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Vikas Bhaneriya May 2017
Scratch Means Nothing

Nothing Nothing Nothing

Or just The Blank,

Blank With no Idea

Of Doing Next.


People like To start

From that Scratch.


Scratch has its Own Shape.

Shape With Customising Property

like, Shrink, Shear or stretch.

Diminish, Dissolve or Deattach.

Scratch has No size

No Limit Or constraints.

It has No beginning Or ends.

And Things get Best,

When they start from scratch.


Get Yourself Set.

Let The World Get.


We won't trace The Old Track.

will Bear the Break.

And ,

Will Start From Scratch.
Vikas Bhaneriya May 2017
Familiar with the way to my village

I start my bike from my home

Sometime beg to go there

And many time escape without asking mum

Every turn, temple and tree

make me fly fear free.

Every plant, poster and pole

touches my senses, sprite, my soul.

As I approach my village

I feel pure, please and privilege.

But, the blur scenario of people's situation

is because of superstition and lack of education.

Every action of the people

denotes "what they think "

Every eye of the man

speaks they are addicted to drink.

Three things bring the battle

our history has the sign.

Same flows the blood here

Wealth, Women and Wine

These *****, unhygienic atmosphere

never suits to my prime.

Dad never lets me commit mistakes

As a mistake is a mistake once, next time its crime

I sense the air of my place

I sense the people of my kind.

kids playing on roads, ladies cooking on the courtyard,

I sense the mud, I am bind.

I love visiting my village

To feel me, my origin, my exist.

Something connects me to there

Maybe the blood in me, that persist.
This poem was written in 2014. I just tried to describe my village in this poem.
There may be lots of mistakes in the poem, please do comment if you find any.
Vikas Bhaneriya May 2017
She is like flowers

Or flowers are like her ?.

Curved lips of her

Or the rose petals.

Waving hair beneath her ear

Or the butterfly trying to settle.

Shining eyes of her

Or the waterdrop that scatters.

Sparking Earings

Or Sun's fragment that glitters.

She is like flowers

Or Flowers are like her ?.

My dreams break

As the Sun rises up from ground

I Meet to her

Or her thoughts, that surround.

Are they morning birds

Or her anklet that sounds

Has the spring arrived

Or she is somewhere around.

She is like flowers

Or flowers are like her?
I do lots of spelling mistakes, Please comment if you find any.
Vikas Bhaneriya May 2017
Right left, left or Right

I toss myself every night

Trying to fire my thoughts

and bury my mind

But the less I lose you more I find.

Pressing with pillow

My face and Ears.

So, sound of nothing

I would hear.


Covering my eyes

With the palm.

So, as to make my

Unconscious curiosity calm.

I shrink myself

Folding my legs.

Afraid of something

That my dream makes.

A Dream Like

Someone chasing me

Armed with a sword.

And I am screaming helpless

Praying to the Lord.

Or like

A ****, a jolt

On my happy heart.

Or something separating

you and me Apart.
There may be lots of mistakes in this poem, please comment if you find any.
Vikas Bhaneriya May 2017
Her unbind hair.

Which she never cares of,

When rounds or roll over her face

makes her more beautiful and elegant.

She never cares for her hair

And let them fly,

without folding and clipping.

The kid in her

has never grown up.

She still plays

like a girl of 5 or 7.

When she laughs and smiles,

Her eyes gets enlarge and attractive

N her cheek takes '(' ')' shape with

her pink lips in between.

She gets ill very soon

which then seems on her innocent face

And makes her even

more beautiful

Makeup fades her

natural beauty,

And even with ordinary dress

she looks like a queen.

She dances occasionally

that too on ''Justin Bieber's song''

unlike other girls she never prefer

to dance on an item song.

I have heard

''She never proud of what she is''

and lives as simple as she can.

Her attitude and behaviour

promotes her intelligence.

As per I think,

Her face is her Dad's part,

Height too repeats her Dad.

She is getting young.

She is getting beautiful.

And attracting the eyes of many.

This poem was written in the year 2013 for my beloved Wife-to-be.

— The End —