Time is Now. (a poem)

tapestry of stones
on the canvas of grass,
laid before my eyes
till horizons last,
as I approach the winding turns
my heart writhes and soul burns
in the coal of heat of open fields
holding rage of thousand suns
bits of thorn and pebbles small
adorn the way to mountains tall
panting, breaths and heavy sighs
harbingers of success in one and all,
lifting my gaze with sweat on the brow
with shiny sun gazing back
steps to take, miles awake
the time is here, the time is now…

Pure. (a poem)

caressing my face
with gentle strokes,
filling me
with serenity,
my eyes close
in awe
of the openness and vastness
the nature displays,
the winds, carrying
the calm of waters,
elevating me from worldly realms
into moments of solitude,
the clouds
in erratic patterns
wanting to shower a story from above
and I, a mere receptacle
of all that is good
and pure…

Marooned island. (a poem)

walking past the dead slaves
rotting in the gleaming sun
miles of water, no boats to row
a withered soul, for life, craves,
imprints of feet upon the mud
like dents in memory past,
searching home in jungles vast
arrives at door with a thud,
old memories like spider-webs
deter him from moving on
abandoned home on a marooned island
where dead slaves lay, dusk and dawn…

Fear. (a poem)

sneaking
into the corridors
of your senses, unguarded,
robbing you
of your intellect,
feasting
on your ignorance,
creeping beneath your skin
ripping off,
no hundred fears
but one
victimize humans,
the fear of unknown,
be the river
of your will,
let it flow
and wash away
your fears…

Strange Acquintance. (a poem)

sitting across her,
tables facing each other,
a smile exchanges
acknowledging a relation
naive and hidden,
talks happen
over silent glances,
a whim or everlasting feeling,
story of few seconds
or trumpet, blowing
for centuries,
time will tell
until they meet again
in the silent corners
of their eyes….

Pride. (a poem)

the sweat on my brow
no precious than yours,
I flow on this route
you take a different course,
the supreme thing
to merge into
the well of humanity
from varied windows and doors,
no matter what you are
always water your roots,
be the catapult of your character
that aims high and shoots,
take pride in who you are,
no man is lesser,
the sweat on your brow
will tell your tales
for all the days
to come…

City Life. (a poem)

in walking on the pavements,
giving way to others
all day,
in catching a crowded bus
carrying aspirations,
in sitting for hours,
eyes fixed, ossified,
in heading
towards oblivion,
in missing the countryside,
the pure winds of bliss,
in bowing down
to the pervasive cacophony,
I miss my town…

Choice. (a poem)

life
offers a choice,
to choose smile
or collect tears,
a choice we make
for every breath we take,
seldom realising our reasons
for making a choice;
for gathering negatives
in the well of life
replete with hope;
conscious must we be
for every negative thought
can bury us
miles deep,
and a positive thought
is a ray of light
in the darkest caverns;
let us be free
and make one choice,
the choice to be happy…

P.S. – started reading The Power by Rhonda Byrne today…the poem above is inspired by this.

Opportunity. (a haiku)

thousand suns
falling on his head –
he walks away for a better day…

P.S. – We should always try to grab opportunities rather than waiting for a better time. We must move on whatever happens, or atleast we should try. Trying is a big thing. Not everyone does that although anyone can.