YOUR PEN

Let the perennial source of romantic emotions,

Of your skillful and sagacious pen,

Flow flooding the thirsty basins of my heart,

With its unique and splendid artifacts.

When the dependence of my greenery,

On your drops of water is not hidden from thee,

Then why is this dryness of sweet artistic pour?

Why this injustice with your infatuated follower?

Look at my side once with your inner eyes,

See the grandeur of the love of your adorer,

Pick up the pen; write down what your heart visualizes,

 It will be a beautiful creation, I promise.

KEEP SMILING

I know your address well,

Still,I do not ever push your doorbell,

Even though I am very sad,

I am dissipated,

My life shattered,

After your departure.

Do you know why?

I do not want to take my sorrow,

To your door.

I do not want to make you a partner,

Of my grievous state of affairs.

I love you,

How can I see you in blue?

You be happy always,

Keep smiling ever,

Remain unaware of my sorrow,

Stay free from my thought.

This is my love,

This is shattered me.

MY PEN

Ever since, you move away,

From my life,

Separate your ways,

From that of mine,

I am in pain,

In strain.

Every moment,

I live a little bit,

Die more bit.

I can’t call it living.

I call it existing.

My eyes shed water,

Behind the closed doors.

Whilst my heart,

With all its intent,

Prays for your betterment.

I jot down my feelings,

Silently in my verses.

But my pen does not ever,

Oozes red ink out of anger,

And I do not allow it

To turn black out of disappointment.

My pen

Percolates pink ink,

And the ink,

Smells rose,

Colors rose,

As this is the color of my emotions

As this is the fragrance of my adoration.

OH, CLOUD !

Oh, cloud!

We met in the middle days of the winter,

Then passed the cruel stretch of horribly hot summer,

That tattered my surface, shattered my core,

Compelled my greenery to face death premature.

You were never so late to deliver your rain,

Always care for my needs and concerns.

It is getting late; I need your instant intervention,

Merciful relief and graceful considerations.

The hours of wait seem torturous continuity,

I feel dying breathless in this condition of aridity.

Desperately my meadows look up every hour,

In your direction for the flowery of your shower.

It seems you forgot the way to my circle,

Or maybe the air has become so indifferently inimical,

That it is not delivering the news of my misery to you,

Or else, it is unlikely for you to abstain from obviating my blue.

Come in; rain on me tup-tap, tup-tap, tup-tap,

Play with my foliage zhip-zhap, zhipr-zhap.

Fill my ears with the honey of these euphoriant sounds,

Reign my soul; reincarnate me with your blissful magnitude.

THE POOR BIRDIE

There was a young birdie,

Peeping out of his nest with his fearful eyes,

Looking curiously towards the sky,

Watching closely his species fly,

In flocks like colorful floating rainbows,

Jingling and twittering freely on their way in bliss.

“I too can fly,” he thought,

”I should use my talent”

“God had made me a birdie for this blue sky,”

”I have wings like them,” “Why not to try?”

Without a second thought, he jumped out of his den

Fell down on the ground, climb up and jumped up again

The birds flying overhead looked at him,

Looking at each other began to scream.

Started saying,” do not know how to fly”

“Someone tell him, it’s not his cup of tea, the poor guy”

You too were in the flock silently watching the proceedings,

Your generous heart brought you near him.

You whispered in his ears,” Friend, you too can fly”

“Don’t be ashamed, I will teach you, how to fly”

Then began the process of teaching and learning,

Sessions after sessions, season after season.

Days passed on, they didn’t tire out in summer,

The storms of rainy season failed to disturb their soar.

The winters failed to freeze their art

The spring titillated their innocent hearts.

Burdened by your beneficence he gave you away his heart,

Began loving and respecting you from the depth of his spirit.

MOON DEAR

I do not know why my moon is not visiting my sphere,

Why she is depriving me of her charming cool fervor.

Knowing well about the craziness and hunger of my core,

Why she preferred to hide behind a dense cloud cover.

Dear moon; you are the lone precious gift of God to my poor nature,

Kindly do not try to make your accursed poor a griever.

It is injustice for a celestial being as you to torture your reliant,

Without fault, after seizing his soul in your gracious enchantment.

Oh moon dear, do you think I will try to find solace,

In any other artificial or natural luminary of the universe?

If you think so, then it is an insult to my sincere adoration,

And a distrust in my innocent sweetest emotion.

I will not sing a song any day for another luminary of the constellation,

And insult your graceful glow and my proud proclamation of affection.

I would prefer to remain drowned in the fathomless darkness forever,

Cry each night in the memory of my honeymoon with your glimmer.

HALF-RIGHT, HALF-WRONG

When one of my friends said,

That my behavior towards you is fatherly and dominant,

I knew he was referring to my straightforward reactions,

And honest statements about you, your actions, your creations.

He was half-right and half-wrong,

In his perceptions as per my conceptions.

He was right;

As it’s not my duty as a lover, to be a critic of my beloved,

Rather, I am supposed to lend a blind eye towards the person I have loved.

He was wrong;

As I am first of all a good friend, a well-wisher,

And then a true adorer, but never a tricky appreciator.

I did not wish or try to impose on you anything,

Rather frankly and fearlessly convey what I feel about the things.

As a true adorer, my heart does not shelter artificiality, deception,

Or any hidden agenda for the person it admits to be its own.

For me love is all about a clean and transparent acquaintance,

That does not have any room for hiding, lying, fear or shoddiness.

In love, words, emotions, thoughts flow free from the soul like a cascade,

Without being interfered, perturbed or corrupted by a calculating mind.

He went on to suggest;

That I should be cautious and courteous while conveying the truth,

Sweet, humble and shrewd enough to avoid the bitter truth.

Here again, he was half-right and half-wrong,

In his opinion and my principles.

He was right;

No one in this world likes bitter truth and everyone likes appreciation,

Be it fake, flirting and with a malicious intention.

He was wrong;

As you are not anyone but the one among many for me,

Why should I deal with the dirt of untruth or hypocrisy with thee?

For me, you are a sensible, fair and a fabulous person,

There is no reason for me to be worried about your discretion.

The only person on the earth that I have ever worshiped is thee,

That’s why I am honest and true to you as I am with me.

He was right;

In his notions of life, men, matters,

And common human behavior.

He was wrong;

In his perception, imagination and calculation,

Of my unique sweetheart, her greatness, me and my divine adoration.