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Mayuri Kende Oct 2014
Ah poetry…
Which lifts me and takes me high…
Which gifts me and makes me sigh…

Which knows me and gets me close to real..
Which shows me how great it feels…

Which tells me, it's all explorable…
Which makes me learn, it's all plausible…

Which tells me that it is still real..
Even when it's surreal…

Ah poetry..

Which makes me forget all that is tragic..
Which hence, makes me believe in magic…

Which is a reward, so much, that I succumb to nirvana..
Which is uncensored, so much, that I emote unprejudiced…

Ah poetry..
Till eternity..

Keep encouraging me, more than me…
Dedicated to that poetry which carves a writer!!! cheers!!
Mayuri Kende Aug 2014
I only run….

And I pardon my innocent and gullible self for running,
Towards that time which doesn't come back.

I still run in the aspiration to reach out for that rendezvous of ‘forever’,
A run, a journey, and a spree I emancipate.


I write a zillion words about all those things of which there are ‘no comebacks’,
I become a megalomaniac who might be able to make those ‘comebacks’ happen.


I get stoic to present and reach the rendezvous of ‘forever’ where I become omnipresent,
I flit from land to oceans and to land again to reach the scintillating ‘time’ that calls me from the point when it was ‘present’.
Mayuri Kende Apr 2014
Sometimes I pray with all my soul,
To the God I believe in,
Knowing that those prayers are futile,
But my heart is a vagabond who gives its whole,
For those prayers which make me feel they might come true, for a while.
I wish for it, I pray for it,
Even when I know I won’t get it.
Yet my heart gets hauled towards only those wishes,
Which I know are futile,
The prayers which make me feel they might come true, for a while.
So I permit my heart to employ these prayers,
And talk to the God I believe in.
I let Him only listen and let my heart free,
Knowing that its a prisoner who can never be set free.
When I say these prayers,
There is a ease of pain, sense of relief.
Knowing these feelings will leave,
My adamant heart still prays which is futile,
The prayers which make me feel they might come true, for a while.
At times I sense that I am addicted to these prayers,
These futile prayers coax me towards them,
Make my heart a wayfarer who prays,
Only the prayers which make me feel they might come true, for a while.
to those unanswered wishes, the ones which we know can never be answered...yet we pray....
Mayuri Kende Sep 2014
All the time and everywhere I look…
The search of my eyes end, when I see what you left and what you took.
I look for the signs you leave,
Back in the room where you lived.

I see the signs like your jacket lying on the couch,
I look at the ring of water percolated from your glass,
I smell a mingle of both your perfume and your scotch,
Resting my eyes on the undone bed, at last.

Bedazzled with the idea of you without you,
I visit the places which I visited with you.
I go to the temple where you took me once,
Making my peace with the fact, that you weren’t here since months.

In the same city, on the same path,
I have your signs enveloped around my heart.
Since I know it won’t be long when you return,
I stare at that coffee shop, wondering when will it be again when we start.

I am habitual to look for your signs,
On the roads which we used to take,
Your roads and mine.
When somebody talks like you,
The habitual me thinks, that your signs they make.

Make that journey of waiting shorter for me,
Let’s look for those signs together, as ‘we’.
Let’s create some more signs for me to reminisce,
And thy signs shall I always seek.
Mayuri Kende Mar 2015
Trace the picture which is inside your mind,

Transform your thoughts into those infinite words,

Trust your instincts that they will find,

A plethora of words, always hide.


Talk to your buddy, talk to your mother,

Give the gift of words to your ‘love’, take a word of wisdom from your brother.

Speak with rage, come out with the wrath,

You will be overwhelmed to find what lies after that.


You will rediscover friendship when you share,

Thus, shedding the inhibitions that you wear.

More close you get, with whom you open up,

To find out that you are not the only one stuck.


A pool of people, a pool of emotions,

Awaiting for your participation.

Perhaps it is the moment,

For the words, signs and pictures to vent.
Mayuri Kende Apr 2015
From white to many,

From one to seven,

We live in that heaven,

Which is people driven.



We should rainbow our-self,

And then the battle is won.

Bending from white to many colors, as rainbow itself,

What could we have done, if we had only been one.



Rainbowing is an art, which we have to attend,

Coz every time we have a different self to present.

Our battle with life is mellowed, when we rainbow,

As winning seem as close as, those seven colors through my window.



The artist told me about it once,

The Almighty hinted when the creation of it was done.

Yet the juvenile me, always pondered,

That there is some magic happening, when it thundered.
PS: Rainbowing is an art to blend as per our environment. It means like rainbow we are one but we diversify as per the people around us and we hold the potential to adjust anywhere.
Mayuri Kende Oct 2015
Ensconced in the wealth of my apprehension,
I pass by life’s each station.
Dipping myself into the pool of happiness, little by little,
Almost as if I am scared.

Scared to be drenched in it,
As the vicissitudes awaits me.
The vicious circle as they call ‘life’
Many times I ponder who creates it.

Gaining some perspective to apparate out of these barricades,
Believing in the reality of that pleasant moment.
Humoring it even if it is just a charade.
Because for that moment, all of it is permanent.

Therefore getting acquainted to the permanence of that happiness,
Bursting the bubble of ignorance.
Decreasing my wealth of apprehension,
I embrace each moment sans any question.

— The End —