Sleeping on the bed
We slip into another land

Nothing picks us
When the evacuation is done

Happily, we rise up
And sip and sip and sip tea
Till the voice slips out, "so tasty"

A new sunrise,
A new sky,
A new brreze,
A new noon,
A new evening,
A new star

The work of charming us passes by
Our sad songs evaporate too

We weave the same story
We wait for the new year again

Thirteen December,
Genial, left its snow in the
palms of January.

As far I have observed
Words are as wonderful as blooms
When they are positively used

It's the sweetest happiness
That befalls a writer
When his idea gets a gentleman
And speaks to the world
On his behalf.

Everything belongs to everyone.
If today pain comes to you,
Welcome it cordially
As if it were a guest
For it has to go to someone else
The other day...

None except God could
paint the moon on the face of
water as it is.

Letting others play their pianos
Is letting oneself enjoy the peace

Pigeons fly little;
The music of vehicles;
An old man puts grains.

Poetry is a ghost-musical instrument
It produces melodies out of nowhere

New year
Isn't the source of happiness

                    It's just the next moment

Old stories are blankets
                On which we all roll
And cover ourselves with

In the process
            Our dreams die

I acknowledge
I'm not Kabir,
Nor Mir nor Eliot,

Still my verses
Aren't less important than kohinoor.

You value or devalue them
I am not bothered a bit.

My pen is a river
Flowing on papers.

If my sufferings
            stop me from being happy

                  Those of others
Can't stop me
When I do something for their relief

You contemned me,
Abused me,
Stabbed me.

Is the revenge in unrequited so easy?

It makes everyone
King of their thoughts
For a half minute,
One moment
Or a few seconds,
And this crown
Is theirs
And doesn't deprive them
Of their rapture

The moon shines on those
Who dare to walk out in night
To write their stories

Even
The tiniest straw
Could survive in the tempest

If it has courage to endure
What nature throws at it.

Superstition
              Is an unnamed, but comman disease that is less cared of

Your smile
            Is a thrilling story to everyone
And you keep moving to find this tale..

The death of one talent
Is the laguishment
of a beautiful society

Everything is grisly:
Homes paper boats, natty things
Nasty and stinking
******* while the sea runs on
best and vulnerable beings.

I'm not one being;
Two more live in and I steer
My deeds at their choice,
But I care it's
Right or Wrong that's my friend.

It's no winter
For my guest cat that visits
The kitchen like a
Boy playing hide and seek and
Other games in summer...

The moon mirrors him,
Sleeping on the pavement, and
The chill makes him coil.

The dwelling,
In a cluster sprawled around,
Near the sea,
I say on the waist of the sea,
Is riding on a humongous ball
And trying to run on it
With elbow grease.
Like a suddenly applied brake
To save a blind crossing the road,
It throw us down
With its tsunami-hands.
What is left
After it is calm
Is human weakness and vulnerability.

The path of hate
Is too narrow
That two persons together
Can't pass through that.

How long
Can you walk alone?

I loved her
As if she were a wave
Flowing naturally

**** off
Contempt
For everything
You don't like
From your heart

Love feels suffocation
Due to its smoke

I count faults of others
             My wisdom decreeses
I count their good deeds
            My wisdom increases

Writing is a beautiful letter
addressed to mankind,
With an invitation:

Give us your valuable time
And we would discuss how to spread love in the world.

Good people are those
                Who consider others good too

These eyes are blank papers
But assets of mine.

I'm glad
They don't mirror me
The horrific faces of evil of our world.

They give me thousands of moments
To think of the greatness of God.

I've my gold
They won't leave me.

At parties
People with empty minds

Fill their bellies
In a terrible way

The ordeal of a poor:

                   Hammer in one hand
                   Blister in one leg

If you don't change yourself today
The world would change itself for you

That would ***** you deep

If not today
Or at midnight,
Other day
You'll realise you were the biggest fool
To push time in the pond and forget that without any regret....

Love

Is love


Today

And after thousands of centuries

I have got to climb the hill

If there are landslides,
They are not the chains
in the legs of my dreams

Another voice,
The voice of our childhood
Is stuck in the polluted world

Make it free
To be free yourself
Of that world's burden

They say: The crow weeps at its blackness.

I say: It just lives in the moment, ignoring its skin.

When you're in depression
Take the solace
From the smiling moon
Through the fog

In old age
Everything is old

           Except for dreams

After last bomb

The tree caught the wind and said

Much is enough
Enough is loss

Change the direction
We have got enough

Festivals
       Are the threads to knit
                   Honey moments

Grievances
Enfeeble the innocent relation

You can flip the coin
But you can't decide your choice

The most beautiful and everlasting present


Is forgiveness

Wrapped in the sheet of "it's okay; I'm too sorry.

A couple of moments of joys
Earned through labour
Are pure gold........

In human disaster
There is only one sympathiser

That is
  
     Smile

There is a river flowing in you.
In it you are drowned.