectar …
in a glance of your crepuscle.


I simmer in the boiling emotions of past
Oh! death ! it isn’t that easy
to sleep in thy arms,
before the world awakens
in duty is immersed my heart.
Would thou ever survive a second
in such life , craving for a glance…
Oh ! death! thou ignorant
of the mortal ways of earth…
how doth you know
the sordidness,
eyes when get wet with reminiscences …
Wrap me with the white linen
of thy warmth,
wait ,
let me furnish the assigned task
there are few minutes left
to be in thy arms!
My son!
Come here, adorn the casket
spread the lilies
I fear roses
they prickle my skin…
quietly step near
I sleep in peace…
do not disturb…




On streets forlorn
Walks the child, destitute
The infant of world’s destiny…

 In rags torn
hungry and homeless
roaming through lanes
for a morsel!

The rulers sit on a lavish throne
speak high volumes of chore
actions fail to achieve
war and blasts kill
the child of world’s destiny
lives as a requiem…