Can I?

 

Often in the evening strolls

a realisation sneaks up

which recalls something really tough.

Should I continue or give up?

The stigma of latter can be rough

but what if I am fed up?

Nothing will ever be enough.

Characterisation has made it hard to give up

even on something which makes me miserable.

So I started to bluff to myself…

The worst kind of gamble.

 

Please don’t berate me for leaving now.

I tried but couldn’t finish somehow.

Only a human, I am.

I wish I had a backspace key now.

Regardless of what they say,

What they say does matter.

Let me find a better way,

Allow me to choose the latter.

I shall come back better,

I shall come back brighter,

I will feel honest and lighter.

Giving up does not make me any less of a fighter.

 

 

If something makes you miserable, there is no shame in giving it up. Giving up to try something new is actually a sign of bravery.

-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen.

Rusted

 

An old bike sits in my garage.

It is covered in dust

and barely does it look nice.

One day it shall rust.

It was my favourite once,

I used to spend hours on it

riding through my favourite paths,

when suddenly it started to break down,

delayed my every plan.

I could no longer go around

and felt like a different man.

Everything has a life span.

 

When something/someone denies you from being the best version of yourself, understand that their time in your life is now over.

-Nishant, The Poet and the Pen

I was Me

Every time the dusk got delayed,

Or the morning sun felt harsh,

Sound of life seemed disarrayed,

Or water disappeared in the marsh,

Loved ones took a separate turn,

Old enemies met at the crossroads,

Water started to burn,

And decrypted were all my codes,

I came to this place I now call home.

 

There is always a place for me,

Here I am always allowed to be,

The person you see every now and then.

I cannot tell you how but,

The Poet and the Pen (my blog) saved me.

I was always Me.

 

Blogging has this beautiful thing in it. It makes you feel so special, so connected to yourself. Sometimes I find out so much about so many things when I sit behind this blog and dive into the World of Words.

Blogging is a good addiction and I am addicted.

I woke up next to you

Finally that morning had come.

My eyes knew what they were about to see.

For before going to bed yesterday,

I knew it was meant to be.

It took us years to get together,

Years that felt like centuries.

But this feeling couldn’t get any better.

So many bitter-sweet memories.

Your eyes were just like mine,

Bright and happy and no longer wet.

And therefore this morning is oh so fine,

For there are no Teardrops on my pillow set.  

 

I want to try something here. I urge all my readers to kindly post their understanding from the said lines in the comment section. 

Play Fair. 🙂

Just curious and hey, no one can be wrong for that’s the beauty of Poetry. 

Why to write a Poem?

This Poem is a tutorial on “Why to write a Poem?”. In this Poem, I am going to let go of all that keeps me sane. It’s madness around this place people!!! Let me add some light hearted comedy and madness from my side as well.

Yes, I know that the world is going through a Tough time and I stand with you all. But, yes, BUT in this hour of worry, let me do what I can do… Take your mind off the sadness and concern for a moment and bring smile to your face (at least try to).

Anyway, just forget everything till you reach the last line and read it from a blank perspective.

 

 

Why to write a Poem?

Once I was walking through the Park,

Where I met, Mr. Jolly.

Mr. Jolly was happy because, in the Dark was Mr. Gloomy.

 

But then the Sun decided to shift, 

And reveal the existence of latter. 

My. Jolly’s smile took a drift upon seeing his terminator.

 

Both hated each other,

Each one ending other’s vacation.

Sons of the all mother, they were the balancers of every creation.

 

Ignorant of the novelty they refused to talk,

So I called a Poet to square things even.

In his own way he took them for a walk, rhyming helps to see what we believe in.

 

A Poem looks similar to all,

Yet is taken with different meanings,

Through rhymes we take your call, Poem strikes a balance between feelings.

चाहे जो भी हो

Just smile at the end of the day, that’s all. It’s that simple.

यह कहानी उसकी है जो कभी हारा नहीं,
एक ऐसा शख्स जिसे कोई समझ पाया नहीं.
यह किस्सा है उसका जो आज भी है कही,
कौन है और कहा है वह बात जरूरी नहीं.

कठिनाइया उसने भी बोहत है उठाई,
पर फिर भी चेहरे से हसी उसने नहीं गवाई.
हर रात तारो के सामने हुई उसकी सुनवाई,
पर वह सिर्फ मुस्कुराया, यह बात न समझ आई.

ऐसा नहीं है की उससे ज़िन्दगी ने घसीटा नहीं,
चोट उससे भी लगी, आंसू उसके भी बहे.
पर फिर भी वह उस रस्ते वापिस गया,
क्युकी उसकी मंज़िल वही थी कही.

यह कहानी उसकी है जो कभी हारा नहीं,
चाहे जो भी हो दिन के आखिर में वह मुस्कुराया कही.
क्युकी हार को उसने अपनाया ही नहीं,
उसने खुद को समझा क्युकी दुसरो को कोई समझ पाया नहीं.

Placid Place

Someone asked me about the Happiest day of my life, I couldn’t answer then but I can answer now.

The Poem which got me into India’s one of the biggest Poetry Societies’ E-Magazine: Placid Place

 

 

It was around 4 in the evening,

Birds were flying back to their nests.

Ambered eyes due to the sky were deceiving,

When I realised, we are all but Guests.

 

At an altitude high above the citylife,

Surrounded in the serenity of nature,

While in harmony with the elements five.

I found the happiest day of my life.

 

Every accomplishment seemed futile,

Every being seemed related,

I was in Nature and Nature was in me,

Negativity became outdated.

 

Wind bore messages from trees and streams,

Water carried a thousand dreams,

Fire inside was reignited,

When Earth absorbed my screams.

Elated and rejuvenated was I when hugged,

By Nature who ended all my strife.

For whenever Nature’s sound is plugged,

To me that is the Happiest day of my life.

My Odyssey

This day is special for me for today the clock will stop and reset. Make tomorrow the same for you and go get them!!!

I speak to you directly today,

Today there are no boundaries.

You may keep hiding but I will say,

Regardless of the enmity or the camaraderie.

Journey was tough till this point,

No, I don’t seek any validation.

Every hour, every step and every point,

I have accepted each and every conviction.

 

But now it’s time, time I had allotted for myself,

To rise and say, “Not anymore”.

To my comrades I will make you proud,

And to my haters, I challenge a dare.

 

29-Feb-2020, is the day I leap for the year,

This point will be a mark in my Odyssey,

Come what may, be it courage or fear.

Aim is to walk, even when the path is unclear.

रेत

My identity is through my words and my genuinity is in my eyes. Hear to know and see to believe.

 

kka

 

रेत

कहते है कलम में तलवार से ज्यादा धार होती है,
रक्त बेह जाता है पर स्याही कहती रहती है.
में एक लेखक हूँ जो रेत से है बना,
सुनने यह रेत क्या कहती है.

जितना बांधोगे उतना में उडूंगा,
अपना रास्ता में खुद चुनूंगा,
सोच हूँ में, मुझे पकड़ नहीं सकोगे,
सच बोलू तोह शायद पूरी तरह समझ नहीं सकोगे.

आइना हूँ में जो सच दिखाता है,
खुद की गलती से दुसरो को सिखाता है,
नहीं जनता मुझे कौन कब पढ़ेगा,
लेखक वह है जो हमेशा सच कहेगा.

खुश करना मेरी फितरत नहीं,
दुःख देना मेरा पेशा नहीं,
दिखावट के परे दिखा सकू, रेत हूँ,
सच को शब्दों में उतार सकू, तभी में एक लेखक हूँ.

Fixation

Let’s us make a promise to ourselves, a promise to reduce our habit of fixating of things, events, people or past. Dear reader, if you fixate on something you tell your mind to stop welcoming the new. New which can actually be better and true is therefore asked to go away and we struggle with the way we stay.

So, again stressing on the importance of mental health and well-being, let’s stop fixating. Let’s wake up fresh every morning and just like a fresh page in a diary, allow ourselves to scribble a new story or art or poetry or any other of the 1000 brilliant gifts of life.

Read to know…know to read.

Fixated mind asphyxiates,

Turning one into a sheep.

Mind, who absorbs and creates,

When fixated falls asleep.

Novelty just like in dates,

In thoughts helps to leap.

Fixated mind is a dead weight,

Either wake up fresh or might as well just sleep.

Break the loop of thoughts,

Let bygones be bygones.

Allow new stories, experiences, and plots,

And try knowing more about the unknowns.

More you accept the newer lessons,

Finer and stronger your story will be.

Dwelling is the sign of depression.

Fixated mind ceases to be.