FOR DIANA

I JOT MY BARE VERSES

‘Here I jot my bare verses for a worldly awareness while the universe is surrounded by an ailment called religion. I would yell louder than a hell could sound for a world which I belong and suffering to innovate a new episode for the future of universe. I had a dream that the world is getting free from its shackles of customs and rituals and men introducing their self-brain to the world to overcome the hurdles of life other than religious way’.

THOUGHTS

VOICE OF A BIRD

'I found the beautiful shade in Earth,as a writer under the shelter of Literature,which the sense giving exercise of all kind'

ENGAGEMENT BELLS

PART 2

Saturday evening was incredible with parents that I had a meeting. They were preparing me how to face the girl and her parents and mom was helping me how to be not serious in a function or a party and she said:

‘Son don’t be serious on Sunday when you reach there, give her a smile and don’t talk too much about studies or Literature, it could get bored’

I laughed at her and whispered at her ears

‘Mom this advice is too much, don’t you know am your romantic son’

Everything was prepared for Sunday. My clothes all washed and neatly ironed, my shoes are prepared with a pair of clean socks, and nothing was faulty in me to give complaint. All was apparently well and decked.

 I entered her home on Sunday morning with my uncle and Dad. They gave us a warm welcome and gave handful respect and admiration. Her father is a retired military cop and had been working all over India. Her mother did not ask much to me and seemed silent as if a statue as I don’t like more questions from a mother in law being strict to ask. Her brother was so silent and stood in the side of the cushion chair we sat. While in the hall discussing with that family, her father called her and she came into the room gave us tea and put a bunch of banana on the top of the table and she stand a while leaning on the wall and after that she went back to her room.

 I noticed her white face distinctly; she was beautiful as a full moon and whispered to myself

‘This is good and sure will happen’

The girl finished the computer training and quit it and was doing the banking training. I didn't ask much about her reason of quitting the computer field.

Then the girl’s father asked his daughters opinion about me and she affirmed

Yes, my dad was happy and uncle was happy. Then her father asked to us

‘What is the step next, she liked him’

My uncle replied laughingly

‘We can fix a date for engagement’

‘Let it be’ he agreed

I had a chat with her before leaving her home making her happy without asking deep into her studying subjects, yet but asked her academic carrier and the timing of classes. When I said her to ask some questions about me, she looked shy and asked me about a few questions of my journey to India and returning date.

To be continued..

  

THE SELF EXHAUSTED ONE & THE WINTER

'Summer has grown
faster than thoughts
Like the day exhausted
with loss in our thoughts
Tired not the sun
The self exhausted one
With a fire himself burnt
 will show us the best
 Glance day by day
Until the winter gives
A boon to our hearts'

GRANNY'S HEAVEN

There is my granny’s spirit, active and playful in all the corners of our old single stored family house of concrete—a building, which was constructed at a time when I was not yet born. She died three years ago and all her affections once gave to me. Now are here all the memories that I often keep in a place, which was quite unknown for anybody than me. Then since, I had to make me to call up every single inspiration in life of those, which was a result of her prayers that I do believe still. I was looking for those elevated joys in the midst of seasons’ changes, every coming and going to her house and sensed different feelings and emotions, which gave good moments in us each other. Her happiness was only my intention, whenever we are together, either she was in my own home or in the family building which lay in the midst of natural green, yes we loved one another in greatest pleasure. There was Granny’s Heaven and Heaven ever had bend upon her and gave every essence of felicity until she dragged to silent death.  Granny never fails to love me or care me. She is still in my memories. I love you so much until my end

WRITER'S PEN

Look him, he writes in the heart of humankind, the bitter thoughts of his experiences that urge him to make an abrupt remembrance of his pallid memories. The waning moon looked so painful for his haunting soul, which was almost dried by the exposure of sun’s intense heat. He was a blinking star-kid in the past, who cried for his ignorance and love that he never tasted in his boyhood days. Was he mixed love in his solitude — yes, he had a past with painful memories, where love never had attached to his soul but flew to unsophisticated regions of dark filled faces. He as a watcher of curious phenomenon and entertained himself in looking the gang of stars that silently hung in the vast, extended skies and dared to count them with sublime in his thoughts on starry nights. He was an aggressive learner who made mistakes in multitudes, both in his mind and its reflection called actions. His nerves are weak enough for fortune when his society cheered against his brat mind. He collected the sorrows’ drains as if He had to obey the false practices to fulfill a thought. Days and nights were indistinguishable for him to give a relief from the terror that trembled in his intense emotional mind. He yearned freedom and always tried to remove the shackles of customs from his hands, which was tight enough to remove its locked hook. Tangled by emotional thorn and wreathed by the asthmatic world, pathetic by the very origin. He believed memories are painful like the crack that occurred in the midst of soul, by the submissive violence. He, who wrote these hurts in a mystic book with dreams of pain, was not well to share his pen to others.

   

ON MY DEAR & DEAD FRIEND JEREMY

Jeremy would probably be the unluckiest guy in the diploma classes, but the survived one. It was very tough for him to understand lessons which instructor taught. He maintained his thoughts of immature quality. ‘Dubiety’ was often his soul –mate. Scarcely could he understand the conclusion of the chapters, which his classmates already gained. Something like a motor-or a device or an external factor like a clearer sky or a beautiful natural wind was essential for him to accelerate him. He went one loop to connect with the other, either in the case of theories or in the other side of practical exercises. In addition, the instructor ‘Manuel’ was always his nightmare and many of his classes seemed to him like he was running away with some fret and sat unwillingly in most of his time stinting in our gloomiest College.

WHEN THE WINTER CLOUDS ARE SEEN

The winter clouds are seen—neatly fog entering into my house atop,delivering me words of chillness and I have loneliness and my ever loved friend—solitude.Well I love having this dark room where I sat in the dim light of a lantern and write pleasantly.When Love is barren with self-proud I have only words left—pain carries me to make words of wisdom

ENGAGEMENT BELLS

    PART 1

It was in a hapless situation that I wrote about my Engagement, sadly though I wrote —a traditional fault that represented my family members.

It has ruled out my mood and made me interestingly unhappy. That incident left me lot of curiosity and queries. I didn't hear such like from any one of my friends’ experience yet. However, it can also hardly happen for one or two around us. Now let me unfold. Two months before my parents phoned me and informed something they found for me. I was sure they are trying to talk about a new girl. Mom gave her word to the girl’s family and they fixed the date of our meeting according to my leave.

 I felt anxious about going to a marriage-lock and was enjoying my bachelor life better than any one of my friends. Apart from that when I thought of an opportunity to go home after a long time, I imitated some happiness.

I seen her photo and excited with her marble like body, her face was a bit large with a few pimples all around. She was white and lean with an innocent round face and no one says she is bad for me. I board my flight on 12 March and happily reached India where my uncle and my dad came in a car to pick me to my home. Uncle was so much proud and happy to see me and he inquired me about the journey:

'Hi man how was the journey ’

'All right, uncle'

My father was so happy in seeing me after a long time and he said:

'Son, you are a bit improved now’

‘Last year I started eating food more, Dad’ I replied and laughed at him

Uncle drove me and father to home and he left. Dad and I entered through our stairs in the dark and he gave a door bell. We waited for a while for mamma to wake up. She came with her happy face and invited me. I shown her my new camera and gave her sweets and chocolates to eat. She could not eat it because it was late night and told me she will take it after brush her teeth in the morning. I hugged her and parents gone to their beds and slept.

I didn't shower and knew the water was so cold of rain last night the atmosphere was chilled enough and eagerly went to the dining room and ate fried chicken prepared my mom that morning. I had to adjust the time in my watch, before I sleep with a knowledge that am in a different zone to prepare for my Indian dreams—Indian girl and Indian food. Then again an Indian morning arrived after a year of time with a Friday wing. I knew I was happier than anyone in the house and I pulled out my curtain and seen monsoon clouds outside, the atmosphere was dark and rain pelted outside. I have intended to mind that am not going to do any sort of writing activities nor painting or reading in this short spell at home, but rather am preparing my body to gain some weight and did those kinds of arduous chest exercises. In India, variety of food would always turn me on and am a great fan of sour, spicy and salty group of food.

To be continued..

LOVED & NUMB

I Let her, I let her sing in an Indian ecstasy
I let her softly smile with those daisy lips
Where glad beams did sprout to own the best of rosy
Romance, and by joy, my dawn and the day she kept.

Time was swift and yet swift time has the shrill for Love
To deserve not by match of minds,
At last loved and numb..

SLEEP KEEPS FUNERAL SONG

Invoking her,mild Sleep
And the bright spot of rest
And all those passed are pale
And frost as death in silence
How soft that state that charms
sweet Death like sleep when calls
And memory in a numb corner stills
O' sleep,let me take,far,for a vaccation

THE SOLEMN MUZIC

'The solemn music is tuning in the bard's mind,he trying to chisel with
Aesthetic art.Wishing the wind could scatter his ideas unto different directions.When he lost the dearest maid, he felt along the way he did under the wings of knowledge. He found shelter and slept beneath the shade of ancient books.The shelter the had when he was mad enough to prove the world. summer gave him warmth,yet warm and hottest memories he found and waited further on

Arrived the day:

 When autumn wind lets his Timidness​  fall, new hopes will sprout in may till September'

FOR THIS PEN AHEAD THE THOUGHT

Alike an peaceful heaven
Words are wandering among woods
Forest,Forest, mind-ward awake
Varying my thunder cloud- mind
Silently day-dreaming and writing
With myriad hopes ahead
How precious these words awake
Away from the worldly worries
Away from wrangled hours
For this pen ahead the thought!

Once Loved God

 Sing thou, muse that conquering my slender age

 Naked moments and flightless gloom

Dreams, ripened and lively own

From thee I fled unconstrained

when you hide from me

Solemnly then dwelt is my pathos  

When nights and days swept sullen

Below your heavens’- lodge my gained ecstasy

I met curiosity since I found the World and since then I could not use a filter upon me. I tried to talk what I saw the demonic things in Earth.Could any one cease it?

Physically and mentally for me, to hide from God was indeed a rescue from the Earthly worries. God could be a cause, which made me think so much beyond the reality and I admitted even I am pulled away from Godly thoughts, I found ecstasy in Earth to write and create Literature .

Urging Remedy: Only if Consiousness and perception are weapons you self created:

Hope In An Oasis Near By.

All of a sudden, summer has arrived, the lovely plants and its dear flowers are almost dried and some of them seem fatigue with the burdensome summer heat. The poet is now wandering in the Arab world in search of Oasis to see a flower bloomed, a blossom, a sprout. Yet nothing such happened and he wandering and searching for the most peaceful part in the Earth. Dark as the summer and summer as a dark net occupying him mind. He sat in his desert tend and near a palm tee shade and started writing his new story pondering about a white cloud joy.

solemn query he asked: will he meet a sight of an Oasis nearby to unbound the joy of his new hope?

When the world is a Theatre

When the world that we live is a theatre,

No more complaints if I play my role

Not to disturb you, your work, or your arts

Let me dance and roam, merrily, playfully and vigor

To avail myself where knowledge is dwelt

I dare go seek its wings and we two make a flight. 

He Lives Amidst Literature

Drowned by his thought and now getting completely puzzled. His tiresome chirping would hear as if a cricket sat pounding, the poet sung lonely in his own disequilibrium. Did life bend upon his curiosity; multiple thoughts ran in him and random queries with fragmented Arabian views.  He had themes of dreadful subjects; politically dread  when his life introduced a terror to get her gloomy. He kept aside his humor for a time to come. Moreover, the time has arrived to make it explode .Now he would wander in the clouds, higher—   to win the joy back to the origin. There are mates new born for him—the unbroken silence and its true sister the tranquil solitude. since the burdens are away from him he wandered next door to ensure the rest of his time he lives like a struggler never before.Now he went with his Ancient attitude, more expressed from his obscurity— unclear yet for the society who shatters his views in a rediculous manner.Now the madness tearing him apart, he wrote lines of horror and often sarcastic, as if we was died and reincarnated from the barren Indian soil from a cause of curse. Spontaneous, he was so much wild to compare his past, and since handful of dreams are coming forth in his new pages.




Betrayed by an Arab girl whom he called his wild soul—Angel, who espied his beautiful daring thoughts, who is an Arab wardress, by whom his thoughts once blossomed in myriad thorns in variable shades of grey and white and more-often darkened.who helped his new blowing thoughts,which was an impact of her magical inspiration that nurtured him and ended up in a revenge.