Through the desert
I walked
for long
and wanted to forget
the grassy lawn.
Little did I know
that the memory already
has built an abode
of its own.

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T'was a match made in heaven,
And that's where it found an abode!

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Tried...
(Lines in caption)

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Don't break someone's heart
Be gentle on the planet,
as heart is the PLACE
where GOD lives. It's the
abode of GOD

-

I love like
a glacier loves
grinding through rock,
the very rock which
is an adobe for it.

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"No other abode can ever offer you peace,
But the love that's rightfully yours to keep."

-

Acting like adult
But soul's that of a kid
Cheering everyone else up
Without thinking about self
Trying to pave the way out
To give lament ones a chance
The one who's an incarnation of angel
Stands smiling by the shore
Not even a bit of arrogance










This man ever displayed
For he follows the ideals in all his ways
How I wish to get him as my brother
In the next life too
Is not a thing I will get to choose
Still I pray for that to happen in each of my prose
From guiding to caring
Been with me through every thick and thin
My brother's the best in the world I can say, in just a blink
Not enough words I've to thank him enough
For he's the most precious souvenir of the God's abode.

-

This little abode of four walls felt like a little world of mine. I couldn't take it when I heard that it was to be taken down to make way for a new development.

Hastily, the hunt for a new home started. After efforts of days, I found one new abode. But, it just couldn't fill the void within me that screams for the old home.

The nights spent on that bed, the laughs shared, the screams and shrieks vented out. The moments lived with loved ones, the lonely nights spent crying.

The aroma of food from the kitchen, the view from the window, the books stacked up in the rooms, the desk that helped me grow into this human I am.

Have you ever felt the pain of losing a part of your self? I have lost the four walls I used to call home.

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Trees are poems
only God can write

So serene, sublime
& magnanimous

Yet rooted, extending her
branches as if to pray

Nesting a Robin in her hair
Patiently wears Summer & Snow
Intimately sings in the Rain

Literary poems are written
by fools like me
But only God can write
A Poem as lovely as a Tree.

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Don't make homes out of people
who take you as a seasonal abode.

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