Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Àŧùl Sep 22
She had introduced me,
To Hello Poetry.

'Twas a day like none other,
I reached Amritsar for her.

Accompanying me that day,
Was my kind physiotherapist.

Yes, the very same physiotherapist,
Who I dubbed physio the ******,
For the pain used to be unbearable.

But no,
'Twas necessary for my betterment.

Coming back to Amritsar,
She was pleasantly surprised.

For she thought I'd play a prank,
Just like she had played one on me.

Giving me a false hope that she'll come,
Anyway, I went to her home.

I wished her on her birthday,
My physiotherapist went away.

I tuned her guitar as E A D G B E,
Eddy Ate Dynamite, Good Bye Eddy.

They laughed, her friends.
For who eats a Dynamite!

Well, that's the standard tuning,
Now I played a few songs.

Her friends were impressed,
Of me, she was proud.

I presented her a pen drive,
A Gaņesha adorned drive.

She loved it,
And thanked me.

After the party, she insisted that I stay,
I slept beside her father.

She shook me awake, and I was like,
"Who are you," she put her hand.

"Shh, it's me," she whispered,
I understood and relaxed.

She kissed me again at 3:30 a.m. on 24th,
This time I was awake and gave her my warmth.

Later, before sunrise, I went to the Station,
I had united with my Physio The ******.

I hugged her for one last time,
And we climbed on the train back.

Now nothing remains but memories,
Bitter ones to be more precise.

She cheated on me in 2015-16,
When I couldn't go to Amritsar.

My former best friend capitalised,
The ******* induced the breakup.

But that girl, who got so easily seduced,
She Wasn't Sad — Droņa Wept Like Kids.

And the immortal Droņa died,
Unable to trust anyone again.
My HP Poem #1997
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jul 2017
Ethics of war were not followed,
Neither by the army under me,
Nor by that wise commander,
I shattered all the regulations,
Especially the ones formulated by me.
I, Đroņa, was a war criminal,
They had him surrounded when
I commanded Abhimanyu's killing.
Classical rules of war idealized,
Don't attack the outnumbered enemy,
I helped form the Chakravyuha,
A forbidden aggressive war formation,
'Abhimanyu' was killed by many,
He was so outnumbered by our army,
Đraupađi, his mother, cursed me,
She cursed I'll die lamenting my son.
Đroņa was an immortal who died willing so after he misinterpreted that his son Aśvatthama had died when an elephant named Aśvatthama died but Krishna only exclaimed "Aśvatthama has been killed!"

My HP Poem #1633
©Atul Kaushal
Kripi May 2015
You came to my life, Drona,
And so started metamorphosis.

You came to my life, Kripi,
And so came the stability.

Oh you brought about the changes sweetly,
I rediscovered a new person in me, Drona.

Just like you have brought tranquility,
I have known what's actual peace, Kripi.

I wish you and only you in my dreams,
Come and save me from myself, Drona.

These nightmares and visions are done plaguing you,
Now let me plant my sweet dreams & thoughts in you, Kripi.

**Together we will scale new peaks and cover new skies oh lover,
This sweet dream we are living is far from getting yet over.
Our third collaboration poem together

Read Drona's copy of this poem at:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1200692/nothing-can-do-us-apart-a-kripi-drona-collaboration/

— The End —