Sunday, 20 March 2016


गूगल से 

शब्दों से परे 
सचकित सशब्द 
ये अंतराल 

Thursday, 17 March 2016

The Battle Mates

From Google

I am no saint when it comes to virtues
My vices kill me on every breath
As well as those who dare to reform
My unhinged soul , my wayward will
Yet in moments of deep reverie
I feel a Oneness with the Universe
The abode of the cherubs and the chaste
The debauch and the demoniacal alike
I wonder whether it is the vile and vicious in me
Which senses a resonance with the chaos in the cosmos
Or is it the shallow-breathing long-captivated angel
Asphyxiating somewhere deep within
Perhaps my saintliness lies in just being human
However, the fact of the matter remains that
Eternal is the residence of Saints and Satan both
On the fulcrum of the Consciousness Supreme
The degree lies in the tilt of the lever
And that's so simple, isn't it?

This poem is shared with Poet's United for the Midweek Motif : Saint/Saintliness

Thursday, 10 March 2016

Murder Of A Rose

From Google

His earnest gaze pierces my soul
His clasp tightening on my hold
Lips quiver in innocent appeal
Eyes brim with moistened gleam
Promises fake futile foolish
Douse me with glimpses of a
Wishful future and joyful overtures
My limbs slacken and heart topples
As I give in to his impassioned zeal
The very next moment strikes the dagger
Its stainless shine trickled with streaks
A bloody rose crimson in colour
Is wrenched apart from its anchor-twig
I can hear its silent screams from afar
I gasp and fume and slowly resume
My plaintive plea however in vain ....!

Its weird how symbiotically we merge in each other's being
Weirder still how we devolve into strangled cries and shaken faith

Wednesday, 2 March 2016

A Flower Was Offered To Me

From Google

A Flower was offered to me
A Flower frozen in time
A Flower so distinctly beautiful
Its Petals soft and curly
Its Stems looking up to the sky
A Flower of exquisite Creation
Of Colour, Contour and Design
A Flower in harmony with the Divine
I could not have asked for anything more
And nothing would have substituted
The Joy of holding it between my fingers
The Flower was not a Flower
But a gift from Heaven, am sure
Yet countless times I calculated
The Cause behind the Motif
The Motive behind the Present
The Reason behind the Joy
The Mystique behind the Miracle 
The Possibilities it Proposed
The Opportunities it Negated
And in assessing the pros and cons
(A gross folly of the human mind
I know now it is...)
I somewhere lost the Moment
The Ecstasy of Gaining something Worthwhile
The Epiphany of Visioning the Enormous
The Marvel behind all Miracles
The Wondrous Find of Discovery 
The Magnitude of Magnanimity
And so failing myself
I lost the Gift as well
The Gift from a Horizon Beyond
The Love that was twined in its Stalk
The Care that was imbued in its Palette
The Bliss that was weaved in its Touch
I was Offered a Flower I know
But I Lost a World I know not When