I am the rose that grew from concrete
Budded from stones, rocks, mortar, cement, broken glass,  drug vials and bags.
I am a product of my environment.
What you thought would **** me,
Only served to make me stronger.
Evolved into a hybrid
I'm the only of my kind.
My thorns fortified with brass knuckles,
My color faded from weather beatings,
And all other beatings,
The travesty of my existence
is not lost on me.
Beauty in the midst of pain,
And what is the epitome of ugly.
I don't belong here and never did.
Wisdom I have absorbed
From rains never to come again
Rejuvenates my leaves.
Although I cannot absorb it all,
Through the cracks in the concrete.
I relish what I can
And vow to absorb more the next time,
Should I be so fortunate.
Because the concrete can protect
As well as expose my naivete.
So compelling to manipulate,
It would be ideal to control.
Impossible though.
How can you control
What grows and survives in the midst of chaos?
And at what cost to your soul?
Even through the ominous clouds,
I remain in light.
The Sun has never been immune to my plight.
Providing the strength, energy and hope
I'll need for the next season of my fight.

A lone drop of coffee
Running down the side
Of my cup
Escaping the terror
Of teeth and tongue

Black gold in the morning
A precious liquid
Awakes me from a slumber
And brightens my day
Sip by sip

Rejuvenates the body,
Mind and soul
Caffeine flows
Through my veins

Motivation in a mug
Brewing is an art
Coffee so dark
It can wake the dead
But instead
Wakes me
Every morning

Glorifying amidst the snowy mountains bestowing
rivers  with a splendid shine searching a land
to shower its warmth in a dense grassland,
sun rises with the dawn
like  the spring blooming life in the lawn.

Cold on the cemetery lay like the corpse,
the flower in concealed corner of the lawn.
Life rejuvenates it to exhibit its charisma.
With its exquisite grace,
life fills the daffodils
blooming merrily in the meadows
with the exotic flush of odor enchanting thee .

Life of seven ages leaps and exits slyly like a stranger.
Neither the witty nor the wisest nor do the philosophers
can bamboozle the fate, neither can they preconceive
the lot ,the fate has in store in each slot
hence live the life with fullest enthusiasm and zeal,
the chariots of life bridging
the expedition between birth and rebirth.

Struggle the chill like a gladiator
stand undeterred by the worldly woes.
Life is symbolization of bluebells,lavenders
hedychiums planted on a deserted road,
blend of happiness and agony .
Surrendering to agony is pure escapism.

Each has to surrender on the altar of death
a day or later ,
but till life why not worship the life
like an idol enshrined in the temple
so when thee are asked of
satisfaction in the heavens high
thou may not quote "alas it could have been a day later"
rather thou may be the most enlightened
devotee to stay in the state of bliss and utmost salvation.

Men say life is mortal
But life is eternal you see,
the life is like a divine cascade of holy waters,
one drop dies ,other rejuvenates to life.
Till the nature lives, shall live
the men and generations yet to come.
Life is pouring like the nectar from the heaven's brink,
quite insane it would be to not drink the summary of life.

                                                          ­                         BY CHANDAN SHARMA

The feeling of butterflies in your stomach.
The feeling of losing your breath..
and stumbling to find words
feeling clumsy in every movement in their presence.

I'm my own person.
I'm not shy.
I don't get feelings.
I'm not short of words.
I don't get emotional.
I don't get feelings like this.

But feelings are like rain.
You can be in a drought and miss it like hell
..or..
you can forget what it's even like to have water.
But when it comes it floods.
You remember how beautiful the sound of rain is.
How it toys with your insides and makes you feel a roller coaster of emotions.
It makes you feel comforted and at peace
yet its dark and makes you feel alone.
It consumes your thoughts.
It has it's own intentions that you may never know,
it's mysterious and ever changing as it thuds on your rooftop so that all you can hear is its presence then within seconds disappears and when you look outside it's only evidence of existence is the puddle running down the road to disappear like it was never even there.

It is the feeling of love.
You can't control when it comes
you never know how long it will stay but ******* it it's all you can think about when it's here.

But this isn't my first storm.
While I should be dancing in the rain I never forgot the burn of the last storm.
The lightening struck and everything that was, never was the same.
Within a blink of my eye the rain was gone and I spent years trying to recover from the damage it left.
It ruined the curiosity of what each storm entails.
Instead of dancing in the rain I hide from it.
It's hard to let something overtake you when you don't know it's intentions or how long it will stay.

But you can't avoid rain forever.
It feeds and rejuvenates the world.
It gives life to the plants and makes them oh so vivid and colorful.
It washes away the past and gives light to the sun.
I just need to find the storm that always stays with me for the return of the sun.

I lie here in the dark
Your inches away from my face
Its 1AM  in this park
and were staring into space
In the darkness there is calm
You can hear the hum of the earth
The trace of your fingertips on my palm
Its an endless cycle of death and rebirth
We breathe in the silence of the night
The crisp air rejuvenates our hearts
We stare at the flickering street light

Left to die, unable to survive on your own
a child thinks this. It is the greatest fear
Doesn't last long, but makes a big impression
A bigger fear than being abused
But today, it means, can mean, freedom
from abuse mistreatment, your insults
their disdain, being his personal punching bag
the scapegoat for his broiling troubles
your neglect, and preference for under age girls
Abandonment is a respite
a place of renewal
a silence that terrifies, but then rejuvenates
as I can think on my own
let my thoughts be my guide, for a better me

Fire burning in my heart;
Open up, let out the sparks.
Fire rushing through my veins;
Set the whole world ablaze.
Few around because they've learned--
Get too close, you'll get burned.
Fire rushes across the plain.
Forest home goes down in flames.

But I never did mind a little heat.
It keeps me up and on my feet.
Rejuvenates the earth it's scorched--
So light me up, I'll be the torch.
They're so afraid of the destruction,
For bridges burn when there's combustion.
But something I have come to know:
The best bridges are made of stone.

I've wrote enough about your eyes,
and how they mesmerize me,
how I try to look into them and read
everything you hold inside you
and how I never could.

I've wrote enough about your lips,
and how they whisper,
beautiful things,
how I need them close to mine
so they could cure my every illness.

I've wrote enough about your skin,
which I believed was carved by Angels
a perfect imperfection, (sort of)
the way you glow against the sun,
rejuvenates every part of me.

Now let me write about your freckles,
little stars they are,
how they make the universe feel so
adorable, beautiful..
making me find my universe in you.

Now let me write about your scars,
which have become every part of you.
But, they rhyme with me now,
they're a part of me now,
that's why I love them too.

Now let me write about your veins,
running down your neck
visible through your fading skin,
I could kiss you, and feel your heart beating
but I'll be the one who'll feel alive.

Let me write all about you,
Your chubby toes, your sleepy voice,
Your breathing, your gaze,
Everything I can touch, everything I can feel.
Let me try..
every detail, every tiny bit
Let me write..
All about you
yet still find
that endless poem,
incomplete.

My thoughts are weary travelers
Waiting for the safe haven
Of the blank pages
Where ink rejuvenates them to life
As memoirs for other travelers