Friday, October 28, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
festive canvas
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| ethereal emergence of goddess from each figment of colourful nature:occasion of durga pooja |
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Comatose………
Despite being quite aware of an undelible fact that people die and their appearance vanish like the evanescent rays of the sun at dusk, we fear. Dead people just go away leaving behind a vaccuum of memories.The feeling is unbearable.
Addicted to the habit of getting used to relationships is life’s best shot to agree categorically to its unique and sometimes illogical framework. Everybody has a different story with a tinge of happiness and scad of sorrows as they may say where thousands struggled,lived and died. Man since his childhood ties knots and make commitments bloating the circle of kith and kin from families to friends , alliances to colleagues and sometimes even anonymous bonds that are rife ignorant of the upkeeps in life. It is not at all impossible to live without all of them but it is quite difficult not to find them around and to love life again when it seems effete.
Dedicated to all those people whom we have lost but whose promises would live diluting the peevish strokes of life seizing their fragments in the clime forever.
Eyes poured on the day crowned.
He aired his cap ,made a rhetoric sound.
The blaze of pride and aurora of glory
Marked the beginning of a tragic story.
Life is restive and expects the same.
But never get trapped in its language lame.
It has wrapped all in it: the good and the best,
Flaunts only a part ,never talks about the rest.
It is hard to leave home as always
When the weeping faces beseech the days.
To run fast and faster as guiles,
Wiping their saline and bring back the smiles.
With all the blessings one embarks upon.
Life goes on with days and darks along.
Tieing the knots with promises to keep,
Thousands of dreams to see and to leap.
Green turns the heart with a naïve inside.
Novice of the wrongs he thinks to be right.
With a happy family and circle of friends
He could live up the dreams with all messy bends.
Saviour is he and spirits are high
Thinking with the hallowed wings of happiness,he could fly.
Children’s eyes shimmering with desires.
The only thing heart always aspires.
A song of desire and dreams and hope.
A roseate feeling being together to dope.
One sings a lot jauntily in the breeze.
Under the blanket all bliss to seize.
Late night thoughts with a drowsy note ,
Whispers to swim into dreams and clothe
The bare vision of the day coming next,
Will it be great or once again vexed?
Every goodbye and a waving hand
Invites their return back to the land
It happens,
When people go and never come from the past
Leaving behind a wraith vision of the last
They cry and scream and weep and glance
Wishing to rewind the time at once.
Remains a soul connected though in comatose
Memories become the only bridge to close…………
Addicted to the habit of getting used to relationships is life’s best shot to agree categorically to its unique and sometimes illogical framework. Everybody has a different story with a tinge of happiness and scad of sorrows as they may say where thousands struggled,lived and died. Man since his childhood ties knots and make commitments bloating the circle of kith and kin from families to friends , alliances to colleagues and sometimes even anonymous bonds that are rife ignorant of the upkeeps in life. It is not at all impossible to live without all of them but it is quite difficult not to find them around and to love life again when it seems effete.
Dedicated to all those people whom we have lost but whose promises would live diluting the peevish strokes of life seizing their fragments in the clime forever.
Eyes poured on the day crowned.
He aired his cap ,made a rhetoric sound.
The blaze of pride and aurora of glory
Marked the beginning of a tragic story.
Life is restive and expects the same.
But never get trapped in its language lame.
It has wrapped all in it: the good and the best,
Flaunts only a part ,never talks about the rest.
It is hard to leave home as always
When the weeping faces beseech the days.
To run fast and faster as guiles,
Wiping their saline and bring back the smiles.
With all the blessings one embarks upon.
Life goes on with days and darks along.
Tieing the knots with promises to keep,
Thousands of dreams to see and to leap.
Green turns the heart with a naïve inside.
Novice of the wrongs he thinks to be right.
With a happy family and circle of friends
He could live up the dreams with all messy bends.
Saviour is he and spirits are high
Thinking with the hallowed wings of happiness,he could fly.
Children’s eyes shimmering with desires.
The only thing heart always aspires.
A song of desire and dreams and hope.
A roseate feeling being together to dope.
One sings a lot jauntily in the breeze.
Under the blanket all bliss to seize.
Late night thoughts with a drowsy note ,
Whispers to swim into dreams and clothe
The bare vision of the day coming next,
Will it be great or once again vexed?
Every goodbye and a waving hand
Invites their return back to the land
It happens,
When people go and never come from the past
Leaving behind a wraith vision of the last
They cry and scream and weep and glance
Wishing to rewind the time at once.
Remains a soul connected though in comatose
Memories become the only bridge to close…………
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
bungled defaults..
It is always good to forget encomium as soon as possible and turn back inside to look within where my god is still standing with the same coat of my being. It feels like being used and thrashed and adjudged and being scanned by bevy of people where my personal hut of reverie is lost somewhere in the midst of limelight and glamour of attention. It feels in such cases that we have been estranged to ourselves where the bareness of fragments further explores the nudity of the same being who needs not to be discussed and seen so frequently in the socialised world. It becoems hard and a bit source of thinking when the instinctive equipoise is disrupted and we try to find our selves nowhere.
Eulogy is good to ears but should travel a path not to the mind but to the memories only to be dusted off often whenever retrospection is required. ........will come back tommorrow......
Eulogy is good to ears but should travel a path not to the mind but to the memories only to be dusted off often whenever retrospection is required. ........will come back tommorrow......
Saturday, September 10, 2011
midnight illusion
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| nature as a ruse to love |
 | |
| somewhere in the middle of the most lively and whispering clime in the midnight of romance in the arms of the beloved,o' lord I wish time to stay with me .....forever.... |
Thursday, September 8, 2011
the gift
love in the air on the lips of the birdie
squacking and chirping the song of desiredrum beats of the raindrops falling down
the dulcet of nature to don and hire.
whoosh of the winds and creeches of the rocks
bending arms and dancing tree mocks
come in the slaps of air and rain
look at the land wet with jaunting grains.
open your window ,let us in
we bring the healing blanket of grin
wrap it over and join to sing
pull over the bliss in the fling.
splashes of the water from the hit of the feet
fairness of the stems and the smell of peat
At blameless azure with hovering clouds
my heart pounces by leaps and bounds
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