Lie-ability

It says, human did not know how to lie. It came to us as well started settling in this world.

What/who taught us this unique ability?

What/whosoever it was, changed the shape of the world we know today.

Lie-ability
Act of concealing what we label as truth,
Comes natural to most if gazed up close.
Tranquil tunes wrapped with fallacy,
Are being administered at a regular doze.
Tricks are quaint and treats seem heartening,
Masking the gloomy road ahead.
An act that never ends but keeps circling,
Even after the lie has spread.
Some are necessary, noble, and kind,
While most seem innocent with a deceitful glimmer.
Precarious are the stones on which,
Lie makes promises to a desperate winner.
Necessary evil whose chains have broken,
Commands even the noblest of us.
Since the beginning only truth has spoken,
Impeccable amidst the liar’s fuss.

Follow The Poet and the Pen for more such works. Poem #96

100/100

Fool oh fool stop limiting yourself,
Race of numbers never ends in life.
Judgement of one cannot be done till,
We take into account one’s strife.
None is less nor one is many,
Why competing with another being?
No one is qualified to judge another,
Close your eyes to start seeing.
We agree to have different stories,
With different characters, roles, and sets,
Fool oh fool you need not worry,
Waking up better is the best it gets.
Life

Choice

In search of my goals I often get lost
And wander through hills and valleys.
Character which I have today
Reflects my path through all those alleys.
Every route that brought me back
Gave me something to offer and share.
Finest days were those which,
Taught me the game of dare.
Each of us walk without a map,
Yet we somehow reach a place.
Some are pleasant while some teach us,
Our choices are what we face.
Choose wisely for they can’t be reversed,
But never shy out from exploring the new.
Choice is one unique word,
Despite us having quite a few.
Nishant

Question

For what?

After all we go through, after all we endure, after all the planning we do and after all the sacrifices me make, at the end of the day we are confronted by one question and one question alone.

For what? For what did I do all this? For what reason? For what purpose?

Trying to find an answer to this myself, here I am, looking to share my thoughts.

For what?

Synonymous with life, uncertainty hovers.

Unknown, unanswered and unpredictable at its core.

Yet we never stop with our endeavours,

For what? Dear dweller, I am unsure.

Despite a destination, common to all,

We choose different paths and songs of life.

Dwelling, which is innate in our nature,

Makes us wander and wonder how to thrive.

Why do we do all that which is being done?

Answering it would solve my mystery.

No matter who we are, we are supposed to run,

Summary of our entire history.

Rustic reading glass

A quaint summer comes to my mind,
As I recall that particular book.
Swing set of my balcony faced,
A small cafe with a homely look.
I frequented it every now and then,
To finish what I had started before.
My book of stories from every end,
And coffee that I always wanted more.
Times were tough back in those days,
Money was hard and work was seldom.
Making do with my rustic reading glass,
I typed what my imagination could fathom.
Decades have passed and here I am,
Writing just as I did before.
What keeps us humble is our past.
Time when I used to sleep on the floor.
Always treasure those who stayed,
Throughout your quest with highs and lows.
For me it was my rustic reading glass, now yours.
Wear to see what it shows.

Glimmering Jungle

Every city is like a maze,

Plots with various turns and twist,

Towers of age old touching skies,

A glimmering jungle where we exist.

Each one has it’s own character,

It’s own story and speed of life.

Unique language persists in each,

Concrete jungles where we strife.

Seemingly similar yet not the same,

Something makes these cities alive,

I have played my role in many,

Just like every other who reside.

As I stare at these glimmering jungles,

I see a game unfolding by me.

Funny is this show of light,

Different despite being similar, irony.

Literal literature

An art which appeared long ago,

Is perishing with each passing day.

The profound game of words and phrases,

Ironically is lost for words and way.

Literal sense of what literature means,

Is perhaps the one that comes last.

A set of rules which were meant to simplify,

As per whims and wishes are changing fast.

Take it at its true value,

A deal to deceit one called life,

If you must, change your actions for good,

Leaving the literal literature alive.

Phoenix

Darkest nights fear from thee,

Thou who art the bearer of light.

Endless shadows that can always be,

Cripple at the Phoenix’s flight.

Blazing wings that art thy glory,

Burning heart that is thy desire,

Flaming eyes that art thy passion,

Together makes one the bird of fire.

Phoenix that ends the reign of zilch,

Only re-borns from its ash.

Darkest nights fear from thee,

Thou who harbours fire in flesh.

Flawed is flawless

Another day, another week, another thought.

A very good day to all of you!

Before we start, I would like to urge all my readers to read the title once again.

Flawed is flawless

Interpret it, and post the same in the comments section below.

Everything that we do is earmarked with some kind of flaw, but is it so?

What if that itself is flawless?!?

This can go on for a while, so let us not go there. However, do keep this in mind.

Flawed is flawless

So I asked this strange fellow whose path crossed that of mine,

While we journeyed together, talking and sipping some wine.

A doctor by profession, who knew the world he lived in,

Fond of the phrase, “Flawed is divine”.

Tell me doctor, why is it so?

Smilingly said, because I know.

Look at anything you can cast your eyes upon,

It will be flawed as it is nature.

What we think as flawed is something else,

Flaw is the uniqueness of every creature.

Produced and designed by beings not living,

Can be similar to the very inch.

But that is not what flawless is about,

Flawless is the uniqueness every being should clinch.

Flawed is flawless, don’t you think?

Reason

It has been quite a while since I wrote anything. Maybe it is because I have been busy lately or maybe there is a reason.

Yes, it sometimes doesn’t make much sense to do what we do in our day-to-day life but yet somehow it all comes together in the final picture. Maybe this is why there is always a reason behind anything anyone ever does.

Read to know…know to read

Reason

Not everything will make a perfect sense,

Perhaps something we should be thankful for.

This long journey encompassing all tense,

Never ceases to startle us like before.

And while we learn and adapt to our lives,

Declaring solidarity with a lady named luck.

A quaint fellow manages to thrive,

Appearing in the end to leave us awestruck.

Again, not everything will make perfect sense,

Perhaps that is what helped us all along.

Behind every uncertainty, possibility and suspense,

Lies a reason, incomprehensible and strong.