i am not a poet
i am a word enthusiast

Is she happy?
I can't tell
Maybe it's because
She always smiles

A face of sarcasm
A twinge of laughter
Her words are soft
With screams and shouts

Her height is debatable
Her character is not
Her liveliness contrasts
With nothing at all

Her hair does not change
But when it does it shocks
Everyone around her
Laughs in flocks

Though sometimes she annoys
She always comes back
Though some may disagree
She's still my friend.

:)

Conflagration rages
through the neuron forest;
in the end were lies,
deceived by honesty.

The first to flee
were all the beasts,
while the humane
remained behind
to burn up in a trace
of sapience.

Once a baby Sky wanders in search of,
True love and peace in the universe.
‘
Spends many days and nights,
But does not succeed in his mission.

Suddenly he impinges against a dark Cloud,
Looking very dreadful like a monster.

Dark Cloud traps him into his clutches,
And gloats over an innocent baby Sky.

Terrified Sky, cries, yelps, shouts,
But finds no one to help him.

To release himself from clutches of Cloud,
Made every attempt but all in vain.

But had learned never to give up,
And struggles to keep his hopes alive.

Recalls the magic spells of his mother,
Perseverance, patience and passion.

Realizing his energy and mightiness,
Reaches at the zenith of his strength.

Whoops and roars on the monster,
As if Titanic were collided with an Iceberg.

Releases himself from clutches of monster,
Enthusiasm makes him win invincible battle.

Flies away to start next stage of his journey,
Exploring again love and peace in the universe.

Poet daubed the corporal on the wings of carney
Wanderer dilettante soul lusted au wild routes
Counted each the millimiles covered
Upside , unstrained , Unflaggingly.
Yon the valleys , epitome meadows and Hillsides
Beated around the alcoves amok
Ridges passed the marooned trails
Agape the flinged self flew spirited madrigals
Slowly rooted the tints into wilderness
True entity got superimposed to sylvan instincts
The obsolute shadow rigged the shooner
By dimension lengthier the time but shorter by grace
Grazed through and some toxic airs exhaled then pulled
Blinked all the roof to rugs
Remembrance of concrete boxes and intimate sidekicks
Cheap conflict wins to hit the ring
If body wins wanderlust looses thereby path ends
Simultaneous call by consciousness and objection by eternal shadow
Only the body grazed the maps with pointers
Though insatiably leveed
Kept retention the coursing shadow
Yet remained damp , savaged the sylvan traits
Life was near but the abstainer failed
Wilderness abysm rejected the unfortunate physique
There appeared
Scorched canopies along wilted flora
Container flogged the shadow to a stultifying death
Physique deceived self the core truth
Existence thereafter without knowing the chance with eterna
Several followed the imperishable conflict trail
Roll of honour diminished by fourth dimension
Marked victories of featherbrains over pappus chambers
Only few sticked upto xanthic flowers
Raise up , were the victories thristled down?
Many knocked and still keep on knocking incarnations
Fine array of fossilized saturnine inhibitions
Callous attritions over altruism of succinct shadows
Flip sorties pariance spurts
"The stanchion to revet my sky" voiced the shadow

There is a voice that shouts to my heart,
"You won't succeed; just don't start."
But there is whisper from my brain,
"If you fail you get a chance to start again."
Both these voices are mine
It's true.
Believe in yourself;
your greatest enemy is you.

to begin is always scary
difficult and beyond grasp
to stay stagnant however;
dreaming the same dream
and not doing anything
afraid of change and discoveries
unwilling to fly
I guess it is more frightening
Than taking the first steps
That would lead you
To wherever
As long as it is not the same place.

"Temper your enthusiasm,"
She said,
"The extremes of your reactions;
You should have
A more conventional frame
On which to hang
Your unconventionality."
"Don't push people,"
She said,
"You make yourself vulnerable."

She told me not to rhapsodise,
That it would be difficult,
Impossible, perhaps,
For me to harness my dynamism.
The tone of my work,
She said,
Is often a little dubious.
She said
She thought
That there was something wrong.

That I'm hiding
Some sad
Dark secret from the world.
"Temper your enthusiasm,"
She said,
"The extremes of your reactions;
You should have
A more conventional frame
On which to hang
Your unconventionality."