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 Nov 2015 Sanam ojha
Viseract
Drowning in a sea
Of Uncertainty,
Impaled on the rocks
Of Revenge

Burning in a fire
Of Hatred,
Death points his finger,
"This is where you meet your end".
 Nov 2015 Sanam ojha
J U L I E
I see you, everywhere.
I hear you, everywhere.
I can feel you, everywhere.
But in reality, you left me long ago.

I cannot see your smile again.
I cannot hear your laugh again.
I cannot hold your hand again.
And it is breaking me into pieces.
This is to the ones who left us for the paradise.
For the ones who no longer is with us.
For the ones you'll never forget.
I once read a poem.
At least it was called a poem by the poet who penned it.
It certainly stirred a hot cauldron of controversy.
Evoking the elite establishment of hallowed
writing circles to shout their disdain,
to cry out their contempt for such audacity.

"This is not poetry," was the hue that arose,
"it is nothing but prosaic, plagiarized drivel;
written thousands of times across the aeons by
those who have lost, have gained, or ever hoped for."

Perhaps some of us were tainted by the sin of
envy for this unheralded poet and for what he
had achieved with such rudimentary text.
At the time, I also spoke to the crime of the author's intent.
My own aspersions were raised by his act of describing
such incredible possibilities with such simple words,
such purity of condensed thought.

Alas I see now, it was the very simplicity of
the poem that blinded us all to its wondrous truth.
Elementary words which could envision glorious unexplored
mountain peaks, and the assurance of their height's
attainment with nothing more than a steady, faithful pace.
Hopeful words, filled with such grandiose power.
Capable of birthing new life solely from the
pure belief in their profound truth.

This great work of art was forgotten till this night,
as I sit here in a futile attempt to grasp words from intangible air.
Chasing and forcing them into a meager
attempt to share some small piece of wisdom
for two young hearts beginning this journey together ...
two whom I care for as you.

But, lacking as I am, I fear I must
expropriate this forgotten poet's verse.
Offering it to you humbly as my own,
stealing these words even as he stole them before me.
Simple words, distilling all the grand descriptions of all
the illustrious poets, bards, and romantics throughout the ages.

Proclaim it to each other as ecstasy bursts forth,
for its wondrous spell is then truly manifest.
Declare it over sorrow's shared tears,
for its healing sway is miraculous.
Whisper it over anger's destructive rage.
It has the power to quell the thunder.

Speak it as a vow, never to become merely words.
It must be proclaimed with the passion and soul of a poet.
Welling up from the deepest depths of the heart,
and the truest regions of the mind.
For these mere words encompass all.
Believe them as they are intended,
for these words are truly everything.

"I LOVE YOU"!

© S.Loeding All Rights Reserved
Written for my Son and new Daughter on the occasion of their marriage.
If this makes you easy breathing
I can happily take my last breath !!!
Ohh My life's Companion

It is better that I take my sorrows with me
Or,
Let me narrate the story of my heart
Let me douse you with my tears
And,
Let the tears swab down to your feet
I feel like ,I am lost somewhere
in the halfway of the jungle,
in the depth of the well,
where nobody can hear me,
noone can understand my pain
and only the thing i can do is
complete my busy schedules,
follow the journey of life
with a hope to see beam of light
to get everything I desire
and hope this busy life expire.
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