Heroes...

Heaven sent its heroes,
To fight battles,
They set out to fight the woes,
The rise of the mortals.

On the back of a ready steed,
These brave martyrs,
They are made to take the lead,
What makes an extraordinary is the ability to make love to fear.

With a raised sword,
You'll have to fight to say what you say,
For in a victorious battle you're bound to get hurt,
These heroes aren't born everyday.

Dazed streets...

Scattered golden glitter,
On dazed streets,
Listen to the black cat purr,
The lapidary on grave stones in the cemetery.

Stone walls,
Stone roads,
Harsh candour,
Divine souls.

Silent mannequins,
A fountain of a days work,
Grey flints,
The lit fire with an indigo smirk.

Leaking ink from the fountain pens of the wise,
Flaccid books,
Their theories we chastise.

The incessant light of the street lamps,
The cachets of the golden chariots,
The eccentric melody of the songs they sang,
The ecstatic souls of the patriots.

Her eyes were dripping worn out black kohl,
The fury of unspoken words,
Her deafening tone,
Her insolent snarl.

Her veil has been cut into little hankies,
In this wicked circle,
The mighty gates of cemeteries,
The night of the majestic serpent...

Picture from the net - ( rybakow.com )

एक कदम एक,
पहाड़ का राह,
काला घटा,
आसमान अनेक।

Kites...

With a rose in her hair,
Gold kites in the wind,
Virtue in the air,
Existence of sin.

The sent of the angels,
Extracted from a lavenders soul,
Drops of jewels,
Made in their epitome.

Her veil floats,
In the cunning air,
The moonlight gloats,
Secret despair.

You came and took more than you deserve
You left behind tears,
Is there anything more than the power of words?
The pond is stale with fear.

She walks down the aisle of lightning,
The lightning of ecstatic lights,
The silk robes spun by the angels made her look stunning,
But there was a stain of putrid wine.

No apt state of solidity,
A disoriented pendent,
Who's to judge lucidity?
One day the sky shall descend.

Picture from the net - ( sarahdbelle.wordpress.com )

Broadway...

Red curtains of Silk,
A stage of Ebony,
Souls which are starlit,
Is life just a story?

The cacophony of silent dreams,
An emotive well versed dialog,
The melody of the knights and queens,
For silver swords she sobs.

The Magenta Syrup,
The wrath of gold coins,
They won the battle of arcane luck,
Darling, did I have poise?

I want to cry like pixie for nymph,
I want to be basked in golden light,
I belong to the world of magic,
Beyond the stars I want to jive.

The Silhouette,
Drops of my heart,
I want to give my sweat,
I covet the loud applause.

The ceiling shaped like a dome,
For beams of sound to scatter,
I will extract my soul,
After all I have a million to flatter.

Picture from the net- ( hoopgirl.com )

Morphed

When grapes are morphed into wine,
When a thought is morphed into an intricate design,
When love gets morphed into a child,
When sickness is morphed into death,
When wood is morphed into a bed,
When a dream gets morphed into reality,
When desolation gets morphed into living a fantasy,
When a molecule gets morphed into six dimensions,
When a question gets morphed into an invention,
When a molecule gets morphed into a pearl,
This my friend is the beautiful world!

The village fair...

Hush little baby,
I'll sing you a lullaby,
I'll rock your cradle,
I'll be there even after I die.

She cried her heart out,
She sang across the plateau,
On her voice she had no doubt,
This was her memento...

To express your mind use a pen,
The ink of your blood,
The army of men,
Words that initiated at the mud.

The incessant light,behind the curtain,
What an eccentric sight!
Who could ever be certain?
Are we strong enough to judge the power of light?

The village fair,
The glee festival,
We'll take a bus there,
We'll listen to the choir of angles.

Blends of voices,
The mighty church bell,
The power of choices,
In here we dwell.

What an audience!
My fellow villagers,
Look at the mundane ambiance,
The raising body temperature!

The village fair,
A drug called euphoria,
It mixed with the air,
That was the inception of a new era.

Picture from the net- (alan-whitehead.org.uk)

The prosperous night...

The air knows all,
The air knows you,
The raised platform in front of the empty hall,
The pristine morning dew...

The rusted raindrops in the cold,
With her many a dreams she holds.
Watch those dreams unfold,
The prestigious blood vessels in her heart of gold...

My lord, can you see those broken dreams he's saving?
My lord, can you see those grotesque streets he's paving?
My lord, can you see the obnoxious way he's behaving?
My lord, can you see his dignity falling?

A withering magnitude,
A road to no where,
From where does the diversity of life protrude,
Where is the base of their despair?

The evening embraces me,
The blends in the dusk,
The evening caresses me,
Why did this day rust?

A perfectly laid table,
The laughs and illusions at twilight,
Many a chats unstable,
The longevity of the night...

The red color of her evening gown,
That matched the rose in his pocket,
The golden color of the candles they lit,
Those intentions were wicked...

It was raining fake chivalry,
The dainty dances of the ladies and gentlemen,
Divine souls created their beautiful cutlery,
Many a souls they had to mend...

A fatal attraction,
Not even the strongest Cavalry cure,
A fatal reaction,
Reactions too obscure...

His vain is as transparent as glass,
her intentions will never unfurl,
She wished he would take of


Picture from the net-
renaissance-art.suite101.com

उड़ान.

उड़ मेरे पंछी,
गिरा हुआ पवन,
उड़ान की बासुरी,
पंखो का रंग।

अभ तेरा रिश्ता रौशनी से है,
कभ्रिस्थान की क्वैष,
मध की बारिश।

वह सुगंद,
नाचता हुआ गगन,
सरिता का पवन,
आजाद मन।

Picture from the net - ( neptuniablog.blogspot.com)

Gray Ash...

In the extreme corner of the room,
There's a window looking at the white moon...

The music she once played,
Long before your fights were laid...

Dwelling in her regrets,
Like the gray ash of combusted cigarettes...

With her he used to dally,
Before he got lost in the mighty valley...

The damsel looks at the world with her translucent silver veil,
With damp eyes she looks at that dale...

The damascened dagger,
Her lost lover...

She jinxed the sky with duress,
She dances each step with distress...

She has the silent wrath of the waves,
The broken pieces of her heart she saves...

Picture from the net- (dmacwilliam.wordpress.com)

Path to glory...

Walk on mist,
Or fight the waves of a cloud,
If life's passive and without a twist,
Then it's better not being around.
Follow the pattern,
The dark dungeon needs a bright lantern.
Make way thunder,
But when will you stop?
I've began to wonder,
Is there a rope to glory without knots?

A lonely galaxy...

The fallen golden leaves post autumn,
Autumn is when glee and melancholy fuse

A part of the dust and forgotten,
Who do we have to ridicule?

A melody from the sky,
All in perfect rhythm,
A melody in his head,
The slowing ecstasy within.

Stacked books in the cupboard,
Tainted savor,
She left without a word,
Was it loneliness or solitude she favored?

Picture from the net- ( wanderingwargod.blogspot.com)