Category Archives: poem, poetry

Time.

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Time is passing by, like sand escaping steadily in an hour glass.

Burden of emotions making the heart heavier everyday.

No amount of future will bring back the past.

Which we let slip through our fingers today.

 

Those seconds are turning into minutes and minutes into hours.

Life is passing us by, while we keep delaying hours into days.

No amount of pride will bring back the past.

Which we let slip through our egos today.

 

Time doesn’t wait for anyone, treating everyone the same.

It will be over before we realize, turning us to dust, just names.

No amount of owing up will bring back the past.

Which we let slip through indecisiveness today.

 

Grab it and make the most of it, uncork the bottled up rages.

Forget, forgive, hate, love, but just get it over with today.

No amount of regrets will bring back the past.

Which we let slip through indifference today.

 

Respect it, fear it, rejoice at the prospects it holds.

For time is time, it’s elusive, it cannot be tamed.

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Temptations

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Everyday, when we resist temptations,

we redeem ourselves.

Move one step closer to atonement.

Another step towards salvation.

 

We open the locks, one by one,

Of the fears which cage us.

Fears, which make us invalid.

And win them over.

 

We free the heart, one string at a time,

of all  the corruption.

Corruption, which selfishness births.

And rinse it with kindness.

Contentment

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When the heart is content, and desires nothing more, the soul is calm, without any resentment.

Anxiety falls away from the mind like a waterfall, quickly, mercilessly, violently, leaving calm in its wake.

Life meanders its way through mountains and valleys, flowing silently, gravely, turning into a lifeline for others.

 

When the heart is content, it accepts more, forgives more, is ready to sacrifice for others.

Anticipation of future doesn’t cause fear, the past is happily stored in the  pages of  mind’s albums.

Life gets easier, everything is no more a battle, winning or losing doesn’t make much difference,

for vanquished and victorious are both your very own.

Invisible

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If only we could be invisible,

the winds bringing painful memories of the past shall not find us.

Unsettling the calmness of life, with emotions superflous.

 

If only we were invisible,

the pebbles of memories of losing someone shall not hit us.

Causing ripples in the lake of present, with which we adjust.

 

Hiding peacefully in the serenity of oblivion, we shall be withering away our lives.

Instead, let’s mourn and pay respect to the souls of people we loved.

Let go and rejoice at the passing away of bitter memories of the past.

 

Be visible again,

to welcome the breeze of new moments, turning into happy memories.

To welcome the wind which causes waves in the present, writing new stories.

Pre monsoon-5

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If only I had the skill and power, I would paint the perfect rain clouds for,

All the selfless rivers, flowing tirelessly, trying to fulfill the deficiency of water.

All the lakes, that are shrinking, exposing in years their beds that many had never seen.

All the crops, that grew beautifully till it was time for some rain water to nurture them further.

All the debt ridden farmers, whose hopes are tied to the timely arrival of monsoon.

Paint clouds which would deliver rain, neither more nor less than needed, no floods, no droughts but just the right amount.

” Just right” like Goldilocks’s tale.

Pre monsoon-4

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Monsoon is round the corner, when you can hear  peacocks screaming, first thing in the mornings, instead of cuckoos singing.

When ants work persistently and can be seen rushing to their hills.

When the Sun plays hide and seek throughout the day with the clouds.

When bolt of lightning cracks its whip without any rain.

When winds are stronger and blow away the dark grey clouds.

When all the old leaves have already fallen off and new ones start growing.

When the cracked Earth sizzles upon receiving an abrupt short shower.

When people remember to carry umbrellas to work but forget to bring them back home.

When the farmers scan the sky everyday and hope for the right amount of rain.