I’m the poetry, haunting your crazed mind;

I am the one, the one of no discovered kind!

I am the dream, floating on the mist,

Of a subconscious spirit-like state;

I am the adrenalin in me, intoxicated by life,

Now and then, I just stop to rest my weight.

Time, like the dimension it is, expands vast,

Never staggering, while adding to our existence

Alongside, oozing out life, as it keeps flowing by;

And each falling grain in my time-glass

Surrenders to the sand below, without resistance.


Written on: 02-11-2011

The Signs Were Right..!

The signs were right,

At least, then in sight;

And thus, even though

I tried with all might

With times of despair, phases of fright..

At least in my conscious thought,

I gave it all my best:

In that particular direction,

Of my consistent quest,

But the truth had to reveal

Itself: The signs had been right

Along the path of false hopes,

And knowing the fact despite,

In our own endeavors,

And those, together pursued,

In times of faltering dreams,

In phases of rising faith,

We tried with all our might,

But the signs never failed to be right!


Written on: 03-03-2013


Days go by, one by one

And what was once a passion for life,

Becomes monotony, dutifully done.


Sprouting buds, washed by mud-water,

Withering as leaves, in the scorching sun.

One fine future day, grown up and thriving,

You shall be appalled you just forgot to have fun!

Freedom of existence learns to sacrifice itself,

To them, that’s the day, the boy becomes a man.

Was he ever asked, if that’s what he wanted?

Or maybe, he was content with a timid human plan!


Written on: 31-10-2011Image

I Need to Live!

I need a little time,

Not much to ask for,

A little time for self,

For the self to get lost,

A little time for oblivion,

To think my thoughts at any cost!


A little bit of seclusion,

To get away from all confusion;

I need moments of peace,

Away from contemporary delusion.


Life is not the minutes going by,

Neither watching one by one,

As each scene begins to die.

Life is not what you taught me;

It’s not the things, that you bought me;

Life is sacred, a natural high,

Life is poetry, a feeling of birth

In the midst of existence,

A whisper, an awe-struck traveler’s sigh.


What unfortunately surrounds me

Is also what grotesquely astounds me;

For here is not, the birth I seek

The words that I hear

Are not the language I speak;

What seems to be the focal point of your existence

To my perception is a concept, bleak.


Though we’re as similar as we are different,

How could your faith in life be more weak?!


Written on: 24-01-2012

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