To A Singing Bird

The art of purification of feelings
Gets flowered in the hands of one
Words are nectareous and healing
This art is eulogised by everyone .

Ay! The sullen valley smiles sprightly
The sky azure is filled with fragrance
Of flowers fluttering in breeze mild
Echoes the assonance of joy highly .

The pen that smokes such poesy
The rhythms that yodel emotions
Makes listeners in a fit of hallucination
Being lost in sea of literary pleasure.

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World , its relations and promises
are fake and delusion only .

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Sprituality : Power Unseen

Aimless lives men often spend
In the dark aura of ignorance
Like the armies in battleground
in darkness fight with soldiers own .

What can men do in suffering ?
Can they get from anywhere solace
Or they feel peace in pursuit vain ?
No , neither they are relieved
Nor get solace and peace in world .

On getting NO from everywhere
Men seek only contemplation
being serious and sombre like saints
Spiritual power supports the soul
Collapsing as weak as the sandstairs .

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Sigh of Longings

My longings wept by holding me
They were aware of this doubt
They will be expelled from the heart .

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From My Heart To ....

Tenderness of soul is a quality
Which makes us full of humanity
The breeze mild with fragrance
Spreads happiness with divinity .

Yup ! Happiness with divinity .
Needed in world of mortality .

Friends from our childhood days
Are showers of rain in heat of May
A song melodious brings smiles
In solitariness of burdensome life.

Yup ! The Nostalgiac sweet song
Gifts us the million dollar smiles .

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To Myself

Selfless are born all here
Strange it is for us to hear
World compels to be selfish
Or peace of life we ca'nt relish .

Aphorism replaces innocence
Calling it the needed essence
Of life we get to enjoy from God
All without resistance do nod .

Searching truth in artificiality
Human wriggles for humanity
Saints call it often irony irony
Ah! It is freshness in monotony .

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From Experience of Heart Innocent

A maze fully surprising is life
The path zigzag leads to unknown city
Yeats call it Byzantium with strife
Where soul strives for its final liberty .

A course acute dramatic is life
The blend of sorrow and pleasure
An opera thronged with various eyes
Where fate lies in hands of Director.

A stat of patience and ordeal it is
The effort it is to remain stoic simply
To surrender to the will of Almighty
I always call the test of tolerance it is .

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Bliss of Hard Times

Mirage lies before us unitil
We enter the phase of time hard
The mist disperses soon
And the clear reality appears .

When we put our loved ones
One by one on parameters of test
Crowd disappears leaving us alone
Friends remain no friend but fiend
Ha Ha Ha ! They befool us !

Bliss of Hard Times we call it
Teaches us to be strong enough
To strenghten our spirit to support
Against such dark phase of gloom .

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From The Soul

Bear the load of words you speak
As carefully as the palace of sand
which breaks and scatters soon
Words spoken show our upbringing
It is better not to speak much
says so the old age men of wisdom .

Less talkative quality protects always
From situations trouble causing
Keeping away men mean of nature
You are attacked by one nears you
By keeping quite such men be avoided
Who deserve not company of yours .

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Walking Dead Body ..

Oh! Ache troubles brain in vain
Perplexity of images dark
Overwhelms peace inside brain
Ache disrupts calm creek stark.

Silence prevails now no longer
Even in solitude intrudes noise
Whence comes noise to linger
Nuisance and fatigue in man's life
That destroys ecstasy joy and peace?

Hope gives life to hopes
Is the source of ache of all kinds
If renunciates hope, what is left ?
Desert dry with thorny shrubs
Walking dead body without soul.

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