“THE PRICELESS GIFT”


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what should I gift thee,
a token of love wrapped
in silk
a kiss shall vanish
in the zephyr,
a rose will lose its colour
lacy pack of chocolates
soon get savoured in hours,
an attire would wrap
thou,
but soon will the thread get unleashed

…then
what should I gift thee…
which valuable jewel?
a diamond, gold, ruby or emerald
they lose charm
in glittering aura of thou…
The stones will fall apart…
then…
what should I gift thee
A book, which
can be treasured for years…
..oh no, it shall be stacked in the shelf
dust will be its companion…
A perfume shall fizz out in days
every gift is mortal…
Unlike the soul of mine and thee
which remains immortal…

O ! then let me pluck few moments
from the cosmic air
of universe,
bedeck them with flowers of love
scent with my songs of splendor…
tune in music with my chords
I would gift thee
this
ceaseless, priceless , immortal
treasure.

The delicate quill


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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…

Fettered Mind


 

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photocredit:www.hdnewwallpapers.com

the fettered mind hell bent to break loose the cage

imprisoned since years , the thoughts unspoken

unnamed

could it ever see the light

wander free in the dark blue sky

can the wondrous cerebrations acquire

an immortal shape of imagination

and manifest in the atoms of life

as a splendid creation…

 

within the fortified walls

as die every inquisitive vision

thence strangles the birth of novel challenges

and revolutionary interventions..

 

open the gates, let the bird flutter and fly

provide the wings of courage

and atmosphere of freedom

then shall soar at greater heights

fettered mind, which possesses

 an invisible power .

THE SONG OF MOCKING THRUSH


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photocredit:www.picssr.com

She is the mocking thrush
who on the high end branch
sings and perch
laughing at the world
on human errors…

Ah! she imitates in a hoarse voice
satirical,the cons of a
power game
and money launderers of
the affluent race
she hums the low note in tears
twitching her beak in anxiety…
hypocrisy ! thy name
of every face which dons the mask
while innocents become prey
to the hungry mouths of
greed and misery …

in melancholy ,she serenades
about the empty stomach of thousands
homeless shelter innumerable,
falter who on every path
while
a gory dagger butches
life
somewhere in the dark hours
echoes intermittently when the din of
explosion
haunting the survived ones;
wonders the mocking thrush:
“Oh! how I wish to sing a song
of love and serenity
shall I ever sing a tune
melodic and blissful”,
hiding amidst the camouflaged rue

Hark! O! Soliloquy


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photocredit:www.magic4walls.com

hark ! O! soliloquy

Thy name is

chiseled in the rock of life ‘s fate.

the running stream

of dubious troubles,separation, conflicts

quarrels or discomfort

can’t erode the

tender surface

of love and trust ever.

knotted together

we, in the lacy ribbon

faith and destiny

play together.

A chord struck mellifluous

O! thy name, I repeat

is pulse of my life

be it winter or summer

Will thou! Soliloquy realize

the irresistible craving that hath been…

the gushing blood etches thy name

on walls of heart in melancholy.

The trivial mind


Wonder I of

the shallow words and churning of thoughts

satisfied with simple pleasures

ne’er touched by façade of life’s learning

miles away from the biggest ocean…

ne’er drenched or even wet

the wisdom drops, slip over the surface

oiled with comforts and petty measures…

one dimensional image of the trivial mind

remains submerged in trifling delectations…

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PURPLE


 

Isn’t the orchid pale today or

the azure lost its hues in frosty weather

the pink lilies too

seem dull

when the dusk appears little purple than

the scarlet pier…usual

forgotten in dead remains

as ashes they scatter in dust

reminiscences of the beloveds

who died one fateful night

last summer…

again prevails the same climate

transforms the camouflage of

flowers and world

Tis the sky who alone

remembers the fury

repercussions of war

in cold blooded atmosphere…

sulks the orchid tonight…

purple appears the crimson lover

stained in blood drops

dried and desiccated as humans of universe.

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