Walking down the lane,
with my friend,
late at night, away from home.
Silently, we walk, gazing at the night sun,
consumed by our own thoughts.

We both sat near a pond,
serene ambience all around,
beaming moonglade over the wavy surface.
I took my pad out,
taking my words away from this worldly chase,
watching this absurd scene.

My friend called out and asked me a question,
stating he was not trying to be mean.
"What are poems? What's the need?"

That moment, I knew—
no answer would suffice,
quenching the thirst of his practical mind.
I kept my cool, I kept quiet,
still thinking about that question of time.

A hilarious thought crossed my mind—
"In straight words, I can understand,
but to understand this fish, I need a twisted tale."

A tale of my heart, not of my mind.
A necklace made of beads—the words—
required to enchant the story.

A message of tears,
a message of smiles,
a fable on rewind,
not being understood by many.
Oh, that’s fine.

For with poems only,
one can pause the timeless time.

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?

Drenched in the memory
Of you...
I mimic you to feel close to you.
In this drama,
in the theatre of my dreams
I act badly...
I lost you- my audience, sadly
Sitting next to this window.
The rain cries with me.
I think it was in love with you madly.
Sipping my cup of tea.
Reliving that moment,
The one when you set my soul free.
I know you hate my name.
Do I somehow bring you shame?
Apologies for my heritance,
A legacy of pretense and pain
For being less than what you've  became.

Princess consuela banana hammock
The winner of X factor.
Beware she is a walking nuclear reactor.
Hitting that door,
"knock Knock".
She storms in, blissful havoc
With a handful of colourful rocks

You will hear her whispers,
Like a giggle of the ghost casper.
She is passionate and always in action
Unpredictable are her reactions

She sings with jasmine's sweetness
A bee's profound weakness.
She walks like ocean's waves
In front of her, intelligence of the world
Looks stupid and naive.

She mentors the universe—
With her art and verses.
A believer of Friends jingle.
After watching her these stars start to twinkle.

A pond keeper - an artisan of rocks.
Princess consuela banana hammock.

Raindrops in black and white.
A release of radiant bliss,
Captured through silent lenses
Stooped on a stand,
Far in hide.

Watching this scene on my digital screen,
And writing about this notion- unknown.
Sitting still, holding a bedside.
Scratching my head, I peeked out of the window.
The captured visuals felt too real - my comfort outgrown.
Then, I saw you.
Or did I Imagine?

A scene in a cinematograph.
An image of you appeared as a holograph.

Up among the dark clouds
I heard your name thrice.

Scent of the wet soil-
They blew my mind.
Beneath my feet
I felt it warm- A subtle heat
Then, all of a sudden
Strong winds twirled taking their lead
Awakening me, opening my eyes

I smiled, for I know about that notion unknown-
I re-manifested you sitting by my side.

Breathtaking or breathless,
Caressing nature binds anything—regardless.
Amazing adventures, astonishing stories;
No one can clamour this glory.

Tiny bug, fearless yet subtle,
Sits on a branch of a hefty tree.
Rocks, flowers, shrubs, and bushes—
Dripping water drops from the petals that swing,
Asking whereabouts of my friend from a 2 A.M. cloud.

"What's up?" will he then ask the stars,
Knowing your story, they know "I am fine" is the most dreadful line.
But in the hope, when the sun goes down, a tale comes up.
With Wind acclaiming this rhyme of all that of yours is all that of mine.
Clinging to the nudge of thy desire.
Like a rain on forest fire

It feels like it's raining.
Since it is now a ritual
That I cried for you.
Perhaps ! you did it for someone else.

I find watershed in my eyes.
Similar to - these leaves of erika,
The way they embrace the rain dew.

Mist on the window's glass.
A symbol of Ardas
That we prayed together.
Blooming petals for this proclaimed beauty—

A flower born in our garden
Futility turned fertile.
A Land— barren
Found its greenish sign.

To gain a smile.
There is always pain—
Unuttered and forbidden—

The pain which has become a perennial suffering.
This seasonal rain can't wash away my thoughts
I wear them in my cufflinks

Imagery imagined from cloudy sun
I see a face vaguely but
Pious and pure like the smell of this brewing tea.

I can write this poem—all day long
About my pain and this engulfing rain.

But I will save it for upcoming season.
I am storing some tears for upcoming rain.

Sometimes my heart writes.
And yes, sometimes it's my brain.
They both write on a paper—creased and plain.
I have no control
Over the logic I unknowingly challenge,
Or the fleetings that leave me emotionally stained.
Conflicts and peace—
Both try to corner each other
In an effort to weave a lovely piece.

Betting chances—
Will it be might over disdain,
Or will create something so lame,
I'll only die with shame.
My nerves are paining in this wistful fight.
They both pen what they feel is right.
Hands, erasing and rewriting verses all the time.
Will I ever be able to complete this endless rhyme?
Stop scuffling with my thoughts—
Just for one single time.

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".

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?

I watched a digital flick.
Where a lens was recording a woman
Caressing a cat—white with a brown patch on her back.
Yeah! It was a nicer click.
Lost in her own thoughts,
She kept massaging the cat,
Smiling and away from this worldly chat.
The recorder kept engaging her,
Not letting her find her zone.
She, too, kept answering,
Moving back and forth,
In and out, immersed in her thought,
Trying to get away from the lens of that phone.
The inspiration, maybe the desperation.
The lady with the cat is my aspiration.
What creations she creates with her beautiful mind, one might wonder.
Nobody can ever take away her thunder.
And yes, again, somebody said it right—
She is indeed a poem alive.

If Shorter messages have deeper meanings
Then silence would be the ocean of reasoning
And ignorance would be a bliss.
I found me in you and you in me.
Avoidance - avoided.
Blessings are becoming mischief.

Standing on a musing stage,
I heard a song of you—
It charmed me like a whimsical siege.
Here I stand with a guitar,
Much like that poster star.

The breeze, the aura—brightened flora.
Wands of notes.
Spells of lyrics.
Love is real, not a gimmick.
It is a wizard's trick,
From this real world to wonderland,
Hovering like a magical hero on a broomstick.

Magic is music—
Music is love—
Love is the act;
Witness nature's timid tact.
Hands swinging together,
That dance on the ring,
Swaying beats—
That groove, that heat.
Rhythmic percussion of love,
Melody of magic.
It is their play, their tapestry.
They are siblings of poetry.

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?

Deeply drenched in sadness,
Yes! So am I.
Facing the darkness, head to head,
Yes! So am I.

Asking questions to the highness—
Who am I?
Yes! So am I.

The one who stands firm despite the scorn and hate
Yes! So am I.
The one who'll rise back soon and he will not wait.
Yes! So am I.

The one who'll conquer treachery,
Yes! So am I.
The one who'll call "Game on!" to storms
That dare to pass.
Yes! So am I.

Proud son of a passionate father,
Who he named "Ami"
Yes! So am I.

Solitude, it was meant to be.
I knew that from the start,
Then why did I believe my heart?
Whims and fancies—he whispered some fabulous tales,
So good to be true,
Do they really prevail?
I wish that I had that cup of gall.
To stop it going beyond the scale.

Leaving—a never-healing scar.
Is there a chance to connect again,
Same as before? Oh, I miss that glow.
Uff! This poetry isn't helping me anymore.

I wrote on hollowness and emptiness.
I wrote on everything—sometimes less and sometimes more,
Still, like waves of the sea, they keep coming back and forth.
This pain changes my sleepy night into an unwanted day,
And it never goes away.
Without you, I have lost a part of me.
It always feels that something is incomplete—shattered I am, without a gist.
Dreams of you—having a hug feels like bliss.
Then I wake after—senses drenched in sweat all over.
I can't write furthermore; it's so much to take.!

"Darkness of night had borne new life upon its *****."
A rise anew—
Sitting on a waiting bench.
In front of that gateway, I found the providence of you.

Imagining your image, I still do.
Even if it makes a monkey out of me.
I tried a lowkey job of forgetting you,
Still, I remember you—
I still do.

How to embrace my grievances—
I have no idea about—
Writing good words about you, I still do.

You said books, moon, freedom, and stars
Would bring you back those happy hours.
Yes! They will. They are!
But I still remember you.
I am endlessly drawn-out,
Yet I still remember you.
Looking at my healed scar,
I still remember... you.

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.

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."

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.

It's astonishing but also the truth—
Tear drops are like memory cards.
Every drop tells a story.
A story of an untold worry.
Longings flown out from our eyes
I guess they were in a hurry.

I have a story too — the one unpublished.
Yes! the same melancholy —
The one outspoken, out in public
In worldly whispers you will hear our name.
Every street and every corner knows our fame.
I will be your storyteller.
But I won't paint a vivid picture
'Cause I am intrinsically timid—
slyness is my feature.

The imagery, the context
Conjoined on a similar vertex.
Similar to your eyelashes — a horizon
Where sadness meets happiness,
Heart meets longings, and
Dreams meet reality.

Some meant for stars
Some meant for moon and everything bright.
Some meant for flowers
Or maybe Towers.
Each line that Romeo writes.
Should that always mean to refer - the water
The sky.
My heart meant you in open and not in any disguise.
I ride,
I ride - a long night.
Finding shimmers on the riverside.
Holding my breath, steadying my nerves
Cold breeze is on the serve
Night bird flew away singing your name.
Playing karaoke, yes, the song game.
Lights gazing me from all sides.
Though my eyes searched only for you.
Only for you
That concert night.

Brain is on, but the soul is off,
Can't recall when this life took off.
Working days in a *****'s shop,
Like a wandering hare’s hop.

Living status—absurd to convey,
Indecisive and impatient still.
How should one determine his will?

Game of Thrones? That’s not what it is.
It’s merely a game for ounces.
Popping a rubber tray toy,
To crumble the gray, let stress destroy.

What more is left to say?
Tomorrow, we’ll circle back the same,
Problems—just a recurring invite.
Everything is urgent pretending it all right.
Skilled but not more intellectual.
Attending the meeting  with a happy pout
Hey ! Fresher,
Don't be afraid of this, strive.
There much more to do.
It's just a part not role of life.

Traveling in this haunting noon.
Drenched in my own sweat.
I still step forward—
Just to see your face, a glimpse of you.
The distance between us.
Will come closer by each breath.

In my every travel, towards or a drift away for home.
I wait on you.
My chase, my fleeting race
My lifelong craze—
Whether up or down a phase
I long for you.
Now, my soul is for you
Every beat of my heart is for you.

Songs in the cab
Ads featured on my tab .
My every headline is you.

In the waiting hall of this airport
I watched readers, some whistling music listeners.
I heard some gossips — the untold whispers.
Still in every face I see you, I imagine you

For me, the girl listening to music on her pod is you
The guy reading the Alchemist is you.
The ******* the phone is you,
Picture ******* the water bottle is you,
The ******* my heart is you.

I bought a book called Dreamland.
To stay away for a bit from this notion—
From your wonderland.
I gulped a lemon tea like a potion.
But I couldn't stay away,
For in every word I read,
Is a word about you,
The ******* my heart is you.
The ******* my heart is you.

Let us stand a little and see.
Let's do it the way you want it to be,
like you embrace this serenity —

the peaceful fragrances of the flowers,
fumes of sand dunes,
the tunes of love and integrity.
They stand in a singular landscape.

How can I forget?
How can I escape?
I don't do tricks,
I didn't start to play.
It's just what the world wants to relay.

In your silent songs, you say it's over.
It still feels like the beginning.

If your heart turned back, even once,
I will surrender my soul to you —
in a way similar to
dusk and dawn yielding to light.
They form our days,
they form our nights.

Let us take together one more chance.
Let's live the best of our lives.

I know these lines feel a bit gibberish —
your love makes me feverish.
No senses, no logic —
now, I can't stop my feelings.

Scribbling down some unraveled lines,
in hope of that moment,
the moment when I will call you mine.

The moves when you groove,
Like a spellbinding universe showing its moves.
Where the moon sings its sweetest songs,
And the stars twinkle to the beats along.

Glitters of the ballet—a surreal sight,
"Can I have a selfie?" asks the cloudy spectator.
"Hey! Don't fight," says the night,
As the Queen of Creativity glows with glamour.

Unveiling the best of herself,
Madness all over!! What a fervour!!!
I stand and watch,
Captivated by the spell.

Is this the tale of Cinderella?
No! Because it's real.
My dreams are no match, if I compare.
I practice your moves
Before sleeping at night—
In my old, broken lair.

I know I shouldn't do this rhyme
Howsoever, I won't stop my pen this time.
Do you know a girl who knows about both
Fun and duty?

She is the one who mentors beauty.
The one who gives creation - A new aviation.
The one who finds her strength in Innovation.
Is she the one with fierce red hair?
Yes! the one with an antique flair.
The one who is blunt in words but cares with action-
A new definition to the word attraction.

Just a FYI

The day she will read these lines
This world will record my pity, my fate.
A flimsy reaction of which—
IMDb's rating would be above eight.
I know if I dare these lines-
An Angelic face
And a soul divine

The girl I am talking about
Will blast me with a landmine

Still I will do—

Because I witnessed the best.
Oh! I rhymed it long.
My trembled fingers now should rest

The word is in the air
This world now adores
The fierce woman with red hair.

I saw Time standing at the corner of my room.
He was watching me—writing this poem,
Witnessing my mistakes and metaphors allure to doom.
He exactly knew what I was going to write:
The final act, the audience's reaction, and all things accompanying this sect.
Still, like a silent teacher, he didn’t react.
I had to address my fault with not-so-wholesome tact.

It acted like a father, watching my every move.
It always knew when I would be awake, and when I would snooze.
Even when things harmed me, it let me choose;
He didn’t tell me the answers to my quest—
Whether it was about my growth, journey, or a silly love test.

I bow my head to my teacher—this testing Time.
Gratitude to all which was phased by Time.

A flock of seven birds.
Chirping and laughing near a table.
Sometimes you would find them sitting on a cable.
Sounds unavoidable -
Definitely you would have heard.
That little flock of sparrows—such a ravishing breed.
Every summer, they used to fly to this place.
Sky was warm and sweet but not ablazing fire.
Back in the time,
A bird whose presence we have lost in our time.
A sparrow - a symbol of resilience,
A symbol of hope,
A small pookie bird.
Have you seen them fly?
If not, then there is a reason naive.
For we, the admirers, were the ones who destroyed their houses,
And treated them as mere slaves.
On top of that, we increased the heat wave.
Making their survival tough
In the region which was once full of love.
Philosophers lost the art of philosophy
Watching this apocalypse - A catastrophe.
Helpless breeders finding it hard
To make the breed survive.
Meanwhile, I am just wandering.
When will I open my own shut eye?

Brimming lights await.
On the other side of the tunnel, densely dark.
Only by crossing the pitch-black with a racing heart,
Only then can you reach the goal.
A simple rule, hard to follow.
A complete soul, in the beginning, is hollow.

It always feels like a sham in the start.
To leave and go away; being persistent is the only way to pass.
Keep moving with me; the darkness won’t last.
To people like us, that's the only fashion.
Let us be real but not away from imagination.

On this twisted, tangled road.
Trust me, just once.
I am a companion, a comrade—don’t decline.
Validation of our love—a treasure rare to find.

The test is ours to pass through.
We will do it together,
In front of this dark, dense tunnel.
Here we stand.
Let’s step forward, hand in hand.

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.

Frayed dews on trees,
Different hues in the sky.
O Divine,
I kneel before you—
And only you,
Till the end of my breathing rhyme.

With this reflection on the past
To seek the future,
Admiring both—
Dullness and contrast.

From tormenting whirlwinds
To silent rains that shower
Music and fragrances—
I return to my path,
Walking alone, but I am with you.
Sensing the incense of these flowers,
Bloomed by the wise dews.
I stayed in memory for hours.

As guided by the time,
Written on rocks, papers, and stones—
The metaphors, riddles, ballads, and lyrics of you,
Or any other yet efficient rhyme.

Ghazals with rhythm
Or a pictured haiku—
Life is a poem indeed.
Explaining the context,
Lost among mysteries,
I bestow myself
To the greatest writer—
Creator of all.

In your servitude, I am
A knight; a student; a slave.
Whatsoever I am,
In you, with gratitude,
I find my peace

Even if this world breaks me in a million pieces,
I will stand as one for you.
Any impending doom near us—
Let it be—
I will stand strong for you.
I will be the one for you—

In my dreams,
In my memories,
In my life,
I still witness this splendid scene.
I see a face, indescribable and undefined.
Your face — the mirror image of the moon's reverie.
The curation of world's beauty —
A scenic design;
The one I prayed for, each and every time!
You are a proclaimed soul —
Famed for kindness among all heavenly shrines.

The one who has now become the strength of my spirit,
Strength of my life—

In every poet's poetry,
They define you with a sense of ambiguity,
Losing their senses, their serendipity.
You are that question — unsolved;
The mystery,
Undeciphered by our literature or history.

Even though you are not the one for me,
I will be the one for you —
Who will always stand by your side,
Till the end of infinity,
Till the end of time.

When I hear you weep
It takes away my peace, my sleep.
How to maneuver on the turns so steep?
Zoned out—wandering about the pain,
The one that was hurtful and deep.

Rain poured, giving birth to this WordPress,
Your tears hold priceless value.
Can I hold your hand for now?
Time will change its course, I guess.

Aghast I feel, a thing difficult to flex,
The challenge was hard, yet we welcomed the test.
Overcoming the shortcomings,
We did our part—we did our doings.

Later in time, we get a flashback,
Sleeping on your favorite bed.
Like two friends gossiping and giggling on the roadside.
Perhaps, you are right!

It is not the end of the road,
It's all about taking up the flight.
Did we walk up this path only to pass?
Staying apart, though together we did start.

For I just want to walk with you,
Holding your hand,
Away—relieved from this world's errands.
Destiny will find us soon,
Till then, we will gaze at this smiling moon.

Relaxing on my bed,
Listening to the music,
Suddenly, my cheeks felt some tears shed.
A watery shed out from my eyes,
Feeling the moisture and finding themselves red.

My cheeks asked my eyes, "What's the matter?
Why the mess?"

Then eyes said, "Ears are the culprit, they keep listening to something gloomy on repeat, that's why the shed."

Then ears replied in annoyance,
Stating its innocence, "It's the brain which is the problem."

Brain interrupted the ears' say and said, "It's not me, it's the heart which is on the loose.
For he is deep in grief, for he misses someone close. he is out of control and confused.
It is his longings which are causing you trouble.
Unapologetic heart keeps up the rubble."

Perhaps! I keep falling for you...
I keep breaking my heart for you..
For my feelings are boundless—
Perhaps! This love is designed for a loop
I will keep building the castles of dreams
And you will keep bursting them with fierce gleam

Perhaps!  I am not the Romeo that you want
But you are the Juliet that I need.
These breaking lines—
Don't follow a pattern of repeat.
Perhaps! Your touch was just a touch.
But my nerves, my sense felt them too much.
Beyond the definition of touch.

My fear is not to die alone
That is certain,
But is to live in the crowd
Where I cannot call anybody my home.
Perhaps! Not to call is destiny.
Maybe I am that unlucky among many.

She said, "His love is unreasonable."
And with a lovely grin, he replied, "To love, I need no reason."

When storm hits the town,
It will also take the one who wears the crown.
When I see in your eyes,
I forget the difference between a truth and a lie.

Unreasonable, it may be.
Perennial, it flows.
Seasonal, you say—
How could it be?

It's an ocean,
Its depth is beyond what words can show.
Emotions are practical.
Love is not a plan; you don't have to be tactical.

Unreasonable, you may say,
But to me, it is the only thing that is feasible.

The pain,
the unravelled truth.
Avenged vermillion stayed awake
amid the peace-calling warcry.

Lost lives, lost souls.
Ashes burnt the happiness.
In coffins, they buried the dreams.
Smoke smells grave —
shelters piercing borders.
Stones pelting people,
an action naive.

We all have witnessed this immersive rain.
Do they always tell a story of disdain?
The fierceness and sadness intertwined —
an outcry of our testing time.

A soul for a soul.
The theme of warrior's vengeance.
A cyclic psychology.
A provoked retribution.

Perhaps something is above humanity.
Something is above divinity.
In brevity —
we forget the art of living.

“We stand as one.”
A phrase engraved on the holy ceiling.
But the truth is —
to us, it has no meaning.

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.

We all are stuck between reality and reverie.
That's why we take shelter
In art, fitness, and sometimes a brewery.

We all are stuck between right and wrong,
And miss listening to and doing what we really want.

We all are stuck between society and religion,
And that's what gives birth to a rebellion.

We all are stuck between stress and rest,
Thinking work is the only game—let’s detest.

Everybody has a different path.
We all are stuck between where to stop and where to start.

Life is like a marathon, not a race.
It's not important to rev it up,
Just maintain your peace,
Maintain your pace.

What Are Photos to Poetry?

I asked this question to myself many a time.
Is it me, or do all photos hum a rhyme—
Choirs of imagery singing together,
Emotions now, all around me, they start to gather.

Laughter chattering with tears and amuse,
Anger and logic—arguing.
I am out, but not confused.

Shoulders on shoulders,
A hand in hand.
I am watching hilarious metaphors,
A settling sun, and a captured angelic moonrise.

Sitting on a bench by the railway ridge,
Drenched by raindrops.
After this long flicker on my glowing screen,
Holding my shop of dream,
I laid my book on that bench—
Reveled in,
watching a paper writing through my hand.

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.

What does the bird say?

High, we fly over and above in the sky.
Sometimes alone.
Sometimes in a flock
Roaming the world around the clock
Clouds like dreams, we pass through.
Believe  us - That's the only way to be happy
Away from rue.
Open your wings and just try to fly.
That's the only way to keep your spirits high
Love we spread among all in our every ride.

What does the darkness say?

I am a horizon where voices meet noises
Chaos meets peace.
I only come to you
Determining your valour and ease.

What does the Diary Say?
I am your uncalled thoughts,
Your theory of unspoken why's and what's.
I am your pain; I am your heart,
A story of your mindful seed.
From your mourns to the moments — the ones upbeat,
Your rhythm, your pulse, your time, your verse.
I am a custodian of time.
I record your fiery and the incident-weary.
That's the reason you always say —
"I am your diary."
The "Dear Diary".

What does the dream say?

I come to you to fulfill you.
How would you fulfill me?
That's the question.
What to do?

Think of me as your companion,
Pushing you out of the pavilion —
The rebellion —
Who keeps your nights awake.
Who shakes you and makes you race —

It could be a stage.
It could be a phase.
It could be an emotion that longs with your age.
I reside in you — your soul's purpose,
A dreamer's quest,
A worthy challenger to test.
Till you achieve it, take no rest.

Own each and every fight.
May you achieve all new heights.

What does the grasshopper say?

I am free I am free.
Hopping through the green-ish world
I sit and ponder
settled on this big leaf
About the rain.
About those dried leaves on that windows pane
I am a hopper -happier.
Will take away your worries
Just as these winds ******* away.

What does the light say?

I stay in your eyes.
I am best seen with your eyes closed
For I lie within you.
I ignite,
I brim
Within you.

What does the longings say?

I am a memory.
A Lingering dream,
A gift from satan—
for being with a fairy.
You stay in me a bit longer than a moments few.
I am a reason for your happiness
In a shade of rue.
I live in your poems, verses and art.
Are you still writing one?.
I am ready to start.