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Àŧùl Jan 2016
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.
My HP Poem #984
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2017
Smile
In the
Night,
Day will be
Here during
Ill-light.

Benign will be your presence,
Exhausted I am now,
August will be your presence,
Unite with me,
Think about it,
Y*ou're the reason.
For the sole Sindhi Beauty I am aware of.
My HP Poem #1450
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl May 2013
Applegate sounds like
Like a gateway to the Garden of Eden,
With fruits like apple it has been laden.
Like a nutritious surname fit for health,
That health which helps making wealth.
http://hellopoetry.com/-jessica-applegate/
My Hello Poetry Poem #201
© Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2018
Dear Pooh Bear
I can never get over
The memory of your scent.

Never let me
Find you gone and
Just stay here until the end.

We have a dream
To pursue and achieve
For our cute next generation.
My HP Poem #1703
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Dec 2019
My biological birth anniversary is coming,
Just two weeks are still remaining.

Turning I shall be twenty-nine,
I hope to be at my birthday fine.

Study I shall more for my exams,
These won't get over till later days.

The toughest examination I wrote,
With my blood, I had written it.

May 7th, you know the day,
It is my second birthday.

Second birthday as a disaster,
A disaster that was averted.

The year was Twenty Ten,
Fall I did off the bike then.

Plunged into a deathly coma,
I scared both my Pa and Ma.

However, here I am, rhyming again,
Writing poems to forget the pain.
My HP Poem #1816
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Apr 2013
You may be so far-far,
But it hardly matters,
Our friendship will take its stands.

Stand these time's sands,
No matter how it jitters,
I will be me, you'll be who you are.
Mere Yaar: My Friend in Hindi/Urdu
An English-Hindi/Urdu poem.
My HP Poem #163
© Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Sep 2021
A poet is someone who rhymes,
Or at least takes care of structures.
A poet is someone who just sings,
Or rather makes music of the verses.
A poet is someone who bleeds black,
Or even weeps a rainbow of phrases.
My HP Poem #1942
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Apr 2013
She is not my lady yet,
Seven more years and she'd be done with studies.
Till then we just maintain our honesty,
And we pass every test.

All tests posed by life,
We have to be patient & crack each of them.
She must learn more patience,
I must get her as wife.

She is not my lady yet,
But she surely is the maid with dark hair.
But she realizes now that,
She is my love & life.
:-) :-) :-)
My HP Poem #186
© Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Dec 2015
It's okay that you thought it was better without me,
Frankly speaking - perhaps a bit rudely too,
You neither actually deserved nor desired me.
So I'm forgiving and apologizing to you too for not being able to be what you wanted me like.
I'm too busy in my coursework,
Too busy to do anything more than penning poems for you,
And that's a reality you can never accept and reflect upon.

My HP Poem #943
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Aug 2020
I know how cells are made
I know how to write genetic code
I know how clones are made
I know about disease-causing defects in the code

I know how to swim
Not just how to swim
I also know how to sing
I even compose music
And I also pluck a guitar string

I play the guitar
I play the flute
I play carrom
I play chess
I write poetry
I write novels

But the best thing I do is survive

I survived against odds when death came calling
I survived when most doctors predicted me dying
I survived 108°F fever when the virus was attacking
I survived that accident and now all I have is living
My HP Poem #1879
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Nov 2016
A poor heart is one which finds
No companion
Along the way of life.

A poor person is one which cuts
Another onion
Seeking just to weep.

A poor soul is one which haunts
No one else
But only & only itself.
This loneliness devours me breath-by-breath.

HP Poem #1252
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2019
You can experience it
Coming from most of
The writers around the
Block of Writers Block
Only to be saved by the
Bunch of Writers from
The Writers' Block.

They can call you names,
Ranging from A ******
To A Grammar ****.
But don't be put off,
Don't be put out,
Just hold on.
Hold your ground.

You might have OCD,
The Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,
Don't worry - just channel it well.
Channel it well and play your tunes,
Don't worry about the runes,
They will be all covered with ink.
Yes, the electronic ink.

For all eternity, they say,
You can never achieve perfection,
And it should not concern you.
Just remember your wordlust,
Coin new and better words,
Just play your sweet lute.
Yes, you are so cute.

"What's so cataclysmic about the apostrophe?"
You asked me,
And legitimately so.
It's the difference 'tween us,
Perfection and poets,
Godliness and humaneness.
Divinity and profanity.

"Yes, perfection is sacrilege,"
I say, "Perfection is an ambition,"
"Of humanity and nature."
I take a deep breath before saying,
"In the knowledge available,"
"It's just a figment."
You ask me, "Where is it located?"

I say:
Find it 'fore some letters,
You can find it afta' some letters,
Lockin'n'poppin words together,
The apostrophe is so savoury & flexible
I just hope that I never become,
A Grammar Apostate -
I'll rather be ill instead.
My HP Poem #1732
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jun 2013
"Atul, my wife is scared to nuts of water.
Any suggestions?"

I replied, *"And what makes you conclude this?"


He then said, *"Last evening when I came back from office,
She was sitting in the bathtub with the watchman."
Couldn't help but share this joke! :D
My HP Poem #313
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2013
I remember the first time at 17
I got hold of the pair of her 30Cs
I looked briefly at the tasty areolae
I stuck out my neck staring greedily
I was brought back to my senses when
I felt her left hand softly sit under my chin
I lifted her up in my arms and put on the bed
I heard her panting as I was kissing her ***** skin
I then lightly touched her areolae with my lips & tongue
I found her hands gripping my head and her fingers brushing
I paused suckling her to softly wield my fingers over her tiny areolae
I did my best to satisfy her but she asked for more which was averted by me
I didn't want to commit The Divine Sin with a girl who probably wasn't my future
I don't regret choosing my naivety & hers too, unperturbed by the world's jeered laughter.
© Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2021
Oh my lover,
Do not mind my haircut.
If you miss my longer hair,
See an older picture.
I am surely bigger than my locks,
My experience is the greatest.
My HP Poem #1909
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jul 2020
Tired of being tested, cheated & insulted,
He renamed himself as SORRY...
So that everyone apologizes to him,
For every single sin,
That he was made to suffer for,
But committed by all of them.

He faced death,
And survived.
He is unlucky,
And cursed...

Unlucky because,
He did not die...
Only to lead a half life...

Cursed because,
He is so lonely...
Only to lead a solo life...
My HP Poem #1874
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Aug 2013
Where did the first border appear?
I wonder and I wonder more.
The answer doesn't come out freely.

Probably on a piece of paper.
Or a cave wall perhaps..
Or on an insecure conscience...

They followed the dogs, lions and tigers.
They didn't take clues from the Albatross..
They were unable to make it a one world...

Fought for meagre pieces of land in a bid to expand...
They forgot that the wind blows beyond borders..
Animals and birds don't consider any borders.

Let's put our poetical hands together now.
Around each other's shoulders & waists..
Let's rhyme away the borders & nations...
My HP Poem #404
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2016
Hey gorgeous young lady,
I have seen you in my dream,
The land of Utopia you ruled,
Maybe as the crown-princess,
Like none other you shine,
I have not seen anyone like you,
Your uniqueness is unparalleled,
Truthful in the darkest hour are few.

Your hair is even darker than night,
The smooth curls of it are spiral,
I could get locked in these locks,
Just tell me you are mine,
Your eyes lead me to the heart,
What heavenly are you art,
Tell me where that artist is,
The one who sculpted you.
My HP Poem #952
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Nov 2019
We were chatting for the first time,
I asked if he was an Indian.
He said, "No, I am a European."
Now I said,
"Sorry, but you are no longer a European.
Your UK dumped EU.
So EU dumped you!
Now your islands were kicked further northwest.
The Germans finally had sweet revenge. :-D"
:-D
My HP Poem #1810
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Aug 2017
You were beautiful,
At a time when you were mine.

You were beautiful,
When you drank love wine.

You were beautiful,
Till you became swine.
My HP Poem #1647
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jul 2014
Blessed will be the day,
No clouds will be gray,
Month will be hot as May,
Incantations the priest will say,
We will 7 times go 'round the flame,
Thence we wouldn't be in any fray,
All coming to our life will be love.
My HP Poem #655
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Mar 2020
Our Āryāvärŧä is in danger,
Our home planet since eternity,
Now we must all perform an exodus.

A mass exodus wasn't something we planned,
It's an emergency as our planet disintegrates,
Our home has now endured a nuclear war.

The third orb in the Helios system supports life,
We must vacate this planet and go to that one,
We must, regretfully, forget our memories.

The planet currently houses primitive life,
We shall escape this unfortunate nuclear strife,
We need to utilize that planet for our own good.

The big C that kills us here,
It would not be there,
At least for the time being.

We shall go the Āryän speed,
Call the planet Přŧhvī now,
Since we need a Mother.

Goodbye, oh planet Āryāvärŧä,
You were the Hïnđū Māŧřä Bhūmï,
Now New Horizons we must choose.
My HP Poem #1835
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl May 2013
There's a saying which is popular in this world,
They say the feeling of love diminishes...

We also fight a lot of days in the beginning,
But I'm confident that our love won't abate..

And so we will win our own little world away,
Different from this world and uniquely sweet it'll be.
For the one and only, my only one; forever.
My HP Poem #215
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Nov 2016
I used to be a great sailor,
But then I was sea sick,
So I just got retired,
Scared I am of all the ships,
Especially of relationships,
I don't want to **** myself sweetly,
So scared.
HP Poem #1267
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2015
India was a secular state even before recorded history,
We welcomed all religions even before time,
Jesus is said to have come to Kashmir after Good Friday,
The English were welcomed just for business,
But what they did was occupying the nation,
As if that was not enough in itself they tried partitioning us,
After they endured the second world war,
They did decide to leave India to mind theirs,
But they decided to divide us into two.

One was the Islamic Republic of Pakistan,
Another was named as the Republic of India,
While they just tame corrupt extremism,
We tame irrationally extreme corruption,
We host unrealistic & unimaginable scams,
Sinners of all kind in the world are present here,
But there is some hope from our secular identity,
We are a progressive nation and I am so happy today.

One day will definitely come when India will be reunited.
A Republic Day write.
Our guests Mrs. Michelle & Mr. Barrack Hussein Obama are surely enjoying themselves a lot.
He is visibly impressed.

My HP Poem #762
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2015
You may try going,
As far as you can go,
But I know, yes I know.

You are missing me bad,
As far as I may keep trying,
But I know my final destination.

You failed to get me once,
Oh Death, slow death will come,
Immense emotional decay to fill in.

You must be frustrated,
Why does he not just die,
Probably you should concede it.

You can never forget me,
Stop trying it Lady Death,
I have with me my sweet Lady Luck.

You must be tired now,
Why not take some rest,
Probably even you should sleep.

I will die when it's time,
Not now do I plan to die,
Yes, I will when I need to sleep.

Knowing your strength,
I pay you respect truth of life,
I am not questioning your powers.

But what defeats you,
Is your own demon within,
O sole truth of life you get arrogant.

Having taken life for granted,
You refuse to accept defeat by it,
Each current, planned & unplanned life.
My HP Poem #732
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2017
I'm fabled not to be a ******,
Accused of being a *******.
But I don't have any memory,
Neither of getting under nor of getting on top.

I'm fabled not to be a ******,
Flouted of losing it in Agra.
But I don't have any memory,
Neither of getting inside a hotel nor to the bed.

I'm fabled not to be a ******,
Sentenced not being chaste.
But I don't have any memory,
Neither of getting loved in bed nor of making it.

So I guess that I am as good as a ******.
At least mentally.
I had met with an accident after which I lost selectively few parts of my memory and the girl who accuses me of having bedded her, she has already gotten married and is now busy in casting a blame upon me.

But yes, I agree that there couldn't be a place more romantic than Agra, the city of the Taj Mahal, to lose one's virginity.

In India, the chastity of both boys and girls matters equally for marriage.

My HP Poem #1384
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2017
If loving you completely,
As I found myself in you,
Could be termed as a sin,
Seen through spirituality,
Then I don't mind my life's sin,
And I'll proudly carry the guilt,
As I have you as my happiest gift.
My HP Poem #1673
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Mar 2017
I try to kindle a sweet pupa
As I bring it here to my room
And I keep it there on the floor.
Then I start to observe it regularly.
Soon one day it starts to stir up
So I try to help the moth inside
And I cut its pupa with a knife.

What came out was a beautiful butterfly!

But the butterfly would not fly,
Instead it started squirming there,
And it looked quite pitiful grounded.
The natural struggle had been absent.
It was a sinful mistake at that time,
My helping it break open its pupa,
It had not learned to struggle.

I watched it staying so grounded there!

I could not make it learn anything,
My helping it metamorphose was bad,
And it was actually criminally awful,
Now it will spend its life thinking,
And only thinking that it is normal,
Lying & squirming was its capability,
I hate myself for ruining the pupa.
I am so sorry for The Mystery.
I have realized what mistake I made.
It was totally wrong trying to manipulate.
I'll admit that I should've stayed away.
Now the girl might never realize it.

But she had a lot of scope to toil hard.
Toil hard to reach the pinnacle of success.
I'm sorry to have ever come close to you.

Please don't be like the disturbed pupa.
You can do a lot of hard work yourself.
Please don't hesitate to work hard in India.

Away from India you have to work harder.
And I have known more stories of people who broke down.
Please don't think that you must do the opposite of whatever I say.

I rest my case in hopes that you will not do your own damage in a bid to show me that I have always been wrong.

I wish that I could revert the time back to December 31st 2012 wee hours when the actual damage happened behind the veil of love.

It was untimely love for you and me.

I don't say anything like you were immature for love at that time but I just wanted to recount the things as they came out.

My HP Poem #1469
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Aug 2013
Oh baby you drive me,
So freaking crazy,
I yearn for you, baby.

Oh baby you make me,
So feeling wanted,
I learn for you, baby..

Oh baby you take me,
So farther away,
I turn for you, baby...

Oh baby you thrive in me,
So full and frizzy,
I live for you, baby....

Oh baby you are awake for me,
So difficultly daunted,
I relive for you, baby.....

Oh baby you ache for me,
So smarter way,
I give love for you, baby......

Oh baby why I feel so calm,
So genuinely in love,
I take inspiration for life, baby.......
My HP Poem #409
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl May 2013
There are just so many snowflakes falling from the sky each year,
That you and me, she and he, even your pets could lend their names to the snowflakes,
And not worry about them being duplicates of each other,
Because just like all human beings have different physical characteristics,
Each snowflake is amazingly uniquely structured,
You would run out of names of human beings in all languages,
Numbering each snowflake is a better option,
Mother nature has also made each person so unique,
Why care about the names and origins,
When everyone could have a unique snowflake!
My HP Poem #263
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Apr 2015
I'll refine myself,
I will redefine myself,
Around you I'll center my life.

Because of yourself,
So beautiful are yourself,
Yes you will only be my wife.

I love you so much,
You love me as much,
It can be avoided any strife.
My HP Poem #822
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2013
The Time For Humanity To Mature Has Not & Would Never Come. Read on - be intrigued.

Now that I believe for a long time after I attained the age of 22 years on 23rd December, 2012.

Many of the spiritual literature pieces are just contradictory to themselves, why would HE let the occurence of any trouble then and hold only the other end of a jittery life helping us cross to the other end safe & fine?

If you would excuse this question saying "HE can never be questioned and HE alone is the destructor & the creator," then it's just a desperate excuse which you hold to considering theism as flawless & unquestionable, me & any similar people as psychos, or perhaps losers.

I don't discourage theism nor do I encourage anybody to share similar thoughts as mine, but I myself don't encourage idling over the concept of the special spiritual unseen power. I agree that some phenomena like love, kindness, greed, lust & hatred can't ever just be scientifically explained in total completeness by just citing some natural laws of nature or physics. But then again why do we often indispensably need that imaginary hand above our heads for protection or more than often have to spend money in praise of the imaginary hand above our heads?


Any mention about theists' escapist nature would be countered by their many statements of the following kind:

o Us theists, we don't escape problems, we just gather courage when we have identified a problem in our lives by remembering the imaginary hand above our heads sheltering us from all troubles and then tackle the problem with enough strength.

o Theism does neither lack anything divinity nor does it lack even anything evil, both of them are manmade concepts, the world was created as a perfect place for the existence of human race.

o Instead of just leaving us all alone in this troublesome world, He has sent few of His men and we can blindly follow them to resolve our own specific troubles with solutions ideated around age-old books written by great men and we don't need anybody to question our faith wherever it is.
Now please don't utter such curses as "You'll only be deep-fried in hot oil when you die!"
:D
© Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jan 2015
Statement:
I love her.

Truth:
I do love her but seek to change her, my love is untrue.

She's still a child at heart,
Unwilling to command it,
Wish I could be the same...

I would not say words,
To hurt her many times,
Wish I could be the same..

I take pity at her bad habits,
Forgetting once I was her age,
Wish I could be the same again.

But I know she'll grow up,
She'll meet her real match,
Someone as young as her.

It will not someone be surly as me,
Her match will surely be healthy,
Contrary to me he will be young..

I must live with myself,
I am not made for her,
I am made for none...
But does she not want to change me too?

My HP Poem #763
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2015
Looking at the opposition we face,
We don't get it even a bit!
Surprised at how most of the world,
Treats the lovers as aliens!  
But we are happy being aliens,
Astonished they will be!
~~~~

Watching at their angry faces,
We wonder wot crime we committed!
Stunned we are,
They call us mad!
But we are happy being mad,
Astonished they will be!
~~~~

We will come to collaborate,
In every single stage of life!
They will see our love,
They will start believing in love!
And then too,
Astonished they will be!
Àŧùl Dec 2012
Born an only child,
Grew up with toys,
Talking to myself,
I'm my strange friend.

Was never so wild,
Blew off with noise,
Keeping to myself,
I'm my strange friend.

Neither was so mild,
Chewed 'em with teeth,
Speaking to toys,
I'm my strange friend.
Àŧùl May 2013
I was on bed then clueless about my life.
I remember three years ago, it was a strife.
I was made to realize by pain of being alive.

The procedure of tracheotomy was done.
The other nose was cut into my windpipe.
The lower end of my throat was bandaged.

The two navels are located on my stomach.
The second navel was gained at the hospital.
The upper navel is not always here to be seen.

Blankly I stared at the world in front of me.
Bluntly I stared at a big wall in front of me.
Bleakly I stared at people coming to see me.

They would come few in numbers initially.
That time is something I can't recall clearly.
Then I was home worriedly waiting for him.

The eternal-seeming torture period started then.
The dreaded physiotherapist used to come then.
The kind man was renamed physio the ******.

He caused me great pain, I was like a 3-year old.
He saw me writhe in pain & I begged for mercy.
He continued coming & I remained terrorized.

I used to ask my parents if they're actually mine.
I was made to disbelieve in them as my parents.
I took numbing pills directly into my stomach.

I used to remain in sheer terror all day long.
I took offence at the sound of the doorbell itself.
I was asking my parents if someone would come.
By now, all seems well sparing two fading observable marks of the test I was put through by life.
I am very thankful and indebted for life by the kind physio the ******.
And I will again lay emphasis on the fact that I am writing this poem today because I was wearing a helmet however unworthy of being called a helmet.
My HP Poem #266
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Dec 2023
My cute young daughter named Shatakshi
Asks, "Daddy-daddy what's this thingy?"
I, the caring father, with a gasp
Reply, "It is a fire ant that you grasp
And you hold where it has its stingy!"
A limerick for my future daughter, Shatakshi.

Another humorous poem. Another limerick.

HP Poem #1210
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2016
My cute young daughter named Shatakshi
Asks, "Daddy-daddy what's this thing?"
Me, the caring daddy, with a gasp,
Replied, "It is a fire ant that you grasp
And you hold the end where lies its sting!"
A limerick for my future daughter Shatakshi.

Another humorous poem. Another limerick.

HP Poem #1210
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2016
As you are a sow,
So a piglet will you reap.
As you are a pretty sow,
So a boar you will let you keep.
As you are a filthy sow now,
So a true human will call you cheap.
As you are another sow,
So a burr or oink will you beep.
As you are a sow,
So a boar will go deep.
I am a human being,
I give up on you.

HP Poem #1165
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Nov 2013
It's been long said in ancient Sanskrit texts,
"Yatha twam karasi,
Tatha twam bhogasi."

This roughly translates as 'As you sow, so you reap.'

This is true to the core but it's neither unconditional nor is it surely possible for you or me to be happy tomorrow even if we do good today. You might also have observed that sometimes you don't get exactly what you desired and yearned for when putting all your efforts. I will explain in the text that follows.

I am not Superman or a Godman blessed with super powers. I just believe in humanitarian virtues of course for all my life. And I don't despise the idea of theism. As some other people among the readers and their respective circles even I tame the same ideology about God having created the universe and then let us take charge.

I don't get involved in worshipping the creator, but I do thank that creator for having created us all. But how do I keep myself away from the various types of evils? The answer lies within.

What I identify as evil or deleterious to anyone or anything else, I don't do that and I totally despise all of it. Doing so I am aware that what I have been taking to and what I should get into. Whether it's my career or my love life, it almost totally depends on me and my Karma. The remaining few bits also depend on time and third parties who can affect my life greatly or maybe a little.

I don't know about what they quote other "Spiritual" people about and I feel that each of us can have our own views about time. I don't feel the urge to read about spiritual issues written by some well-publicised so called "Spiritual Gurus or Dharmatmas" who talk about out of the body experience.

The next time you think about some problem posed to you, your relative or a close friend, do try the following:
Just get out of your own mindset, think about the issue from a neutral point of view with your sixth sense (common sense) in right place. You're bound to find out the best way for solving it; let it be life or let it be any matter related to it.
This is not a poem or a debatable matter, but just my perspective on the aforesaid matter. I don't look for any suggestions for some improvements in my virtues.
Àŧùl Sep 2016
You're going on the highway,
Bringing a new 4-string bass guitar,
And a drum-set too for your sons.

Now you could be a family rock band,
You could churn your own Summer of '69,
The world will know you three now.

A really ******* hitchhikes in your car,
You are tensed as your eyes meet.
There is unfathomable longing in hers,
And the bathykolpian woman's so inviting.
You can't play the good man at this age,
You decide to cheat your own wife now.

You stop the car quickly anyhow,
A quickee's on your mind & nothin' more.
She smiles at you and lunging towards her,
You smell the inviting scent of hers.
In middle of the kiss you start foreseeing,
You forsee a bright romantic future,
Suddenly her wellbeing's lost & she vomits.

Then you bring her to the hospital,
The gynaecologist congratulates you,
"Congrats! You're going to be a father!"
Taken aback, you say, "But I just met her!"
The girl who hitchhiked says, "He's ****** lying!"
The doc summons the police and your test is done,
"Good news & bad news," the doc says,
"One, you're not her baby's father."
Hearing this you're relieved.
"Now the bad news, doc," you say.
The doc says, "You could have never have fathered any even if you intended to."
You are flabbergasted, "What the hell! Why?"
The doc pacifies, "Your load doesn't have any sperms,"
Seeing you shocked the doctor says,
"It's a birth defect that happens rarely but yes it does..."
"...You may sue the girl for everything."

The biggest shock in your life so far.

You just shake your head and turn around to go.

You're in the middle of a nightmare,
It couldn't be true!
If not you then the 2 kids back home,
They belonged to whom!


Now that's the biggest tension!
Part 1/2

HP Poem #1156
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Sep 2016
You get back home weary from shocks,
You being impotent is not your tension,
But how two kids at home call you dad,
Basis of all your tensed thoughts is this,
Your wife still has two kids if not yours,
Your wife has the explanation to make,
May God curse the lying life of your wife.

You just get back home & draw your gun,
You load the fresh magazine in midnight,
Breathing long you put your feet silently,
But the door is ajar and she is fast asleep,
Your (or hers) children in the next room,
Your fingers tremble & you've flashback,
Many memories zoom through your mind.

You decide to use the pillow as a silencer,
You now calmly hold the pillow over her,
Breathing cautiously now you are unsure,
But her infidelity isn't what you expected,
Your heart tells you to introspect yourself,
Your mind changes after thinking about it,
Multiple times yourself have been cheating.

You pause & change your mind about her,
You have the gun now point at your own,
But now you see her stirring in her sleep,
Breaking from her sleep for water she is,
Your presence scares her to the hell now,
Your gun pointed at your heart she sees,
Mighty strength she gathers to ****** it.

You grunt and push her away from you,
You whisper, "Why did you cheat me?"
Before she replies to your weird charge,
Barked again yourself in a low whisper,
"Your children are not mine now I know,"
"Your husband is technically impotent!"

Maybe she understood everything now.

You remember that she is a policewoman,
You see her unload the gun and discard it,
"The children - both - are test tube babies,"
"The **** was mine and fertilized in vitro,"
"Your ***** was used artificially as well,"
"Your DNA from your own hair was used,"

Might have she followed the procedure.

It seems possible & you regret your actions,
But she just smiles & forgives you heartily,
"It's okay darling, I kept it secret from you,"
"It's really a cute face you've put up now,"

You now wish to sink down into the floor,
"You would forgive me for doubting you,"
Must be an angel to let you sink your head into her *****.
Part 2/2

A biotechnologist's scientific poem.

HP Poem #1157
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jun 2020
Writing you
In my mortal coil
Never I expected you to
Walk out of my imagination
Even in a secret desire
But you did, baby
Yes you did.

I had abdicated
You came on 29 Feb
Unexpectedly you came
Out of Kalpana, the imagination
Seeking advice from me
On the difficult path
I came out of past.

You are the harbinger of hope
For my dying soul, you are dope
My dark days & gloomy nights end
Now that my twilight shines so bright
I not any longer shall need to bend
My gladness in darkness I *****
I shall come out with this rope.
Kalpana is translatable to Imagination in English

Her mother's name is Kalpana Das.

My HP Poem #1864
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2015
I am here
You are there
Yet we both are near
Come that one bit closer
Let all distances disappear

Just bear it with me
We will synchronize
Come respire with me
Let both our lips meet
Hips moving to the beat
My HP Poem #765
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl May 2016
Sometimes I had had to ignore her,
For I had to focus on my life,
So that I could make it shine,
And then on in future make her mine,
Unopposed from the society on the whole,
That included both our families & friends,
But she couldn't just wait for a little time.
The concepts of attention & neglect are relative. These can't always be meant as such. Sometimes to give proper attention to our love later on in life, we must ignore it and give preference to life and success.

My HP Poem #1082
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2014
Love is God,
Love is Cute,
Love is ****,
Love is Great,
Love is Divine,
Love is Superb,
Love is Selfless,
Love is Youthful,
Love is Beautiful,
Love is Complete.
Love is Everything Good.

Poem A/Z in series of alphabetically composed 26 poems. Do have a look.
My HP Poem #557
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Feb 2017
Literally Atul Kaushal
Would mean
Incomparable Skill.
Seven words' poem
My HP Poem #1444
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Apr 2018
Human life is not weak,
And it is very audacious.
Nearing its extinction,
Humanity was in the 1300s.
But humanity resurged,
Even after the great famine,
And the Black Death too.
My HP Poem #1707
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Aug 2013
That age,
This day,
The raid.
The laughter which vanished,
Those smiles which perished,
That area which suffered it...
That revenge,
This disease,
The harbour.
August 6, 1945: Hiroshima
August 9, 1945: Nagasaki
The 2nd World War got over,
But at what cost.
This cost?

My HP Poem #395
©Atul Kaushal
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