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Nirmalee May 2014
We are merely                    
          a shadow
       Of what we were
           yesterday .
My first 10 w
Nirmalee May 2014
I'm just a conflict
                            between
                  th­e Angel and the Devil.
My second 10 w .
6w
Nirmalee Mar 2015
6w
Many read
          Some comprehend
       Few feel.
Nirmalee Jun 2015
I
wonder what fire
tastes like.
Nirmalee Mar 2013
I want to work for mankind,
To lend a hand to the helpless and poor,
Who are neglected by the world
But want to live for sure.

I want to be water to the lips of the child,
Who's not had a single drop since the last twenty hours..
Alas! I cannot quench the unsatiable thirst,
Of the man who's drowning in a whirlpool of desires!

I want to be the cane to the old blind man
Who somehow makes both ends meet,
The one who is forsaken of the world,
Where his own sons are enjoying a feast!
Nirmalee Mar 2013
He knows it when I'm in pain,
He knows the blood that runs through my veins.

He knows it when I am ill,
He treats me with a thousand pills.

He knows my body and it's curves,
He comforts me with much love..

He is the one who treats,
God is  the one who heals,
Yet he's more than a doctor,
He's the flickering ray of hope in my ordeal....
I'm afflicted with chicken pox.. So, lying in bed,I just scribbled this out!
Nirmalee Jun 2015
"O poor, unthinking human heart! Error will not go away, logic and reason are slow to penetrate. We cling with both arms to false hope, refusing to believe the weightiest proofs against it, embracing it with all our strength. In the end it escapes, ripping our veins and draining our heart's blood; until, regaining consciousness, we rush to fall into snares of delusion all over again." Rabindranath Tagore , The Postmaster
It's not a poem. But a beautiful creation ,nevertheless, from one of the most vivid, evocative short stories by Tagore "The Postmaster".
Nirmalee Apr 2013
A River
In Madurai,
city of temples and poets,
who sang of cities and temples,
every summer
a river dries to a trickle
in the sand,
baring the sand ribs,
straw and women’s hair
clogging the watergates
at the rusty bars
under the bridges with patches
of repair all over them
the wet stones glistening like sleepy
crocodiles, the dry ones
shaven water-buffaloes lounging in the sun
The poets only sang of the floods.

He was there for a day
when they had the floods.
People everywhere talked
of the inches rising,
of the precise number of cobbled steps
run over by the water, rising
on the bathing places,
and the way it carried off three village houses,
one pregnant woman
and a couple of cows
named Gopi and Brinda as usual.

The new poets still quoted
the old poets, but no one spoke
in verse
of the pregnant woman
drowned, with perhaps twins in her,
kicking at blank walls
even before birth.

He said:
the river has water enough
to be poetic
about only once a year
and then
it carries away
in the first half-hour
three village houses,
a couple of cows
named Gopi and Brinda
and one pregnant woman
expecting identical twins
with no moles on their bodies,
with different coloured diapers
to tell them apart.
                                                          ­                                                                 ­          ~A.K.Ramanujan
The city of Madurai stands on the bank of river Vaikai. In this poem,the poet points out the implicit reality of the river  and the devastation it brings about in monsoon, unlike other poets who mostly focus on the beauty of a river . This is one of my favorite poems. So thought of sharing it here at HP !
Nirmalee May 2014
We are blesses, blessed for
           a sound night's sleep...
We are blessed, blessed for
           thrice a meal each day...
Let's count our blessings, and give it a thought,
         Aren't we blessed,
Compared to the millions who are not entitled
       To these simple luxury?
Nirmalee May 2013
I saw a little boy
running across the street,
He had a satchel on his back,
but no shoes on his feet.

Don't know what struck me,
I ran from the window to the balcony,
To get a better view of the child.

I felt a strange pang in my heart
to see him run past the shanties.
My eyes followed him till he entered one of the houses
with brick walls and thacthed roof.
Yes, he's one those million children
who still dream of school.

Do you believe in angels?
Well, now, I do...
Yet it makes me wonder,
Doesn't He deserve a good life too?
He isn't imaginary... I actually beheld an angel today!
Nirmalee Mar 2013
I'd like to part from you,
I'd want to forget you forever,
Yet you haunt me in the dark
You try to come near.

I don't understand you
Or what you want
Yet you leave me astounded
By the charisma that you flaunt!

Sometimes , you're as cold as the icy wind,
Biting on my skin..
Yet you are the same blanket ,
That keeps away the cold..

But now I'll treat you like a mere blush,
Which brings the transitory rose tint to the cheek,
Which when wiped off,
Doesn't bother to make you lovesick!
Nirmalee May 2013
Because forever
is the biggest lie on earth,
All promises made in love
are apocryphal.
Nirmalee Mar 2013
Since the time I was born,
I was nurtured as a fawn,
My governess looked after me,
As my mother had then been a busy bee..

When I grew a little more,
Like I was around three or four,
I whined and nagged all the way to school,
All wrapped up in muffler and wool.

I romped,I played, I learnt
Through all the years that I grew,
Life whispered new lessons in my ears,
And everyday I grew into someone new.

And now I'm in my adolescence,
Too swayed by emotions, impulsive in nature,
Vulnerable to the torment of words,
Chasing after fame and stature...

Yet this is not what I want to be,
Let my wings develop completely,
One day I'll be soaring up in the sky,
Dear Mamma, that day you'll be proud of me!
Nirmalee Apr 2013
Take me to the ocean blue,
Let me dive right into,
Take a glimpse of the world underneath,
Amidst the pristine,azure waters...

Let the waves flow all over me,
And take me to the world of sea,
Where, for miles and miles there's only blue,
And the sun happily smiles down at you.

What makes the sea so alluring,
Is it the cool waters,
Or the waves that dash against the shore,
Maybe, it's nymphs, corals, magic, and much more !
Nirmalee Mar 2015
People die.
But their stories live on in the hearts of those
who had loved them.
Like the fire which has burned out.
But the ashes still remaining.

The memories wiped out
after years pass by,
Like the ashes swept
Away by the wind.

Yet the trees, the sky, the sun,
They all remain witness
to the life that was once lived
to the laughter and tears it shed.

Immortal therefore to nature,
Is the fickle human soul,
It lives on forever,
Witnessed by the sun, moon and stars-though ages may roll.
Nirmalee Mar 2013
Who said life would be easy?
There are seas to sail and mountains to climb...
Life is a tough battle,
You have to struggle, you have to fight.

You got to dream big ,
You got to think high,
You have to make it large,
This is "your" life...

You may fall, you may lose,
But you have to keep calm,
And ignore the boos ..

At last, when you've won the battle,
A proud veteran you'd be!
All the caged birds will be awaitng you..
Go ahead,   set them free...
Nirmalee Mar 2013
Aren't we all travelling through time,
The time of our life is the length of a span, they say,
Time rules, time that takes away youth is like the Devil himself,
Yet why is time called the best healer?

Why, why is time so restless?
Can't it just pause for a moment,
And spare us a moment to look back,
Look back in time!

It is when I see eminent personalities,
Who are breathing a last few days on earth ,
I fear the Devil time,
The capricious, ceaseless time...
A few scattered thoughts that came to my mind when I was listening to Yesterday by The Beatles. Why did Paul McCartney have to get old?
Nirmalee Apr 2013
Had you known
  how much I love you,
     You wouldn't have treated me
  the way you do.
Nirmalee Mar 2013
I chased a ray of light
That I caught a glimpse of,
What a magnificent light it was,
Golden. the most dazzling one can think of.

In my mad pursuit,
I was oblivion to the ticking of clock,
So alluring was it's presence
That I ran until I could no more walk.

Then I caught the bright golden light,
and preserved it in my palm,
I was blinded by the dazzling glow,
Yet a voice inside me asked me to keep calm.

I then saw a child on the other end of the street,
Engulfed in darkness and the cold biting on his bare hands and feet.
So I went to him and gifted him the light,
And the smile on his face was the most beautiful sight.
Nirmalee May 2014
Dance to the
                                        Lilt of music,
                                        Soak the mirth of Red Wine
                                           For it won't last forever...
Inspired by John Masefield...
Nirmalee Mar 2013
Alone I am,
With my burdens of sorrow,
With a past not to cherish much,
And not much hope for tomorrow.

When the people surrounding me
are so evil,ruthless and stone-hearted,
Unfair is this world,
Injustice being done at everybody's cannival.

I feel pity for the heart,
A poor heart in disgrace,
So vulnerable to the torments of words,
In so fictious a world,it tries to make some space.

Alas! everytime it fails,
And tears which stream down in solitude
Are nothing but a few futile drops of water.
It is the lack of the little love that makes a heart destitude.
Nirmalee Apr 2015
He greets me with a woof
and a generous lick,
Accompanying me from the bus stop
to our house on the corner of the street.

He then sits joyfully at my feet
   Wagging a happy tail,
After fetching me a bottle of water,
A ritual he performs without fail.

  Moments later he drags me by my skirt
To the lawn adjoining our house,
  He throws a tennis ball at my feet
And dances gleefully seeing it bounce.

After an hour wasted happily in play,
   He brings me my towel as I
proceed to take my bath
     at the end of the day.

He waits patiently until I emerge,
    Never tired of waiting- poor old chap.
From that moment onwards
   Till the time of bed, he gladly occupies my lap.

A beautiful friend in the journey of life
   is all it takes to make it worthwhile,
A loyal companion, a trusted ally,
  forever willing to be on my side.
I had a forever longing for pets. Writing this poem with the hope that someday in future my wish will get fulfilled after all.
Nirmalee Mar 2013
Life is a colourful pageant,
Where various people come and go.
But only few of them are to stay in our hearts
While the rest only a part of the show.

The few, which in our hearts reign,
Wonderful moments we share with them,
And when the ruthless time tears up apart,
It's hard to bear the pain in the heart.

We're left with only a few colourful memories,
Which make a tear roll down the cheek,
Alas! naive you are when you hide the tear,
'cause you're heart is still as weak!

It's worthless trying to expunge the memories,
Which are indelibly graven in our hearts,
Yet you have to gather yourself and enjoy the show,
As there are many more to come --today and tomorrow.
Nirmalee Jun 2015
In what language does rain
                              fall over tormented cities?
                                      ~Pablo Neruda
Nirmalee Jun 2015
Sometimes I just like to stare at the stars
They make my problems look really petty.
Nirmalee Apr 2013
I looked across the street,
     And saw an old man smoking a cigar,
          He looked sagacious though feeble,
    That old man with many a scars.
  He had grey eyes
That were miles deep,
 Eyes that whispered
      A thousand words to me...
He's only a part of my imagination.
Nirmalee Jun 2014
They* were the real winners,
They hoisted flags, colours that were original,
They were the sun
I was like the flower basking in the glory of the sun.
I was merely a shadow of what I aspired to be ...
Nirmalee Apr 2015
She perished slowly
         due to the lack of love
Like a rose on its fifth day
  in a vase.

She wilted
Like the rose
Denied nurture, denied love.

Then one day
He crushed the wilted rose
And disposed it along with trash.

That day she sighed in her
bed for one last time.
The rose being dead.
Nirmalee Apr 2015
The silence of the night
piercing my ears
The clock ticking past midnight
Its ticking ringing in my ears.

The palm trees swaying in the wind
cast dancing shadows on my window pane,
The crickets' relentless chirping
Persistent, and mundane.

The moon playing peek-a-boo amidst clouds,
In the dimly lit sky bereft of stars,
A barking mongrel every now and then
And the occasional hooting of passing cars.

Suddenly, and yet not sudden
The dawn breaks, birds chirp to usher a new day
Trucks and cars and buses plying the streets
Completely engulfing the silence of the previous night away.
Nirmalee May 2014
Streams of thoughts enter and leave my
                                                          mind,
­                                        Like a gust of wind through
                                             Narrow labyrinth of
                                                     empty streets.
                                          Some gently sweep by,some
                                                     stir thoughts,
                                      Some scar my gentle heart- but
                                          they are my very own
                                       Neither elite,nor grandeur,
                                             but just as the world
                                       seems, through my sixteen
                                      year old kaleidoscopic eyes....
These were the first few words that came to my head today morning.I tried to retain the original alignment of this poem as far as possible...
Nirmalee May 2014
And when all the wars are over,
a butterfly will still be beautiful!
                              ~Ruskin Bond
There is a world beyond the life you live...
A very Happy Birthday to the man who can create magic with his words; a man with the warmest sense of humour I know !
Nirmalee May 2013
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
It's Tagore's 151st birth anniversary today. His contribution to the world of art is boundless. This is a translation of one of his poems from the collection Gitanjali (Song Offerings).
Nirmalee Jul 2015
You tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.

Warsan Shire
The most beautiful thing I''ve come across today.

— The End —