The moon is crescent
Not its beauty; God's gallery
Is astonishing....

It's the sweetest happiness
That befalls a writer
When his idea gets a gentleman
And speaks to the world
On his behalf.

Writing is a beautiful letter
addressed to mankind,
With an invitation:

Give us your valuable time
And we would discuss how to spread love in the world.

As far I have observed
Words are as wonderful as blooms
When they are positively used

I loved her
As if she were a wave
Flowing naturally

You
Need to love love
For you need it
To lead a happy life

The death of one talent
Is the laguishment
of a beautiful society

**** off
Contempt
For everything
You don't like
From your heart

Love feels suffocation
Due to its smoke

In December none
Is so crystal as the moon
When fog is in bed.

A noble deed
Can bloom anywhere
Be it on the hill,
Amid rocks,
In mucky land
Or between stones.

It has its own distinct beauty
And receives love from the heaven
And mortal eyes.

The path of hate
Is too narrow
That two persons together
Can't pass through that.

How long
Can you walk alone?

Lust? No issue. Go
For it but with I-would-
Chip-in-bury-hate.

None except God could
paint the moon on the face of
water as it is.

The way the moon makes
Its friends is matchless on earth;
Pearl inspiration.

I acknowledge
I'm not Kabir,
Nor Mir nor Eliot,

Still my verses
Aren't less important than kohinoor.

You value or devalue them
I am not bothered a bit.

My pen is a river
Flowing on papers.

There
Are thousands of ways
To feel better
In touch difficult times

But we fail
To explore the easiest one
That is:

Keep doing finer
Correcting the blunders.

You contemned me,
Abused me,
Stabbed me.

Is the revenge in unrequited so easy?

Pigeons fly little;
The music of vehicles;
An old man puts grains.

You hold me,
Hug me,
Carry my hands to cafes.

Is it enough
To believe you truly love me?

Embers in brazier;
Boiled eggs, baked chicken, dried dates;
Winter is toothless.

Quiver on lips stand
As if winter is cruel; I
***** them in coffee.

Whatever
We write is a painting

On which love stands out.

Instead
of the wall
of differences
Plant
The tree
Of unity
In your courtyard

The coming generations
Would get the shadow as well as fruit

Who loves you does not care
Love to yourself

Be
Friendly
With the sunset

Disappointment
Will never fall upon your mood

If
Honesty
Is in a cliffhanger

Dishonesty will be having
The last laugh

Good things always kick in,
Sometimes in terms of choppy waters.
Then patience had better guard you from the scratch.

Stillness in the lake;
The hills are dumb till their death;
Silently I walk

O December,
I won't stop you;

It's not your choice
Of divorcing me,

And because
You will be back soon

Like a grouchy child
To her mother,

But I want onething from you:
Beseech January to be softer

And quite friendly
And behave as if I'm a kid.

As a kid,
Playing and prancing
With a blue bloon,

I tied joys
To the end of kurta

With the belief
They would be with me

Till my play is over.

Like sugar
They melted and then mingled
In the dusty air.

A lesson I learnt:
Joys have no property.
When we smile
They are along with us.

A nippy morning.
The commotion echoes.
The birds are busy in their chores.
Your mobile is on,
Ringing again and again.
The boss is there.
The userer is frowning.
You ignore all.
The tea cup is steaming.
You complain of less sugar.
You bite only bun and bun.
In a hurry you forget to wish your wife.
Life is on the same platform
When you get up next day.

Keep
Your lips wet

The thirsty bird
Might come to you to drink water from them.

The tree of Margosa
Too
Grows

But

Not like that of mulberry

The intelligent person
should understand this

December is not for snow
It is to attach your feelings to it
In spite of knowing
It has taken away one more year from us.

Hairy moments
Are a test of your *****

If

You fail

You have no place
No chance to stand

Mirror,
If a bad friend as you think,
You have nothing valuable to be taken for being trustworthy

Poetry
Is so bold and valiant

It could itself defeat
Its honour by defeating the warriors of hate

War
Is a poker to stir hate

Peace is water to douse the flames

Even
Stars are worthless
Without night

Even happiness is useless
Without sufferings

Gossip
Is a thrilling game
In which the competition is
Who is going to waste much time
To be the winner

And the moon
Would be yours

Get in touch
With your soul

And listen to
What it hankers after

Truth
Has no fear of death

It is as immortal as the moon.

It has its own sword
To behead even the mightiest lie

It comes like a festival for its lovers
It departs like a Godzilla chewing all

Keep
Criticising
Your own behaviour

It won't go rusted

Hard snow in shape;
A gem life blooming beneath;
God's sublimest art!

Stand out storms in your river
The harbour is always full of comfort

Truth
Is a bud.
When it opens its petals out
It is a complete life
Enlightening mankind

The quest for knowledge  
Is the efforts of a bird for its food

Sparkling golden fields;
Sunflowers sport sheen and blush;
Slopes herald harvest.

Good luck
          Begins
                  in good work