Whenever I see a dangerous demon
I feel scared. I cry as if onion
Is being peeled or cut in union.
Same feeling in the examination
Of Maths I feel as issue in nation.
The very word takes me to the station
From where no train goes to destination.
Finger of Maths – a giant accusation
Whopping, gigantic, big adulation.  
Maths – My God! A most dreadful lion;
I am afraid of it and its companion.
Let it be Savani or Goenka or Ryan
Or let be Divine or DPS, Maths demon
Will never spare us in relaxation.
The only way I feel is Meditation
Which’ll save thee from assassination.
So mediate well and study notion
Without having any denomination.
To save me from austere acidification
I wrote Monorhyme for affirmation.
I assume my readers’s ready opinion
Will not differ with my solution.

Among all cousins of mine in a lane
There is he very profound, and plain.
Strong though shows none in skein;
Always ready for hospitability in rain
Without thinking for self even if slain.
Had a son and a daughter – both reign
His kingdom and never wished to deign.
My Bhabhi is a great soul – decent again;
Never spoke a bad word – is a gem in pane.
All the family tries to help others in arraign.
Thanks to god for such sweet family to attain.

It is the place of ill’s mausoleum;
This book is really an imperium
Which teaches everyone decorum.
A true product of petroleum –
To fire out fallacy and presidium
And produces highest order decorum.
A place of mental gymnasium:
Highly creative, productive ***
Where ill shaded in mausoleum,
The place with lot of decorum,
Cannot be found in millennium.
It is the place of ill’s mausoleum.

Deshbhushan – my father’s name given on
Entrance of a temple where grandma in yawn
Sitting with twins – my father and uncle yon
Hilltop – crying were both – grandpa gone.
Buying some milk when came on lawn
He saw our saint named Shantisagar icon
Underneath a sacred tree praying at dawn.
She worried at weeping of children and bon.
Hurriedly came grandpa with water from Huron
Aiming to quench thirst of three since eon.
Now Shantisagarji Maharaj did withdrawn –
Jain munies never change in meditation
Any position – but for them came in agitation
Informing grandma the names in clarion,
None than Deshanbhushan and Kulbhushan;
Since then my uncle and father are don.

Life is full of fun;
But without batten
Of values beacon
Life will be just a ***.
If you want in life won
Approx values bidden –
Not money, values one
Can lead to success done.
Difference between bison
And you is not a billion
But values based action.
It sets your steps begun
From beast to a good human.

Sanmati, my messenger, is no more a milksop.
Ardent though is she never will yawp.
Nagging sometimes though in some shop.
Merrily walks in crowd alone till atop.
Amends her needs; tackles one with strop-
Till he agrees with her, else does lop.
In always high spirits, ready to swop
Joy or sorrow equally treats like gumdrop.
Angry if treats us like a bellhop
In our home or out, but never plop
Nor cry in public to show us flop.

Dear readers, Reader’s Digests denote
That readers read and clearly emote
Their feelings out and try to devote
Their money and time for this rowboat.
The mind that reads it will surely vote
Their success that is sure to roam afloat.
Let be a doctor, teacher or student tote
This is a boon that always does quote
Famous personalities known or remote;
Ideas or thinking or reports wrote
Jokes, humour or news or misquote
All are fitted in just a little groat.
Unlike Narada, RD does connote:
Little price, high yields in a mote.
The only book with a lot of footnote,
This will save us from being a dote.
Lastly, it is like Gita a good keynote.

The only big struggle
Is for money bristle
Finishes like a bubble
When we see Sin puddle.
Is this so thing doddle?
Actually it is a circle
Vicious; none to fiddle
As it makes one nuzzle
In their cozy castle.
Earlier there was raffle;
Making us quite subtle
In all innate our struggle.
Money’s single ripple
Can conscience straddle
Into treachery subtle.
So dear when see boodle
Don’t forget to whistle;
And flee away with chuckle
From this vicious girdle.

Earth runs by mural
Grows on soil alluvial
Is more communal
And less commercial.
But all work illegal,
Love for such is official
All equal tasks disloyal.
But at Money’s arrival
They treat us special;
Bliss and bless us total
We are never trivial
Comes position initial.
Money is more disloyal
Will leave you at trial.
If one is in life’s trial
Success of Money final.
If you want to be ideal;
No value only Money vital.
Agree or not Money is real
As with it we are acquittal.
Don’t be completely asocial
No practice of immoral,
It leads to God’s dismissal;
As we are never trivial
Comes position initial.

My life is my wife who my anger jell
By her loving words; her actions yell
All her work which she did for swell
My life – which without her is a well.
She is the one who does always blare
Whenever I am wrong; and does snare
All my guilt and lies that may stare
At my back for my downfall and bare.
I am developed by my skills and flair
By her and her talents which she share
Always with me. She gave my life bare
A sweet loving daughter; with me dare
She to challenge the world’s despair.
With the advent of my sweet daughter
Whole my life changed into pleasure.
This was a gift from my wife for sure
Who promised me to live forever.
Anguish, Despair and Gloom me ensnare
Change them all directly into air.
Hence I always say: Without wife
There is no way to live a life.

Sanmati is my angle’s name. She never
Analyses her problem without sure.
Neither does she answer anyone directly;
Mediates before speaking desperately.
Amit is her uncle’s name. Smart is he
Though teaches him how to be.
I am proud father and Kavita her mother.
Savita is her grandmother who bother
Always for her betterment. We all
Negotiate for her better stroll
Knowing how the future world be.
Either ways are taught to be free
Truth and honesty being you see.
“Jai Jinendra” is the first word
All we speak before tea or curd.
I am sure her grandpa Deshbhushan
Needs her help when he in tension.

Browse through the history
Money is increasing industry;
Let it be business or peasantry
It is omnipresent mystery.
Everyone for it see palmistry
Ready for money do idolatry.
Money make man go to optometry;
It has capacity to test sociometry;
As without it there is no entry.
With main, welcome complimentary
For development of our poultry
In which we live and do sentry
Our future which acts on ministry.
Browse through the history
Money is increasing industry.

A beautiful and sweet girdle
Collecting it is quite doddle
Counting is like a hot fettle
Touching it is a bit brittle.
Let be the Geeta or the Bible,
Let be grapes or pineapple,
Importance of money able
Is not be explainable.
Money can make a castle
Or buy handful cattle
Or can earn a good title
Or can bound to peddle.
All is easily possible
By the mint boodle.
Carry them in a duffle
Or in a golden vessel,
It is going to be a rouble.
So friends value a boodle
And crave for it to chuckle
The taunts of world little.

So precious, so dear, so exquisite grin
All of us could have is Sanmati jinn.
Notable for her academic success in
Many spheres of schooling life she win
Almighty’s blessings – parents too – akin.
Talking debauched of her is for me like sin.
Toughly soft, visionary blind, free chagrin –
Is she though a fortune maker for father in
Job and all prosperity of life as kingpin.
All I need is she be best in discipline,
In chastisement, regulation and tailspin.
Notable for us is Sanmati – a stickpin.

Wishing to be a grad
Now though a lad,
Can be sweet as Chad.
Many get to write a pad
Exams and become sad;
Results make them monad
Make loose courage had –
Isn’t this too bad?
So be a brave lad.
There will some tad;
World differ like dad,
You always try to add
Vigour to your try; be mad.

Books are resource for them who deplore
Idiocy, silliness, folly. Where absurdities encore
There books no place get and can’t decor
Them into ideal from idle I am cocksure.
Saraswati lives in them to downpour
Knowledge, Gen and Expertise’s store.
Foolish loath them, wiser lavish more.
Now changing form - pulp earlier at core
Now e-form in mobile showing its ****.
Now or then, book is a book for sure –
Without we are incomplete. Oh Thor!
Burst on those idles and cloak wore
Of giant to teach leave their amour.
So friends, leave thy laziness at floor
And join me in my swelling score.

One who has anger kept
Has never ever he leapt
Beyond boundary and wept
For his misfortune slept
Because of his wrong concept
As Ashwathama’s concept.
Nobody here is ever unwept;
So don’t always backswept
By certain emotions inept
Like Anger and have percept
Which lead you be a nympholept.
Be the person who has crept
For perfection – void of windswept –
Attained salvation and stepped
Into ever-increasing peace precept.
Those who avoided it adept
To tell that peace in mind unswept;
Anger, A Vice not Virtue except
For those who has clear concept.

Books are our friends hey!
Don’t throw them away;
Keeping ourselves array
So that we be at assay
With books positively lay
For scrutiny at a ballet.
They – best pals – do say:
Read lavishly and do play,
Or in bright sunshine splay.
All healthy tips; no betray,
No deceiving, no astray.
Hence be ready to little pay
And be free as that jay
And soar up in the airway
Knowledge and wisdom to flay.

Books are for imprudent tonicity
Imprudent – not understand totality
Of books – suffer of turgidity:
The poet are blessed of tranquility
Of books as they work in torridity
Where books are the only security.
They take away our minority.
If you believe in their agility
You will experience seniority.
Have faith in their mobility.
Irresponsible insult reality -
Reality is book’s relativity
In our life and its polarity:
Joining two poles – absurdity
With intelligence and precocity.
Hence friends! Value the ministry
Who control the Money’s orogeny.

Book is the only stop
Where all halt from top
For knowledge or whop
Of all sort and thoughts slop.
Though it clear drains prop
For teacher or for carhop.
They are vaguely clear lop
Whenever read makes plop
Of cognition to take you atop.
This is for money a great swop.
These are sooth in great strop
For those who keep at doorstop.
What a pleasure they are as sop.
I loved to have ignorance to mop.

Without values life may whop
And you cannot even yawp
As the destiny may strop
A valueless person nonstop.
If your values from life lop
It is zilch and make you fop –
Fop – a man with concern atop
For dress than character prop.
Without values we may drop;
Cannot stand or walk; sit or hop.
So respect values that clearly mop
All bad, illicit or forbidden crop.

Books are our friends hey!
Don’t throw them away;
Keeping ourselves array
So that we be at assay
With books positively lay
For scrutiny at a ballet.
They – best pals – do say:
Read lavishly and do play,
Or in bright sunshine splay.
All healthy tips; no betray,
No deceiving, no astray.
Hence be ready to little pay
And be free as that jay
And soar up in the airway
Knowledge and wisdom to flay.

Life’s all phases are boredom
Except the youth – the handsome.
The only stage full of chasm
Is none than of Soldier’s column.
Here we are full of sound strum
Which separate us from ****.
Our experience is a bit bantam;
Diminutive are we as an atom;
Teensy proficiency takes us bottom;
But Youth is centre of centrum
Centrum – the stages of life’s sum.
Hence, live ye youth with drum
And play a happy music album.
Youth is overwhelmingly awesome
So don’t be like a lamb dumb;
To live like a lively bird, come.

A way to the outer world from inside
Is the window – an agent certified;
Gloomy, depressed, woeful world
Is made happy with a small riptide
Which comes to the sight of bide
Who live in and try to bestride
Outer world keeping the brain aside;
The brain – major cause of confide,
Also makes us happy being gratified,
Takes out from it to a mountainside
Where nature is abound with pride
And everyone rests and is pacified.
Window is our comrade who crucified
Agony, anguish, torture and toxified.

Books are indeed work insatiably
For those who think hourly;
Hours are not fit in humorously
In the timeframe of honoree
Of books as they work icily
In the warm world’s ivory.
Books really slog matchlessly
For those who value immensely.
Hence friends! Value the ministry
Who control the Money’s mockery.
Books are indeed work insatiably
For those who think hourly.

A delicate, gentle, subtle line
Between love and anger mine
Is capable of making me bovine.
Though, we human, better than kine
Keep Anger without any deadline;
Swank like proud, angry feline
To clutch and hurt anyone divine.
Are we not better than equine
Of Swift? Or different by hairline
From Yahoos of Jonathan’s line?
Leave anger, be a Guideline.
Be happy and brightly shine
Over the mast or sea at nine.
Sea: big, vast  – though – brine,
No use for us, can’t replace vine.
Hence leave anger and whine
Like a free butterfly divine.

The one who is associated directly
Is Him, who leaves us sad barely.
He who keeps us healthy and beefy
Smart and needy, fat and bony.
Go, bow, pray, and implore She –
Goddess Padmavati, in an alley.
He knows everybody, four or three,
The one who crave or yearn fully.
Crave for better, better you ski;
Pray for others, others help thee.
Use simple formula, though blurry,
Of Karma, and lo triumph at belly.
Babbling alone of no use you see.

Another romantic poet for whom gusto
Of poem was great and alluring, ergo
He would a novel write and praise Nero.
His solitary poem was a masterpiece forgo
The old ideas and forms of poets did gizmo.
Bridge  and Cuckoo poems have inflow
Of creativity and rhetorical devices lo.
Can anyone join him in his maestro?
No! None can! Even searching in Oslo.
Hence, friends, give him courtesy low
And try to achieve views getting below.

A romantic poet whose great talents grow.
More successful have more numbers of foe.
Lucy Poems and Tintern Abbey in mind deep go.
When he wrote Lyrical Ballads he did glow
And makes the world better residing, though
Not happy with others, kept listening echo
Of the nature and wrote many verses ago.
Through his poem I wandered like a cloud slow;
He is the best romantic poet I think by a quo.
Missing his poems even by chance is a woe.
Alas! How badly I miss his Lucy Poem I know.
So once again, ready to relish his poems stow
With joy, delight, elation and ecstasy lido.

Among all crimes you adore
Anger is of the first cocksure!
It is so vice that it does shower
On the weaker whom they abhor.
When one encompasses, one bore
A deep profound peril in his adore.
I do, but hate me why not I deplore
Anger – my timidity – shown ashore.
The best place for it be boudoir
Where no one feels no gore.
Anger, for me, just like a claymore
Which hurts none but us before
We realize or understand or lore.

A born jealous, envious and bitter bear,
Always felt sad on other billionaire –
Let it be a friend or foe, he not spare
Anyone from criticism hid or bare.
Grunting against his Deity to repair
His destiny which denied to prepare
Him for future fight fair or unfair.
Hindi was domain. Philosophical air
Could not give him any debonair.
Private or public, beggar or millionaire
Nobody liked him for his crooked nature.
I helped in his need – wood or metal ware
Which he responded unwillingly there.
But I still did not leave him I swear.
Fox is this jealous mind with scare
Of other’s success as his is rare.
Still wish he be successful hare
Who nibs green grass with glare.