I have been living in these huts lately,
As this life seems aimless and desultory,
Slowly flowing like the splash of drops over the board,
Hallelujah . For me, it's still our God's handwritten story.

Two cents quietly sit in my little pockets ,
And they still fit perfectly in each,
Same as our feelings, as they huddle around our hearts,
Occupying the bijou portions and trying not to leach.

I will hold on till the day, staggering away,
In my tattered clothes, till the color withers and my story stales,
Lingering in the huts, with a hue of nostalgia,
Ailing but not wailing, after a series of massive fails.

Before God finishes writing my story,
I believe he will hand me the pen, its a fact, not a lie,
And with you by my side, I will scribble my glory,
I'll dress you your Gossamer, and myself a Suit and a tie.

A year ahead, a year passed by,
The doors are still opened, and the ponds are still dry,
You did say you loved me, you did say goodbye,
Our irrevocable commitments proved promises are a lie.

Its the night recalling the showers in the springs,
And the weekend waltz to the attuned strings,
You revolve around me today, with your name engraved within,
Stop hiding from me, so long where have you been?

But for a second i believed..
As the gush of wind whispered your name,
The clock is ticking beside our picture frame,
You're flowing like the river,in your gown , camouflaging blue,
Lined up a lot of work, I still got seconds for you.

With tears in my eyes,
I will smile,
With the shadows perished by,
I will be  the daylight,
With those envisaged grievances,
I will emanate fluorescence,
With sadness deep inside,
I will rejoice,
With the appalling bruises on my skin,
I will still be intact,
With shattered hope,
I will remain steadfast,*
With fulminations raining aside,
I will stay afloat,
With vehement reminiscences passed,
I will protect and cherish,
With love gone awry,
I will gather the traces.

Time* is in your pockets,

Hurry up and light the rockets,

Put your *emptiness in the sockets,

Spread smiles and add jollity to the list of dockets,

Make a wish today, and wear your lucky lockets.

The journey seems to be bumpy, sometimes a dusky road,
Carrying the burdens, weighing our sins like a miserable toad,
Some pursue their passion, some pursue their degree,
Whatever the reason maybe,
Unclog your way, cruise over the hardships and set yourself free.
You'll be miffed by the mistakes you did,
Selling out wet pillows you'll weep and sow a depression seed,
And there will arrive times,
When they will doubt you, and you will doubt yourself,
But don't.. Don't ever doubt your devotion,
Grab the momentum and roll in the motion,
Though, squeamishness will thrive,
Remember the dream and thank him because you are alive,
Value every second, trade your life for it,
Open up your feathers, escape the pit,
Death invites everybody, someday you'll be gone,
Even the sun will set forever, there won't be any dawn,
Something belongs to you, its your throne,
With the choices you made, go fly,
*Fly till the horizon.

She is the lady on the road.

She is a mother, a sister, a colleague, a bird, a lassie, a damsel.
She is the lady on the road.

She spreads love and enriches kindness in the society,
She is the crux of an organization, and the fundamental principles.
She is the lady on the road.

She twinkles with the stars and shimmers with the moon,
She scampers with her pets and hops like a frog,
She is not a nomad, but a faithful keeper.
She is the lady on the road.

She wears short skirts,
She wears tight tops,
She doesn't encourage the flirts,
She neither abominates the leering of cops.
She is the lady on the road.

She holds a honourable reputation,
She forms the base of ethical standards,
She buries the grudges and resolves the dissension,
She consolidates herself and maintains her fettle,
She is the epitome of cheerful disposition.
She is the lady on the road.

She ignores the catcalls,
She endures the torture and prevails her morale,
She is a monument unshakable, and a stone unbreakable,
She dumps her burdens and enlightens her destiny,
She protects her dignity and negotiates with denunciation,
She does no harm, but deals with it.
She is the lady on the road, ..the seventh wonder of the world.

The velvet cover aroused a cringe inside,
With the touch to the diary with his wrinkled hand,
And the stolid shiver began to subside,
Pouring grin over his face, as the pages were scanned.

He stared at the words, turning the pages leisurely,
Every line he read, triggered  mild sentiments,
Not very severe but gentle and silly,
Soothing and abating the repressed resentments.

The diary delineated the stories behind each verse,
With hues of despair and projections of curse,
Depicting doleful goodbyes and cheerful handshakes,
All of them crushing and sinking into the filthy lakes.

Hopping from one stanza to another,
He slowed down his pace as he moved further,
Like the dormancy of his brain and the moments gray,
The lines reminded him of his birthday.

"I'm a poem, you'd liked to take a glance at,
I'm candle you will blow, I'm the feather on your hat,
I'm the words in your veins, I'm the verses you make,
I'm the lyrics on your lips,  I'm the name on your birthday cake."

The lucent halo covered her wedding gown,
Exchanging glances they took the bridal vows,
Beside the tablescape he wore her the crown,
With a sparkling mirth, she canoodled her spouse.

The chirpy memories are still alive,
Emerging out of the star-crossed soul,
The mortal malady shall perish, and bliss will thrive,  
Tribulations shall cease, with attempts to console.

The spotlight flashed his eyes,
Teardrops gently rolled over his cheeks with a surprise,
Resting his mind awhile, he gazed at the skies,
The wholehearted love seemed to be a sublime paradise.

Not a glimpse of light ,
Not a part of a day,
Not a smile at night,
Muzzling the grunt, he veiled his dismay.

Hear the howl of a wolf,
Hear the hoot of an owl,
Hear the weep of a man,
Anguish and pain , they all swallow away.

With the course of darkness,
With the fiends inside,
With the hateful sights,
And a firm handshake with the plight , they hit the hay.

Can't a dingy room transform to a beacon of light?
Can't the cold happiness find me on its way?
Can't this seclusion help me breathe one more day?
And the concealed shadow, can i embrace you again?