A faded Song

I sung it all in my mind
through the night
the night that reminds me of season
that had fragrances of crimson,

I made tiaras out of it
and placed them on my head
the head that sings
a faded song of the morning,

I kept those mornings alive
of dreams and passive streams
of the wise, to seek
a world, big enough to dream.

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I remember back in childhood
my father used to take me on
bike rides and buy me ice-creams
and on our way all along i used
to look at the moon following us,
Yes, following us!
That was just poetry, i realised later.

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Persevere

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To the month that holds a day of love,
what's too small to be celebrated
for a day, a month, a lifetime!
My love, february reminds us of this life's irony.

Don't wait, Don't Chase.

-

फराज़ों पर ज़मीनी हक़ीक़तें
सोच कर देखो कैसे नामुराद हैं!

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We'd Return to Rescue Our Children

We'd return to rescue our children that day,
when trees would disappear and
there'd be no shades on not so sunny
but scorching heated days,

when men would hate the sun
considering it to be the only reason
behind all their agony,

When most of the land would get
submerged in water,
when people would prefer not to
conceive anymore,
when materials would drown and
art would burn,

when hate would creep in
between the brothers not for money, religion or sex
but for the thought of getting
a few more hours to breathe,

when man would submit himself to technology
that would probably tell him
the number of heartbeats he's been left with,

probably then we'd return to rescue our children!

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Love is that bittersweet feeling of understanding
the difference in between poetry and art.

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I call them settled wings,
which i pen after keeping a night.

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your eyes are wide open,
your thoughts lush and deep,
your heart constantly buzzing
dreams in which you truly believe.

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We're all into some drugs,
drugs that tastes of memories,
memories that keeps us away,
away from the ones that once
belonged to us.

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