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Neha agrawal Mar 2018
Yaha Maa beti behan patni parivaar ki Shaan h...
Ha ye Mera ni hamara hindustan h..
Yaha Har muskilo ka Hal nhii...
Par Har javaab Geeta, Bibal, aur kuraan h...
Yaha beta aur beti dono parivaar ki Shaan h..
Ha ye Mera nhii hamara hindustan h..
Jahan Har muskilo mein apno ka saath h..
Bacho k sir par Maa baap ka haath h..
Yaha beta Maa ki aur beti Papa ki jaan h..
Ha ye Mera nii hamara hindustan h..
Jahan alag alag bhashao ka Mel h hockey yaha ka priy khel h
.
Jhagde bahot h par usse jyada pyaar h...
Daat padne se jo bachae vo yaaro ka yaar h....
Yahan alag alag desho ki mithas aur sanskaar h...
Yahan alag alag desho ka rang punjab kashmir aur rajasthan h...
Ha hme garv h is desh par qki ye Mera nhii hamara hindustan h....
उनको पूजु है मन अब मेरा हो रहा
जन्म दाता है जो , जन्म जिसने दिया
है वो नर,
पर नारायण सा लगने लगे ।
सोये हम इसलिए जब वो जगने लगे ।
माँ पिता के कई रूप अंजान है
मै पुजारी हूँ
वो मेरे भगवान है ,
इस जहाँमे कोई पुष्प
है ही कहाँ ,
इनके चरणों में जो लाके
मै डाल दू ॥

मेरा तन मन समर्पण
मेरी आतमा,
जिसको चाहो चूनों अब
मेरी भोली माँ

मेरे पापा ,
मै बालक
कहूँ और क्या ??
रक्त हर तरल
आपके पग धरू ॥

जन्म दाता,
ये भी भेट कम लग रहा
पर मै हूँ बालक तुम्हारा
करू और क्या ??

तुझ को पूजु है मन, अब मेरा हो रहा
जन्म दाता है तु, जन्म तुमने दिया ॥

सूरज कुमर सिहँ

दिनांक – 21 – 07 - 2015
Sharina Saad May 2013
I promised my PATI.. a chapati for breakfast
A plain chapati I passionately learnt to make
Oh.. What an impression I will make...
A marvelous chapati and a glass of milk
I will prepare with all my heart..
A SUPERB Chapati from a BIWI to her PATI..

I am a BAHU.... an obedient BAHU...to my SASU MAA..
Ohh and she will brag ... I am the best BAHU...
The best in India if not in the world...
I am so proud... What a chapati maker I am..
A super BIWI.. an obedient BAHU...
I will make superbb.... chapati...
The whole India will dance with me...
Dance in my kitchen with me....

But my SASUR requested for a Masala Chapati
And he wanted it for lunch... today
for dinner tonight and for breakfast tomorrow..
An obedient Bahu... I am.... A super Biwi I am..
Ohhh ...I am no MASALA CHAPATI maker...
Plain chapati... plain chapati thats what i learnt...

I searched for a recipe... MASALA CHAPATi...
Butter,Chilli and coriander powder..
I cook them all together...
Cumin seeds, vegetablas and GARAM MASALA..
Ohh la la la.... here goes the chapati masala...

Oppss... when everything is set..
My SALI comes to check....
AMMI JI.... AMMI JI... she called..
My MASALA CHAPATI is about to ready...

My pati.. my sasu maa... my sasur and my Sali
We all sit together..
My cooking smells good..
When MASALA CHAPATI is served....
They all smile and look at me...
WHAT?? IS THIS MASALA CHAPATI????
And we all dance on the kitchen floor....
To my family in India....
Ki haar gaya tan tan man  puakar kar tumhe
Kitne ekaki hai pyar kar tumhe
Ki jis pal haldi lepi hogi tan par maa
Jis pal sakhio ne saupi hongi saugaate
Dholak ki thappo me , ghunghroo ki runjhoon me
Ghulkar faili hongi ghar me pyari baate
Uss pal meethi si dhun , sune kamre me sun
Roye man chausar par haar kar tumhe
Kitne ekaki hai pyar kar tumhe .....
Haar gya tan man ..........re haar gya re..

Kal tak jo humko , tumko milwa deti thi
Un sakhio ke pprashno ne toka to hoga
Saajan ki anjuri par  anjuri kaapi hogi
Meri sudhio ne rasta roka to hoga
Uss pal socha man me aage ab jeevan main
Jee lenge hans kar bisaar kar tumhe
Kitne ekaki hai pyar kar tumhe ...
Haar gaya tan man ....re haar gya re

Kal tak jin geeto ko tum apana kahti thi
Akhbaaro me padhkar kaisa lagta hoga
Saawan ki raato me saajan ki bahoon main
Tan to sota hoga par man jagta hoga
Uss pal ke jeene me aanshu *** lene me
Marte hai man hi man maar kar tumhe
Kitne ekaki hai pyar kar tumhe
Haar gaya tan-man ...re haar gaya re..
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook-https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
Ashna Alee Khan Sep 2016
Kabhe pucha hay apnay app say kay tumnay kitnay waday torhay hein?
kabhe pucha hay apnay app say kay kitnay logouin ka dill tora hay?
kabhe pucha hay apnay app say kay tumnay apne eik nazar say kis kis ko apne he
nazrouin mein gerayya hay?
- nae pucha nah? kese din pucho gay nah tou mrnay ka dill chahy ga, zindage kay
naam say chirnay lago gay.
Kabhe pucha hay kay tum Zindage kay naam per eik beyqaar zindage jee rahay
hou? aur phir kehthy hou ''yaar kya krien zindage he esse hay''. Kabhe Zindagi
ke kitaab ko khol kr tou dekho kya kya rakha hay uiss mein. Zindage bahot he
haseen hay sirf hum masroof hein apne duniya mein wou duniya jis mein kuch
nahe sawaye humaray. Ajj loug dusrouin ke mintein krtay hein kay ''ruk jau''
''na jau'' jb kay mery khayaal mein ye loug bhul chukay hein kay '' jis ko jana hay
uis ko jana hay chahy tum apne jaan kyun na deh dou''. Ajj tou logouin ke
zindage andhere hojaate heh jab koe uinka ''dost'' ya ''yaar'' chor jaye aur wo uis
khuda ko bhool jaatay hein jis nay uis ko usse ''dost'' ya ''yaar'' say milaya tha.
Hum loug tou apnay Khuda ko bhe bhul chukay hein. Wo Khuda jis kay pass
humnay waapis jana hay wo Khuda jis kay bagheir humare koe ukaat nae.
Barhay Unchay gharouin mein reh reh kr apnay app ko Khudha samjhna shuru krdeya hay humnay.
Ess zamaanay mein koe kese ka Dost nae hota barha Dost Dost krtay hou na jab doob rahay hou gay
kudhe dekhna kay sab DOST tamasha dekh rahay hogein aur tum zindage ke tarf aanay ke bher-poor
koshishein kr rahay hou gay, tab apnay app say puchna kay ye wo DOST thay jin kay leye tum apnay
maa-baap say laray? uin kay samnay uncha bolay? sharmindage hoi? Ajj hum itnay ''self-obssessd''
hein kay dusrouin ko dekh kay lagta hay chunte jitni ukaat hay uiss ke. Hum apne he Duniya mein
bahot dur nikal aayein hein, asal duniya say bekhabar, asal dostouin say hum la-taluq ** chukay hein.
Hum ajj apnay app mein he kho chukay hein. Apnay rab ko humnay kho deya. Rab ko kho deya matlab
Sub kuch kho deya  ! tou abb hamaray pass koe raasta hay?
-Haan wou rab 5 martaba bulaata hay tumhein apne taraf, jau uiss ke taraf aur apne ASAL ZINDAGE
ke taraf waapse aou.
Shrivastva MK Jun 2015
Duniya ko janam dene wali maa
Teri mamta kaha kho ***,
insan insan ko mar raha
Aadmi ki niyat haiwan si ** ***,
Roh pare wo bhi
Jisne banaya ye jahan,
Dekh es duniya ki surat usne bhi kaha,
Badal raha insan,
Ab badal raha insan......


Tumhare sikhaye hua raste se
bhatak raha insan,
Lut ke ejjat ek aurat ki
Mita di mamta ki pahchan,
Kar ke dhuli aanchal teri
Badal raha insan,
Ab badal raha insan.......


Kash! na hoti duniya
Na rahta insan,
Bata ke roya "Manish" bhi
Kalyugi insan ki pahchan,
Badal raha insan,
Ab badal raha insan.....
Endless love, Cruelty, Endless Humanity
Gulishta Dec 2017
You made me by your flesh and blood.
You brought me to this world.
You bled for me,you went through immense pain for me.
You fed me the bite out of your mouth.
You dress me up in the fanciest gowns.
You are strict when you need to be.
You are gentle,.when I want you to be.
You are calm in between a chaos.
Your kiss can heal any wound.
Your touch is the best medicine.
Your hugs the warmest of the cocoons.
Your lap,the best bed I've ever slept on.
Your voice itself is my lullaby.
Your arms still the best home.
Your fussing over ,I won't exchange for the world.
You are my UNIVERSE.

You are my best friend. .
    When I need one.
You are my cheerleader. .
    When I have no one.
You are the difference. .
    Between good and bad.
You are the FACE OF THE GOD.

You are my partner in crime.
My bank where every dime is mine.
You are my first school.
You are everything that I wanna be.
You are the strength that no one can beat.
You work every minute of every week.
You stand up for me even when your knees went weak.

You are what every child should have.
You are what we took for granted.
You are the world itself..
You have so many names.
YOU ARE MY MOTHER,
MY AMMI......MY MUMMA.
    AND MY MAA.
A honey bee wished me

Happy Mother's Day

buzzing close to the white lotus gardenia

pinned in my hair

We had all gathered in the

Buddhist Poornachandra listening

to the Thai Monk give an elevating discourse

Monk Tee discussed clinging

as a source of our suffering

And the Buddha did say

"Desire is the cause of all suffering"

He distinguished between the

different types of craving

eloquently revealing a

higher wish which was

the desire to do and spread

goodness and love

I thought about how Bhaktas

cling to Mother God the source

of all nectar and life

"Happy Mother's Day Sai Maa"

I whispered, "You are everything to us"
Abhishek kumar Aug 2018
Na amiro ki basti mein rhta hu
Na hi gareebo ke aashiyane mein
Middle class ka hua
Middle mein rhta hu

Na pahali pankti ki pehali seat pr baithta hu
Na hi aakhar mein khada rhta hu
Middle class ka hu
Middle mein rhta hu

Na croro ka kabaar  hai
Na hi gulabi note hazar hai
Middle class ka hu
Meri jarurate saman hai

Na luxury car hai
Na nhi cycle apni bekar hai
Middle class ka hu
Auto,riksha, paddle chalna
Apne liye aam hai

Na meri girlfriends char hai
Na hi single rhna izzat ka swaal hai
Middle class ka hu
Apne yaar,dost shandaar hai

Na aasman chhuti imarto par likha apna naam hai
Na hi sadak kinare bitati apni shaam hai
Middle class ka hu
In dono ke beech
Kaat leta apni raat hu

Na videsh ghoomnta hu
Nahi sehar se bahar jaana muskil samjhta hu
Middle class ka hu
Apna desh pura ghoom lena bhi bahut samajhata hu

Na sir jhukane wale log hai
Na hi sir jhukane wale hum hai
Middle class ka hu
Sabko gale lagana hi
Apna dharam hai

Na hi ac mein kaam karta hu
Na hi dhoop mein pasina sukhata hu
Middle class ka hu
Pankhe ke niche apna kaam karta hu

Na suraksha karmi apne pass hai
Na hi sarir apna lachar hai
Middle class ka hu
Apni jaan ki raksha apne hath hai

Na chhapan pakwan banate apne maharaj hai
Na hi khaali pet sota apna pariwaar hai
Middle class ka hu
Meri maa ke haath mein hi sara sawaad hai
Benzene May 2021
She 's the  most beautiful woman of  my and your life ,
listen , she's not mine and your wife.
All lover and their stories are nothing
in front of her love which is still expanding .

She always sacrificed her dream for family
still never cried and live happily

She is one who started loving you before your birth,
she is a living angel on earth .

She is the one
who change all your sorrows into fun .
She is always there for you ,
only her love is unconditional and true .

She goes to bed when everyone sleeps
She cares for you when you weep.

You kicked her in her womb
still she taught you how to walk ,
because of her today you are able to bloom.

You made her go through the pain at the time of your birth,
and still she helps you know your worth.

A blessing indeed is being a mother
It is an honor like no other .
Wishing you all a very happy mother's day .
Maa is not a word , It's an emotion , just feel that ...
'First ray of light I saw with my eyes
Face seemed to me the world in size,
Called her Maa when, I don’t know!
Was ready to me, the world to show...

'I don’t remember the tears of pain
Tearful eyes while a child to gain,
Joy rolled down from head to toe!
Was ready to me, the world to show...

'Kept me safe from even a scratch
None must find forever a match,
I call her Maa, I will always call so!
Was ready to me, the world to show...

'Mistakes I have done so many more
You have led me but the right door,
Helped me find the right place to go
Was ready to me, the world to show...

'In my darkest hours to live
You have always hands to give,
You have always Yes, never No...!
Are ready to me, the world to show...

'I am heavenly blessed getting you
As my soul guide always new,
You have much to teach me though...!
Are ready to me, the world to show...

'Hard is the time and long is the way
I am blessed having you still today,
I admit so clearly to you, I owe...!  
Are ready to me, the world to show...
(Slightly changed & concised version of the long poem 'The Mother' composed in the personal diary of Mohammad Anwar Parvez Shishir dedicated to his Mother Nila Nurunnahar on her first tour out of Bangladesh. Strictly, all rights of the published & shared poetries of Mohammad Anwar Parvez Shishir is reserved by himself)
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2017
at this point, i really don't know where to begin, in all earnet;
   this might seem unfathomable, but it's the case...

perhaps i'll begin from the end:
       ć - a shortening of ch -
                            and the case of unimaginative nouns,
say: the noun table, or chair...
       they're dull...
                           inanimate things tend to
have dull indentifications - they're dull nouns,
      they resemble the nature of the thing being named,
they don't move, they don't speak...
        but esp.                       they don't bloom -
and there's no hope for a revival of them...
   that table? that chair? it has no hope in any attempt
to return to its former, original form, i.e. a tree.

            but you already have two perfectly good
examples of a linguistic transgressions, and what's
   truly, nothing more laziness -
           the czech (check) republic...
                     what's the other one?
****... off the top of my head: i can't remember.
  
    we are talking about the second dimension of applied
diacritical marks, aren't we?
   ć     - the acute syllable scalpel is identified
                when the **** of iota enforces itself -
in an e.g. cieć (loosely... a trickle of **** from
                                                  a wound)....
                      what these symbols actually are,
are not necessarily idiosyncrasies, particular to whatever
particular they are designated to...
    look at them as punctuation marks,
             but not between words, instead within words;
sure, the ć example can only be interpreted
                     as sharpening the ch / cz compound...
because single letters are, after all, atomic.
                and there are ways of hiding -
      a č hides the z or the h: depending what
part of europe you're from...
                     but in the west they still know how to
pronounce czech republic... but have a hard time
    pronouncing the car manufacturer's logo:
              škoda - that's sh- / sz-      -koda....
                     that's being ******* rude, you don't
just avoid that sign... what? you think those people put
it up: so that it looks "pretty"?
                     the fact that škoda = szkoda (sh)
    in another langauge, and means oh well is another
matter.

    no, what really got me going to write this piece
begun as a rumour... yet another attack in germany...
football fans, bombs under buses...
         even the sadist in me (if there ever was one)
  thinks real hard about enjoying the amalgam
                        rooted in ethnicity of my nation's
former enemies... i'm really going to cringe on that point;
i cringe at white men dancing the new zealanders'
                                         - haka -
(māori)                            ergo?                      ­háka;
see it's a human decency to put "punctuation" marks
onto words... a bit like putting a kippah in a synagogue...
      so you get to then write:     ha!     ka!
           the phonetic incision in the second syllable
                                   it not necessary;
but hey! they mustered enough ***** to state in
condensed macron form a prolonging:
                             i.e.                        maa'ori.
actually, given the **** of iota, i'd write that as
                                            maa'o'rí -
         like the last letter is throwing something real
akin to a torero's                                    olé!

    what i am lamenting is the indecency of the english
language... in that they don't practice the aesthetic
of diacritical appropriation, and having acquired this
language aged 8, and having synthesised it for, oh 20 odd
years, analysing it has shown me that the english
language is far too peppered with minute idiosyncracies
that are beyond a chance of a diacritical approach being
established... as i already stated,
       czech - that word has no place in the uniform
rules of otherwise english, in matra form true here, true
there, true throroughly
.
                       combine the eastern variant of
the western "sensibility" and all you get is: chech -
                                                             chalk-cheque.
                   you can't apply diacritical indicators to ease
the suffering of dyslexics when timing their syllable
intake... you really hear hardly anything of dyslexia
in poland... maybe because there are clear incisor
                                        "coordinates" in the words?
                      like commas descending from on high?

but as the title indicates, this is but a minor point,
what bugged me today was -
     the east sports birds as emblems of their nationhood
status...
     the west? ******* flowers.

the scots?             a thistle.
   the irish?      a clover.
the english?     a rose.
            the dutch?              a tulip.
   the french?   a ******* lily!

           coming from a people that has an eagle
as its national emblem, i thought:
                         how about we choose a flower for
ourselves, and imitate these former angry colonial *******?
but on an implosive basis, so we bite into the rocks
   and slur out the words:      i'm not moving!

so i asked an older soul...
- given the above examples, what flower could contend
                  to be the naational flower of poland?
- well... there's the malwa (malva - mallow)
                 and there's the dalia (dahlia).

   i actually can remember the scent of a mallow,
the flower as such doesn't smell of anything,
   a bit like a jasmine....
                                              the leaves have the distinct
perfume, just like nettles have the distinct itch
protruding from their stems....
                                  but i was like:
   sure the mallow could be a national emblem of poland...
       but i was like: that doesn't go back to the root
of my curiosity...
                         some nouns sound so much better
in your native tongue...
       i know it's not a flower...
                   but when you're walking in the ancient
heart of your soul, that's a pine forest...
                    and you spot a bush
         and it's a paproć   (ferns!) -
                                i'll choose that as the nation's emblem...
sure, the mallow does have a nostalgic potency
to remember my great-grandmother who survived
           the second world war...
                                      but i kinda like the word
      paproć.... plus, it wouldn't be clever to imitate
western nations, with their....    FLOWER! POWER!
    i really have to make a cryptic joke by now:
   lauren sauthern = leonid brezhnev = gordon brown.
Sahil Sharma Aug 2018
Aaj achanak hi kyu azadi k din hume apne mulk ki itni yaad aayi
Jb kurbaan hue jawan sarhad pe,tb kyu nhi aankho me nami aayi

Zara dil se b izzat kr lo mere yaaro, kyuki ye zameen h hum sabki
Kuch nahi le jao ge sath apne, milni h ess me hi raakh hum sabki

Koi loot raha h gareeb ki jaeb, koi kr raha h bezuba awaam se faraeb
Umeed h kashmir me aman hoga,toh aur b meethe hoge waha k saeb

Jo saha h dard in kisaano ne, umeed h unka ye dard tumhe b mehsoos **
Daer raat in anderi galliyo se guzrti har beti har maa ki raah mehfooz **

Mazboot kr lo apne rishto ko,inpe h nigah kbhi mazhab ki kbhi siyasat ki
Na rang se pehchan ** na hi adoore ang se,ek si taraki ** har ek riyasat ki

Rishwat gareebi khudgarzi aur na jaane kitne h es mulk ko lge marz
Kbhi fursat hui toh janne ki koshish krna kitne h es maa k tumpe karz

Har bache ko ilm ** es janoon ka,taki ye kamyaabi k kadam ruk na paye
Bss ik ehsaan krna khud pe,ki teri kisi harqat se kehi iska ser juk na jaye

Dhua bss yehi h ki aane wali koi b nasal kabhi na ruksat ** es fitoor se
Chand taaro pe chle b gye agr phir b krte rehna sada salam waha door se
Àŧùl Jun 2013
My Eyes Were Transfixed
On
The Plane's Window Pane.
I Was Then Watching Out
Into
The Dark Of Night Skies.
My Behaviour Was Very
Sweet
As She Does Remember.
And So It Had To Be Like
That
'Cause I Was Aged Just 4.
How Can I Tell You My
Fascination
At That Age So Innocent.
Well I Could Only Try To
Tell
Young Age Fascination.
Now I Can't Go Back To
The
Time I Was Aged Just 4.
I Can Only Hazily Remember
This From
Time I Was Aged Just 4.
My HP Poem #295
©Atul Kausha
JJ Hutton Jul 2014
You can get used to anything--merciless debt, infidelity, death--anything, the photojournalist thinks as he stares out his open hotel window to the beach where two boys lay covered with white sheets.

The bombs fell an hour earlier. Upon impact they didn't so much make a sound as absorb it, syphoning off laughter over mimosas in the first floor cafe, blurring the start-stop of traffic into a shapeless background hiss. He was out there when it happened, on the beach, walking his morning walk.

From one hundred yards he took in the flash, the upheaval of sand, reaching for heaven and then, all at once, subject to gravity's retreat. He knew there would be a second bomb, like when you're cutting a tomato, and you look at your finger then to the knife, and think, I'm going to cut myself, and a couple slices later fulfill the prophecy.

He didn't rush to the boys. He got his camera out of the bag, grabbed the lens, adjusted for distance, for the wane morning light. Boys screamed and ran. He wasn't sure how many, four, five. The second bomb hit. One boy, smaller than the others, rode the sand upwards and back down. The photojournalist thought he tried to get up, but he wasn't sure.

He knew better than to rush over. An unidentified person pointing a vague object at the children on a satellite feed would garner backlash. So he waited, surveying the slight waves break, the gulls continuing flight.

Parents, people he assumed to be parents, moaned in an unfamiliar language. Their sounds though, both guttural and sharp, said all. He approached. A man picked up the smallest boy, his lifeless limbs, doll-like and pierced with shrapnel, hung off to the side.

He took twenty-five shots from behind the lifeguard's post, using the telephoto zoom. He lowered the camera and made eye contact with the father.

Now, in his hotel room, there's an urgent knock at the door. A voice shouts. The email sends. He drops his laptop in the bag with the rest of the gear. A taxi pulls into the roundabout outside.

When he lands he's not sure if he's fractured his ankle or just sprained it. He limps to the door, climbs in, says, "Airport."

"Maa?" the driver says.

The photojournalist punches the seat. The father of the boy, along with three other men, approach.

"Maa?"
Shivpriya Oct 2021
Banjaara dil....

Ye adhoori si tadpan
poori karaade maa..

Raahaten tadpaayengi...
Bina luft uthaye ye teri kamii
poori karengi...

Tumhari aankhon ki chhaao
mere dil ko chhuti hai,
ek pyaari si kiran
tumhari muskaan jese
tehalti hai...

In dil dil ki baaton mein,
meri dhadkan se
mujhe sun lo maa..

In aansuon mein
teri chhavi dikhade maa..

Rote rehene wala dil,
samaayi hui yaadon se
tumhe pukaarta hai...

Inhe tumhare pyaar bhare
naino ka deedar karaade maa...
©️shivpoetesspriya
Snigdha Banerjee May 2016
Seventeen I Was ! Much  Stupid To Be Called Sane ! Yes like every other girl I too had a dream world where I was “Marzi Ki Mallika” the very thought of being matured haunted me & being a teenager you just can’t avoid the driving crazy adrenaline rush that you get when you fantasise stuff of being in love. My fantasies resulted in prettily adorable pieces of poems and bits of stories where A Boy fell in love with A Girl. I had dated my dreams since forever & it was amazing & what justifies this statement of mine is that they never disappoint ! talking to people knowing stories making new friends and sharing memories with old one’s that was indeed perfect to me ! I always tried to describe that perfectly adorable moment of falling in love in the best possible way I could fantasise ! Not too soon I realized that moment cannot be emphasised !

THAT MOMENT IS A CAPTURED MEMORY

Turned 23 Yay ! Loads Of Birthday Presents ! Wishes ! Hearty Felicitations ! etc etc 6 years passed since then & I remained the same still much stupid to be called sane ! Maa smiles while she still wakes me up in the morning saying Kobe Boro Hobi (when will you grow up). I giggle and hug her knowing not when !! I see the beautiful stock of my soft toys which helped me remain childish when suddenly my mirror reported about how messy my hair was ! OH GAWED maaa… my instant reaction was !

I was told love happens when matured ! I herd the same but fortunately dared not to believe ! Th0 I knowingly knew that dating a girl like me a guy will have to fall in love with my messed up stuff he needs to constantly date my love for 3a.m coffee & my craziness for maggi accompanied with coke ! My idiotic obsessions with vampire & songs of Nusrat & Kishore & perhaps tolerate the constant humming of those part of songs which I loved ! Questioned my self quiet frequently about will my love accompany me while I trek through the mighty mountains will he accompany me in my best moments of life will he even accept me the way I am !?? such questions did nothing but made me fall asleep which ended up in GOOD MORNINGS with Bournvita !

Usual mornings and unusual days thereafter ! mobile rings I ran to pick up the call it was none other than my beloved going to be husband AASHIQ

Good morning ! come lets plan out something crazy  ! Adrenaline rush  What About A Trek At Ladakh ! Readily agreeing to the proposal I said yes ! We drove together as I discovered his playlist matched mine ! with each passing moment I got the answers to much awaited stupid questions ! while I was unanswerable to his lone question why I had smiled while he drove ! We got down  amidst green surroundings   he picked up a piece of sugarcane and nervously began to chew on it as he was humming one of my favourite songs, He looked at me like I was the only **** thing that’ll ever matter to him looking constantly into my eyes he blurred out ILOVEYOU&WANTTOMARRYYOU;

I always valued crazy memories but this was the craziest one perhaps ! I started laughing unwantedly pointing at his face ! His front tooth had broken! He had been trying to be a stud only to impress me he tried to peel the sugarcane with his teeth & somehow ended up loosing the bottom part of his front incisor !

I Blushed later ! My face betrayed two expressions – Amusement & Shyness !

I Fell In Love Unknowingly Without A Parachute ! much madness was added when I couldn’t resist saying ILOVEYOU

His eyes met mine with a sparkle of mischief  AKHO AKHO ME PYAR HOGAYA

Committed !  Not Confused !

Start Of A New Journey Hands In Hands We Start Our Trek ! !
Bits Of Crazy Life
Softly, gently, I  sipped
your red cherry-lip petals
patiently, silently, I grabbed
your brown nip-let buds
deeply, knowingly, I drowned
into your blue eye-oceans
The feminine body turns
to be  a dates garden
amidst my own
barren desert !


Williamsji Maveli
Email: williamsji@yahoo.com

*
KGA (UAE Chapter)
Literary award for Poetry declared for
Williamsji Maveli’s   “Arramviralthumbath…”
The Kallettumakara Gblobal Association (KGA), UAE Chapter has announced their first poetry award for excellence to Williamsji Maveli's  third  poetry collection   titled as “Arramviralthumbath …”  (On the tip of the 6th finger,  published by H & C Books, Trichur) .The award has been declared  by Mathew David, Chairman of KGA at their Executive Committee meeting held recently in Sharjah Emirate of United Arab Emirates.  The award has  also been considered for his poetic works scattered in his recently published book named  as “Maa Salama."  ( means "With peace"  in Arabic). The poems have been gathered from different desert sketches,  focusing on his real-time life experiences ,while he was working in UAE for more than 30 years.  Williamsji, (Williams George),   former Ras Al Khaimah based Journalist and lyricist of tester-years has been nominated for a literary award for the first time for literature. The Award is being formulated by KGA  (Kallettumkara Global Association, UAE Chapter) for  outstanding contributions to literature  from the native writers  of Kallettumkara,  a village town in Trichur, Kerala in India.  The award will be presented by the KGA’s UAE Chapter on the grand occasion of their 10th anniversary, which is being scheduled to be held during September, this year,
according to Mathew David, Chairman of Kallettumkara Global Association.
Translated from original poem in Malayalam to English by the author. Extracted from ARRAMVIRALTHUMBATH....(At the tip of the 6th finger, written by WILLIAMSJI, published by H & C BOOKS, Trichur, Kerala in India
www.williamsji.com
www.christ-bcom.com
kris evans May 2014
before the break of dawn
even in cold and misty morn
a soul roams throughout my house
even when the sun is not yet up

the soothing smell of agarbatties
shoots up in the air
the sound of morning prayers
is heard in this hour

her sweet and melodious voice
will be carried to my ears
as  i crouch myself
under the warmth of my cot

next she wakes me up
with her gentle tap
and draws the drapes
across the window sill

even when i pace up and down
to get ready to board my bus
she always keeps calm and steady
like the pendulum in my study

she always has a feeling
when i am concealing something
then she rubs and scrubs the secrets
until the answer clicks

the day will come to an end
as the sun sinks below the horizon
even we stops to grow, as years pass
but a mother....have anyone seen her halt?

even though she stays calm
her heart pounding hard, no one heard
since the day i was in her womb....
to this very minute of the day

if a fairy grant me a wish
the only thing i would ask
to repay the love and care i owe
to that sacred soul....
to maa....with love......may you always reside within me.....
When i feel lost
You are always there to find,
Irrespective of our status you are always kind.
No matter what you are suffering from,
All you focus is to make me smile.
Sick you are or not my happiness is always first on your mind.
You never asked  for anything Maa,
but  I want to give you a happy lifestyle.
A never-ending tale of mother's love
O Devi, awaken the good in all,
there's no demon, nor devil
but in our mind, our will.

Raise our spirit, O Devi,
to the mountain's height
so we can use our might
to leave narrowness and rise above,
learn to live in amity and love!
A reprise on the auspicious occasion of Durga Puja (27.09.17-30.09.17), the greatest festival of Bengal.
I wish all my poet friends at HP happiness and peace.
I remain grateful for your love and kindness.
BJ Oct 2022
Ek chand gumsum sa hai
Door desh rehta  hai.

Jab b puch lo kyu udas hai
Koi baat nahi kehta hai
Kya kho gya hai uska jo door desh me dhoondta hai
Sans is zami me hai
To vha ku ghumta hai.
Muje fark yun padta hai
Ku Maine is chand ko haste hasate dekha hai.
Ladte jhagadte roothte manate dekha hai.
Us chand Ka taqiya b uski ankho ki nami mehsus karta hai.
Bhai jan to hai par aapi ammi ki kami mehsus karta hai.

Vo vha aasman ki talash me gya hai
Apne sapno k jahan ki talash me gya hai.

Ab use is shehar ki chamak b raas ni aati
Kabhi bethkar sochta hai k is shehar kash na aati.

Maa ki panv ki jameen ko jannat hai janta hai.
Jo samne se jhagdta tha phone pe ammi Ka Sab kha manta hai.

Us chand Ka dil b toota hai kisi se keh ni paya
Sab kuch saha Akele
Bas Roye bina reh na paya

Ab Dard kam hai Bas kasak baki hai
Khalish baqi  hai jakhm pe thoda namak Baqi hai.

Or Hume intezar hai k vo chand Jane ab Kab hasega

Kab utha k tasveer zindagi ki usme rang bharega

Chudi bindi mehndi libaz Sab shaunk thode kam ** gye hai
Ye Sab dekh k hairan hum ** gye hai

** skta hai ye likha b use na pasand aye
** skta hai nazarandaz kare ya nazarband kar jaye

Hume yakin hai vo Khud k  Masle hal kar legi
Sabr or dua dono mile h use aj ni to kal kar legi

Dhal jayega jald vo saya jo chand pe aj betha hai.
Ek chand gumsum sa hai
Door desh rehta  hai.
Ek chand gumsum sa hai
Door desh rehta  hai.
#bj
Joseph Floreta Nov 2016
Pusong mamon kung ikaw ay tawagin,
Sa lupaing pangako tunay kang maa-angkin,
Taglay **** kagandahan likas sayo'y mapapansin,
Bigay sayo ni Bathala,
Sapagkat ika'y ginigiliw.
#aPoem for all pilipina #Makatang tagalog
Hai naman unko ki jo iss deh ko amaratwa dekar...
Iss jagat me shaurya ki ziwit kahani ** gye hai...
Hai naman unko ki jinke saamne bauna haimalya...
Jo dhara par gir pade par aashmani ** gye hai...
hai naman unko....

Likh chuki hai vidhi tumhari veerta k punya leke...
Vijay k udhgosh geeta k kathan tumko naman hai...
Sindoordaano ki gathao desh hit pratipatth yaowank dapan
tumko naman hai...
Bahan k bishwas, bhai k sakha, kul k sahare, pita k vrat k falit
Maa k nayan tumko naman hai...
Ki hai naman unko ki jinko mrityu paakar hui paawan...
Sikhar jinke Charan chukar or maani ** gye hai...

Ki hai naman unko ki jinke saamne bauna himalaya...
Jo dhara par gir pade par aashmani ** gye hai...
hai naman unko....
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi

email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
Manisha Uniyal Jul 2015
Take my words And thread a song
Hold my virtue and u'll be strong

Stories I tell and character I weave
Morals I share for you to percieve
That all will shatter and only honesty will lead.

Gazing the twinkling sky
The Eternal bond we weave
My stories is all what you'll have when I'll leave

Silence with which you listen
I am knowingly moulding your innocence,to be a better person
To give back to society
As my little contribution

Manisha
Nahh ainkh khuli ,nahhh mai sunn paya...
Maa ke pait mai rehker bhi maina apna parivar ka pyaar paya...
Jab ainkh khuli ,toh roker pura hospital sirr per uthaya ....
Phir Papa ki godi mai sirr rakhker hee mujha thoda chain aaya....
Pheli baar ghar aake , thoda mann dagmagaya....
Dada dadi ko paas dekhker,firrr maii zorr se khilkhilaya....
Jab naam sochne ki baari aayi....
Toh bua ne kaan mai naam pyaar se fusfusaya ....
Bade hokar bhi chota ke sath khelna...
Aisa charitra maina apna hee parivaar mai h paaya...
School jane ki umar mai bhi...
Har parivaar ke sadasye ko hai maina satya...
Kabhi woh dila do, yaa kabhi yeh dilado hee harr baar hai chilaya...
Harr divas ko hamne pura harsh aur ullas ke sath banya....
Pyaar se sath rehna ka hee humna hamesha se wachan h khaya....
Sabke dhurr jana ke baad bhi....
Maine apna parivaar ko hee paas paya...
Harrr sukh dukh mai unhona hee mujha  sabke sath rehna sikhaya...
Apna parivaar se dhurr jake bhi...
Maina uhna harrr jagah h paaya...
Voice call aur video call ne hee unka pyaar h mujh tak pahuchaya....
Maa ki mamta ne hee maano jaisa mujha iss kadar banaya...
Jo maina apna parivaar ka itna pyaar h paaya...
Maarte wakt bhi mera parivaar ne hee mujha kahnde per uthaya...
Ainshu aur apni yaadeino ko bhula krr hee mujha mera parivaar ne jalaya....
KAILASH VERMA Jun 2014
HAJARO NADIA BAHATI
VASHUDHA KI CHHATI PAR
NALE BHI PUJATI
BHAGIRATHI KI MATI PAR

BHAGIRATH KE ANURODH SE, BRAMHA KE VARADAN ME        NIKALI MAA SURYA VANSH KO TARANE.   BAHATI THI KABHI MAND SANGEET ME        RUKI HUI HAI AB KIS PIR ME.
Seema Aug 2017
Maa Yashoda ke tum dulaare
Tujhe tere bhakt pukare
Chale aao mere makhan chor
Tujhse bandhi hai preet ki dor
Mohini muskaan, chanchal ye maan
Teri pooja karoon mei jeewan bhar
Aayi hai teri madhur janam diwas
Meri hirdaye mei basay rahena, bas
Shama karna, har bhool ko mere Kanha
Kabhi mujhe bhool se bhool na jaana
Haath jhod kar, tujhe sumiroon
Yaad tujhe har pal karoon
Poori kar doh apne bhakto ki kami
Aap ko shubh ** ye janmastami...


©sim
**TRANSLATED ENG**

You are mother "Yashodas" darling
Your followers call upon you
Please come, my little butter thief
With you, is my whimsical tie
Charming smile, restless this heart
Your prayer I do throughout my life
Your mellifluous birthday has come
May you stay in my soul always
Forgive all my fouls, O' Kanha
Never by mistakenly forget me ever
I fold my hands in rosary
I think of you all the time
Fulfill the wishes of your followers
Happy birthday to you...

©sim
Sarthak Agarwal Apr 2017
What a poet loves the most,
more than anything else,
Is how she completes her poems.
Entwining words with one another
hoping a creation will arise,
rather imperfect at first,
but moulding it over and over,
even as time cries.

The poet forgets herself,
and the world around her for she falls in love with the poem,
giving it everything she has,
hoping it may represent her most perfect dreams.

But there are often some poems,
taking a lifetime to complete,
for the poet is never satisfied,
even when her creation is ‘a lion in a fight’,
or ‘as smart as Einstein’,
as high and mighty as the bean tree from jack and the beanstalk,
or like a peach tree soft and tender.

And finally when her time comes near,
and she looks up from the bed,
caresses the soft skin of her creation,
which still smells to her the way a new book smells.
A small smile all too visible,
“Go and give love to others,
how you have given me the same”
she said.

How could I,
I whispered to myself,
When you, MAA, were the one who gave love and life to the poem,
and were more than a perfect poet.
A poem dedicated to the national poetry writing month, and my mother.
Open to all sorts of constructive criticism.

— The End —