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I fathom fatherhood
His invincible feats
When that magnanimous shadow danced
Bowing his head lowly
And my cryptic looks
Staring that pugnacious shadow
To what he's been unearthing for
A little later in the twilight of dusk
My drooling curiosity burnt in persistence
As I observed a twinkling toddler
Following the lead of his father
With merry- go rounds and exciting swings
As docile as a lamb
He embraced his daddy
Cause that was his world's best swing
And then blew his index finger in air
Spinning around everywhere
The father introduced the whole world
Without shutting him up
The next half hour passed away
And there temple bells rang
And wind blew
Everything became grave
A reverberation echoed
Together with temple bells
Rung the devotional clap
Of a son
And his father...
Worshipping..
Never ever can I fathom
The unconditional fatherly love..
Life would have showered me
Success, riches, fame
Though breaking the glass ceilings
I never obsessed over the desires that I crave
Life would have pretty adored me
However hard I tripped
Though I never was in a great haste
But I thought of dislikes and disgrace
Life would have satiated my desires
Affirmations and content
Though hard work pays off
All I pursued was past's lament
Life would have surmounted me
The willingness to win
Cherished soul was I
Still always dreamt to perish
Little did I know
I was beating a hollow drum
I intended to be a plum pudding
Without a plum..
Don't want to be no Palestinian
Don't want'a be no Yemenis'
What the **** is going on here
Jesus help someone please!
Traveler Tim
I said to myself,
   "Someday soon you will
     be dead and gone.
     Your consciousness dissolved.
     Forever."

Myself replied,
   "What does this mean?
     I have no experience
     with which to relate."

"This is true," I acknowledged, "but
     you possess imagination
     and thus may conceive
     of opposites."

"Yes," Myself agreed, "but
     imagination can only construct
     with what has been received.
     To conceive of
     the void of all conception
     is beyond my parameters."






- fr
Simply having some fun with 'philosophic solitaire.'
छत से देखा करते थे ,
पीछे की पहाड़ी को ,
जला रखा था किसी पीर बाबा ने ,
मंदिर में एक दिया जो ,
रोशनी नज़र आती थी ,
उस मंदिर की दूर से ,
घुप अँधेरे में दिशा बताती ,
पहाड़ी थो कहलाती गोगापीर थी ,
सुकून काफी देती थी वोह रोशनी आँखों को /

जब मन उथल पुथल करता था,
छत पे जा वहीँ निहार्थी थी मैं ,
जब तेज़ हवा चलती थी ,
दौड़ के जा कर रोशनी देख आती थी मैं ,
न तूफ़ान में, न बारिश में ,
न गर्मियों में न सर्दियों में ,
कोई एक दिन न गुज़रता था उस शमा के बगैर /

वीरान से इलाके में कौन पीर रहते थे?
न जाने कैसे उतना ऊपर चढ़ के रौशनी वोह कर जाते थे ?
हर समय यह एक सवाल मन में रहता था ,
कौन सी शक्ति उनमें है जो ,
मंदिर को रोशन कर जाते थे ?
एक बार सोचा मैं ने ,
जा के देखूं वहां ,
बीहड़ इलाका पार कर के ,
गोगापीर के नीचे पहुंची मैं ,
उतनी ही शांति थी वहां जो छत से महसूस की थी ,
रूहानी शांति हवा में छाही थी ,
धीरे धीरे पहाड़ी चढ़ी ,
मंदिर के दरवाजे पे पहुंची,
दिया अब भी जल रहा था,
दिन था इसीलिए नज़र नहीं आया दूर से /

कुछ देर बैठने पे एहसास हुआ
की यहाँ कोई पीर अब है ही नहीं
दिया यूँही जलता है कोई जलाता  नहीं !
पीर बाबा का मज़ार नीचे था
कोई पंडित कोई इंसान का वजूद तक न था
मंदिर का दिया टीम- टीमाता  हुआ
मंदिर और मज़ार  को रोशनी  दे रहा था
किसने कहा रूह  नहीं होती ,
मंदिर की रोशनी  रूहानी थी ,
हर देखने वाले के मन को शांत करने वाली ,
वोह पीर बाबा की लगायी बरसों पुरानी  थी /

कई बरस बीत गए
घर बदल गया .......

पुराने घर जब जाती हूँ ,
छत पर अब भी जाती हूँ ,
दिया अब भी टीम टिमाता है ,
अब भी वही शांति महसूस होती है ,
लेकिन अब नतमस्तक हो जाती हूँ ,


उस रूह के लिए जिसने इतनी शांति दी ...
उस रूह के लिए जिसने मुझे वोह रोशनी  दी ....!!!
The poem is written in my mother tongue... From the country I come from... India.

It's about a small hill that was behind my house... Some miles away.. But in the evening from the roof of the house one could see the hill, and a small lamp use the burn thr each night.... Just like a light house!!
 May 2018 sarthak vadalkar
Meera
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence
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