वह हस्सी अब धुंदली दिखती है,
जिस पर मुझे नाज़ हुआ करता था…
आँखे भी अब कहा सच देखती है,
सच न जाने क्या हुआ करता था…
जब रौशनी गिरती है चेहरे पे,
उसके पीछे का अँधेरा ज्यादा दिखता है…
सुबह का सूरज नया दिन नहीं लाता,
रात की नींद दिन में मिलती है…
फिर भी यह दुनिया चलती है.
और चलना भी चाइये, क्युकि सही है.
बस एक बार यह धुंधलापन मिट जाये,
वह हस्सी यही कही छिपी है.
They exfoliate the chaos
and bind strength,
Tears are misunderstood.
A benevolent affair that
makes it blurry
and ends with a feeling, good.
Contrary to notion,
they signify courage and acceptance.
Nothing scares us more than feelings
that lay hidden deep somewhere.
Blood runs down the skin
when the flesh is peeled
but tears run down when
the hurt wishes to be healed.
Perpetuity makes it difficult
to change and be better.
Tears break that chain,
Tears don’t make you any lesser.
Like the silence that hums at night,
I have adopted the shadow
and have been standing,
waiting for the dawn to break.
Hope it will be exhilarating.
While gazing over the horizon,
I realised this too is a horizon to someone
who might be seeking
his or her morning Sun.
In silence I found my peace and realised that
even a night can be an enlightening one.
With steps, I realise that my pace has changed.
Stomping is harder now for my shoulder feels heavy
and eyes which used to see straight, looks down.
Even the shadow seems weary.
Yet, I never felt this burden until now
and only saw it when I did.
A little while back it was easy somehow
but now I must admit, I am growing up.
So should I be happy or should I be upset?
Answer is probably neither
for you see, even though my soles are wearing off,
My Soul is definitely a bit wiser.
I closed my eyes and allowed it to pass,
pass those long held emotions
which were making my heart heavy
and a lesser version of myself.
What I saw was a Piano
whose notes did my bidding
and sounded my voice.
It felt like winning.
I never stopped and kept on arranging
a work which I didn’t plan but just did.
I saw anger leave my body and felt the absence of aching.
Sound of music which made me lose
the reality which was around
Is something I would choose
every time I wish to be found.
But when I opened my eyes I saw this poem
and the lights on my keyboard where all bright.
Here I was thinking that I was creating music
while I was simply jotting down some words.
I was correct to think that
because Poetry is the music of words.
Dear Blogosphere,
Today I want to tell the whole world that I am now an Author.
Yes, that’s right.
I have been writing for over 5 years now and always wanted to see my work in the form of a Book. Last year in June’19, I started working towards making this dream come true and dedicated a good 6 months to it.
Today, I don’t have much to say as I am elated and humbled by all the love, support and good wishes that have been bestowed on me by my friends, family and last but not the least, my readers.
Therefore, without any further adieu let me introduce you to my first book, Silent Words.
“Hear and connect with the real you, every whisper will be true.”
Smiling for real
Holding my dream
Here are the details:
Title: Silent Words
Author: Nishant Gang
Publisher: Delhi Poetry Slam
Book available on
i. Amazon: www.amazon.in/dp/8194478545
ii. Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/the_solo_gang/
I hope that you will read this dream of mine and leave your honest reviews and comments on various platforms.
Excited to see what comes next.
– Lots of Love, Nishant
An old man sitting on the walkway,
Asked each passerby for a word.
Barely did anyone stop by,
For it seemed highly absurd.
I wrote on a piece of paper
And kept it in the old wrinkled hand.
Only to find out later
He could not comprehend.
In that moment, instead of being shy,
The old man smiled and asked for its meaning.
I explained but then I asked “Why?”
Said, “I am addicted to learning.”
~Each of us have something to teach but more importantly we all have so much to learn and not from only books or teachers but from each other as well.
250th post. Each Post (on The Poet and the Pen) is done with the sole purpose of spreading a message. Message of Care, Fun, Love, Laughter, Happiness and Emotions.
I grow each and every day through this blog and many of you out there who just like me are on a quest to make the world a better place, I want to say Thank You.
We blog not for likes, comments, shares or anything. We blog so that someone who reads this irrespective of his country, location, colour, language and situation gets to know that we are here, we are with you and if we can do it so can you.
Lots of Love.
For every tear that you dropped in silence,
For every goodbye that scathed your heart,
For every smile that you projected despite inner violence,
For every day you played your part,
For every friend you lost and let go,
For every enemy you won by letting go,
For every step you took for a better tomorrow,
For every brave moment you faced your inner sorrow,
For every harsh truth you accepted,
For proving that you cannot be defeated,
For not treating the world as you were treated,
For spreading the good message that your misery created,
Thank You.
Hey, do read/listen to it. I guarantee a smile/laughter.
Everything is in the state of Mayhem,
Perhaps also the factory from where we get brain.
For if this is your idea of sane,
My dear, you are definitely on cocaine.
And I saw a few good men yesterday,
No not people, I meant the movie.
Oh, I am a man by the way,
But cannot include myself, it sounds cocky.
So lately, I have been eating healthy,
And posting about it on social media.
Most of my posts are for the wealthy,
Because their recipes feels like reading encyclopedia.
I did a good thing today,
And didn’t do anything for the rest 364 days.
But… I clicked 365 pictures from every possible way,
Therefore, I did a good thing everyday.
My favourite TV show is the one I was told to watch,
Because it’s trending right now.
Who cares about the story?
Anyone who won’t watch it, is lame somehow.
I can go on and on about the joke we are,
But it won’t be fair as the apple doesn’t fall far.
Let me end this pretension of being sane,
Let’s face it, We all love being bizarre.
A wordsmith who novels
And enables dwellers known as readers
To flee into the realm of realisation,
Word by word with no followers and leaders
But just a conscience seeking conclusions
By simply spectating other characters,
Created to craft nothing but a message
For all those who are believers.
Sheltering them from the world outside,
Where most words are deceivers,
And sparing them the time to be anything they wish to be,
After all you are just spectators,
Is a Poet, Writer, Painter and Storyteller.
