Raptures...

The morn of every night,
Mourns for the intercept of time.
These raptures of an unpredictable path,
They compose the archives of a joyous heart...

We are ultimately lead to the circle of love,
From the greetings above.
A splash of stars,
Lays somewhere between the horizon and hearth...

Where will you accept?
The graceful acceptance of a fragment of defeat for which they wept.
Auxiliary melancholy of time,
The ambidexterity of emotions leading us from a hollow to light...

Picture from the net- ( aviartnutkins.com )

Beautiful stranger...

Beautiful stranger,
That touched my follies with a laugh,
This head got drunk with love,
The rise of a secret world,
Now broken into fragments...

For frolic is this minds lust,
The prodigies that differ,
Nugatory smiles that rouse suspicion,
Sways to a glance,
Builds a castle with dust...

आखे.

उसके आखो के प्यालो में,
थी एक कहानी,
थी मोहोबत,
जो गंदगी हो चुकी है।

एक दिल,
जिसमे था खून,
जिसमे था प्यार,
वह एक भूरे कब्रिस्थान में सड़ चुका है।

Vanity, No apologies...

The ladies in corsets,
Wearing a mask,
The Gentlemen with roses in their pockets,
With vain as fragile as glass...

Basked in accolades of their evening gowns,
Designed to known prejudices,
This emerging frown,
To suit masked repentance...

A silver chalice,
For glee to trickle down from a mysterious path,
For the glum that has become load until the final grave,
To ease the misdemeanors of inheritance from the hearth...

Bound by juvenile dreams,
Elevated to a scrumptious life,
This Royal creed,
To bliss the jive...

Symbiosis...

That dance of a star,
Was gibberish to some,
Mesmerizing to the others,
Garish to vain...


The mockery of the moon,
Touches the modest veil of the Earth,
Ushers in contempt,
Mockery that depends on misdemeanors...


Embraced by a silver nebula,
Little pockets of accolades,
For some to assimilate,
For the others who have lost the right to live...

Permafrost...

The fury of shadows,
Touched her rime encrusted stilettos,
Frozen tears on the base,
Circles of glum on her face.

Combustion of graphite,
Darkness was too hostile for the night,
Lucid and afraid,
Affection that was too hard to penetrate.

Comrades that stand to face the test,
Jaded zeal put to rest,
Lust which we had to thaw,
Frozen nickel that was never warm.

Drops of blood,
On white cold love,
Bear the momentary ice,
If you want the morrow to survive...

The wall...

Rise and fall,
To arise and wait,
I respect this walk,
For this contempt that left my virtues to break...

To expect and respect,
This awaited position,
Caresses rusted regrets,
I gave birth my salutation...

These bricks that bear my deep respects,
These fissures of consolation,
For even those bound by strength,
Haven't been bound by perfection...

Certainty is too placid for this journey,
Assumption for frolic,
To tackle the walk of dreams,
Or give lust a miss?

This barrier to light,
While we've begun to caress the dark,
For monotony has borne a certain splendorous to my eyes,
While I'm left to nurture myself behind the wall...

That's a still from the wall

The unrevealed...

Behold the future,
With an assimilated past,
Oh future, reveal yourself to me!

What I've got is the present,
With an unfathomed,
Oh future, reveal yourself to me!

Can't wait much longer for glee and the frolic,
Tried to prepare myself with a sharp dagger and strong armour,
Oh future, reveal yourself to me!

What if this cryptic deception isn't that bright,
With a crude mind and mangled body,
Oh future, reveal yourself to me!

A kiss planted on my fate,
A kiss I want to fathom,
Oh future, reveal yourself to me!

The perspective quotient

We're born dreaming. Whether big or small, our dreams belong to us and somewhere even though each one of us is such a dot our tiny dreams make a difference somewhere. We as humans have a very symbiotic relationship.
"You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot:
You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!
This simple but beautiful poem by William Brightly Rands is so true. Love is one of the best things yet it's so mundane.

There are so many things happening in the world, so may great, revolutionary, scary, grotesque, horrendous things happening. Why be stuck to the hearth?

Someday, I'd like to look beyond myself, beyond my possessions, beyond my lust and want to look at the world with a larger perspective because this sphere that I'm lucky to be existing on is so interesting. I want to see the larger picture because now from where I'm stand the picture is just too small. Haha, how lame can I be? I'm talking about wanting a larger perspective and I'm still writing about myself. These contradictions of life are so amusing.

Illusions of life...

The Devil had created a travesty of life,
Against a wrathful monochrome,
While she walked an unforgiving path,
Encircles in grey smoke,
Masked with strength,
Hoping to paint a vivid picture...

These delusional days,
Had borne solemn hope,
Then she faded into the song of life,
As hypnotic as could be,
Was later our creed...

Kudos to Mr Vincent Van Gogh

किस्मत.

अगर यह जवानी थी,
तोह कल क्या हुआ ?
यह है जो हमारे आगे बैठा है,
आने वाले कल की दुआ?

कहा गए वह क्व्हैशे?
इस आग से मत लड़,
कब पास थे यह दूर के रिश्ते?
पर सबसे ताकतवर होता है प्यार,
कभी ज़िन्दगी के गाढ़ी से मत लड़।

Inception and unity...

An inception from a dazed tempest,
For every birth that awaits the journey of life,
Astringent joy dressed in unfathomed fortune,
Wait for the morrow to curb the truth of lies...

A search for the north star,
Preparation for the battle,
The moment for which my die was said to be cast.
For to bask in the golden sun you'll have to bear wrath of ice...

Friends during the journey,
Foes in the afterlife,
Strangers before the unity of inception,
Comrades that stood together for the celebration of life...

A drop of love,
Surges into the world,
Fathoms this place,
Cries when we part ways...

This bowl of life,
Goodies for the supper of fate,
The bitterness of light,
The spice includes hate...

From now we shall graciously accept death,
The aftermath of the bustle of life,
An augury spun by mysterious illusions,
To penetrate this surprise...

Picture from the net- ( collegenews.org )

Ale of joy...

This ale of joy,
Has been kept in a grimy room for too long,
The doors haven't opened because you didn't try,
This ale has become much more than a deserted song...

A wisp of laughs,
A quaint conversation for tea,
This essence of the hearth,
This flexibility to zeal...

Twilight was the time for a petite slumber,
Draped in angel light,
A sub-conscious mind that sends you messages from the former,
Yet the present was never very right...

Within the chalice of obstacles,
In a delusional room,
To move away from sloth to light certain candles,
We can all avoid the dungeon of gloom...

The morrow offers me a painting of hope,
Yesterday has been reduced to mesmerizing ash,
Frolic wants to be the scent of the present,
But it is all about to collapse...