Seeking my ideal match,
I'm often greeted with a rude reality,
There isn't one.

In this crowded world,
I was made to accept singleton state,
'Coz the gender ratio ain't equal.

Living alone demands a lot,
A lot of strength from a guy,
And that guy has to be strong.

Incidentally, that guy is me.

I know not of anyone else now,
That I can trust with my life.
There's nobody forever except one,
One - my forever faithful friend.
He will never leave me alone,
Never ditch me wastefully.
And never let me down,
For it's obviously me only.

But I'll move on,
Alone.
It'll be really hard,
Alone.
'Coz I've been that way,
Alone.
For far too long in my life,
Sparing few days of togetherness.
I'm actually solo right here,
Right now.
And no,
I don't want anyone ever again.
'Coz in the end they all tend to leave,
Not caring how they will bereave.

I will miss her,
Not a name here.
But I'll just miss her,
Her very lucid smiles.
And I miss the plans,
They remain a desire unfulfilled.

Andre Andre Andale Ariba!

So do my fingers slide up,
And they slide down my guitar neck,
Getting hurt is imminent.

These guitar licks will hurt sweetly.

People only come and go,
So do my transition inspiration sources.

But lest I forget my motive,
Remembering the ultimate aim in life.

Never demeaning it because,
Life Goes On.

I miss your poems.
A collection of bests they were,
Only not giving due credit,
And plagiarism they term it,
Your poem about your bunny,
It was as real as that hot sunny,
Why plug out my recharge wire?

Her poems were not all plagiarized,
At least not her poem about her bunny,
What you guys did was to pshaw her so much,
That she deleted her account altogether.

Shattered with her departure,
I feel no more enthusiastic,
The reinnervated poet,
Inside me died.

****** thought it was a concept novel.
But wrong he was.
India knew Blitzkrieg long before ******.

In ancient dramas like Mahabharata,
And of course the older Ramayana,
The epics are replete with incidents,
Or rather determining acts of battle,
That determined the course of time,
Armies attacked the relaxing armies,
Changed the outcome of war.

So was the ancient Indian ideology.

You're beautiful,
Yes, you are, undoubtedly.
But the way you smile-

It's the icing on the cake!

And it's indispensable.
Neither you can live without that perfect smile,
Nor I can imagine any light of day or dark of night without it,
Let alone traveling a mile without thinking of your smile.

I'll make a career,
I'll make a living,
I'll make a life.

Then I'll have you closer,
I'll have you listening,
I'll have you as my wife.

But,
If you're happy with someone else,
Then I'd just wish you much more,
Health, contentment & happiness.

Oh Marathi-Sindhi beauty,
I did not know that you'd intrude,
Deep in my heart & mind.

Your looks are elfin gorgeous,
I am downright stumped,
Of your positive attitude I'm a fan.

Your daily schedule is admirable,
Not many youngsters are organized,
And the majority roam aimlessly.

I so admire that you teach kids,
I see responsibility in your eyes,
Not many care for their families.

How you manage tuning the strings,
Happy & content you are always,
You smile how so ever be the things.

From you the world will learn,
Jealous from the respect you earn,
To be like you they will yearn.

So yes, the respect grows deep,
Down at the bottom of my heart,
As water to roots it will seep.

I was the Crown Prince,
Prince Khurram was my name,
Of Emperor Jahangir I was the son,
Shāhjahān was the royal title I took,
Shihāb al-Din Muḥammad Khurram
Was my formal name.
It was I who got the Taj Mahal built.

You criticize it as wastage,
As an old man's obsession,
An egotistical marble effigy,
A mark of wasted resources,
And a ******'s rare ambition,
You may detest it's purpose...

But I built it out of sheer love...

Love for power,
Love for wealth,
Love for health,
Love for ruling,
Love for display,
Love for strategy,
Love for history.

I want to be remembered.

Just as I want my poetry in marble,
Pure white poetry to withstand,
In the tests of time to prove me true.

Forever, you'll remember me.

And my crazy love for my Mumtaz.

It was in the Mughal period
That a combined bathroom,
Shower & toilet put together,
Were called a Ghusl Khana.
Inside it proceeded many stuff,
Literally meaning cleansing,
Of both the body and soul.

Sat the emperor inside,
Busy in cleaning his body,
And his soul too with water,
And with the warmth of it,
He tried cleansing his soul,
After administrating the empire,
And being engaged in battles.

The battles of truth,
The battles of trust,
The battles of faith.

To thank each one of you,
Today, I take the opportunity,
By taking names for your support.

For being the source,
First of all, I thank Life,
For the inspiration she was.

She guided me to Hello Poetry,
Introduced me to new friends,
Broke up ultimately however.

Then I thank Timothy Salter,
For his own and his family's,
Articulate poetry helped me.

Madam Hilda writes as amazing,
And as amazing is their daughter,
It is hard to tell if Marian wrote it.

It's helping me learn more,
Respecting it has taught me,
Had to be paid to earn more.

Not forgetting Gitacharya Vedala,
For he elaborates on every detail,
Thereby helping me experiment.

Same is for Pradip Chattopadhyay,
Hinting of Rabindranath Tagore,
He's the poet clad in sombrero.

Their pure physics at soul poetry,
Helped me learn experimenting,
With sheer hollow truthfulness

I then engage in remembering,
Elsa Angelica for inspiring me,
Her own poetry is developing.

She inspired me to improve,
My strengths & weaknesses,
She taught me being lucid.

Then of course I thank Sukeerti,
She taught me being beautiful,
Without being too explaining.

She encouraged my writing,
Always was their as a friend,
Giving me her positive inputs.

Madam Elizabeth 'Lizzie' Squires,
Aptly mature her poetry is always,
Very much to learn always exists.

Her persona is respectable,
Definitely motherly her aura,
Making her a poet so reputable.

Several other poets fascinate me,
Equally instead of less or more,
They all teach me the lessons.

Madam Sally A Bayan is there,
Her sweet mature bits of advice,
Best complemented by her poetry.

Shayana Shrikanthalingam,
Seeing all her polished poetry,
Not such a difficult name for me.

Ever inseparable they are,
Brandon & Earl Jane Nagley,
They are the immortal lovers.

And I recognize the beauty,
An Indian model here on H.P.,
Poetry surely as cute as herself.

She is the most elegant girl,
On Hello Poetry and in reality,
Bhumika Fulwani I refer to here.

Finally, I express my gratitude to her,
In my life she's the ultimate one,
Now I needn't anyone else.

She is my Pooja Shah,
She is exclusively mine,
She is here forever to stay.

Licking the ***** off the small peaks,
Each dilated eye in ecstasy truly speaks.

The peaks are so natural button-like soft,
Conveying sans the speech the desire oft.

Whenever stiff & excited about to burst,
Titillating the sensuality be with trust.

Enough caring about others,
They always let you down,
Abandoning you in the middle.

Don't let any negatives creep in,
It's your life - love it - live it,
Let go of bogus lovers - let go.

Feel the happiness inside you,
In your mind, body and soul,
Let it go - it's fake - it's one-sided.

Love is never gone,
Only the lover maybe.

They often find someone,
More suitable and move on.

There is no point lamenting,
Take it as yet another lesson.

Why stay there where you got hurt,
Surely it was not true love you got.

Still a faint hope stayed,
But it was so clear too.

Be patient like you have been,
There's someone mature for you.

Tell me why do they fight,
Why did you endow violence.

Tell me why do they suffer,
Why did you gift them pain.

Tell me why do they hate,
Why did you give them feelings.

Tell me why,
Tell me why,
Oh tell me why...


Tell me how to achieve peace,
Why should we not love everyone.

Tell me how to alleviate pain,
Why should we not heal everybody.

Tell me how to initiate love,
Why should we not respect all.

Tell me how,
Tell me how,
Oh tell me how...

When you feel you're alone,
Cut off from this cruel world,
Your instinct's telling you to run.

Listen to your heart,
Those angel voices,
They'll sing to you,
They'll be your guide
Back home.

When life leaves us blind,
Love keeps us kind,
It keeps us kind.

When you've suffered enough,
And your spirit is breaking,
You're growing desperate from the fight.

Remember you're loved,
And you always will be,
This melody will bring you right
Back home.

When life leaves us blind,
Love keeps us kind.
When life leaves us blind,
Love keeps us kind.

Ohhhhh Ohhhhhh!
Ohhhhh Ohhhhhh!
Ohhhhh Ohhhhhh!

A long, narrow & deep crevice
Is called a ditch.

Abandoning a man on the way,
Is also called to ditch.

All differences lie in the source,
Second one is done by a *****.

Sunken in the grim thoughts,
This mind goes adrift to Never Land,
Never never never land.

Stolen can't be sanity's token,
There I will not be even a day older,
Forever ever ever land.

People consider me atheist,
But I am agnostic deep inside,
I recognize an unearthly power,
One that works at unearthly hour.

How neatly you slash a cut across the target's neck proves your lethality.

And perfection comes with practice.

Just ditch a ****** fool and no blood needed be spilled every time you do.

And the best thing about it is that you remain ****** innocent.

Who I took to be my saviour,
Was the very one that killed me,
When I felt really terrorized.

Nuke of loneliness imploded,
Not caring it was not the time,
Night now feels as if eternal.

Contained is this explosion,
Tears haven't fallen since long,
Of dire loneliness it's a gift.

All what fussy ***** had got,
Something that started to rot,
Is nothing else but lofty tails.

Her most horrible trot,
Got her inside the slot,
Of someone called ****.

I was a difficult kid,
One who wished till every bit,
Not going to the school.

I still am like that,
But just not that bit I called difficult,
Now I go to the college.

My days spent with you,
Were sweet like sugar,
I've got memorabilia,
Within my tired heart,
Mind you, I knew no art.

No arts to make you stay,
No skill to prevent you stray,
No heart to love you more.

Good-bye my lover,
All the best forever.

I've got two big pimples,
Each located on either side of my forehead.

And distantly,
I look like the fictional Frankenstein's Monster!!

I guess these are from excessive tension...

They are numbered,
They are few.

Rarity is their virtue,
Uncommon their traits.

They are lumbered,
They are new.

Clarity is their class,
Platinum their rates.

Governments avoid,
And people loathe them.

They are cumbered,
They are feared.

To prevent them,
Nothing can be done.

By any forces however,
Either collared or aided.

I found my love yet again,
In the beautiful garden.

Among fragrant flowers,
Beyond the thorny bush.

I cannot ever forget her,
Moving on is impossible.

Let her be stone-hearted,
I can not change it now.

I feel that I will be alone,
Like dead resting in grave.

Call me paranoid,
But I just know me.

Is this being paranoid?

I don't flirt around,
But I am unique.


Call me complex,
But I just know I'm.

Is my time not mine?

It feels early to say,
But I'll win again.


Call me complicated,
But I just know that I'm.

Is this being too complex?

I am surely a paradox,
But I'll sustain alone.

Not a time-****** I am,
But I used to do that,
To a great extent.
All the attention she got,
Was actually stuff,
That she neither sought,
Nor her dear requirement.

Playing with one's own body,
It can be the best therapy,
Both for the body and mind.

Stupor comes without drugs,
It helps you forget reality,
And overcome physical pain.

Miraculous effective therapy,
It makes you forget grief,
Cheery is a mood afterwards.

Self-love and respect are born,
Just let the mind go blank,
Just forget all thoughts forlorn.

Engage in self-praise privately,
Let all blue hues slip-off,
It's much easier said than done.

Relationship is like a bouquet,*
Love is the real fragrance,
Just like marigolds and roses,
The religions are the same,
Just like Vedas and Moses,
Miles of smiles sewn together,
Just like starry heavenly poses.

Still flowers fade one day,
Same about the love I felt,
Wild flowers don't need care,
Wild love won't require care,
Mine couldn't be as true,
A judgment was passed.
It wasn't passed by you.

It was passed by people,
The people around you,
You were manipulated,
They infuriated you finally,
Inside I knew it'll be failed,
No I do not blame you,
I know how cursed I am.

Indian people are very traditional,
Still they will move with the trend,
Few Indians will often be bipolar.

First they tickle you the hardest,
As bad to trickle down your tears,
Then they change all of a sudden.

Let their fickle-minds deceive you,
You let the sickle-minds hurt you,
Such examples are there but few.

Some people are either such fools or double-mouthed liars,
They can bring my blood to boil and my sanity to turmoil.

Chat with me as if I'm a brother and much more than just a friend,
Send me your pictures and all,
But suddenly,
Then tell me that I am a stranger when I ask your number in the end?

I'll just block your sick personalities,
Your HP profiles and email address.

I won't leave any stone unturned,
Enough being the ideal good boy.

I will be the realistic man,
Not for your playing a toy.

Like sweet & sour,
Life sure is peppy,
And even a bit more.

Imbalanced like my old diet,
It is more on the sour side.

But it's okay for me,
More patient I'll be.

I'll not make time bend,
For I know not the end.

Making sure to keep her happy,
But forgetting not I'm not a puppy.

Except abandoning it at stakes,
Learning from my mistakes,
Give life all what it takes.

Is so much enjoyable,
If you got no soft ego,
And it may look like this number.
Read Immoral.
This poem of mine is numbered 969,
But let me warn you,
It is really dangerous.

Breakups, breakups everywhere,
You may run & hide anywhere.
Probably I should have dug a grave out,
And watched her pour the gravel in as I relaxed down there.

Some old friends make you know,
About their breakups so slow.
Blamed on simply not getting along,
It's a lame way of telling, 'I got bored'.

Land of the mummies,
Not at all the mothers,
The fabled dead people,
Draped in crepe bandages,
Appearing creepy to kids,
Ranging from Aegyptus,
To high above the Andes.

What's called "Good Morning" in English,
"Guten Morgen" in German,
And "Bon Matin" in French,
Is called "सुप्रभात" in Hindi and pronounced as "Suprabhaat!"

I had been studying all night,
And probably now I'll sleep.

If forever you did stay,
I surely wouldn't stray.

You knew an agnostic,
But my love is cathartic.

I believed you to be strong,
But you turned out hollow.

It could have purged them,
Had you confessed your sins.

But you chose to escape,
Pity such a great Coward.

These hours & days of loneliness,
Just after a flop love story,
I wanted not.

I desired not,
'Roun' the ticking clock,
Goin' 'lone in the scary nights.

Separation from my will to live,
Knowin' I was just a pastime,
I required not.

I needed love,
Just truthful love,
Not just another infidel.

Soldier of real world,
I fought naught for money,
But for honour and patriotism.

Back home it waited,
I could not fight my lover,
My killer in guise of infidelity.

My mortal remains be taken,
Away from this world,
Into outer space.

This heart will now crave,
For the love which nobody gave,
I'm feelin' like a dead man in a grave.

I carry singly my lonely zeal,
Now this heart won't soon heal,
Except heartbreak nothing's real.

This heart has suffered a wound,
Feels like its clock has unwound,
A baby deep inside wails around.

I have been reading genetics,
Even as a part of my course,
Apart from my dear hobby.

I have got this scientific temper,
Of course I got it all genetically,
From both mommy 'nd daddy.

Genetics define my autosomes,
Even my other chromosomes,
Which gave me my gender.

I am an Aryan-Dravidian born,
With a fantastic genetic base,
Variation is a genetic boon.

My father tells me to marry farther,
Continuing the ancient tradition,
A tradition that imparts finesse.

Baby, I miss your smiles,
I love my laughter even more.

Baby, I miss your voice,
I enjoy my silence even more.

Baby, I miss your eyes,
I nourish my health even more.

Baby, I miss your heart,
I listen to my heartbeats even more.

Baby, I miss losing myself in you,
But yes, I have found myself again.

Breaking things is vandalism,
And vandals deserve a 6×9×12 cell,
But what of sportspersons?

They keep breaking records,
Mostly someone else's records,
And sometimes their own.

Shouldn't they be jailed?

She needs no comparison,
My mom is simply the best!

Her food preparations,
Ah! The best chef ever.

My satisfied smiling face,
Is her biggest prize, she says.