Branches

For the very first time, I am allowing my own voice to sound the Poem I wrote for the world. For those who do not have the time to read my words, can now hear it from the composer.

Do let me know if you liked it as much as I did composing it.

Listen to know…know to read

 

While I carved life on the canvas,

A beguiling form started to emerge.

Haywired but pristine to look at,

Many lines did while many didn’t converge.

Upon completion I took a few steps back,

And gazed at a multi-coloured tree.

Each branch with its own demeanour,

That only the carver would see.

Each chapter of ours created a branch of its own,

Some ended, some persisted, and some awaited.

Each with soft sweet fruits or white harsh stones,

For us to taste as life advocated.

Haywired but pristine is what I saw,

Because each branch had a beautiful outline.

Good ones were good and bad ones weren’t flawed,

In the end, every chapter turned out just fine.

 

Reboot

A motivational note…

Do you know why our eyes release tears?

I’ll answer that at the very end.

For now let us not pretend,

Reboot, regroup and comprehend.

Every morning we get on with our work,

Trying to move a step ahead, scared to get stuck,

But it is not that simple, not that straight,

Life has it’s way of being a jerk.

So we try and try again till we can,

Soaring with our wide wingspan,

But eventually we run out of energy and plan,

And end up quitting what we began.

Every machine on this Earth,

Including humans for all their worth,

Need to reboot every now and then,

Answering the question which was stuck.

So take some time to stroll back,

Steal some peace and love for self,

Indulge in things and give yourself some slack,

A Soft temperament is impossible to crack.

A fraud’s confession

I have a label on my head,

“One who deceives for his gain.”

I trick and lie to earn my bread,

But am I the one who is insane?

I walk amongst others like a regular bloke,

And see no difference between you and I,

We all behave the same round the clock,

Show me one person who does not lie.

I have a label on my head,

But I don’t hide behind any tower.

Denounce this false high that you are being fed,

Kindness lies in being yourself, being yourself is power.

Searching…

Did you find what you were looking for?

Something we ask other people quite often. But what about our own selves?

To find one must get lost,

For the thing you seek is lost too.

To learn one must forget,

Pretend there is nothing that you ever knew.

To understand what you do not,

Try something different and new,

To find peace and yourself,

Walk in the world’s shoe.

To do anything that you wish to,

First do what you never did.

To be anything you hope to be,

Life will only allow and not forbid.

Story

Chapter 1.

Ageless, faceless, nameless protagonist,

Existing only in the “World of Words”.

A brief account of nature and character,

Which the writer never said but you heard.

Chapter 2.

A recollection of an event that sends,

Ripples even to days of now.

Effects, either good or bad, from those bends,

Navigates the author’s pen as it ploughs.

Chapter 3.

Trying to steer as per the story,

Whilst making choices of his own.

Decides protagonist’s fall or glory,

Authoring the story of his own.

Chapter 4.

I speak to you says your book,

You who is its writer and its lead.

Your steps is what your story took,

For everyone but the author to read.

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.

Twisted

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

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.