Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
The clouds are pregnant
With rain water

Earth waited with
Anticipation

Alas! It's abortion
Blood all over the sky

Sun's blazing
Hot
It's been two years since we have proper rains
As dawn broke we warmed
the cuckoo started love songs
Almost romantic
123
                                           Thoughts
                               always
                         matter
                       Thinking
                       'it
                     won’t
                      matter',
                           matters
                                        light bulb, is
                                       

                       ­                 a product
                                        of
                                        thought
I
am
the
thin
line between
true and false
An object is not evil you know?
The root of all evils is money
He
She
Many
Say
Aha! Who can live without it?
You?
He?
She?
No.
No one can. Evil, it's in your mind
Not in that lifeless object Money
Trying my hand at it, creating Alphabet with my words. Here it is E. Let me see if I can do with  rest of the letters :-)
The story I am writing  took a new turn
The New turn become a new life
She is as beautiful as sin
Many have tried to win
Her hand by impressing her kin

Up comes a young man
Driving along in a van
Bringing up with him a large whiskey can

She is as beautiful as sin
With a dimple on her chin
Stood up there with a pin

Moon pales by her side
The gales go away from her wide
And from her, mothers have their children hide

She is as beautiful as sin
Hides herself in a tin
Runs away from her home drinking a gin

She tempts me
With her beauty, see
I am now at her knee
More serious verse is due with the opening line, "She is as beautiful as sin." :D
I'm a collection of solitudes
A silence derived from the summation of all languages
I'm a collection of solitudes
A silence derived from
the summation of all languages
Silence solitude life eternity love
Along came a poet
To my notice around a year ago
Uncannily beautiful his art is
L**oved it. Enjoyed it. Cherished it. The innocence.
__I__
\g/---
  iii
/    \

One of the talented and popular poets here in HP, and these days close to my heart with his brilliance, Atul has become a good friend of mine.

God bless him in his endeavours. He had had enough of difficulties. The future must be bright and only bright
It's not
The banners
It's our
Manners
That should talk about us
A Swamy Downey Quote
Be
You
Tea
Full
Verse

or

Bee
You
Tea
Full
Verse
And when all the wars are over
A butterfly will still be beautiful
Adjusted from a quotation by Ruskin Bond, famous Indian English writer
She gives him his eyes, she found them
Among some rubble, among some beetles

He gives her her skin
He just seemed to pull it down out of the air and lay it over her
She weeps with fearfulness and astonishment

She has found his hands for him, and fitted them freshly at the wrists
They are amazed at themselves, they go feeling all over her

He has assembled her spine, he cleaned each piece carefully
And sets them in perfect order
A superhuman puzzle but he is inspired
She leans back twisting this way and that, using it and laughing
Incredulous

Now she has brought his feet, she is connecting them
So that his whole body lights up

And he has fashioned her new hips
With all fittings complete and with newly wound coils, all shiningly oiled
He is polishing every part, he himself can hardly believe it

They keep taking each other to the sun, they find they can easily
To test each new thing at each new step

And now she smoothes over him the plates of his skull
So that the joints are invisible

And now he connects her throat, her ******* and the pit of her stomach
With a single wire

She gives him his teeth, tying the the roots to the centrepin of his body

He sets the little circlets on her fingertips

She stitches his body here and there with steely purple silk

He oils the delicate cogs of her mouth

She inlays with deep cut scrolls the nape of his neck

He sinks into place the inside of her thighs

So, gasping with joy, with cries of wonderment
Like two gods of mud
Sprawling in the dirt, but with infinite care
They bring each other to perfection.
Brutiful
By definition
One-off success in truth
Same as a failure
Started Haikuing, yet again :D
She has a third eye
It's not a destructive
But à constructive force
Behind beautiful photographs
Lord Shiva is said to have third eye, with which he can make anything to Ashes of need be. Mostly the sinners.

This poem is dedicated to my friend, Priyanka, one of the best photographers I know. She has a distinctive photographic language
I don' wanna live my life...
I wanna lead it...
so that It must wonder
What I'm gonna give it...

Then I came to know,
What the life is...
Life's a celebration...
Or Celebration of life,
IN THE NAME OF THE BEST WITHIN US.
They are the parallel lines that meet
In the cerebral heat
All that chatter
Everything that matter
Creates life
Without the power of knife

In the rumble of their feet
It's nonsense that they defeat

They are the parallel lines that meet
In the cerebral heat
One of my personal favourites
Silence is
the greatest language
and
solitude is
the greatest country
Life = [birth, death]

Life is a
Closed  interval of
Birth and death

Yes, it is
bounded by those
limits
But there are
always infinite possibilities
For Ayn Rand
...

The grey began to fade,
As the colours filled the sky,
The chill began to warm,
As the sun began to rise.
Understood, no? ;-)
Just a funny word creation
Rise, brothers, rise, the wakening skies pray
       to the morning light,
  The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn
       like a child that has cried all night.
  Come, let us gather our nets from the shore,
       and set our catamarans free,
  To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, for
       we are the sons of the sea.
  No longer delay, let us hasten away in the
       track of the sea-gull's call,
  The sea is our mother, the cloud is our brother,
       the waves are our comrades all.
  What though we toss at the fall of the sun
       where the hand of the sea-god drives?
  He who holds the storm by the hair, will hide
       in his breast our lives.
  Sweet is the shade of the cocoanut glade, and
       the scent of the mango grove,
  And sweet are the sands at the full o' the
       moon with the sound of the voices we love.
  But sweeter, O brothers, the kiss of the spray
       and the dance of the wild foam's glee:
  Row, brothers, row to the blue of the verge,
       where the low sky mates with the sea.
Sarojini Naidu, born as Sarojini Chattopadhyay  also known by the sobriquet as The Nightingale of India, was a child prodigy, Indian independence activist and poet.
Deep in  the Ocean of Time
Right into the layers of space
Dwelling through infinite dimensions
There existed an atom

It searched for a friend
Found one to its taste
Lost an electron
Gained an electron
A bond was then formed

It has no name
But there was no worry
For name is but an identification

But see there's some more atoms
And they too did the same
A little bit of sacrifice
For love needs it
Lost an electron
Gained an electron
A bond was then formed
They started dancing

Growing in complexity.
Living things, masses of atoms for they were
Dancing a pattern ever more intricate
DNA and protein
Cells and tissues
Life came
At long last man came

He was the observer
Who measures the universe
Out of the cradle
Onto the dry land
Here it is standing
Atoms with consciousness
Matter with curiosity
Stands in the ocean of time
Wondering
Aye
I, a universe of atoms?
Or an atom in the universe?

*To Richard Feynman (again)
Posted long back.

I think this is my best poem (proper) till date. Most of the times I manipulate ideas to twist them into poems (almost all of them very short). But rare few times they flow into a verse of quality. This, I think, is one such, excluding haikus.

Want to see how friends here receive it. Of course few of them might have read it.
Deep in  the Ocean of Time
Right into the layers of space
Dwelling through infinite dimensions
There existed an atom

It searched for a friend
Found one to its taste
Lost an electron
Gained an electron
A bond was then formed

It has no name
But there was no worry
For name is but an identification

But see there's some more atoms
And they too did the same
A little bit of sacrifice
For love needs it
Lost an electron
Gained an electron
A bond was then formed
They started dancing

Growing in complexity.
Living things, masses of atoms for they were
Dancing a pattern ever more intricate
DNA and protein
Cells and tissues
Life came
At long last man came

He was the observer
Who measures the universe
Out of the cradle
Onto the dry land
Here it is standing
Atoms with consciousness
Matter with curiosity
Stands in the ocean of time
Wondering
Aye
I, a universe of atoms?
Or an atom in the universe?
To Richard Feynman
Deep in  the Ocean of Time
Right into the layers of space
Dwelling through infinite dimensions
There existed an atom

It searched for a friend
Found one to its taste
Lost an electron
Gained an electron
A bond was then formed

It has no name
But there was no worry
For name is but an identification

But see there's some more atoms
And they too did the same
A little bit of sacrifice
For love needs it
Lost an electron
Gained an electron
A bond was then formed
They started dancing

Growing in complexity.
Living things, masses of atoms for they were
Dancing a pattern ever more intricate
DNA and protein
Cells and tissues
Life came
At long last man came

He was the observer
Who measures the universe
Out of the cradle
Onto the dry land
Here it is standing
Atoms with consciousness
Matter with curiosity
Stands in the ocean of time
Wondering
Aye
I, a universe of atoms?
Or an atom in the universe?
To Richard Feynman (again)

Posted long back.

I think this is my best poem (proper) till date. Most of the times I manipulate ideas to twist them into poems (almost all of them very short). But rare few times they flow into a verse of quality. This, I think, is one such, excluding haikus.

Want to see how friends here receive it. Of course few of them might have read it.
The aim of science
Is to make difficult things
Understandable in a simpler way

The aim of poetry
Is to state simple things
In an incomprehensible way

The two are incompatible
Poem made from a statement by the illustrious physicist, PAM Dirac :D
The thing
The thinger
The thingest

The greatest poet I don't know
Endha parandha endha SaaTa?

Poetry is what keeps souls happy. Why making alters and fight over petty things? If someone sees your poem, they may love it. If not, it's not their wavelength. What's the problem if someone doesn't love your poem?
Decently indecent -

The life of a scamp
Moving like a *****.

To have his foot prints stamp
On the shore for ever.

He preaches to
Die hard,

And says to
Live it easy.

Like a child
Without going wild

His motto is
A fight for
The right
Without flight
She writes beautiful poetry
Experiments with form and content

Many styles, many ideas
Some vivid, few abstract
but none mediocre

She's the Queen of Haikus
Scored a century recently

And I thank, I had learnt Haikus from her
One of the first persons that I followed here, and learnt about many forms of poetry reading her beautiful poems. Wish to thank the good friend, teacher :-)
It was past 10 pm
Indian Standard Time
And the score was
Two O Five

Klusener was the launcher
Donald was the Duck

Hansie had the fancy
That he will lift the cup
Seconds ticking
One, two, three, four, five…

Damien Fleming’s the bowler
And he’s known as a troller
Windies was the victim
Eight years ago

Steve Waugh!
The man who made Gibbs drop the cup
Stood there
Like a commander
Klusener like a slaughterer

Yorker’s the marker
To stop the nine runs needed
From the Klusener blade

NOW THE LAST OVER
ONE went for a four
TWO went for a four
Tensions flared up
We are on the proverbial Edge-of-the-seat

Steve stood there
No expression on his face
Hansie's in the pavilion
Like a warrior king

THE THIRD BALL
Damien's running like he do
Yes, bang on target
Klusener's couldn't get it off
Like the way in his earlier knocks off

One run needed in three

Just a recap again

Final over
last pair together
nine to get in six *****
player of the tournament on strike
Successive fours from Lance Klusener
and it was one from four *****

Then came the comedy
for South Africa uniquely in the game's annals
the tragedy of a tie.

Moments before it
Steve Waugh was
As cold as an Iceberg
To the Titanic of South Africa

(To be continued in next part)
1999 Cricket World Cup semifinals match between Australia and South Africa

http://www.espncricinfo.com/ci/engine/current/match/65233.html

A match I'll never forget
Este poema es muy bonito
Representa la vida
amor
odiar y
todo(s)*
This poem is very nice
Represents life
love
hate
and
all
My first Spanish effort :-) The Spanish poem combined with its English translation forms an Alphaboetry
Blood!

It’s coming from my right toe. I did not understand what happened at first. I took few more steps. It’s when I reached the door of the balcony, that I noticed that the tea cup, which ought to be in my left hand missing. I turned back.

Blood was there on the marble floor. In equal intervals of space, where I must have my toes pressed while walking. Looking at the blood, I felt ***** in my throat. It’s suddenly like I lost my senses.
“In the land of Mordor, in the fires of mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret, a Master Ring to control others…”

Do you think it’s the Voice of Galadriel? No. I know. But at that fateful time, I felt certainly like hearing Galadriel’s voice, from The Lord of the Rings: The Felowship of the Ring.

I shriek might have escaped my mouth. My hubby, who was sitting in the balcony, reading the newspaper, turned towards me. Placing the newspaper on the table before him, he came to catch me from falling on the floor.

Why all this had happened suddenly on this pleasant Sunday morning? Yes. There must be a reason. I had seen it. What was that it?

“Wife killed husband with a Saline bottle.” That was the headline I read by chance in the District special which was on the floor on my way from kitchen. The girl in question is known to me. Not known, she worked as a maid for us, and we loved her. In the shock of the news, I dropped the tea cup from my hand. The rest you know.

My hubby made me sit on the bed, and dressed the wound. When I explained what happened, he pinch stroked my chin, and laughed like hell.

“Well, what she did might be right. I won’t pass a judgment.”

Just then my mother-in-Law entered the house. She went to the nearby temple.
>>>

After a couple of days, I met Subbi. She smiled innocently. I took her hands in mine.

“What happened?”

“I could have done it long ago akka,” she said.

She explained me everything then.
>>>

Subbi worked as maid for us when we were in Guntur. My hubby and I were lecturers. As we both of us had to go to the college, and my mother-in-law had to be home alone (hi, you might have counted many mistakes in my English. I forgot to mention, I am a science student, and my English is poor ;-) and I love to watch movies. Home Alone is my favorite movie :P) we hired Subbi to her assistance.

Attamma (I call my mother-in law like that) is very sharp. He makes friends with virtually anyone. Subbi got attached to her quickly. She used to tell her story to to Attamma. Subbi calls her Amma (you might have understood it means mother).

Subbi was married and had 3 girls. Her husband was furious because of this. He wanted boy child. He used to beat her. He always drinks… (right? I mean grammatically) and abuse her, and the children. Attamma told us all these things at the dinner time. Once I asked my hubby to warn him.
>>>

It was a hot evening. I was in the kitchen. My hubby was teaching to the students. We maintain tuitions for additional income. He was explaining the concept of reproduction, I think.

“If X chromosome combines with another X chromosome, it will result in female child (In between us :P he too is weak in English :P). If X chromosome combines with Y chromosome, it will result in male child.”

“Sir, don’t they result in Woman and Man? Is it only children?” some guy cracked a joke. My husband playfully hit him on the back of the head.

All the while, Subbi, who was assisting me in the kitchen, observed them. She asked me, what was that big joke, and why they were laughing. I explained it to her. I noticed a change in her. She was silent rest of the evening.

When it was the time for her to go home, she talked to my hubby. I observed them from the kitchen while serving Attamma dinner.
>>>

After a couple of months, around June 15th, we shifted to Vijayawada, as we both got jobs in a bigger corporate college with higher salaries. At that time Subbi was pregnant. If I remember right, 3 months. Attamma felt sorry for her. She instructed Subbi to inform us if…
>>>

Subbi had an abortion that time. Another year later she became pregnant again. Her husband warned her if it’s again a girl child, he would **** her. Subbi felt shivers.

It was then time for the delivery. She was again warned by him. As fate might have been written for her, it was again a girl child.

Her husband entered the room where she was… furiously. Subbi had sweat all over her. He was about to jump on her…

Subbi took a broken saline bottle, and

“You mother ******* *******, why didn’t you send a Y chromosome?” her words echoed there…!
>>>

I returned home and explained all this to Attamma, and my hubby. After I finished, my hubby laughed.

“She did the right thing,” Attamma said.
I said to my husband, who loves to have girl child, “If you don’t send an X chromosome, I’ll **** you. Alright?”

This time it’s Attamma’s turn to laugh.
>>>

PS: Phew, I’m through with the story. Gitacharya asked me about the incident. Whether he edits my narration, is in his hands. My hubby’s calling me. Bye :D
An early short story by me. Language is a bit weird, but not without reason
A man left to be
Himself
Becomes a fountainhead
He is
The spelling of
Genius

That is

Richard Feynman
A Glampire!
As disturbing as a funeral pyre.

Wandering along the roads
In the nights, ******* lives by loads
With no care for any codes

Beauty she was
Now, she is as beautiful as a sin
Tempting men with her charms, and forms
They fell for her in flocks

Lured them into the woods
Made them sit under the hoods
Hugged them one by one
Tucked them into her pocket
And few of them in her locket

Glampire!
Blood it was she want
She is as beautiful as a sin
'Twas the weapon she uses to win
Against the self-control of many a man
Aha! La Belle Dame Sans Merci
Glamour + Vampire = Glampire
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore —
No doubt you have heard the name before —
Was a boy who never would shut a door!

The wind might whistle, the wind might roar,
And teeth be aching and throats be sore,
But still he never would shut the door.

His father would beg, his mother implore,
'Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore,
We really do wish you would shut the door!'

Their hands they wrung, their hair they tore;
But Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
Was deaf as the buoy out at the Nore.

When he walked forth the folks would roar,
'Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore,
Why don't you think to shut the door?'

They rigged up a Shutter with sail and oar,
And threatened to pack off Gustavus Gore
On a voyage of penance to Singapore.

But he begged for mercy and said, 'No more!
Pray do not send me to Singapore
On a Shutter, and then I will shut the door!'

'You will?' said his parents; 'then keep on shore!
But mind you do! For the plague is sore
Of a fellow that never will shut the door,
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore!'
It is one of the poems we read as children in English readers, and repeat many times in spare times. "Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore" sounded funny to us at that time. Just remembering it :D

The rhyme scheme is the stand out point of it
I think
Good sense is shown
More in the ability
To avoid pain
Than
In the mere
Desire to do so
Poetry

For some people
Writing
Prose Vertically
Smiling your way through
And keeping guts
Is the best generic medicine
To many obstacles
A Swamy Downey quote
An aging man
His image unsteady
In flowing stream
All the God did was
To send you down onto Earth
The path is yours
If you are quiet
when truth is buried naked
Lies will make you slave
There is a story
of a girl living aloof
But that's false I know
A second handed
critic made a film so lame
Gave others his hair
Julius Caesar
Stabbed by his friend alas
Said, "You too Brutus"
My thoughts about you
A prison from where I have
No escape haha
Custody of mind
Not a mudguard of thoughts
Mark the depression
As a leader
He saw things but ignored
For political mileage
Don't wear your heart
     On your sleeve. It's not good.
Opens gates of hell
Next page