Visit to discover Indian blogs Pieces Of My Life: 2013

Sunday, September 29, 2013

In the World of Thoughts

Jumping, bubbling and growing sort;
Springs this thing which we call a thought.
At times light, otherwise heavy;
Sometimes a nerd, sometimes savvy.

Flashing for seconds to living for a lifetime;
Thoughts behind every act - charity or crime.
Seeping, creeping and flooding sort;
Flows this thing which we call a thought.

Surreal at times, a thought wonders the sky;
And when closer to reality, puffs the desire dry.
Flying, tripping and crashing sort;
Moves this thing which we call a thought.

Passion in mind, and a thought is born;
Even does it die, as a thinking mind is worn.
Rising, sinking and floating sort;
Tenures this thing which we call a thought.

A thought's expression is choked in a jailed mind,
With a brave soul, though, its horizon is difficult to find.
Cowing, braving and unleashing sort;
Expresses this thing which we call a thought.

An observing eye with a magnifying lens,
An exploring ship without directions' sense.
Adventurous, oceanic and wandering sort;
Appears this thing which we call a thought.

Many a name, many a form;
A thought perambulates without a home.
As a thought travels from its dawn to twilight,
Joy or sorrow - products of this psychic diet.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Rhythmic Colt-To-Horse

A wild colt, when growing up;
Alien to reins, saddle and stirrup.
Trot-Canter-Galloping in freedom,
The colt catches its natural rhythm.

As the colt grows further,
A city fair camps as a neighbour.
The fair had a fairy-tale doll,
Amazed colt asked her for a ball.

The shy doll feared her master,
Courage - she couldn't muster.
Rejected the colt's invitation,
The colt sank in utter dejection.

The fair stayed for two days,
Full of shows, songs and plays.
In background, colt sulked and longed;
The fair was leaving - finally, it gonged.

Days passed, alongside each night,
The colt grew taller and in might.
Trot-Canter-Galloping in freedom,
The colt enters into a horse' rhythm.

While trotting lazily and grazing grass,
The horse, one day, saw a big animal pass.
It carried many animals within,
Instead of heart, driven by an engine.

The horse leaped at the bus,
Which already was in a rush.
The bus sped past galloping horse,
Horse was no match to its machinery force.

Then, some more seasons went by;
With them, came and left many a passerby.
Trot-Canter-Galloping in freedom,
The horse feels world's apathetic rhythm.

So goes the story of this colt-to-horse,
To get a true friend, enrolls into a course.
Riders climbed on the horse' back,
And the horse was to run on track.

The horse finds companions it can value,
Many rode, but special bond developed with few.
Now, trot-canter-galloping in half-freedom;
The horse realizes the reality's rhythm.

Monday, September 9, 2013

Till the hold not let loose

Deep in the thick forest of mind's thoughts,
Harbors a creature, meshed in sordid knots.
To some, it imparts anxiety and for others, pain;
And yet are some who derive enormous gain.

Around a face, it forms a veil of scandal;
Crept along a name and personifies a vandal.
Shadows the time to chronicle a holocaust,
Infiltrates the minds and kindness is lost.

Lighted roads embark into a dark course,
Sighted joy turns into an afflicting remorse.
Rooted faith turns volatile as and when,
A Controversy edges through the mental terrain.

Though devious, many a souls are inspired;
A parasite for whom the host has aspired.
Euphoric at the start, one is so propelled;
As a ship, before hitting iceberg, has sailed.

Warmed skin, but the heart freezes in despair;
Protective layer, yet numbed by frost in air.
Visible shore, but storm has its tentacles on;
Paradox is the fiber that all Controversies don.

Seeded and nurtured in a discerning  mind,
Against the precedence, do the senses bind.
Locks the tantalizing shackles of a Controversy,
Destiny meets an enemy with no mercy.

Situation, conversation, feeling or perception;
A Controversy has abound places of inception.
Reins of determination or deprivation - no use,
Till the hold, on Controversial rope, not let loose.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Thou shalt know thy Intent

It goes without saying, as some would say;
Said in some whim, intent - just the other way.
And thus hidden truth, when spoke the speaker;
As a road, in a misty day, from goal-seeking trucker.

Spoken and action - distant by time and intent,
Often, intent puncturing the actionable potent.
By intent, yet, action meets the desirable end;
Time, as a miracle, be not fiddled to comprehend.

Draft among the letters, giving way to the written truth.
Graft in the system, and born is the corrupt sleuth;
Chaff in the lung, would result into rotten breathe;
Craft in creator, as heaven boasts the beauties underneath.

Locked in the chest, effusing into realities;
Enablers doing so, are known by abilities.
Shape or drape - the potential varies,
Lofted or grounded  impression, as one carries.

Pinned intent often robs off life's charm,
As wasting fertility, without labor, of a farm.
But farms offer rotten crops, and when offered;
Accepting intension, early or late, in time has suffered.

Intent leads action and is led by thoughts,
Uncontrolled as they may and be numbered in lots.
If desired intent seeks stillness in its resolve,
Intent's nemesis, howsoever strong, will dissolve.