Birds were returning,
Pleasant wind made the atmosphere loving,
The leaves were moving in a rhythmic way,
The sky was cloudy and grey.
The trees were far
Looked like coming near.
I was seating to hear
The sound of leaves and chirps of birds.
The branches seemed dancing with the windy beats,
The wind was sweeping away fallen twigs.
Over there were two kites!
Flying and making childish fights.
Little beautiful flowers
Under the flowery bowers
Attracts every poet for hours.
Then a little rain made everything more romantic,
I wish I was with my angelic.
The symphony was like of a music hall,
How romantic were those all.

I feel you when my heart beats,
I remember you when I breathe,
I think of you while reading Keats.
You are with me always
Like lips touches the teeth.
You are the sunlight
Like in dark and rainy days
Making me bright
With your shining rays.
-Yours ******.

I wonder why people are away from ethics and values
Which is making the world painted in dark hues.
Nowadays the word 'respect' is like a fired bullet,
And values are thumped with the mallet.
The values' building is now a derelict.
If someone protests, she is called an eccentric.

When I close my eyes I see you,
Tears come out when I open those two.
I am drowned in your sea,
I cannot get out from thee.
Even if I try I cannot get out
Because I don't want to get out.
If you throw me out from your sea,
I will get out but I won't dry up me.
I will remain wet even if I get cold
Because in your matter I'm bold.
I don't care about the danger for me
But I care for my family and thee.

We are born to face this world
Yet we know about the farthest future.
In the beginning we crawl,
Then we walk till last and at last we fall with a grief gesture.
One day we have to leave this world and go
Yet we are busy for ourselves and do not become selfless server.
We become more and more selfish and do not bow
This is a poem for the humans and not for the regardless reader.

I'm a turtle dove,
I love to write poems
To gift it to my love
Who is the pair of mine in being turtle dove.
It's the sign of love
It's the sign of peace,
She knows that I love her
But we cannot live together
And that's the tragedy is...

For whom do I study?
For whom do I think?
For whom does the melody
Is being played in the rink?
For you my mind goes
To write something.
Not about a lady but a rose.
I feel like a king in this world of poetry
Where all are blurred except you and me.

I can only hope,
And try to find scope.
Thank God, hope and imagination is not a crime
When I hear your voice, it feels like hearing wind chime.
I can make many metaphors and similes in my poems for you,
Many are there in my stock, not a few!
But comparing things should be compared by you,
Which is my view.
My life sustains on hope,
You're tied with my life with the strongest rope.
No... I'm sorry, you are not tied,
You're a part of my life which in outer world I hide.

Sometimes I feel to call her,
To make all the talks done together.
But when I think her mood may not be fine
Because of any fault of mine
Then I force myself not to call her
As I'm nothing for her.
Deep inside I feel deep sorrow
And again make plan to call her tomorrow.
Tomorrows never come,
I feel lonely like a solitary farmer in a huge farm.

I maybe bad, I maybe rude
Whatever I'm but not a fake good.
I maybe good or I maybe bad
But I'm the lover you have never had.
-Yours ******.

Touching her is even more pleasant than touching
fresh petals of rose.
I want to know about
Me what she knows.
When she holds my hand
My feet are above the land.
Hers eyes, her eyes, HER EYES!
The place where my happiness lies.