Prayer

O god!

If you wish to bless me with a new life;

Never make me a human...

As this expedition wounded me,

With intense pain and remorse.

Make me an alien of faraway land,

Where no clan fight against own land

And no king loot from his subjects.

Make me an alien who never wound brother

And neve make me fed on corrupted carcass.

Make me an alien who empathize with heart,

And never make me a human who kill the blood.

Sweet Melody

Like the saviour from Heaven, 
He was bloomed in a stable,
Where he heard sweet melodies
And muted them into eternal words.
Unlike the saviour,
He was the bliss of spring,
And never the son of icy flakes,
But the eternal joy of winter.
Younger Romantic was he, 
Who churned liberty with lyric,
And scented Victorian buds with imagery.
Spenserian was he,
Who stood tip toe upon a little hill.
And the quill was he,
Who found the pain of Titans
And abandoned tears into Hyperion
As the star which dwelt apart eternized Satan.
Dream was he with the sight of a,
Bold lover who cans't kiss.
From the garden,
He sung for the goddess
By sweet enforcement and remembrance.
And he mourned for the farewell of time,
And fallen notes are invoked to inspire the buds.
And you can hear the melancholic chord,
Played by the nightingale caged from garden.
And agonies are poured
From the sleep and poetry urn.
With the moonlit sheep,
He mourned deeply for Chatterton,
But Shelley wept for his Adonais,
As the mighty quill chocked with consumption.
But the joy of beauty is immortal,
Through this unheard lyre.

Beauty Contest

I am the eye sent by Helen,

To find the beautiful petal

Bloomed in your alleys.

I was the mighty eye,

Which searched for beauty,

In your bitter lies.

The lady bathed in white,

And the thinned gimmick 

Asked me to stop and wonder.

The building glittered with gold,

And the meal mustered with colours,

Gave me a signal to stop and look.

I was mesmerised with the fragrance,

Made from chemical house,

But Helen asked me to move,

As she failed to get an answer till then.

And I stepped out with the gloomy heart 

And found a lovely heart,

Which folded before me,

To achieve a coin for belly.

Helen asked me to pause,

As she found beauty in the slum...

Frustrated

Frustrated am I

Flowing with anger in the,

Stream of hot furnace,

Ignited with fear and tear and

Displaced my peaceful poem,

By uniting my sorrow with hatred.

And the hatred took the sword

To kill my heart with destruction,

Of my joy and inner peace.

Thus frustrated am I,

With the fear of success,

And with rage in cheeks, I

Slept under the blanket,

With the ornament of a loser.

Meal

Meal

Add a pinch of hope

To the sour mixture

When the water level is high!

Add lumps of joy

To the bitter mixture

When the acidic level is high!

Add sweetness to the mixture,

Before your departure

As the death rate is high!

Eat the freshly prepared meal,

And relinquish it to the full;

As your life was the raw material,

Cooked accidentally to be eaten up,

And served by you to this dinner table.

Song of Love!

From this deathbed;

I can sing my love song.

At this parting time,

I can sing this unstrung note.

On this last minute,

I can recite my pain of parting.

For this Passover,

As a lover who lost the spirit,

I may be entombed in this soil.

But remember,

I am the quill inked with your love,

I am the epic engraved with your love!

So I can fill this graveyard,

With the sweetest memories; 

As this is not my death:

But the death of my rented wings.

And this soil cannot ensnare my love,

As it reside abode with the glittering beads.

Those flowers are happy to accompany me,

With the sweet whisperings of our love.

Those bees are murmuring around me,

About the nectar which kissed my soul.

And this elegiac note of my death,

Will not be the ashes of memories;

But it's the beginning of an eternal journey,

Which anticipate our union of love,

But I wish the journey should not end!

As you are my elixir,

Who should not be captured by this icy hands.

And as a song of love,

I can reside in your heart forever.

And from this deathbed,

I can hear your song of love,

With the murmuring bees

And adorning flowers.

And I can accompany your song of love,

As a silhouette forever from this graveyard.

Standby

Standby am I,

Kept in the love shore,

Wired with fantasy,

Of joy and dreams.

Standby am I,

Kept aside by you

For the future,

Just as a standby.

Standby am I,

Nurtured by you

To be used,

When you are in need.

Standby am I,

Catered by you,

But will be thrown outside,

If you are not in need.

Label

There is a label which,

Followed you to the graveyard!

There is a label which,

Chased you in dreams!

That label, like a dog

Will follow you to your coffin.

That label is the scar,

You got from your cradle.

That label is the drink,

Which gave you identity.

That label is the poison,

Which killed your respect.

That label is the birthmark,

Which made you,

But classified by other.

Lucky

I am the lucky bird,

Who tells your fortune

From this barred house.

I am the lucky bird,

Who sings happy song

From this gloomy heart.

I am the lucky bird,

Who dances for the free verse,

From this bar of prison.

I am the lucky bird,

Who tells your fortune,

From this unfortunate hell.

Maniac

I was a cat!

               Killed by a stranger,

                          But

He saved me!

       From the man who molested me.

         It was pain,

                  To live as cuddled

Not with love,

        But

With lust.

Invisible

Those were the invisible hands,

Which shared my dream,

By toiling and sweating for me.

Those were the invisible eyes,

Which shared my smile,

And wiped my tears.

Those were the invisible legs,

Which ran alone while I toddled.

Those were the invisible ears

Which heard my complaints

And gifted me new resolutions.

That was the invisible tongue,

Which made me taste delicacy.

And this is my visible man,

My great father!

Who loved to be invisible

And the one who wished

To see my visible trophies.

Daughter

Daughter thou are!

My princess now!

But will be a maid

And a loyal slave once.

And you are destined to cook

And raise your kids well.

Daughter thou are!

Should not laugh louder

And should not dream too,

As you are destined to be sold

With sovereign and kiss.

Daughter thou are!

My pretty princess,

Should smile always

Even when your heart is wounded.

Daughter was I...

Your mother now...

And I gave this lesson to

Be polished in your society.

Soil

I am the soil,

Watered with the sweat

Of a humble man,

Who toiled to make the meal.

I am the soil,

Greened with the tears

Of a loyal man,

Who toiled to make the meal.

I am the soil,

Reddened with the blood

Of an honest man,

Who toiled to make the meal.

Soil am I,

Garbage of placards now;

Which railed for the rights

Of the man who toiled to make you eat.

Soil am I,

Witness of pain;

Who saw the battle of survival

By the man who toiled to make you eat.

Soil am I,

A graveyard of crops engraved;

For the man who toiled to make you eat.

Loved!

I fell in love,

When I cried for the first time.

I fell in love,

When I toddled for the first time.

I fell in love,

When I went to the school for the first day.

I fell in love,

When I saw those greens dancing alone for me,

I found love,

When I kissed the nectar sucking bee.

I found love,

When I saw tales in a book.

I found love,

When I was ensnared by the lovely waves.

I found love,

When I wrote this verse.

And on a fine morning the arrowed love,

Visited me from a deadly valley

And muted my letters with it's armour,

And tried to kiss my dreams,

But my early flights ensconced me

And I escaped from the deadly amour.

Silent Death

I wish to be wiped away,

In a sudden morning,

Without being cremated.

I wish for a sudden death,

Like a buzzing fly

Without being noticed.

I wish to escape from,

This world of prejudices,

Who battle to make me pious

After I loss my breaths.

I wish to be dead,

In a silent morning 

Without being mourned

And I never wish to be engraved too.

Bookworm

Bookworm am I,

Gifted with a bookshelf

To eat and sleep,

Where no one dare to enter.

Fatty worm am I,

Eaten up the letters,

With love and passion to

Fill the gut with thoughts.

Blessed am I,

To smile at the mighty pen,

Who scribbled ideas,

Which failed to be digested

And churned as starch.

Predated

A prey am I, born with wings

But predated by cultural norms

By addressing me as a girl.

And chained am I,

Locked in a glasshouse,

Fettered with unscribbled rules.

I was born as a princess

Catered as a Barbie doll,

Forbidden to voice the spirit

And barred from violent games,

I lived as a meek doll,

Who brush rosy cheeks,

And braid darkened wool.

I grew up as a queen,

But classified as a

Pure wife and a proud mother,

Whose dreams are ignited,

To cook spicy meal.

Thus, I am a prey

Predated by me, myself

And by ourselves too.