Tuesday, October 26, 2010


The shallow glass panes passing the faint rays,
Beyond lies the memory of bright days,
The green seems so thriving at the distance,
But here, oh, why is it so vague?

Had the photons carried the feelings of the touch,
I would have felt a soft hand in search
Of the droplets falling from the watery sclera,
Trying to rub off the pain and the grudge.

A scream from the distance comes with a rush,
Voices of the two making the clouds blush,
For the joy of the confluence of their lanes,
To the gilded moor with no hurricanes.

What lasts forever is not the moment of joy,
But golden spots on the memory lane no one can destroy,
Space and time diverge to separate each point on earth,
But feelings of the true heart that beats never rusts.

Saturday, August 28, 2010



The faint illumination turned to the thick sun,
But the days seemed to be not at all fun,
Stabbed were the feelings that decided to grow,
And the end wasn’t known, how could she walk slow?

The seasons of life were winter all along,
The golden leaves had all the shares of pie,
And if this gold could ever be sold in a trough,
Life possibly could never die.

The winter froze her legs when she tried to run,
If anyone stood to light the heater; oh no one,
Breaking the ice was tough, an enough
Water she didn’t have to make it drown and gone.

The adrenaline melted the ice so that limbs could move,
The eye gaze drove beyond the shadowed roof,
And she stepped on her way towards the summer sky,
Where she imagined eagles would fly.

The faint rays of the sunlight flooded her mind,
The burning heat yet seemed very kind,
And she didn’t and wouldn’t know the path’s end,
But the sun and the wind told her, “Happiness will mend”.

Sunday, August 15, 2010


hreedish kakoty

The shade of the dark smothers us,

The rushing air stops thus,

I see the streetlight gleaming bright,

And feel jealous "why I don't have light!"

The mosquito snores resume again,

The bites they make cause pain,

And I itch hard and abuse the man,

The in-charge of power in this lane.

The story of my book goes half read,

What happens to the boy "Is he dead?"

Thus I wonder what happens next,

I switch on my phone but battery's dead.

I count my attendance and come to know,

I'll lose marks if tomorrow I don't go,

The timetable says the horrible fact,

Classes start at 8-40, pity lad.

And I wait in my balcony and stare at the streetlight,

Wonder which wires to connect so that I might,

Bring power to my dead fan and light,

And have a peaceful sleep in this horrible night.