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Àŧùl Jul 2013
I now lie in this pile of dead-bodies,
I wait to be cremated on these burning logs,
I am dead like all others in the pile.

Maybe I bear responsibility equally,
Like the other guy lying at the peak,
I could have stopped it at right time.

I could think about its righteousness,
I could've stopped the darkness from seeping,
I could've prevented the belligerents.
But I didn't...

I was just instrumentative in his mission.

I really regret it...

But what good is this regretfulness now, because a reversal is impossible now...

Ein Hitlers Deutsch spricht
My HP Poem #339
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2013
Just feel free as you,
Ride me,
Let all inhibitions leave you tonight.

As you go to sleep,
With me,
Hope that you rest peacefully.

I'll make sure as you,
Join me,
*That you will rest in peace.
© Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Sep 2018
I do not want to pile on,
But I am in sweet pain,
Just below the belt...

Pain due to nervousness,
My dad was unwell,
He got successfully operated...

He's my dear guardian Angel,
Sustained injury whilst protecting me,
I escaped with minor gashes.

He's undoubtedly the best father,
There may be any trouble on me,
But he's always standing on guard.

I strive to make my father feel proud,
And though I often fail to make him feel so,
I shall not give up hope that I shall make him feel proud.

Right now,
I am in pain,
I am unable to urinate.

But this pain is bearable,
I shall now help him recover,
My life is his blessings all over.
Maybe due to the subconscious tension about my father's recent surgery, I am unable to urinate after the morning bath but it will be alright.

Nothing scares me after my tete-a-tete with death for the 28 days in the comatose state and then the utterly painful but necessary physiotherapy. These bothersome little troubles are not something that I should be worried about now.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/aw/B00MYY0DMA

My HP Poem #1723
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jun 2014
Here I am happily satisfied with my love ultimately.
Neither I have chosen you, nor you have chosen me.
Destiny brought our hearts this close.
Thank you for accepting my proposal.
I do not roam this land as a nomad lion.
But unlike you, I am not awestruck by it.
I will say many, so many more love poems.
To you all of my poems will be dedicated.
Cackles will fill our household one day.
It may often be seen as love in nature.
Love's the most beautiful nature trait.
We can never be done apart as long as we breathe.
Twinkling in the sky we will talk even after we die.

Saying your beautiful name instils positive energy.
I am imagining our future being united in a home.

Our home is not just walls & furniture.

You will see, madam, you will observe.
My HP Poem #649
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2015
Fact: Bananas have more trade regulations than AK-47s.

Something healthy must be having such ridiculous regulations,
But not the Kalashnikov as it won't be good for trade relations.
But hey, even she dubs me as her loving exclusive AK-47,
'Coz my name is Atul Kaushal - the letters are 4 and 7!
I shoot poetry and spilled is love instead of blood.
My HP Poem #910
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Sep 2015
There shalt cometh a time,
Kindled will be every rime,
Those who dislike them be pauper,
Those who like them will earn a zillion dime!

There shalt cometh a time,
Sailed will be every rime,
Those who sabotage shalt meet the reaper,
Those who help them will earn a lifetime!

There shalt cometh a time,
Loving will not be a crime,
Those who loved will be keeper,
Those who won't will repent after lifetime!
My HP Poem #901
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2013
Ringa-Ringa-Roses!
Pocket Full Of Plastics!
Was Under Me - And -
The Bed Broke Down!
A humorous poem. Not all can understand it!
:-D
Àŧùl Apr 2013
Come to a garden of roses with me,
Serene it is fuller with roses to see,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.

We shall not try to pluck any roses,
For the thorns dissuade any poses,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.

We can't sit guarding the flowers,
Very busy in our mini lives we're,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.

I'll set-up a flaming ring of fire,
Seeking fine protection for them,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.


Let's care for the roses as if our,
As if our little & young children,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.

To help us get them blue & red,
Give them all suitable nutrition,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.

Their presence is eye-pleasing,
We let them be in our garden,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.
***************************************
My HP Poem #178
© Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2014
The seed I had sown has bloomed,
From a sapling to a plant to tree,
And tree is now bearing fruits.
The fruits culminating on top,
Are only seemingly distant,
Fresh they are just sweet.
For us both take care.
My HP Poem #540
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Aug 2024
Joe was a teenager unhappy with his bed,
For it creaked a lot whenever he moved.

He asked his parents to get it fixed,
But they told him to grow up & earn.

Soon his parents were both dead,
In an accident, in a ****** one.

Though he escaped from the accident,
Poor Joe was traumatised unfathomably.

His parents had a great accidental insurance,
And they were so sincere in doling out the claim.

Cremated them in the electric crematorium,
He was left with a million dollars and an urn.

He had a girlfriend, Jonita, very beautiful,
She was very active in life and in the bed.

Tiaan-tiaan, karr-karr, chian-chian,
Creeaak-creeaak, creeaak-creeaak.

Helped him move beyond the sordid memories,
She helped him soothe himself with the love.

The bed used to screech whenever they played,
They jumped on the bed, and they danced.

Rhythmically their dance lasted for 7 minutes,
Sometimes they played for multiple sessions.

Jonita one day told Joe to be serious,
For life's not just about love and ***.

Sure, Joe had a million dollars,
But that was what he inherited.

Now Joe must be serious and get a job,
For the inheritance & insurance are limited.

Jonita negatively motivated him,
Challenging Joe to earn something.

Joe promised to start earning,
But asked Jonita to marry him.

She consented, and they got married,
Kept the ceremony very much private.

Just the two of them, and two witnesses,
In that morbid-looking court house.

'That money is limited,' realised Joe,
Prepared to get employed with the Force.

He grew up and hustled harder in the fray,
And achieved getting enlisted in the Force.

Jonita was already happy, now she was proud,
Her stallion now wore the royal blue plumes.

"You're my centaur," she used to say happily,
Whenever he'd dress up for reporting at work.

Truly he was a centaur for her, and for the Force too,
Guiding his jet through the angelic skies.

'Life is good,' so thought Joe,
He trusted his every bro.

His friends assured him of his wife's safety,
Of her safety, Joseph indeed want a surety.

Joe went away for a war, call of duty, you know,
But before he went, he had a battle in the bed.

A ferocious one, with blaring metal in the background,
He drilled Jonita deep until they both bled.

There were scars on Joe's back,
As if a cat scratched him bad.

Even Jonita had hickeys and bite marks,
As if a bunny had nipped her *******.

Her shoulders bore witness to love,
And to ******* of that dove.

The news spoke of a war that broke out,
And Joe received the deployment orders.

Now, soon he went away for the war,
He missed her during the month away.

The bed's creaking he missed the most,
The centaur avoided stroking his bird.

He focused on the war, and the battle plan,
Also, he wanted to save some memories to share.

He shot, he fired, and dropped some bombs,
Killed many soldiers, maimed some others.

He also downed many enemy fighter jets,
Evaded enemy fire, engaged them in dogfights.

Amongst all the targets he hit,
The enemy soldiers were decimated.

And they won the war sooner than expected.

He shifted his focus from the war to the lover,
But he planned something more.

Joseph wanted to surprise Jonita,
So he didn't let her know he was coming home.

When he arrived back,
He wanted to read her eyes.

So, he used his set of keys.

'Pleasant surprise' he expected,
But he heard the bed creaking.

The same way it did when they made love,
The same way it did when she rided his lightning.

He loaded his gun.

Nervous, he climbed up, expecting the unspeakable,
But peered inside the bedroom to find her alone.

Sure, she was naked,
But not with anyone else.

She was gyrating to his memories,
There was his name in her whispers.

And all this while,
Her eyes were closed.

Gyrating and vibrating,
Cupping her pillows.

It was her own hands,
Not anybody else's.

He unloaded the gun.

Joe was lucky,
He had Jonita.
A poem inspired by my favourite English song.

My HP Poem #1974
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jun 2014
Sol o Sol!
Come be our guest,
Come & imagine a lunch with us.
Sky o Sky!
Most clement you are,
You are invited to lunch along us.

The stove is just so cold,
The stomach is hot as oven,
Warm bread is our daydream.

May some day come our way,
Our poor daydreams be realized,
Drinking the water in steel tumblers.

Delicious potato-tomato greens,
Sour tamarind sauce will be there,
Such a day has always been on the list.

We toast to our mini picnic,
Gulp chilled water brought along,
Yes so would be our hot celebration.

Let us sit under a tree's shade,
Enjoying our picnic time the best,
Melting some butter on warm bread.

Just for the sake of our joy,
May birds be our music system,
Today we shall feed them as well.

Sol o Sol!
Listen to our invitation,
Come & imagine a lunch with us.
Sky o Sky!
Accept all our offerings,
You are invited to lunch along us.
I am inspired by the thought of a not so well-to-do family of a man and his five kids whose mother has died.

The man tries his best to avail best food for all of his children.

The children also understand his situation, the lack of a woman in their family and embrace their problems.

A woman's absence will increase their poverty.

My HP Poem #642
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2017
He is just like a Fatherer for Tennis!

Roger at 35 works out with dedication,
He also is a great human being in life,
Roger is just awesomely as a human.
He has a large & kind golden heart,
Roger Federer is an angel of Earth.
I congratulate Roger Federer for winning against a younger opponent and bless him with good health.

My HP Poem #1402
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2013
I have this thought coming to my mind,
A distant vision of the Hell Down Under,
People live far away beyond all the seas.

Good lands seem far away from here on,
Thanks to the extent of times & progress,
People can take a flight or use a webcam.

Sun burning overhead entire day long,
Thirsty desert lands emptied long ago,
People reached here were scared then.
Such must have been the conditions of the teams who discovered and colonised Australia back at that time.

My HP Poem #461
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2014
As we lead our lives,
Boring or interesting,
Calm and caring for it,
Dealing the problems,
Elevating our quality,
Freshening up daily,
Greatly upscaling,
Happy smiles,
Intimately,
Jerking threats away,
Kissing happiness,
Leading  brighter,
Much  more  long,
Newer  &  higher,
Over  the  clouds,
Pouring hot love,
Queer  above  all,
Resting  relieved,
Staring night sky,
Treetops craning,
Up onto the stars,
Violins  of nature,
Waking  up fresh,
Xenophilia popping,
Yearning divine sin,
Zesty opera of our lives.
My idea of our romance in torchlight!
Another concrete poetry from me.
The Romantic Torch

Not an electronic torch but an Olympic Torch kind-one.

My HP Poem #525
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Nov 2013
Romance is my muse,
It makes me feel her,
It makes me happy.
I oftentimes hear,
I start to feel her,
Romance is gold,
Romance is good,
Romance is happy,
It takes my tension,
Away, away & away.
My HP Poem #477
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Apr 2015
Male:
Main tennu eevein chaahnda,
<Yo baby! I love you like this,>
Jeevein Mor koi Morni nu - haaye...
<Like a peacock loves a peahen, yeah...>

^^

Together:
Saath poori jindadi daa...
<Well we'll be togetha foreva...>
Ehi saddaa vaada hai - haaye...
<Yea this is our commitment - yo...>

^
^

Male:
Jadon tu kitey meri jindadi vich jaaye, haaye...
<If you go away from my life someday, may mercy be upon me...>
Naal meri jindadi v jaaye, haaye...
<Along may go my life too, yea...>

^^

Female:
*Ke main tennu eevein chaahndi,
<That I love you like this,>
Jeevein Mor nu koi Morni ** - haaye...
<Like a peahen loves a peacock, yeah...>

Jadon main tennu kadi mildi haan,
<When I meet you,>
Bol paendiyaan akkhaan teriyaan, haaye...
<Your eyes start talking, yea...>

Main tennu eevein chaahndi,
<I love you like this,>
Jeevein Mor nu koi Morni **, haaye...
<Like a peahen loves a peacock, yea...>*

^
^

Male:
Main tennu eevein chaahnda,
<Yo baby! I love you like this,>
Jeevein Mor koi Morni nu - haaye...
<Like a peacock loves a peahen, yeah...>

^^

Female:
*Main tennu eevein chaahndi,
<I love you like this,>
Jeevein Mor nu koi Morni **, haaye...
<As if a peahen loves a peacock, yea...>*

^
^

Together:**
Saath poori jindadi daa...
<Well we'll be togetha foreva...>
Ehi saddaa vaada hai - haaye...
<Yea this is our commitment - yo...>
My HP Poem #842
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Dec 2016
Come here to the rotating restaurant, my dear,
Let me take you to the Tokyo tower top floor,
You just be my Japanese doll.
Let me love you left, right & centre.
Just take care while you respond,
As you are the pretty doll,
You're gonna take my heart away.
My HP Poem #1358
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Dec 2016
At the confluence is situated the Dushanbe,
Varzob and Kafirnigan meet in proximity.
Kafirnigan flows towards from the east towards the city,
The Varzob flows south to meet the bigger Kafirnigan.
The people, they import English Goats for eating,
Sacrificial English Goat Of Dushanbe,
And that's how they eat GOD frequently!
The acronym for Goat Of Dushanbe makes GOD.

My HP Poem #1360
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Apr 2017
Hoisted her like a princess,
Atop the flagpole of my poetry.
Hosted her like a daughter,
Never before did so in history.
But she's tried yet another,
So she was tired of my purity.
Nay!

She got bored of the imaginary saddle.
My HP Poem #1503
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Dec 2015
Either they don't imagine guys like me anymore,
Or they can't trust & hold on to guys like me any longer.

Such is the vanishing breed of the good guy-***-tiger,
Perhaps they are so used to living in evil that good seems evil ever.

Succumbing to emotional injuries we get softer,
Perhaps we have learnt to subjugate forever.
My HP Poem #946
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Sep 2016
I am sorry for all the reasons.
For all the reasons our love died.
I agree that it was only my mistake.
For I had proposed you my love then.
It was my sole onus to be a millionaire.
My HP Poem #1137
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2020
We, as Hïnđū Đhärmä followers must dispel the misconceptions about us.

#HinduDoesNotMeanBlackThief
#HinduDharmaIsNotAReligionButAWa­yOfLife
#SanatanDharmMeansTheEternalDiscipline

According to The Bhāgwäđ Gīŧā, there can be 4 broad types of people based on their spiritual tuning:
1. A theist: ¹ idolatrous, ² non-idolatrous
2. An atheist: still verifies the existence of the Päräbrähmä by not believing in It
3. An agnost: cares only about the Kärmä and fruit
4. Evil: does every bad deed in and out of the book – only they are not supposed to live.

Also remember:
Idol worshipping is prescribed as just an add-on feature. Hïnđū humans have held this misconception for too long that we have formed staunch opinions about idols. There are the following forms of worship:
1. Brähmpūjé: Doesn't necessitate an idol
2. Đéväpūjé: Even idols of minor deities are worshipped
3. Präđhānpūjé: Believe in all major and minor deities but worship only the one main deity such as Đürgā, Säräswäŧī, Läkšmī, or Kāŧyāyänī, or others, or the male deities such as Gäņéśä, Śïvä, Rāmä, Křšņä, Vïšņü, or (rarely) Brähmā.

#IdolWorship #Hindu #HinduRaashtra #HinduDharmaMeansCivilizedReligion #HinduShouldBeCleanAndKind #HinduMustBeEducated  #life  #thoughts  #inspiration  #diary  #nature  #love
#RealReligionOfPeace

Follow @7secondsauthor on @mirakeeapp
Dispelling some misconceptions about the Sänāŧän Đhärm
Àŧùl Sep 2016
Aaj ke bacchon mein hi nahin,
Apitu badon mein bhi sanskār,
Naammatr ke bach gaye hain.

Not only in children of the day,
But even the grownups lack it,
Ettiquette is just for namesake.

Andar se wo aadar bhaav gūm,
Aur haan gūm hai satkaar bhi,
Badon ke liye sammān gūm hai.

That feeling of respecting is lost,
And indeed is lost that hospitality,
Elderly are no longer given the place.
Foundation pillar-shaped bilingual concrete poetry.

The Hindi language poetry means the same as translated into the English language in the lines that follow it.

HP Poem #1154
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2015
Experiencing the love we share,
Encouraging only the positivity,
Explicitly repelling opposed air,
Embalming only the negativity,
Effecting the feelings that glare.

We savour that sweetness now.
My HP Poem #790
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2024
Born an only child,
To government servants,
I grew up in a nuclear family.
I felt very lonely until eight,
Because that was my age,
When I started reading.

Father bought me Champak,
Mother bought me ******,
I got interested in novels.
I remember the first novel,
It was Goosebumps #4,
"Say Cheese and Die!"

I was impressed with it,
So was I paranoid too,
Cameras scared me.
RL Stine hypnotised me,
Not just for a day or two,
Even now I think about it.

Robert robbed me,
With his words,
He stumped me.
Such simple stories,
But me they flummoxed,
Me they stunned.

I thank my parents for everything,
For introducing me to the habit of reading.
My HP Poem #2003
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl May 2014
It could be various phrases
But I want to listen one from you
'I love you'

A happy look on your face
Accompany it with a sweet smile
'I love you'

If you are upset with me
You'll brilliantly smile when I say it
'I love you'

A tiresome day endured
Will end happily if we tell each other
'I love you'

Life will always be cute
When we will be together arguing
'I love you'
My HP Poem #630
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2015
Inviting you to slay my heart,
Come you can eliminate me,
I shall get slain by your words,
You need not any weapon to ****.
But a new Atul will arise in the end.

My HP Poem #722
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl May 2013
I remember our Metabolic Engineering result,

Mass reappear.

The examiner scared the **** out of us,

****** examiner.

But I'm not more than disappointed,

I'm a fighter.

I love challenges,

Hard ones.
My HP Poem #238
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Dec 2015
A snapshot from the island nation of Maldives inspired this poem. The picture was clicked and uploaded to Facebook by a really gorgeous school friend of mine who just got married.


As if the beach was incomplete till today,
And the jetti was so lonely till this day,
Now it feels complemented by your unparalleled beauty.

This day is not going to end as the Sun has refused to sink down,
It has made up its mind to shine awn & awn,
All is blamed to your beauty which added up to the scenic beauty.
Bless my friend.

My HP Poem #938
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Apr 2016
How they wield horrible envy,
Crawling its way onto my veins,
Grab my neck by means envious.
Schadenfreude:
A German origin word meaning 'harm joy' literally.
It means 'pleasure derived by someone from another person's misfortune.'

And I'm dealing with it for many years now.

My HP Poem #1067
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jun 2013
Ooh!
My Cutest Friend
I See You Looking
At Me With These
Cutest Sleepy Eyes
In All My Dreams
You Think Of Me
Dream About Us
On The First Date.
A Forever Desire
I Wanna Be Your Lover
My HP Poem #286
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Sep 2014
Seeing you it starts singing,
My heart, my heart.
I just want you,
Along me, each birth…

You are in my dreams,
You are among my loved ones.
Seeing you it starts singing,
My heart, my heart.
I just want you,
Along me, each birth…

I’m in all your memories,
I’m in all your promises.
Recall those moments and dreams,
Just remember those which we spent and decorated together!
When you came, why I felt like…
You are housed in my heart, oh dear – you’re mine!
Seeing you it starts singing,
My heart, my heart.
English translation of my Hindi song.

My HP Poem #667
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Nov 2016
Unlike my life before the accident,
I now have short-term amnesia,
But you are stuck here permanently.

Tujhe bhoolna to chaah bhi nahin sakta,
Kuch aise bas gayi hai dil-o-dimaag mein,
Fark nahin padta tujhe kuch, oh zaalima.
HP Poem #1278
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2015
Surely a piece of me died back then,
Least I faced after it is physical pain,
Like needless needles it was stinging,
All I managed was writing a poem.

Not a regular poet but an enthusiast,
Within me someone happy had died,
I started embalming the dear & dead,
Only hoping that I shall be revived..

My dying song gave birth to a poem,
Heart for the poem healed my heart,
The poem was truly a miracle for me,
Nothing less than a potion of elixir...
A tribute to myself and my poem 'Angel?' that healed my heart after the inglorious accident on May 7, 2010 crippled my life permanently.

Please refer to my poem 'Angel?' @ http://hellopoetry.com/poem/265976/angel/ and its comments for connecting with the story of this poem.

I also wrote a novel called '7 Seconds' whose eBook is available @ http://www.amazon.in/Seconds-Typical-Guy-Not-Life-ebook/dp/B00MYY0DMA and writing the novel I got redemption from the ghosts of loneliness I had to tackle unwantedly after my accident had fractured my degree apart from robbing me of all the friendships I had fostered.

My HP Poem #726
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2016
Where would you go,
Stopping I am not,
Go if you want to go,
Remembering me you are not,
As I'm not interested,
Wishing you quicker recovery,
Wherever you'll fall,
Caring I am not,
Just go if you wanna go.

Because lonelier you left me here,
You better need not to come ever,
I have earlier survived alone as well,
You weren't here near my deathlike bed,
There had been both of my parents,
Only expecting me as a robot in return,
And I found you absent when I needed,
Oh this is only the revelation of my life,
Such a fool I expected you to be my wife.

Now I can imagine what I was spared from,
I was spared from the splitter-splatter stuff,
And of course the kitchen's blitter-blatter bluff,
Because I am sure that I can prepare better food,
Much better than your fickle-minded self could,
Lovelier is my hand's company to my big head,
I imagine stuff and fantasize howsoever it feels fit,
And of course, I don't need your help for that,
I just go fap-fap, splitter-splatter & blitter-blatter.
A super-naughty poem!

HP Poem #1217
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Mar 2015
Some might consider me a fool,
But I promise you my fidelity,
Not just till we are married,
Even as we sally forwards,
I stay as true as that sun,
In our joint life I pledge my fidelity,
And I pledge my exclusive faithfulness.
My HP Poem #807
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Mar 2013
What use is a flask,
If I can't toast from it.

What use is a heart,
If it can't beat for me.

What use is a friend,
If they can't trust me.

What point is a person,
If they don't love poetry.

What point is a poem,
If they don't get it easily.

What point is a point,
If they find it senseless.

But the entire world is not smart,
And I don't actually care if they think most of it is just Senseless! :D
My Hello Poetry Poem #125
© Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2014
"I am subjected to nightmares each night,"* she said from the other end of the line, "I am afraid to go to sleep every single night."

Her sobs echoed through my cellphone over the phone call as she continued, "I feel really tired of it all," and added after a small pause, "Death would be a more pleasant sight than this fright."

I spontaneously said, "Don't you get worried dear," I let her regain her breath before adding, *"It's only few more years that I make it big and we get married. Your nightmares will cease in my embrace each night."
My HP Poem #681
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Sep 2016
This separation from you,
Keeps giving tinnitus,
Yes it is recurring.

I read in fair detail of it,
It is the lack of love,
Love hormone.

Oxytocin that pacifies,
It is lacking in me,
Many downs.

All my biology has snuffed,
Extinguished is my flame,
Eversince you have left.

Separation debilitates me,
And though I can't weep,
It is stinging my heart.

Still you fail to perceive,
It's only me who waits,
And I will be waiting.

I have waited for long,
A very long time gap,
*Now I will move on.
I do not want to be damaging myself anymore.
This way I could be infested with cancer.
I am moving on, don't worry about it.

HP Poem #1160
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Sep 2024
She had introduced me,
To Hello Poetry.

'Twas a day like none other,
I reached Amritsar for her.

Accompanying me that day,
Was my kind physiotherapist.

Yes, the very same physiotherapist,
Who I dubbed physio the ******,
For the pain used to be unbearable.

But no,
'Twas necessary for my betterment.

Coming back to Amritsar,
She was pleasantly surprised.

For she thought I'd play a prank,
Just like she had played one on me.

Giving me a false hope that she'll come,
Anyway, I went to her home.

I wished her on her birthday,
My physiotherapist went away.

I tuned her guitar as E A D G B E,
Eddy Ate Dynamite, Good Bye Eddy.

They laughed, her friends.
For who eats a Dynamite!

Well, that's the standard tuning,
Now I played a few songs.

Her friends were impressed,
Of me, she was proud.

I presented her a pen drive,
A Gaņesha adorned drive.

She loved it,
And thanked me.

After the party, she insisted that I stay,
I slept beside her father.

She shook me awake, and I was like,
"Who are you," she put her hand.

"Shh, it's me," she whispered,
I understood and relaxed.

She kissed me again at 3:30 a.m. on 24th,
This time I was awake and gave her my warmth.

Later, before sunrise, I went to the Station,
I had united with my Physio The ******.

I hugged her for one last time,
And we climbed on the train back.

Now nothing remains but memories,
Bitter ones to be more precise.

She cheated on me in 2015-16,
When I couldn't go to Amritsar.

My former best friend capitalised,
The ******* induced the breakup.

But that girl, who got so easily seduced,
She Wasn't Sad — Droņa Wept Like Kids.

And the immortal Droņa died,
Unable to trust anyone again.
My HP Poem #1997
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Dec 2016
They Call It Heresy,
We Call It Genuine Science

We designed the genes' primers,
Ordered them along the oligomers.
Our aim is an elaborate one,
It involves molecular cloning,
Sequence characterization, and
Relative expression analysis of
Bovine Trefoil Factors.

Now we hope to clone the gene,
The gene which is of a bovine origin,
By extensive working hours input,
And bearing in mind the risks,
Of not getting the desired output,
The possibility of failure always therein,
But pregnancy, healing & immunity it's governing.

Three types of trefoil factors there are,
TFF1: It suppresses gastric carcinoma,
And also helps in pregnancy,
TFF2: Helps exclusively in cancer research,
TFF3: Helps exclusively in pregnancy maintenance,
And also our prime interest.

After cloning the genes,
We have to sequence them,
And after characterization,
We have to analyse them,
After relative expression.
My M.Tech dissertation research topic is molecular cloning, sequence characterization, and relative expression analysis of Bovine Trefoil Factors and we will be working with water buffalo species.

I completed this work under the guidance of Dr AK Mohanty with additional working guidance from my dear elder sisterly lab mate Dr S G Chaudhary neé Rana.

The complete 2nd year was a research year.

HP Poem #1306
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Aug 2016
I thought she was a **** chick,
I also thought she was true,
But she was only true to my ****.

I remember that chicken breast,
She flaunt her legs in privy,
Now it's someone else's leg piece,

Someone else will devour it over,
I won't ever get that very chick,
Because it was just a quick dream.
Dreamt about an edible chicken last night.

My HP Poem #1109
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2014
I do believe that there couldn't be anything,
Present or past or even in the days to come,
Which match the **** contours of her neck.

Slim & young it got me hooked for lifelong,
It is just as some branch of the mango tree,
As the tree it bears vivid fruits of her face..

A short story of the luck fruits is necessary,
Be it her sweetest voice or her saltier tears,
I relish it all and I receive it as the dainty...
My HP Poem #539
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Nov 2016
Shaayad mar chuka hai Bhagwan,
Tabhi to zameer bikte hain yahan.

Maybe God is decaying and is stale,
This is why consciences are on sale.
An Urdu|Hindi couplet and its translation.
An intended pun on the rampant corruption.
Probably God is dead and so there's limitless corruption.

HP Poem #1274
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl May 2016
Shakespeare, I know not who he is.
But they term him one of the greatest,
They say he was a poet & a playwright.

William, I surely know of him not.
But they often name him the greatest,
He was a poet Stratford-upon-Avon born.

Anne Hathaway, was elder to him.
But still they both exchanged vows,
They say she was over 7 years older.

Hathaway, she had even outlived him.
But I wonder how she survived alone,
They say she had three kids from him.

I think the love for the remaining two kids kept her alive.
My HP Poem #1074
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jun 2013
(I am woken up by her honey-sweet voice in the morning.)
She:  Good morning honey!
Me:  Good morning baby!
(I yawn my mouth wide as I say that.)
(She smiles & replies tauntingly as she pulls my ear lovingly.)
She:  Seems you had a laborious night!
Me:  Yeah, a really laborious one indeed.
(Even I smile as I remember the last night; full of spice.)
(Now she bends towards the side-table and fetches coffee.)
She:  Hmmm... I've prepared coffee for you darling, you were asleep.
Me:  Oh dear, should I say thanks or kiss you again!?
(I move my body forward from the sheets craning my neck - the cutlery makes tinkling noise.)
(She cackles and barely maintains her balance as she retracts herself.)
She:  Seems you're still undone, my naughty boy!
Me:  Ah! How truer could you be, kiss me again!
(I offer my lips as I take the cup offered by her.)
(She smiles and just gives a brief peck on my lips with hers.)
She:  Now we should get our day started, otherwise we'd get late.
Me:  What did you just say!? We'd get laid? Oh I'd love to!
(I muster an apt piece of laughter for both of us.)
(She looks even more angelic as she laughingly pulls both my ears & cheeks.)
She:  Get out of the bed, you naughty boy!
Me:  Aye-aye madam! And I'll be hungry soon after getting done with my morning duties.
(I say greedily to invite another sweet smile from my angel-faced woman.)
(She seems to be ready for that and says in a learned manner.)
She:  So my dear hubby, what would you have for breakfast?
Me:  I'd have you with cheese & salt, milk & sugar and lots of love!
(I say that cheekily hoping to make her blush.)
(She blushes and turns towards the kitchen, I follow to help her.)
A futuristic piece of poetry.
My HP Poem #323
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Nov 2016
Oh my estranged lover,
What is my mistake?
To care about you,
And to suggest?
That too,
For your own good?
I never wanted any control.

Oh my sweetest lover,
What is my crime?
To selflessly love you,
And to support?
That as well,
For yourself?
I only wanted a lifelong friend.

Perhaps, a friend has an end,
But I wanted you as my lover,
And a lover is for forever?
I started to suggest,
At your own request,
Have you forgotten?
I just wanted to care about you.

Then you say that you have parents,
And they care for you as well,
You are their first born.
And you have two siblings,
Then why do you put up strange demands,
Have you forgotten Manya & Atharv too?
I tell you the rudest words because these are the crudest truth.

Do you know when your father will take a loan,
Supposedly from one of the private banks,
What he will have to pledge against it?
Maybe his car or more,
Perhaps his business office,
Or maybe the home?
I will suggest you against going overseas to study.

Do not you know India has the best education,
Ranked number one since ages long ago,
Where you transpire to go leaving it?
Trust me you do not,
I know that,
But what about your family?
Will you surely repay your loan by yourself?

Baby, you are immature and a control freak,
Controlling me was almost acceptable then,
But why do you control your father?
I love you like anything,
Your father loves you too,
But do you love anyone but yourself?
Wake up from your fantasies and face the reality.
If you have that grit in you,
Get your guts ready for competition in India,
Because if away you will go then it will be wrong for your family.

This was not a letter requesting you to come back to me.
No, I don't want such an immature babe.
But this was just a request,
That your father's patience you don't test.
Under your pressure and childish demands, he might break.
He is a really strong man and I respect him so much.
Whatever you decide, please be wise.
If you decide to be a psychologist, it's okay.
Do read your own psyche at first.

HP Poem #1281
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Sep 2015
Instead of dropping in like last year,
I wished her b'day over the internet,
Yeah, last year she was more happy,
Because I was there with her.

Still she is positively happy.
♡♥♡♥♡♥♡ So am I. ♡♥♡♥♡♥♡
Today on 23/09/15 Kripi turns 18 years of age.

My HP Poem #903
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Nov 2016
She had come like a cool breeze,
But left me longing with such ease.
She held a secret inside her heart,
But left me wondering about herself.

She was gorgeous per se with unfaithful eyes,
Unfaithful eyes.
She was gorgeous per se with unfaithful eyes,
Left saving her fringes from my probing eyes.
She had come like a cool breeze,
But left me longing with such ease.

At least tell me this much for my heartbeats,
Heartbeats.
At least tell me this much for my heartbeats,
Who she was that left after a demo of her love.
She had come like a cool breeze,
But left me longing with such ease.
A retro Bollywood song sung by the greatest Indian Rafi Sahab inspired this poem.

HP Poem #1243
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2015
I had once known a young lady,
Taller & fairer than me was she.
With elfin ears she looked cuter,
Of high traits was she an owner.
Attracted I was strongly to her,
Little did I know what it spelt.
Now I know it read danger,
But the damage has been inflicted.
Pointless, all this repenting is now,
How could I let someone so close?
On her own bed she had me lying,
I waited for the guillotine to fall.
My HP Poem #723
©Atul Kaushal
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