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.