Pictures

The tiny toothed, thin piece
of silicon and metal
Snug safely in a plastic frame
A second
A million switches long
And the device, like flame
Emit heat and light

An ornament worn
In every occasion
Festivals, weddings, parties
Replacing the black box with an eye
The plastic frame emerges again
And then, a flash

Good old friends, separated by time
Kin that appear
Like the good old man of Christmas
Those you see only in their festival best
Or even those, on a daily basis
Love or loath, but that is all hidden

Gloss-coated lips and flossed teeth
Hair that appears like silver thread
In sunlight, falling on your face
Lighting up your eyes
Your triumphant screams to be heard
To those that behold your perfect piece of art

And you look again
Feel the screen,
the skin of your fingers glowing red
And sell it to the wall
That state-less wall
For the pile of blue-cuffed hands that make you smile

And oh, if time spared
In the plain, four walled room with no window,
You swipe through your extended brain
When the real one just cannot
Discard them, pictures, as it can, with a click
A second before, a parting thought
How you let the world believe your real facade
Your perfect piece of art
In the tiny, thin piece of silicon and metal
Snug safely in a plastic frame

The Princess

Dark brown eyes made hazel by the sun
Her mottled teeth, brown and cream
She smiled at, visible to none other
A vibrant, marvelous dream
The princess I saw, sitting on a rock
The most cheerful creature I know
Breathing in, dust laden air of that site
That coated her hair and brow
And smiled again, to that fragrance
Like she enjoyed the green water
That ran down her parched throat
And to her every cell, a nectar
A much awaited, for her mortal
Starved, stunted being
She swayed to the tunes of her own song
Seeming like she weaved the wind
But princess she is, and much envied
By those who cannot stand the sun
As she locked her eyes on the weaving disc
with no prince or Godmother to wait for
Left with an abyss of her life
She is willing to take the risk

the painting

The Painting

A painting of a lady, one among

The others pinned to the wall

Encased, trapped in glass, frames of

Old oak and silver around them all

And I, a lad, a young poet

Finding ways to while away

Boring hours of a summer holiday

While others of my age would work and play

I sit and think about all day

To find something for my eager quill

Stained with the ink of my thoughts that spill

And found this picture, among the rest

Wondered why, I found it the best

Her hair had the flow of a river, disturbed

And in such mayhem, but a lock

So pale, might have cared less to paint

And yet had the radiant glow

Blazed like the golden sphere of the sky

But, caught me, those dark eyes

Of the lifeless, still Aphrodite

Caused the blood in my heart to rush

Feel it was more than strokes of brush

And then, there was life in every line

Touched the beating heart of mine

“Time’s up!” said the guard

And the illusion shattered hard

I looked back for a last glance, to the wall

At the painted lady on a piece of card

Hope

A RAY OF HOPE

A ray of hope

Was what you were for us

When we, far from home

Wished we were near

To those who were to us, dear

And when we got to taste

The bitter-sweet world

A tempest beyond our harbour

You were our solace

When theories like boulders

Were kept on our shoulders,

Those used only to stones

And complaints about us,

Fell upon you like an avalanche

Of us being incompetent, naughty

You tried to correct us instead

Gave us a smile, made us feel special

Made us feel like stars

Made us feel like winners

And thus, you were for us

A ray of hope

New year greetings

The Tree

The Tree

Aeons   ago, I emerged

Stretched myself to the world

Clutched on, with my fragile roots

As I felt the whiteness melt away

Then, I remember, the young Earth

My mother, and I the infant sap

I embraced the amiable breeze

And basked in the glory of the radiant

Wondered how, with eloquent ease

Flowed the water, with its clear grace

Nourished my roots, and strengthened

If I had eyes, I would have seen

How, emerged forms of life

Of various sorts, of various sizes

And many others of my kind

Holding fast and breathing out

Sustaining life

The breeze would tell me

All what he saw

The tales of east and lore of west

And yes, about the creature best

Set him apart from all the beasts

The species, destined to conquer the world

Though fragile, is  gifted

But alas, their greed and thoughtlessness

And some sadist fancy induced the kind

To turn against their kith and kin

Do what they themselves call ‘sin’

The breeze himself, of chemical woe

Blurted out the terrible truth

Of how they turned out a foe

To us, who fed them, sheltered them

And from us, made a home

I hear the mourns of birds and beasts

And for our kind, a massacre

To build themselves

They say , a home

Of concrete and of stone

My kind, felled, one by one

Gasped through the grip of death

That with a sharp, gleaming axe

Piercing a slow, painful end

I see that nightmare, but still, hold on

And hope, a day, that they would see

And then, would come back to me

And I will keep waiting, day and night

With my wooden arms stretched wide.

princess of the night sky

Princess of the night sky

After the colourful sunset,

The attractive colour splashed palette

In flowed the night

In no time

Spread the sky with pure black

So had we, to go to sleep

Before the next busy day,

But it began to creep

And my heart began to leap

As the room became dark

The howling of a dog, the hooting of an owl

Made my tummy growl

Then I made myself calm, and kept still

And my eyes wandered to the window sill

There I saw the Pretty One

Dancing in her lovely white gown

And her face, lit up with a smile

But when she saw me, she was usually shy

Ran and hid behind a cloud , with a silver line

But soon she was back

And was collecting stars

To arrange them in the black

The Orion, the Dipper the great and little Bear

And the best the night can wear

She skipped and jumped in the midnight sky

And the wind translated her silent laugh

It gave a soft whisper

As she tossed the stars around

And threw them to the midnight ground

Her lullaby, carried by the wind

Soothed me to sleep

And as she sung, she never forgot to remind

To make the night bright there always will be

The princess of the night sky.

Poem on child labour

Why couldn’t I be like them?

They asked me                                    

Who’s the most unluckiest child

In the world amongst

The children so mild

You’ll think it is me

When I tell you my story

As sad as it could be

You’ll never wish to be like me

I was born to be alone

And I haven’t seen my parent’s face

Sad, dull and grey

Were all my days

I started to work

At an early age

They made me feel like

My life was in a cage

They made me break stones

And wash their dirty dishes,

Demolished and crumbled

Were all my lovely wishes

They never gave me

Proper food to eat

All they did to me

Is to torture and beat

When I see other children

So bright and happy

Lovely and sweet

Will be their days

They learn and they play

All the day

Showered in love

Are they every day

To God, I always ask

Why couldn’t I be like them

But I got no answers

I wish I could be like them.

life is like a journey

Life is like a journey….

Life is like a journey

Which one can never end.

A very precious journey

That goes on to the end

A journey filled with happiness

Where sadness also could be

Sharp thorns of despair and gloom

We step before the soft petals of dreams

A journey we never walk alone

And with people in company

To choose the needs of the journey

Is the task of mine alone

Started from a soft path

Where people come to welcome us

The time when we lived in luxury

The time we choose our way

Came not too early

There was a fight all day

Between my dreams and destiny

The time when memories fill our heart

To say goodbye and stop our tour

Knowing there is a father

Waiting with a heart

We slowly end our journey.