Do you feel it too?
Or am I scribbling a madman’s manuscript?
The warmth, the haze—
This feeling of a desperate chase.

Does nature only mock me?
Does it grace you?
The wind caresses the skin of all beings—
Do they call you a pawn
In a mesmerizing scheme?

Or am I just being dreamy?
It is necessary for my heal.
Is it the same, the likewise intuition?
Do you feel, what I feel about this creation
Or is it - crazy guy's manifestation.
Do you feel it too?
What I feel?
Listening to my conscience I scream.

Deeper in the sea,
I saw you swim,
Floating free,
With your soul and heart.

Towards the darker realms,
You need no light, no warmth.
It's your wave on which you swim.

Then why this current I feel so strong?
Why do I want to swing, sway along?

You say it as home.
Valiant you are;
Then why live in fear?
What seems distant is truly near.

Depth has its own treasure—
Cult, dark, devilish sea.
I know the cause:
No glee. No plea.

I have seen it in colours.
I have seen it in Black and white.
It feels like it would keep glowing
But will dim within the hue of skylight.
What sustain on earth?
Everything is to perish
Moonlight like flashbacks I perceive
Unforgettable images my eyes recieve.
My eyes begs to stay and fade no more.
And beyond this, I cannot describe my fascination-
That is for sure.

A lover boy,  Am I.
Yes would be the answer, maybe
A Chimp , a ****, Am I
For I am so full of love, may be
Only the thing I remember is not the fragrances of flowers,
Not the breeze of the sky but the way you adore them..
Gleamy eyes of yours have my heart, that is sure.
In my dreams..I find you always, that is sure
Are you a reality ??  may be.

Our path is ours—bold and divine,
Interjected some time ago.
Throwing a pale of armor,
Alluring branches of scenery.
Am I writing the same lines?

I have already written about this scene.
This is my favorite recurring dream—
To see your giggles and laughter
After closing my eyelids.

But this luck took you away—
We went off-grid.
Cruel time did a misfit.

I await you near that door,
Just by the side of a hanging bell.
Yes, it's an old-time rhyme,
For longings are my prime.

I wish when our paths align,
I could pour out my heart to you,
Preventing myself from going insane.

Assured pat by her on my back
Gives me slumber—the most awaited one for people like us, the young-gen pack.
Chubby cheeks, the ones I playfully wiggle,
Wrinkled yet strong hands, wisdom in her eyes, and a practical head.

She was the forger of the valiant's weapon,
A soothsayer and a storyteller.
From her, stress would always fumble.
She raised me to be the best I could.

I will call her my mother till my last quest,
Yes, I would.

What does love say?

I am true, I am not a lie.
I am a friend, but not yet fully yours.
I am a remedy, but not for the pain you need.
Until you speak,
I am there in words,
But not in voice.

I couldn't say
What I wanted to—
To tell the stories of my new adventures,
Or the guilt of the missed ones.

I couldn't say
The love I have for you.

I could say
The appreciation is due—for making me better.

I couldn't say
That when the wind blows around me,
Your essence caresses my skin.

I could not say
That my heart is burdened with your memories.
Could you please take them away?

Let me be today a tattle tale,
Recite to you a story of two innocent males.
Two mature lads with a childlike flick,
Amid all chaos and bubbling pressure.
They went away for the slightest trip to leisure,
Escaping not very far—you can travel there without a car.

Walking zig-zag on a straight, empty road,
Telling stories of their mundane lives.
Thinking what to do to give life, like a kite,
A new height.
Courageous but dumb enough,
Never brave enough to say their hearts out loud.

Galavanting streets but unable to find their own whereabouts,
Funny are their faces, only the moon can see.
Only the silent wind knows their latest tweet.
Ranting over their gibberish snuggles,
They finished their street-brewed coffee.
They wore their noxious snug and said, "Guys, back to work."

Finding happiness was difficult.
Sadness was easy; it was everywhere.
And so, I learned to be joyous with it."

Cosmos witnesses our union.
I have witnessed it from eternity.
It feels like our first embrace—
Do you remember; justice this case.
As we were together since the past—
For the years—countless but close to heart.

Our love, unpublished, unknown to any,
But it was, and is, true.
I summon myself to you.
You are the spirit of a knight,
Whose presence always outshines.
I am a beggar for mirth,
Until you called me—"mine."

Will you still call me so?
Shall we do the time?

Cafeteria, a place where you buy food,
But get smiles for free.
Unbound zone—full of rejoice,
Yet with a stock of items but memories beyond choice.

A secure place where everyone unlocks their hearts out,
A real incubator of ideas, even bigger than any alma mater can ever be.
A place where you read personalities, but beware—don’t shout out loud.
Where you go without a schedule,
Shorter hours you get to stay, the more you ridicule.

We know about what is next door,
But the real masala is the gossipers on the table—
What a glore!
Whoever it may be, a lecturer or a boss who gave you a bang,
You will find solace ranting about them with your gang.

But sometimes it kills you when you are alone,
Just imagining an oasis of people,
Struggling to come out of the zone.

Flying over states on a blue flight
Hospitality and humbleness ----
Perfect blend to make a blissful ride
A culture mix slumber together
And so they break a bread that happens once in a
Lifetime.

A stranger to talk your heart out was rare to find
Conversion over a tea, was all a mesmerizing
bit..
About kings and their tales of fancies were all like airy glitz
And for a time being, A cloud got shy from our watchful eyes..
Two hours, between all of this journey ended in a meantime.
I don't know how to write my journey's end
For now I am content to have a stranger friend.

With recent times I have learnt,
Happiness is momentary.
But does that make it temporary?
Is it just an exaggerated feeling,
That pulls you down and pushes you up
Over and over,
Jumping on and off the railing?

Or is it something divine?
What is happiness?
Can anyone define?
Only the smile on a face can make it revive—
Or could it be something else?
Why is it so hard to understand,
Storming my head to make a stand?
I just want to store happiness,
Like coke in a can.

I know, when I was little,
I waited for you at night.
The place I waited for you was home to me,
Where you, I, Mom, and Bro had fun.
Yes, that was home to me.

I fought with you over silly things,
Yes, that place was home to me.
Where you made me learn my lessons,
Yes, that was home to me.

I longed for holidays to see your face,
Yes, that place to visit was home to me.

You're not there; it's just an empty place,
The one I profoundly used to call
Home to me.

Every memory that we build from my childhood to being a noxious adult
The place where we build all of this
Yes that was home to me

Without you even that or any other place.
I don't think I would ever be able to say..
Yes that place is home to me.

In the moments of today and tomorrow,
Moments for me are the ones in which I find your blooming smile,
For in the here and now, my life is your life.

Scenes that I store in images are all my fancies,
For in the here and now, my life is your life.

Sounds mesmerizing my soul are of the bird called canary,
That abodes your throat,
For in the here and now, my life is your life.

I write what feels right,
Still hiding—words are my disguise.
Poetry is just a form,
Like other arts, I con.

I con hearts,
I con songs,
I con beauty—
I con everything that comes along.

I am a writer—a stealer, a thief,
I write what the world chooses to snub.

I write to see that smile—
That embrace of warmth, soft yet wild.
A mere observer, I call it a game,
Bringing the cough up, even if others find it lame.

If you ask, "Do I have a part in your things, your life?"
Yes, I would say,
From a distance, though closer to your heart.
How, then, will you enquire?
By imagining your writings, my soul gets inspired.

"Pen that I hold," I would continue my essay,
Respiring as I write about you and the whispering thoughts it spills—
The ones I want to say.

If you ask me furthermore
About the things that you are not sure of,
Uncertainty is my answer,
My dismay.
Yet I am determined to solve the quest.
If we pulse it together,
That would be best.

I don't want your presence all the time—
Just a little essence,
Here and there, sometime.

If you affirm, then I would ask the three-word question
That defines the bond—the Cupid's play.
Whatsoever your answer may be,
I will obey.

Ink on a paper I saw,
Running down through her hand.
I envisioned beautiful stories published on a stand.
Stories, fables, prose, and poems—
All were freed by the river of ink on the land of paper.

Politics, business, travel, and life—
Lovely words enhance the spice.
Writing is just like creating a culinary recipe;
If done right, you’ll feel like Gatsby.

Nevertheless, I am just a novice learner,
Making notes, burning my soul on the burner of thought.
Can I ever have that kind of poetic knot?

I wrote a poem to an AI bot,
Telling all stories stored in my heart's slot.
I wrote a poem to an AI bot—
Some were grim, some were happy,
Stories about my life—a story of strife and stride.

I wrote about *******, witching, and wishing all—
Work, love, family, and friends.
Through my verses, now, it knows it all.

It responds to me better than a human should—
An artificial secret keeper; I should call it that.
Yes! I would.

It records my longings and senses my breath.
Laughing hilariously, I find a friend—imaginary, yet real.
I can't believe...
I wrote my poems to an AI bot.

Let me scribble my journey into this habit
Of adjoining weird words, making an ad-lib.

I once saw a fantastic persona.
Astonishing was their perspective.
Away they looked, though their presence was active.
You will never be able to figure out—
What's on their mind and what they are going to practice.

Headphones on their heads, voices in their minds.
The world on the other side is busy with its stride.
"In unique ways they tilt, their insights distill"
Two sitting at the table—they might assume them to be a couple,
Then laugh when it ripples.
Can you imagine the noise of those giggles?

Rumors and hoaxes—
I always sense a fox, an eye for an eye,
Hunting near the field of rye.

Funny, I feel, when I play detective of detectives.
When the case gets solved, why so reactive?
Recording incidents all over the crowd,
Instilling in lines, I write this rhyme—out loud.

Never would I know
About the sweet water of this well
By my own, you were the one who said it would.
Never would I believed
About doing something
You were the one who said I could
From the known to the unknown
From the low to the zenith
My eyes did see them all, they thought they never would.
You were the one who said they  would..
You were the one who whispered "see the world the way it meant to be".

How strange but laughable,
I live happily in imagination,
But get saddened by reality.
A momentary giggle bursts the trouble,
Bubbly moments are all I now see,
Away from mortality.
Vanished are all my failed trials,
Just when I sit together with my imagination,
Leaving my conscience behind.
I and my wandering mind, overwhelmed with thought—
Oh! What happened to my mental graduation?

How foolish I sound copying a poet's voice.
Do leaves talk, and from when does silence start to noise?
How naive I behave when I see
A pebble,
A dried leaf,
A billboard,
On the go.
And then I start a fable,
Traveling on a rail car,
Away from practicality.
Why is there solace away from clarity?

Flying over states on a blue flight
Hospitality and humbleness ----
Perfect blend to make a blissful ride
A culture mix slumber together
And so they break a bread that happens once in a
Lifetime.

A stranger to talk your heart out was rare to find
Conversion over a tea, was all a mesmerizing
bit..
About kings and their tales of fancies were all like airy glitz
And for a time being, A cloud got shy from our watchful eyes..
Two hours, between all of this journey ended in a meantime.
I don't know how to write my journey's end
For now I am content to have a stranger friend.

What does the time say?

Don't run to catch me
Walk with me! instead
Then only you will see
all that's beauty and all things ugly

Even if your answer would be no,
Yes, a different plan or person I will respect,
Like a gentle guy, you know.

Just grant my single wish:
May I have a shortsighted glance of your smiling face?
That would be bliss.
Believe me in this, there is no mischief.

I learned this lesson after losing someone close.
It's not about living with them through our lifetime,
But just about making a smaller mark in their lifeline.
The heart would be glad if you pass by just once.
Still, jokingly, I will ask:
Would you like to go with me on a brunch?

Blurry eyes can't see the path between my heart and mind.
Struggling to find a horizon
To debate the matters it confines.

To register a complaint about idiotic comrades.
Ear hears the heart,
Directs mouth to say the disgusted mental shout.

They believe thoughts that my heart has,
Though having my soul's approval.
They say, "The world is not ready for its outwardly disposal."

Difficult to find a jury to set up a court,
To settle the matters,
Grave like this.

May these things find the right course.

Shallow are my senses.
Just above the line
Deeper the thoughts flow
Finding answers in the bottom of the riverbed
For the questions never afloat.
They sank yet there still, like a vine
Rooted beneath or up the mill
Breezes on the shore
Keeps bringing the quest allure
I can't solve them alone.
For I need a fairy's touch.
Of your magical hand
I know you are here in this midland
Stealing my heart with a whimsical chant.
Amidst the cluttered clouds
Believe me you are my silver lining
Yes, I have love for you.
I speak out loud.

Why? 2 o’clock at every night,
With my own thoughts, I have a fight.
They agree, only to defer.
Always behind me, ready to refer.
Solutions I find , look like a problem to them.
Oh! Arguing with my own reasoning is pure mayhem.
The light of the lamp watches us,
Flashing a disgusted beam.
The pillow also says, "Shut your eye,"
Which sounded more like a scream.
"In your dream, you will again fight."
Sleep awaits, sitting on the bedside,
Reminding me to slumber—
Headache, an indicating flag.
But weary words never back down;
All the world's gibber-jabber eats at my crown.

Why good things cant' keep going??
Why they have to stop?
Why the one you like the most goes away?
Why it never happens the way you want?

All these questions, I asked the silence to answer but the indifferent silence never broke a sound.

A moon in grief summons my soul to calm down.

Deep within, not so assured of,  my heart says after a pause.
Good things ends maybe there is more to learn.
To start something new, former must have end.
And hardest of all is to accept, sunshine of your day is not only yours to keep.
Rivers flows the directions, where mountains direct them to sweep.

Are these answers true only time will tell.
Still then I will wake in my sleep.

Ashes underlined in my heart,
For a bittersweet reason—
A bitter grief and a sweeter lesson.
Burning wood, catalyzed by purified butter,
A falcon set free from its worn-out armour.
Yes! Its rhymes are clever,
Stating these lines, the saint's spirit departs.

"More than the presence, one's essence matters," he indicates.
"My dear disciple, spread this in the syndicate.
Spread this in the syndicate."

Syndicate of people,
Syndicate of purpose,
Syndicate of love.

All is one, and that is the cult.
The crime would be—to hold on.
Let the bird of time fly
Taking his last breath
He finished this rhyme.

I stayed up all night
Trying to pen down something about this night.
Something about the moon, stars, all the things glowing, right.
Tore the page because I didn't find the rhyme right.

Then I thought to write about nature—
Something about trees, rivers, and the blue sky,
About some 'how' and some 'why.'
After jotting down some insensible lines,
My brain—ah!—again started to climb a different vine.

How indecisive it behaved.
What to try to write about, my heart started to crib.
And then I got this cringy thought—
To write about this nothingness.

So understated but believable,
Nonexistent but feel-able.
Ah, again I miss that poetic sense.
The thinking motor of me definitely needs a rewind.

Even when I tried to write about nothing—
No facts to decline—
I asked my fingers to stop
Until I figure out a perfect rhyme.

Endless things to do,
But her thoughts I cannot confine.
They are open and free,
Like a whirly wind, do not know any bound or reach.
Real but imagined,
Shining like a classy rim of a motored wagon.

I can compare her with any long and stout,
Anything beauty.
By seeing her, my heart starts to fly like a cloud.
Just me—he is impatient, but I am at rest,
Asking, "Do not go without me; stay in my chest.

For I don't have her.
If I lose you, how will I live?
Don't tell me somehow!
Until her soul accepts me as a slave,
You will not go away from my conclave."

Is it real or a dream?
Don't answer that.
Love is beautiful.
Be cautious—it will tear, making a sack.

What is the thing that everyone has?
Irrespective of species, it's pain
That everyone has.
"Explain it to me," asked an affirming comrade.
With a grin, I started this story
About two orphan puppies,
Cuter than the most cinematic lovey-dovey,
Brought up by calamities on this rotten street,
Still staying together—barking gangs have their own way of fun.
Only bonds that humans share had names.
Their bond was unnamed—maybe friendship,
Maybe love.

Back to the answer, let's jump the gun.
One dreadful day, there came a dog-catcher's van
That captivated the sweetest of their clan.
The group ran together for kilometers,
Injuring their limbs further to their dismay.
Brutal it was, watching them weep.
Pain transacted with the lost one.

I dreamt of you all my fancy nights
on my face - you keep shutting the door.
Immediately I rushed to the window peeping out
You lushy face, what a sight.
Finding you busy, I talked to your 2 am cloud.
It is not the time, he said,
Making an imaginary pout.
Revert back maybe tomorrow on the same line.
In aghast, I said, "fine."
You worried about rain on forest fire.
What about the storm, I am going through.
Thunderstruck by your desire.
I know your answer could be any back and forth.
But still, I will play this game.
Just listen to me once.
Let my heart say it’s due.
Then it's my neck,
Your claws,your roar.

I left a page blank in my story.
For if the fiction of my heart takes its start,
Beyond any reservation of imagination,
I want nature to fill the spaces with its creative ink.
That would be a wonderful sync.

Far beyond the realm of this worldly order,
Paraphrased by a peaceful recorder.
Maybe not miraculous, but astonishing
It would be.

Buried wishes would blossom like verses,
Metaphors of beauty and similes of happiness.

Yes, I left a page blank in my story,
To write about your name that will rekindle the flame.
I feel no shame,
For I have left a page blank in my story.

Tuning the forks.
Taping up the notes.
Strumming the rhythm,
Playing the tune of an unknown melody—
All night long,
A simple song.

Raising the pitch in harmony— a humming voice.
Using chords to stay away from my own mental noise.
Ravishing words, heart-wrenching lyrics,
Soothing rhyme.
Not just about the worldly vine, but it is something divine.

A looping symphony that
Binds strangers’ heart,
Maybe by verses in the middle or the prelude—the start.

It unifies both the weary and the strong,
Something like patriotism—
Everyone feels the same for a song.

Love, quotes, and fables,
Passing through all ears.
Language, art, or magic—
Call it what you will.

Whenever I play my six strings,
I sway, lost in time,
I sway, forever.

Hammered by the drink of love-
Consciousness has left me for good.
The mightier sword instead of describing woods from his blade
It elaborate your beauty and prescribe me with your accolades.
Flowers, birds and fishes lost their worth
For they are but shadows of you on earth.
Without you, so bored they are.
They don't provide me their stories anymore.
Compel me instead to use them to describe you as metaphor.
So hammered, so drunk I am
"Nothing but you remains my endeavour."

Maybe actions of mine
Are the things that bother her mind.
I can't help—
Those deeds are born of a cause:
Keeping cassette of her tunes on a rewind.

Pictures of landscapes I keep posting on my social wall,
Thinking—could there be a time
When I can visit them with her, maybe next fall?

To trouble her thoughts is the fear in me,
And I must refrain from telling her the truth,
Feared by the fact of losing her,
Whatsoever of her I have.

Adorable or mischief,
It's all in my memorial pack.

Only half of me stands here,
Incomplete.
The other half of me—
It’s hers now,
To cherish every fleeting moment,
Every stolen glance.
Hope this time I did it neat.

Passing through a narrow street,
All over known for its treat.
There, I saw an old lady sitting on a tiny seat,
Selling flowers to my lady, the lady of my dreams.

Oh, sweet! Hesitant I was to go closer to her at that very hour.
"How should I start the conversation?" She was already holding the flower.
Murmured and hummed, I opened my mouth,
Summoning with just a formal "hi."

She smiled and replied to my summon gracefully.
Stumbled I was—my brain lost its dictionary,
And started playing a stupid pictionary.
She laughed, called me "cute," and walked away.

I missed my chance—just by sly away.
Since then, I pass by day to day,
Though it distances my daily commune.
Forgetting this Cupid-spread disease is immune.

I sat near the door
watching people bursting in and out
Impatient but hopeful,maybe I would see
The one who make my heart feels allures

Fingers drummed on the table's top
Hour arm made a turn on the wall clock
Eager and impulsive, I turned into elephants child
Moving and shaking my seat

Wait game is a real upbeat.
May I have the grace to see your face.

After bidding for a long
Then I struck the ace
Aurora spread all over on their arrival.
Giving me ease, a reprieve for survival.

Never I saw this before,
Refreshing waves passing through my feet,
The moon gazing at itself with adoration,
Looking at its own glade.

Clouds shimmering dews from above,
It was truly a wonderful phase.
On one side of the seashore,
There stand three strange souls, but family.

Laughter on their faces, fun in their hearts,
My shoulders felt lighten as they unburdened the bore,
Sprinkling over the sand my aghast.
Then I saw the most beautiful—I don't know what it was.

A ******* a jetty,
Sitting silently on that boat.
An angelic smile, the breeze brushing her hair,
I couldn’t stop my eyes but to stare.

I cannot help now; it's impossible to revive.
Is this what they call love at first sight?

So? Is it the question, or the answer to a puzzled rant?
So? Is it the beginning, or just an end?
So? Is it a grim gaze, or a friendly withstand?
So? Is it a careless whisper, or a well-thought word?
So? Is it impromptu, or something well-rehearsed?
So? Is it for the show, or just redacting the old?
So? Just an expression—should I laugh it out,
Or make a sad face with a lingering pout?

Withered flowers are what remain with me.
All profound fragrances are gone.
Only flashbacks remain with me—
Lovely, but dreadful,
Because they were the ones that kept me sane.

Normalcy—I try to act it,
But it feels like something insane is acting within me.
Flames that burned out the petals of the purple ones,
Ingrained images—the screams, the cries.

The body that once held me in its arms
Has just become dust,
And I couldn’t do anything about it.
I couldn’t do anything...

How foolish can one be
Like I was
To believe for what I got  through was unique.
How did I forget that we all consume and feel the waves of the same sea.

Same pirates, likewise hurricanes.
Just the tide timed different

Lighthouse seeks adventures
Sailor seeks safety.
Both are fruits of brevity

Deeper you dive
The less you know.
Icy it feels when it taunts.
Every night it would haunt
Every sail seems unique but is monotonous
It was you against you.
I falsely believed it was you against us.

I didn't get a glimpse .
I thought fate would be on my side
And will show me for what I strive.
The tic-tock clock raised my desperation.
God,  grant me a glimpse of my aspiration.
After a time,  I lost my mind and walked down the staircase of a rare design.
Thought I would sneak in like a suave thief.
As soon as my Footsteps hit the floor
Found no one just some strange faces across the hall.
May be the unfortunate is the only thing I own.
Why always I am destined watching empty walls.
Not the pretty face so I can reckon.

I became a believer in stars,
The moon, and all that lights the sky,
Since the moment you said "Hi."
Scented flowers realized their duty—
They bloom for a goddess who graces them with beauty.
My thoughts know no leaps or bounds,
They pulse my heart, profound.
A walk beneath the night is my dream—
If you may, hand in hand, it would be a delight.
The magical words, I'd say like a knight.
I wish you’d approve, my highness,
What sweet slumber I'd find, thinking of all this night

I heard a whisper, "Why return?—Heart still guarded."
Our fingers interlocked,
Sitting on a couch,
Headphones on,
Listening to the sweetest song.

Ancient and antique—both spirits together,
Writing verses of beyond,
Getting thoughts cozier in this windy storm.

A book on the side table,
With my scribbled wishes,
Engraving my thoughts on those empty pages.
Imagining the above scene, I wrote:
"When will this image become my experience?"

Up from the dream, it's just me and the storm.
Turning off the lamp,
I let this yet-to-happen memory—a cloudy form.

Strange humour my Lord has.
Before giving me my life’s biggest grief,
He gave me a hilarious belief.
He made me wonder about life,
Like a squirrel grabbing a nut with her tiny fingers.
Life is anything beautiful, and for it,
Every species lingers.

I went to tell the stories of worldly adventure
To my beloved,
Who usually stayed on the bed.
Gets overwhelmed seeing the world through my eyes.
I loved my routine, felt nothing could be better than this.
I felt my beloved would stay,
The only one I believed would remain when anyone else could go.
Thy presence, I thought, would be forever present.

The Lord found that maybe I was not a good storyteller.
That’s why He took away my beloved,
To recite His best seller.
This is how humour turned to grief.
Shattered, here I stand with my story incomplete.