No pen has sufficient ink
To dig into the mother;
No writer has enough brains
To attribute upon her the beauty
Of words,
No painter is able to sketch
The mother with his immature hand,
She is a silent power:
She is the brightest of the brights;
The strongest of the strengths ;
She is the softest of the softs;
The most beautiful of the beauties;
She is the bravest of the braves;
The mother is the life of the lives;
The stillness of the innate objects;
We are nothing without having her;
She is the kernel of ALL lives & things.

Life is as tear drops of the morning.
When the sun throws its warm kiss
Away to the drop,
It becomes an invisible entity.

One day I took some water from a pond and
Let them go with a nearby river:
The river accepted them to
Their long journey together;
Some water I drew from the well and
Drove them to the same river:
The river accepted again without resistance.
After that I filled a bucket with rainwater and
Released them into the river:
The river agreed to move together.
The river welcomed all sincerely-
She never laid her hands on the scales of
Caste but spread the stream of love in her veins
And arteries all around.

Ujjal Mandal, 14 Feb🌹

Rose paints the shadow of love with its scarlet petals,
Rose showers the heart of love with its green odour,
Rose fills the fissure of broken love with its dense blood. Oh my love, come to me and let's bloom together
Like a rose!

Ujjal Mandal, India

On a spring morning the sweet
smell of newly clad blossoms
coated with dew and honey,
I saw a maiden tugging
a ivory comb through her long
and smooth tresses
beneath a tree;
I approached to her.
Oh, she was more florescent than the moon
of the night,
Flowers stoop to her beauty,
such beauty I never have seen nor
I felt before,
I agree to gobble up the poison
of her charm and daintiness.

Ujjal Mandal, India

He taught us about enlightenment
How to reach in fulfilment.
He taught us about tolerance
Who discovered its presence.
He warned us of what might happen
If we fall under greed, ignorance and aversion.
If these three fires are not quenched
The cycle of rebirth won't attain.

We are characters of different
Stories,
The earth is the stage colored
With tears or gold,
We have been made.
This is a kind of book
And the author of its is the Almighty

With a highly volatile temper
A person may lose the beauty of mind
Just like a sweet flower in the winter.

With all sweetness a flower blooms,
But the warmth of the sun
Does burn the soft petals.
The air does fade its aroma away.
The water hits the soft petals
With a mighty splash
Time and again.
But
If the beauty of mind blooms once,
Neither the sun, the air nor the water can
Harm it.
With the beauty of flower,
I can win the beauty of mind.
But with the beauty of mind,
I can win the grace of God.

Life is incomplete
If it is defined as:
'Absent of poetry, and lack
Of feelings'.

A dry leave reminds us the past
glory of the tree,
in the same way a lonely heart
tells us the days of love full
of joy and happiness in the past.

Ujjal Mandal, India🌹

If you want to talk
With your soul, you've to
Meditate. For meditation is
The only language
Of serenity and tranquility.

All say the NIGHT is nothing but you
After repellent darkness a day new,
The firefly that takes the PRIDE
Is none other than luminescent light,
A bud gets its fulfilment lonely
In darkness is YOU(mother) the latency,
The sun has got the ball of fire
From YOU, O SWEET MOTHER!
The cloud is devoid of guile white
Sailing in the space so bright:
Whiteness of impeccability is yours
The golden wings that the sun endures,
The moon is smiling among the stars
Glowing like thousand of night flowers.

O Mother: the beauty of the beauties
Give me endless strength as the bliss
To ruin the weaknesses inside me.
The ointment to the grave wounds
Is MOTHER KALI the power no bounds
I bend my HEAD down to thee!

Ujjal Mandal, India


A man wading through blood
holding the plant of enfranchisement.
It is none but an Indian fighter and
we are all overshadowed by
the tree unchained today.

Ujjal Mandal, India

I dream in the night
And I seek its mystery
In the morning holding
The rays of dream.

Ujjal Mandal, India


When a little bird comes out
From eggs shell, the snake
Is ready to place the new born bird
In its womb.
The neighbors
And the parents cry aloud
For help. We all can hear their
Pathetic words but we pass them by
As though nothing happened.

A slice of smile
Can cast thousand lights
Over the shadow
Of snow-clad pain,
The budding blossom of
Happiness is the smile
Where heart and mind
Compose the songs together
Sitting under the flowering tree and
If the song of beauty is written once,
Smile is everywhere!
Happiness is everywhere!

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Ujjal Mandal, India

We are nothing to the world
But the world to the beloved ones
As a drop of water is a few in the sea
But nectar to the thirsty bird.