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Vishal Bhojwani Apr 2013
My heart skips a beat,
when I see that ONE person,
My heart skips a beat,
when the same just goes off me.
My heart skips a beat,
when sudden the same tweets after long.
My heart skips s a beat,
when that holds me tight.
My heart skips a beat,
when there is no reply of a message within few seconds.
My heart skips a beat,
when I do something unintentionally and it hurts the same.
My heart skips a beat,
when there are only memories left in mind and too long to be with.
My heart skips a beat,
when the same is around but not with me.
Just for such few times, it feels like my heart skips a beat...

©2013 Vishal Bhojwani  
Look at the poem with some creative look @
http://vizack.wordpress.com/samples/heart-skips-a-beat/
Poem of book SPARK written by Vishal Bhojwani (viZacK)
To know more about SPARK visit : vizack.wordpress.com
Vishal Bhojwani Apr 2013
Beautiful is this earth where we stay,
Cool are its wind that flow us away.
Green-green tree all around us,
Exhaling oxygen and supporting our
existence thus,
Different creatures here and there,
Entertaining each other by an unknown
share.
The varying whether may take away suns
light,
Though all it makes us feel delight.
Somewhere drought, somewhere flood at glance,
Still all that maintains a magical balance.
Thanks to God for giving here, a birth,
Making us part of this glorious earth.

©2013 Vishal Bhojwani  
Look at the poem with some creative look @
http://vizack.wordpress.com/samples/our-beautiful-earth
Poem of book SPARK written by Vishal Bhojwani (viZacK)
To know more about SPARK visit : vizack.wordpress.com
Vishal Bhojwani Apr 2012
Somebody came to let me brake,

Brake me as easily as we cut a cake.

Easily I loved, deeply I liked,

The feelings and emotions were soon hiked.

Lil bit crazy during the time of morn,

I started missing, eating sweet corn.

She became my blood, suddenly water too,

I wanted to alive and i was thirsty too.

I was helped, so i was alive,

But never thought it all can be rive.

Its the end or what I don't know,

I have to move on so i can't be low.

©2013 Vishal Bhojwani
Poem of book SPARK written by Vishal Bhojwani (viZacK)
To know more about SPARK visit : vizack.wordpress.com
Vishal Bhojwani Apr 2012
I love you my lovely friend,

Far away from the worlds trend.

Just and forever I will try,

To make you smile and your tears dry.

You are the one who makes me smile,

So I just want to live more for a while.

Nobody can behave with you so rude,

That’s why you will miss this lovely dude.

Never say me good bye,

Because i am always there to say you Hiiiiiiiiii.. !!**

©2013 Vishal Bhojwani  
Look at the poem with some Cool and creative design only @
SPARK
Poem of book SPARK written by Vishal Bhojwani (viZacK)
To know more about SPARK visit : vizack.wordpress.com
Vishal Bhojwani Apr 2013
THERE IS A REAL WAY TO FEEL THE FLOW OF TWO LAYERS IN A KISS.
THERE IS A HOPE OF MOVING TO DIVINE IN A KISS.
THERE IS A NEW WAY TO LIVE IN A KISS,
THERE IS A POWER TO FEEL THE HEAVEN IN A KISS.
THERE IS SOMETHING MORE THAN A LUST IN A KISS.
THERE IS MORE THAN A THIRST IN A KISS.
THERE IS A WORLD FULL OF LOVE IN A KISS,
THERE IS A WAY TO FORGET ALL THE HURDLES IN A KISS,
THERE IS A FEELING OF FLYING IN A KISS.**

©2013 Vishal Bhojwani  
Read Poem on a page with a creative design as in the book @
http://vizack.wordpress.com/samples/kiss-me/
Poem of book SPARK written by Vishal Bhojwani (viZacK)
To know more about SPARK visit : vizack.wordpress.com
Vishal Bhojwani Apr 2013
Roses are red, Sky is blue
You are so sweet and lovely too.
Princess of my heart and sole of me
For that I want to convert 'you' to 'we'.
Far from the earth, deep inside my heart
You are my angle, till I got birth.
I miss you day and night,
That makes me too much delight.
For that I love you as much as I can
Because you know what...?
I am your biggest FAN...

©2013 Vishal Bhojwani  
Look at the poem with some creative look @
http://vizack.wordpress.com/samples/it-is-just-a-bit-of-you/
Poem of book SPARK written by Vishal Bhojwani (viZacK)
To know more about SPARK visit : vizack.wordpress.com
Vishal Bhojwani Apr 2013
Poem about the feelings inside either of a couple that are away from each other and the loneliness is just unbearable with *****g memories.

Can you smile the way you did as ever,
because I can’t without you.
Can you laugh the way you did as ever,
because I can’t without you.
do you able to enjoy every moment of your life,
because I am trying every way still alone allwhere.
Do sleep comes to you,
I m still unable to sleep throughout nights.
Do u miss this idiot,
my mind resists your thoughts every second.
Did your heart asks how I am,
my heart has stopped murmuring just doing pumping.

©2013 Vishal Bhojwani  
Look at more poem with some creative look in the book @
http://vizack.wordpress.com/samples
Poem of book SPARK written by Vishal Bhojwani (viZacK)
To know more about SPARK visit : vizack.wordpress.com
Rohit Singh Nov 2018
My crazy classroom is really very insane,
The condition of my classmates is very hard to explain.
In front of Rajmangal Sir, no one dares to chat,
The boys in my class are fearless like the big cat.
We always messed around Pujari sir because he rarely shouts,
Many never care and thought 'what literature is all about'??
The teaching of Vivek sir made me study hard,
Sir's favorite topic used to be probability related to the card.
Specifically, sir's voice that can be heard from far away classes,
He treats everyone equal and shows us the right path whenever he passes.
Few words of Yogesh sir create a nice atmosphere in the class for us to study,
He explains things like our buddies.
Alok sir is one of the most experienced teacher we had in our school,
So no one can ever try to make him fool.
Now coming back to my own class,
Were few are serious of studies and few meant for time pass.
Swapnil is the one who studies in advance,
Some are always ready to sing and a few ready to dance.
Ayush and Kshitej Meshram are called the world bank,
Seriously they are like cheques, signed but amount is blank.
Because of boldness Smriti resembles a boy,
The quarrel between me and Vinod is what all enjoy.
Piyush is a genius but he doesn't admit,
Sachin is the person which always talks ****.
Actually, Amit is called a silent killer,
He has the potential to reach from Dravid to Miller.
Then comes kancha my friend,
His small eyes and lovely smile is what in trend.
Nived and meshram are the music champs of the school,
Because of music there, a mind is always cool.
Then comes dabad who is very hard to understand,
He always does the work which is well planned.
Meshram is the one who does what he wants to at that moment,
He always wants to be ahead of his opponents.
Also, meshram and sachin are always ready to play kabaddi,
But on the court instead of playing, they just jump like poppy.
Then comes my bestie Toppo,
We have taken many photos from pujari sir's oppo.
Mitesh is the moody person in our class,
Only for a short period his sweetness usually last.
Bongali is one of the favorite characters in the class we had,
He says English so fast that it makes the students mad.
Then the besti pair of sandy and Loki,
For them in kabaddi the funny player is Prajapati.
Shubhum is intelligent and very shy,
How can he be so silent makes me think why??
Vishal anna comes the next in order,
Seeing him and his partner I think they had a speech disorder.
Maravi is the hidden football player that not many know about,
He is really intelligent than Vinod no doubt.
Shishir is my best friend; you are part of my heart,
We go through ups and downs, but still, nothing can tear us apart.
the melancholy of hearing Springsteen's
born in the USA is still hitting me hard:
harder than i thought it might:
to give context:

      i asked my manager if he could demote
me from anything to do with responsibilities
of managing people in
little teams and have just a chill
day enjoying music:

how far i've come: i'm getting desensitized
with live music
and i've been toying with being
desensitized with ***...
regardless should my fantasy of a woman
come
i return to brushing my teeth
and jerking off like it's a spare tire...
tires... bicycle parts:
fish need bicycles no water...

but i knew there was a work around:
at first i felt i was being punished
i was given two petite women
and a man in his 60s with broken English...
then i was given an un'kle
then a Hindu toy of a half-made
i would call him the timid Frankenstein:
what Shelley envisioned in Frankenstein's
monster i see as not half the zombies
just zombies i just don't: want to understand
i'll replace the comma with the colon
piling up on emphasis...

i will not resort to the straitjacket of
the paragraphs: i simply can't!

oh jeez it was so joyous to finally replace
the snapped spoke in my front wheel:
i remember my grandfather not bothering
to buy new rubber in the inflatable
dimension of:
that thing beneath the tire...
the spoke: spokes:
tire: tiresome...
but only recently i realized i had two spokes
that snapped and they weren't obvious
but the gears changed just fine...
but every time i peddled:
the cassette was all wobbly...
now came the change of the spokes
and i realized i didn't have the right tools
no chain whip...
but then again i have a cheap bicycle
that's rich with sentiments
and it really doesn't matter how
money and gold and riches operates
but this bicycle: is hardly something to be seen
in...
the frustration of a simple task
matched with not having the right sort of tools...

so if i was not going to be demoted to
a simple role:
hey presto! a switch of team members:
i was given the sort of people who
would never be able to eject people
for bad behavior...
so unlike other supervisors of a response
team
i just said: stick together:
let me know you're together...
stay together...
if i need you: i'll come and find you...
so i let
Michaella, Hussein,
Abdul and Vishal just wander:
apparently having a hands-off approach:
they talked and occupied themselves
while i stood outside of the vomitory at 514
by the information desk guessing
whether i could enjoy the gig...

i didn't... i ended up taking photographs
of the London skyline from level 5 of Wembley...
but how does the usual work dimension turn out:
the response team supervisor and the four hounds...
me?
as Muhammad no known Abdullah said to me:
you just look and intervene:
these were not hounds: i was not the alpha
these were not my betas...
i needed a new alphabet of meaning...
i just said to them: i'll call you when i need
you...
otherwise? you're free to roam...
sure: i called on my four to manage queues
in two instances:
i noticed one Wembley official calling over
the radio:
but i was already analyzing the chess pieces
of men on the concourse...
and when i put my team to task of bending
the *****-like-behavior of people:
winding curving the queue for drinks while
other peoples might pass...

i'd rather deal with the insensitivity of corks
and screws and nails
than motivating people to do my biding
not my biding
in an environment where
women lack so much:
in an environment where women lack
so much
dealing with people and not children...
not bossy *****: ***** you just don't understand!

700c x 28 wheel...
but the cassette: i can't believe i was riding my bicycle
down hills not afraid:
like the predicate on life in America
is guided by insurance...
like we can't just live to 40 and not flake it
stretch it to 80 whereby the killer-crusher-able and
Abel... says to:
aversion to tattoos:
that mark of Cain on my right shoulderblade
deviated my: if i ever had a:
fetish for tattooing my body...

maybe if i didn't have an assassination
attempt
in hospital that inflated my heart
after choking on the bigger **** to match
a ******...
then another assassination attempt
come aged 21...
how many times will i have to be tried
for not dying yet still living:
and how do people find themselves
able to live a life only exhausted by
old age...
but not life in between
from people just custard-and-fudge-packaging
their ****** sentiments of:
whatever it is that it might (have) be / been?!

i'm missing the proper tools...
Edie ****** me off
and i'm not talking to her because i'm being
a brain-child
and she's "just realizing":
so many complications about:
oh but sure: the average man moves
from Newcastle to Sunderland and that's
that...
i'm being asked to ******* to Hawaii from
London and leave the burdensome father
and mother while: while her mother seems
to be all catered for so
that means: i'll have to go back and also
tend: but to her with child the child is
uttermost important and to me
that's just not my child
but when the child not mine
overshadows the mother the father that's mine:
where do you think?

mother in defense of the daughter:
this comes across as
well: this son in defense of his father and mother
and maybe this is how modernity
ought to look like...
i wasn't happy with being demoted
but at the same time i was given a time
where i didn't have to be:
in the end i didn't enjoy the Bosses'
salute...
he didn't play Streets of Philly and didn't
play: my mustard gas track:
i never understood Iron Maiden's fetish
for world war I account
in poetics... like that war wasn't self-inflicted
by one family...
i wouldn't call world war I world war I:
i'd call world war I the War of Incestuous
Reclaiming of the Nation
away from the Pressures of Empire Building...
World War II was actually the first world war...
why then demonize talk of hyping up
a potentiality of a world war III being staged?

slow down: you'll get your world war III
as a world war II
because world war I wasn't really a world war...
you should know
that between world wars...
there has to be a cold war
of reflection...
past cold war I now a cold war II
so it seems only natural that a world war II
is impeding like scratching my head:
is that an itch or an inch of hmm...

so i had my "hounds" roaming while
i sort of: looked different in the background...
but even at the AC/DC gig
we had ejections
came Springsteen there was an atmosphere
of: had a good time will have a good
let's all have a good time...
but i don't think much of a rhino in that...
i just don't understand
why she thinks i can't think her claiming
my father's and mother's hard work:

would i rather the flimsy supra-real love
of blessed **** best ******
with Jason, Jeff and Peter:
would i rather be loved or homeless?
after all: how excruciating the laws of men
with all their sidetracking subjectivity of
passing judgement:
while the objectivity of the law of gravity:
has: already been passed!
so there's this weird impasse:
how naive am i and how desperate is she
to tell me it's not otherwise:
is she going to tell me i'm yet another
cradle-snatched example of ***
below par for her Mantis hot-spot of hot fat
*** and i'm so naive as to think:
**** is not enough
to... oh wow!

                if this was me i wouldn't really
as much as i'd like the headache of a teenage
girl:
i'm starting to think: maybe it would be
easier to have a boy to prize and mold and
figure **** out...
but then she's all flimsy and sorry-soppy and
for me i spoke to the night:
this relationship is turning out to be
one right proper: BOGUS of BOG...
so what? no signing paperwork:
we're still going to be these loved-up teenagers:
so i'll lie about nearing 40
and you'll lie about nearing 60
and somehow life will manage itself
like we pretend to work together
but here we are:
i've worked for something and you worked
for something:
there's a disparity of what we worked
for...
and now: we are to share?
if only my interaction with you was uplifting:
but i can hardly call it that:
as told in the mantra of high-school...
i just overheard two supreme quotes:

take a picture: it'll last longer...
and...
you're special: just like everyone else!
Catholic mantra:
yet still people manage to grind
a hope for that antonym i
just want a secluded life
i can envision working with people
but then days on end with
no one in my vicinity...

              aged nearing 40
and having my 20s in a recluse mode...
and half of my 30s...
why should it become so embarrassing
so incomprehensible to think i might
want to bypass all those complications
of dealing with a person
on a personal bias: focus...

            i just don't understand the need
for intimacy... that might develop into...
what? the fear sung about
in Eleanor Rigby?
where all those lonely people go to?
into Abraham's *****...
that's where they go to!

   but it would be so anti-****** to succumb
to just good ***
when i've amassed so much time spent
alone reading philosophy
and i read philosophy to escape religiosity
and that's just a ******* mismatch...
outright off the bat...
i've spent too much time alone
to somehow crumble:
i just don't want to hurt...
turns out the complimentary party
will just hurt itself regardless...

        i've spent too much time alone
and that's just that.

— The End —