"Will you wait for me?" He asked
Hesitantly, she: "How long?"
Hope and doubt intense, he: "for 60 years",
"Don't be a stupid, no one wait for anyone, that long": She
"But you said we are the soul mates,
The only key that fitted the lock"
She was long gone; into a dot,
Midst the temple lamps, round the sanctum

***

Hurried, she sent the message of the night and switched off the phone
"Love you; Miss you, my battery dying; Will text you tomorrow"
Amar replied "Me too darling, missing you and love you crazily"
Akbar replied "Hug me close and sleep tight honey, dream only me"
Adil replied "Take care my love, good night and sweet dreams"
Antony was angry, "Why don't you keep the phone charged?  Good night"; he was the hubby!
And the stupid opened the door, hugged her in
And whispered "come in, my soul mate
The only key that fitted the lock"

*

"Take me for a ride; I want to be a carefree pillion today,
Floating away with you..."
Holding him tight, legs across, she let her hair loose
“Fly the bumps, I want to fall all over you” she held him tightly
From the pillion of the bike, she longed to see all spectrums of life
"Faster you stupid, I don't want to spend a lifetime as a pillion"
Then one day, she climbed the hills, for good.
He wandered the plains for long
Within their own, they kept a grudge to themselves
For, not letting the lock and key to know
They only fitted each other

**

“I take you to be my wedded wife
For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer”
“I take you to be my wedded husband
For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer”
Until the God sets us apart
Honey turned the first leaf on- ‘Money!’
“My money is my money, and
Your Money is our money, Stupid!”
Then it was all about I, me and mine
Lock never knew there was a Key
And the Key went from the fights to flights and a final freeze

Cottonwood falling,
A snow in July,
Filling the air with fluffy flakes
And covering the world with
White fuzziness.
We're riding,
Just as fast as we can,
Racing,
Stirring up the drifts
While the wind blows the avalanche closer.
I feel warm,
Being so close to you and the sun.
A warm snow--
Don't you think that's ironic?
I love the snow,
I love your heat.
My heart is going as fast as we are,
Fifty, Sixty, Seventy miles an hour.
I embrace you closer,
This thrill of a panicking soul,
It's magic.
Keep me in this illusion of a
Peaceful time.
Lift me sky high,
Let me fall in warmth like this
Snow in July.
I feel so free,
So young and bright eyed,
A naive star
In a Hollywood movie.
Let's get out of this small town,
Let's make new memories together.
I want to see the world,
I want to see the highlight,
With our song,
The one where we sing along.
Tonight,
Our love is a song,
A soundtrack to
A snow in July.
We can see the world
Together.
No need for others to ruin our
Loving silence.

Each time he slows bike,
spring blossoms, succulent fruits—
her coy, joyous hug!

On 2nd Dec 1984
Occurred
World’s worst industrial disaster,
“The Bhopal gas tragedy”
Leaving thousands dead,
Children orphaned and many people with disabilities for life.

Following day,
Cries of help were heard
Amongst the dead,
Lay few children alive
Shone bright, a ray of hope,
Miraculously the deadly effects
Of the gas they could cope.

Taken under the caring wings of an NGO,
With Medical aid administered
And the vital  support to grow.

Amongst the children
There was a girl named Ganga
And a boy named Ravi,
together with other such children,
they grew up,
Finding solace in each other’s
Company.

When reached teenage,
the girls had to be moved in a women’s hostel.
Distanced made them closer to each other,
And, the love grew stronger.

Ganga always dreamt of riding pillion on a bike with Ravi .
Ravi, the crazy boy,
sold his house (compensation by govt.)
And fulfilled her desire,
Often they went for long rides.

In the following years,
The love bloomed,
And
With blessings and love,
their marriage was solemnised
By the NGO.

All the women from the hostel
Joined the wedding ceremony,
Bollywood songs were played loudly,
The Haldi, Sangeet and Mehendi
ceremony made it more lively

On the wedding day,
Ganga attired in traditional weaves
And bridal make up,
A beautiful bride she looked
The hostel warden and her spouse
did her “Kanyadan”.

Fortunate was I to bear
the testimony of the union,
As I stayed in the working women’s hostel then.
Ganga moved in to her house
with Ravi to welcome a life anew.

Come, we have a story, said the Old Man. Come, sit and I shall tell you all a little tale of a donkey, a boy and his father…and of strangers too…and many a busybody…
And the children sat round the campfire and the Old Man began his tale…*



One day
(and this is many, many
uncountable days ago)
Father called Son
and he said:
‘Son
you are grown now
into a fine young lad
and you must learn
how to buy and sell
and make a profit


‘So, come let us go
you and I
to the market to see
what silver coins we can get
for this old donkey
in our shed’



2

And so Son and Dad
set out for the town market
across the sandy and rocky miles
and some way off
Dad grew tired and he said:


‘Ah, Son
this walk tires me and so
I shall ride the donkey
while you walk by the side;
so, come let us go
you and I
to the market to see
what silver coins we can get
for this old donkey
that I shall ride’







3

‘**, **!
What do we have here?’
came a voice
as the Dad sat riding the donkey
while the Son walked by the side
‘A cruel father you are,’
said the Family Standards Officer
‘Get down, you grown man
and let the child ride!’

And the Father was ashamed
and so he let the Son ride the donkey
and he walked beside

And the Family Standards Officer
was extremely pleased
and he filled up his forms
and he bade the Father and Son safe journey:
‘Ah, this is another
success story
of the Family Welfare Dept
where conscience has won the day
and the Son rides the donkey
and the Father walks beside’








4
And the Father and Son are gone but a mile, a mile - when another interruption came their way, heading straight their way….


‘What do we have here?’
came a scream
and the Mandarin of the
State Morals Education
stopped the trio
and the Mandarin glared disapprovingly
at the boy riding the donkey and he said:
‘Where is your filial piety?
Know you not the son must do his duty
by the father?
Get off the donkey -
you young donkey!
and allow your father to ride
while you walk with reverence
and duty beside!’


And so now we have the
Father on the donkey
and the Son walking beside
all three slowly on and on
Father and son
to the market to see
what silver coins
they might get
for this old donkey
that they have taken turns to ride




5

Then comes an old woman
and she mutters to herself as she passes by:
‘Ah, what’s come of life
that a father should ride and
allow the young to walk.’

And so the Father bids his Son
be a pillion rider with him on the donkey
and so they ride
merrily, merrily
on to the market
to see
what silver coins they can get
for this old donkey
that they both ride





5

But no sooner have they covered
but a mile, just a mile
with the respectable Father
and the filial Son
(both on the hapless donkey)
when a voice thunders out from the bush
and the Animal Rights Activist stands out
and he screams:
‘Oh, you cruel people
that you should ride a helpless donkey !
Shame on you!
Much better that you both
carried the creature!’


And of course
the Son and Father
so reasonable and
always with an open mind
they jump off the donkey
and they carry
the donkey all the way
all the way
just four more miles
just four more miles
and they soon come into the market
carrying the donkey
and shouting:
‘Donkey for sale!
Donkey for sale!’




6

And the buyers
at the markets
they see
this Father and Son
carrying the donkey
and screaming:
‘Donkey f or sale!
Donkey for sale!’


And the buyers they say:
‘But it appears, Sirs,
there are
three donkeys for sale
three donkeys for sale!
In declaring
“Donkey for Sale!”
when there are clearly three
are you offering three
for the price of one?’

To live life vicariously
is to be a shadow
riding pillion
on someone else's bike

Salvador Dali
Rode a Harley-Davidson
All the way from Bali
To Abu Dhabi
With Charley the Cat
Riding pillion.

Said Charley to Dali
All weathered and gnarly

I get quite incensed
By children's lack of road sense.
When I get back to Britain
I think I'll start
A Road Safety Campaign.

Good idea
Said Dali
To Charley
Who replied
Thanks a million.

She just could not believe that she had come
To this

                                        Again

He had  said – Come on – you used to like this
Just for me – and us – it might be good.

- Try
- Please

For me.

Yes – for him.
                                            Again.

So on this chilly day:
Awkward helmet boots and fumbly gloves.
Cold and fear and knees near ears
(The pillion's lot on sports machines.
...and he wouldn't buy the chop...)

They were off, and now she hoped that was not a pun.
She did her best not to wobble and resisted the temptation to put her feet down when they stopped. Ungainly awful Stop Wait, Jerky Action.
An old film forced to watch.  
Miserable claustrophobia in  traffic queues, between a fuel tanker and a hearse.
Hot foul breath of diesel smoke.
  
She felt sick.  
She wanted out.

[The World convulsed, dissolved reformed
Things changed for her for once
For all]



The slipstream coming off the curved bubble above the glowing clocks buffeted her head with a roaring chaos that added to wild riot.  She hooked the next gear and opened the throttle wider.   The determined act of twisting the grip brought her body lower to lie on the tank, and her heart closer to the heart of the engine's breathing fiery centre.   A green high-sided truck disappeared over her shoulder into into her past: into non-existence.  And in front she knew - a climbing curve left and a stiff side wind.   She relished the anticipation of the change, getting ready to shift her weight, her eyes burning up the road - fixing the aiming point at the apex of the bend. Now! - the bike eased off the vertical, and healed into the challenge of a new world order of curve and cross winds.    
An alliance of forces at the Edge:  United,
Poised, and aimed by thought and skill -  the creation and flex of a true sword.    

And the noise!  

The noise was an overwhelming but understood cacophony – the packed high-RPM music of the Engine - loud and hard.  
The blaring exhaust and the tyre roar and the wind...
Coming at her from the left now.  She bucked and weaved a little with road bumps and sideways forces - a muscular fish in a torrent - but these were trivial disturbances.  
Together they were the embodiment of an Act of Will and Purpose -
THIS course THIS speed.  
She wanted more.  

More power, more speed - so more lean to hold it
With now a less than perfect gear change in the mix.  
A sudden bump absorbed by the suspension, and the left hand wing mirror blazes with a shower of sparks from the grounded footpeg arcing back into the dusk.  The rear tyre briefly spins in mid air – the engine screaming to the rev limiter - and returns to tarmac with a zwip.    A rictus of mortality  and terror shudder the bike -
A whiff of Death that lets her live.
This time.

They were through the moment.  

And she had kept the throttle wide.


Courage.  

No substitute. And its sometime close friend -

Instinct.

You live by them together or not at all.  

This curve was ending, and the speed extreme
Almost – Supernatural.

Difficult to hold her head forward against
The flat of the wind's hand held up in her way:
“An end to your defiance!”  

But she was not to be turned aside.   The landscape could only be seen clearly about a mile ahead - All else was pulsing blur:  
An unwinding ribbon of dark green and blue and orange - like a star field at jump to light speed.  But the moment held forever visceral –  remembered forever.       She thought her heart would burst with the joy of being alive on this edge -  
At this time  
Of all time.  

She knew -

There would be more curves and cross-winds
But Now - she was Up Front, In Charge
and,  BY GOD she shouted with the wind
SHE WAS GOING FOR IT!

Wide awake in a dream.
It was a bright stadium.
Wide empty lanes of the perimeter
I felt there were some within

A girl rushing, couldn't stay
Spoke to me urgently
"Meet by the Water Tower"

I wandered aimless there were none
To ask the way,
I came upon the edge of moorland
A hill that rose away,
Above, stretched flat on rising *****

Grey stones
Laid together close, as game of tiles.
I could stand on one, both feet

Walking along the bottom edge.
I picked up the left cornerstone.
It was large, heavy carrying at first
Brushing off clinging earth,
Seeing the shadowy shapes engraved,

Went to find the Water Tower.

In the stadiums lanes of white, forlorn,
A woman came to me in uniform
Asked of my purpose.
I told her my plight, she sat me in her car
I looked up

High above.
Shining translucent white container, a tank;
Generating power, suspended along cables and
Containing water.
I wondered at this,
Then she brought a sort of bike
Said "I'll take you now"
Riding pillion both hands holding stone
Thought "I'll surely fall"
As we banked

It was so fast, colours a-blur
Long, far, perilous, vast distance,
When we stopped, she turned.
Alone
Abandoned on the moorland
Rough ragged tufts of grey, green grass,
Forever each way, in mist faded substance

I know this place but I am lost,
The moorland has no directions
Standing so with the cornerstone
Now heavy
Rough, heavy as a world's reflections.

Then from the mist striding t'wards
Tall man upright in strange dress, feathers,
Hide, hair streaming weathered,
Coming into focus stands before me greets
Takes the cornerstone and reads it, hard worked hands
Deep blue eyes, into mine and mind, translating:

" We are of the Sz'ip p T'ik k "
There were clicking sounds,
Means the first ones,
" You are to take a message.
" The message is:
" 'To The Survivor of Your People, say this..

" Survive!' "

Then I am pulled away he's gone,
I open eyes.
Repeating words
Reach for my pen

What is it about this night that attracts me?
It's the same dark Indian sky - a battle-field
of grey and pink clouds, scattered stars.
A biker at my door step nodding in acknowledgement.
The next moment I am a pillion zooming past
dusty streets and honking cars - such chaos.

What is it about this night that calls me?
It's the same old destination - more trees
and lesser people. A highway as a leeway
to all perils of this hateful city.
This ride is a big U-turn and I'll be back
To the same cacophony, same city trash.

What is it about this night that strikes me?
It's the same me, wearing the same old pair of jeans,
A jacket to meet the cold, kohl in my eyes.
Same oggling at the silent, cold night
Still searching for something eventful to happen
Till the cold chills me and I wish my haven.

Not until you reached for my numb hand on my knee
And placed it on your warm, alive chest, Not until
I felt the rhythmic thud within, did I realize
What is so special - It was feeling reality and acceptance -
Life is so much more than just me. It's in the wide
night sky that cuddles me, in every person with a heart
that beats, in every moment you allow yourself to get old
and live with experiences, in places, with you.

S Creeker

Just have to say
read your poems
and it was a wild ride.
from the hunter
onwards,
you laid down your words
in a pattern,
i read as truth...

at the moment,
your book here is small,
but i hope you stay....
and create a sheaf
of poetry so freakin tall.

you take me...
where i have never been,
or likely to go
and with style
and flair.....
i see it all.....
i be a ******, standing, gaping in the corner there.

so please,
take these words,
as  a compliment due...
and encouragement,
to let me again
ride pillion
on your mind's wild side.

She made him Punctual from a late latheef
An extrovert out of a lone desert
Chivalrous knight who was an insensible trash
Responsible man who always forgot the dates
Kind human whom world saw as a hooligan
Studious kid who was a topper in reverse order
Majestic man out of a whiny babe
 
 
She made him drop the Deadwing, which had his soul
listen to Chainsmokers which was once detested
share his share of chocolates and make an amendment
Let the pillion occupy the special reserved seat
Dump all the colossal ego just to see her grin
Ignore the friends as if some ***** jinx
Get drenched because she found bliss in it
 
How do you feel now, that the bait is consumed
There is no more interest, no intrigue left

Get the control of the handle now
Rev your ****** out on the road you like
Stop not till you find the the right place
Hope is what keeps us awake through ghastly nights.

I'm the Toy that never got sold,
Oh God!! I'm the one you had cold ******.

I'm the Bike stranded at the signal,
Oh God! I'm the one figuring out how to be rhetorical


I'm Still riding on an empty pillion,
Oh God! Why am I the one u chose to ***** in the billion?

All I ask from you,
Is some Luck and Cue
As Oh God! I'm the (only) one who forgave you :)


I promise I won't blame you
Again for my blues;
Because My dear God! I'm the one who needs you.


I'm the land that has been for long barren,
Oh God! Do remember even I'm one of your Children

Streets lit by car lights.
Carriages long gone.
Two wheeled horses banging on and on.
Huge machines.
C.C's please me.
Tearing by, proud as ever.
Sporting moments, wearing leather.
Thunderstorms on burning wheels.
Dusty trails on city streets.
Desert highway cruising.
Motors always running.
Heat haze.
Rainbow oil stains.
Ride the long and short of all.
Solo.
Pillion.
One in a million.
Thrill on the back of a mighty bike.
(c)LIVVI

The photos lay in a pile of dust
They’d gathered under the bed,
They’d not seen the light of day for years
Were neglected there, instead,
The wife found them with the first spring clean
And she dumped them in my lap,
‘Who is the ******* the Honda Dream,
And the guy in the leather cap?’

I must have shot her a funny look
As we guys are wont to do,
‘A girl I must have been going with
About twenty before you.’
She picked the photo out of the pile
And she brushed it on her skirt,
I thought, ‘Oh, here we go again,’
Her face said she was hurt.

‘How come I’ve never seen her before,’
She was getting close to tears,
I snatched the photo out of her hand,
‘It must be fifty years!
I can’t recall the time or the place
And I can’t recall her name.’
She punched me once on the shoulder, said:
‘You ought to be ashamed!’

That photo sat on the mantelpiece
And it stared at me for weeks,
A bonny girl with a pouting lip
And the wife gave me no peace.
It was, ‘Just what did you talk about?
What did she used to say?’
I said, ‘I can’t for the life of me
Remember a single day.’

She served the hot-*** up stone cold
And the gravy didn’t move,
I think she mixed it with concrete just
To show she didn’t approve.
I said, ‘I was only twenty then,
That snap was way back when,
We’ve been together for forty years,
Why drag her up again?’

‘You’ve kept her a secret all these years,
That photo, under the bed,
How do I know you’re not in touch?’
I said, ‘She’s probably dead!’
I racked my brains for a memory
But all I could see were thighs,
Pert young ******* and a petticoat
And a twinkle in her eyes.

But still I couldn’t recall her name
Or a single word she’d said,
Only the scent of her sweet young breath
As we rolled in her parents bed,
She’d clung to me on the pillion seat
As her skirt flared out, and streamed,
Down at the back of Fletcher’s Wood
On the back of the Honda Dream.

‘I want to know what you did with her,
Though it doesn’t matter now.’
(I’d fallen for one of those tricks before,
The wife’s a devious cow!)
I thought of the day the fun had gone
When we lay, looked up at the sky,
‘Ah, now I remember what she said,
One word, just one… Goodbye!’

David Lewis Paget

Cushier near
The pillion
In tatterdemalion
Uncomfortable
By the hitchhiking
hire
Laying fire to
The streets of admirers
Carrying a man in need
Expecting to be in a radio station
Before next week
It's gonna make really weak contention

A little known fact
That may not scream real tact,
But the truth nonetheless
A gift I possess.

I’m a genius all-right,
My star always bright,
From birth until now
Always destined to WOW.

Some call me quite mad,
But in truth they’re just sad,
That they cannot be
A star just like me.

I’m one in a billion
America’s pillion,
The man of the hour,
The seat of all power.

Each word that I utter
Causes records to shatter,
Opponents to swoon
Crying world ending doom.

Yet the markets are up,
World leaders pile up
To knock on my door
Beseeching for more.

My supporters all know
The effect of my glow,
While the rest shall soon feel,
My art of the deal.

I’ve only just started, you’ve seen nothing yet,
I’m the one you should follow and not that great threat,
I’ll make us all rich, of that there’s no doubt
Let’s bring in the sunshine, enough of the drought.

Every time I pass out into the light going north from the Terrace Tunnel
Gunning the car up to the 100k limit on the motorway
I am haunted by the memory of the death of 18-year old Natalia Austin
Whose body was flung headlong into the opposite lane:

‘What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?’

Natalia fell in with adults who were drug-addicted and limitlessly irresponsible
And was persuaded to ride pillion on a Harley Davidson
Having been given a brief lesson on leaning with the bike
By Dee McMahon’s girlfriend Monique.

‘For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!’

McMahon was nearly five times over the legal alcohol limit
The equivalent of having drunk up to 42 standard drinks -
The autopsy also found morphine and tramadol
In what was left of McMahon’s corpse.

‘That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd’

Hitting 140k on the bend out of the Tunnel
He smacked the bike several times against the concrete median strip
Shedding metal in showers of sparks
And ripping limbs away in showers of blood.

‘Who are these coming to the sacrifice?’

"We're trying to go forward and cherish the memory of a beautiful girl
Who had a bright future, and who was just too innocent and trusting -
You let your little girl go and you hope she's going to be looked after by adults.
She trusted them, and they've let her down miserably."

‘What little town by river or seashore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?’

Friendship Epitomized
Friends Eternal
Ballad Born
Bakshi and Burman
Duet by Dey
Kishore in the fray
Nib and Number
Single on Vinyl
Jaidev and Veeru
Reel Names
Amith and Dharam
Real Names
Acting during Shooting
Convey Male Bonding
Bike a Bullet
Sidecar and Harmonica
Motifs memorable
Dharam and Amith adorable
Shrine the throttle
MYB 3047
Number to remember
Sanctum of Endearment
Projected on Projector
Song a rollercoaster
Riding on the Highway
Changing riders Midway
Soulful lyrics
Reflect Soul
Rider and Pillion
Are but one
Camaraderie reality
Translates beautifully
Sizzling Chemistry
Status immortality
Bromance on Wheels
Amitabh and Dharmendra
Names mentioned together
Body and shadow
Amigo and alter ego
Billion hearts
Recite by - heart
Every word and note
***** and Whistle
Interlude exotic
Audience Ballistic
Depiction realistic
Symbol of friendship
Till today remain
For every Indian
Yearning the same
Lucky we are to
Live in the Era
Of Amitabh and Dharmendra
On or off Camera
Live by example
Loved by all
Integrity of intimacy
In thoughts and memories
Made the song become
India's Second  Anthem

First day of College
Met him in the hallway
Said hello to a fellow student
Defenition of a true friend


Apart from education
One thing in common
Exchanging information for better orientation
Taste in music laid the foundation

Found a friend on day one
Till today there is none
I became another son
Lived in his house without paying rent

Surprised to be invited
Went and visited
Warmth from the family felt elated
Will soon become family unexpected

The only thing lacking
In that house was oxygen
Music not a hobby but a devotion
Filled the air for respiration

The room became
My abode for
3 years in a row
Hammock added to the glow

Entire new world
Opened for me
Brother in IIT
Never met anyone so bright intellecually

Coffee lunch and dinner
Never made to feel an outsider
Every family member
Related to me similar

Passion for music
A world of magic
Till today nostalgic
One day will revisit

Value of education
Learnt its importance
Intellectual furtherance
All at his residence

Conduct of a clown
Asked me to play it down
Till then I hadn't known
My presence was a laughter zone

Took pride in it
He told me the opposite
Lessons learnt well defined
Cant list them cause they're infinite

Exposure to brilliance
Through his brother and his friends
My Academic performance
Made absolutely no difference

Treated as equal
Made it special
Visiting his house a misnomer
Cause was living  there forever

Graduated to a scooter
With him as Pillion rider
Memories no fonder
Daily trips to College Remembered

Looking back today
If you take the negatives away
Whatever remains to this day
Was what I learnt as the hammock swayed

Gratefully alive for
Introduction the Grateful Dead
Played more in room
Dead heads will soon know

Thankful to Ian Anderson
And the Jethro Tull
The first exchange about locomotive breath
On loneliness made me lay a wreath

Thank you my friend
For being a friend
Never remained a friend
For another brother I became

Music playing as music
Today playing as a memory
Feelings can never change
The song remains the same

Sunday evening
No good movie showing
Not heard of anything
At the theaters playing

Recognized a face
In a poster on the daily paper
Played a role years earlier
In a Martial arts rollercoaster

Name was synonyms
With the character he played
Bolo real and reel name
Now in a film with Van Damne

Bloodsport the film
Declared a huge hit
Tickets sold out
Black market no go

Not too interested
But still disappointed
Taken for granted
Full house never expected

Riding my bike
Friend seated Pillion
Bereft of any decision
Home bound only option

Crossed another theater
Saw the poster and decided
It was not worth it
A man with 2 tickets offered it


Dragged our feet inside
Saw the film's stills outside
2 names above the title
Mattered so very little

Strolled into our seats
Close our eyes and go to sleep
A sold out audience
Awaiting the films inception

Had seen the trailer
While watching another picture
One more in the action genre
Nothing new to offer
The film released as a one week filler
Between 2 other
Weekend over
No chance to recover
5 more days to endure
Tide turned over
Word of mouth the do'er
People flocked together
To watch this blockbuster
Never ending run in the theater
A pilgrimage for every moviegoer


Title card said Bruce Willis
Thought he was a novice
Only to be proved the opposite
Made me sit up in my Aisle seat

Aged nineteen
Influenced by his smoking
Flips his wrists
Doesn't pick it with his fist
Dangling between his lips
Zippo lighter added to the list
Held it between his thumb
Pulled it in from the edge of his mouth
Rings of smoke magical when he blew it out

Dialogue delivered new the way it sounded
Never heard before where every word was modulated
Riveting action film in front of my eyes unfolded
Greatest movie experience ever experienced

Never seen anyone with more style
Nuances added made him stand out by a mile
Entire film screen time by himself
Very difficult unless confidence in self

Definition of a man
Dictionary cannot define
Set the benchmark for generations before and after
Emulating him was the sole objective hereafter

Chain Smokin Binge Drinkin
Hard Swearin Wisecrackin
Self talkin and in times of extreme stress just laughin

International Superstar
Born before my eyes
Forever in the hearts
Magic of Die Hard

Balancing the equation
Villain with a great reputation
Veteran of the stage
In his debut he plays
Hans Gruber
The ruthless killer
Hired hands by the dozen
Each character important

Alan Rickman from London
Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts Vice Chairman
Playing a role of a person with German origin
Greatest villain of all time
Says the viewing audience

Matching in Style and Skill
The picture in my head still
German accent went for the ****
Anyone matching histrionic prowess, till today nil

The entire movie played
Hero and Villain interplay
Only a couple of scenes together
Made them memorable forever

Bruce Willis and Alan Rickman
Greatest on screen combination
Together made the movie a sensation
Yin and Yang provided the wholesome phenomenon

Watched the Magic
A born again film fanatic
Redifined every notion
Of motion picture appreciation

Changed my life
Became my lifestyle
Repeated viewing
Make it more appealing

Best Action movie
Best Action Superstar
Best Villain Star
Tops every list
Deserves every bit
Every frame a lesson
Watch closely and Listen

Unwittingly went in
Came out haloed within
40 Stories of sheer adventure
Admiration only increased 30 years after