A Painter

Women are mysterious they say. They are never fully understood by anyone which makes them special.

Yes, words are not to demean anyone but to highlight the beauty of the mystery women carry with themselves. A similar beautiful encounter is penned below.

She was a painter who saw it all.

A Painter

Summer of Spain, two thousand and ten.

I see a painter sitting by the street,

Face so innocent, eyes so calm.

She makes painting of those who desire.

Each stroke has its own charm.

I see her eyes as hypnotic as they are,

Looking at children playing in the alley,

My table and her chair aren’t much far,

Her paintings aren’t anything less of a story.

Oh and there is a secret, she keeps to herself,

Known only to a few like myself,

What you see is unknown to her,

While her vision is the painting itself.

The Lone Star

In one of my gazes of the dark sky,

I found a star. Nothing but a star.

It was winter and the wind was dry,

When I heard it speak or maybe it was I.

Twinkling as it has been doing,

Maybe since the time before time,

It came down while I was viewing,

And stood in front of me, all in its prime.

Eons old it knew us all,

Every dweller on this Earth.

Said it is humans who fall,

For not knowing their home’s worth.

I saw in silence as your ripped her apart,

My friend Earth who weeps to me,

Time is slipping and so is your heart,

Allow my friend to live and be.

It didn’t plea nor did it threaten,

But told me what Earth can do.

Mother Earth who is now tired from sweating,

Is the same small planet we see as blue.

It vanished just like that,

Leaving behind so many thoughts,

But it was right, all through the chat,

Either be better or join the dots.

A video journey of The Poet and the Pen

Almost all my poems had a featured image (which do not belong to me in any way whatsoever)

Each image was used with the purpose of letting my readers understand and connect with my words at a much better level.

This video shows my journey and the rich content this blog has to offer…

Read the poems once you are done with the video (especially those whose images you like)

See to know…know to read

Happy Monday!

Silent voices

For we have words to express our pain,

But what about those who cannot speak?

It’s difficult for humans to understand and explain,

Since we are always busy being the useless critique.

So easily we say “ouch!”, When we bump into a small rock,

But what about those whose legs are in pain?

Wordless creatures have no option but to walk.

How soon people hear us cry, when we are hurt and sad,

But what about those who have been weeping in silence?

Can’t we at least offer them a shed?

Our needs, our wants are heard by all,

But their’s basic ones go unheard.

Let us learn how to hear their call,

Strange but even I am looking for the correct word.

A drive

I booked a cab to my friend’s place,

So I could meet him before he leaves.

And while the cabbie drove the chase,

I was watching the passing streets.

Memories from the past rushed through my mind,

A pinch of sadness present with a touch of smile,

I realised at times like this we become kind,

It was A Drive which lasted for a while.

I looked outside to witness a story,

Unbound by time and hidden to all.

A story of us, our friendship, our glory,

Never letting the other take a fall.

I saw the first time we shook hands,

And that evening when we took a walk.

I saw those trips to the distant lands,

And those late night sessions of GOT and Sherlock.

I was reminded of those ups and downs,

That came left and right in our way.

And I still hear those jamming sounds,

Words can only be heard but cannot say.

The car just pulled over and it’s a busy street,

Time for me to pay and get down.

Story to be continued till we again meet,

Hey Idiot! I’ll see you around.

When?

When?

Tricky and smart, time deceives all,
Sometimes runs while sometimes crawls.
Did you notice the game it plays?
The greatest tale of silent stalls.

Tell me,
When did we lose our oldselves behind?
When did our games become those with minds?
When did we start doubting the world?
When did we stop being honest and kind?

Tell me,
When did our lives become a set of goals?
When did we start changing our roles?
When did we stop having pure fun?
When did we start burying our souls?

Tell me,
When did we change without even knowing?
When did we lose all the fun while growing?
When did we become who we are?
Will it ever stop or continue flowing?

When did this all take place?
Yesterday seems simple while we race.
It's common yet it's haunting
Life changes, simple or daunting?

Immortal Friends



Feeling lost amidst a crowd, 
I decided to come here;
A peaceful place just to speak,
A place where I don’t hear.

Strange it is but somewhat true,
It’s difficult at certain times;
To understand what one goes through,
One needs to hear the rhymes.

I spoke to all and spoke to none,
All that was happening and was done;
Still nothing seemed alright,
Okay, and thus I was done.

When no mortal could help I turned to them,
Who have been here wearing rocks and stems;
And those who are always flowing,
And the one who burns. The immortal friends.

Words came out and echoed around,
No one replied yet peace I found.
Once felt lost amidst a crowd,
Found myself in nature and its sound.

Got time to breathe, to think,
“Allow yourself…” said the immortal, “to sink”,
“Your own voice will help you through”,
Writes the Poet on a paper with Ink.

-The Poet

The Rich Beggar




A traveller with no place to be, 
Walking alone, bound yet free, 
With no one to talk or to listen, 
The dirt on his clothes is all we see.

Has nothing to lose and everything to gain, 
Our traveller who walks in search of grain,
Hides his tears behind his smile, 
Whenever you apply love to his pain.

Weak physically but heart is strong, 
Not many know how to sing his song, 
Shows love to all who are kind,
Something where even the rich go wrong.

Strangely beautiful, yet sad, 
Dirty clothes on a remarkable lad, 
Who invests his everything when shown respect, 
A rich beggar, sane or mad?

Platform No. 1

With teary eyes and a heart in pain,
Standing in that beautiful rain,
He gazed at that quiet green lane,
And said, “Here I end my reign”.

Packed with memories to last for ages,
Smiled and wrote on those final pages,
“Everything that happens, happens on the stage,
While we portray what is written on the page”.

As he waited for the train to arrive,
He decided to go back in years by five,
Found a boy who learnt how to survive,
And knows that he has what it takes to thrive.

Happy with all that he received and gave,
A boy who became clever and brave,
Is now a man matured with time,
Standing at the end of the climb.

Time was up and departure was near,
He picked up his bag and wiped his tear,
Boarded the train to a life unclear,
As it was time for the man to disappear.

-All good things must come to an end.

The Final Letter

soilder3

I write to you with love and care,
It’s been a while, how are you Claire?
I am good and everything’s fine,
We are still 20 miles from the baseline.

I am leading a troop of 15 men,
Camped as I write in an isolated den.
We were on a mission now completed,
Fought their leader who is now defeated.

Danger is still high and home is far,
And yet I see you when I look at the stars.
I am writing this to you just in case…remember,
A soldier’s wife smiles at death’s face

I am scared Claire, I won’t deny,
Not of death but of a “Good-Bye”.
Don’t worry about me, I won’t stop,
I’ll keep fighting till the very last drop.

If you are reading this then perhaps I am gone,
Tell our son, “I love You Shawn”.
I was lucky that I found you,
Remember how we met in that funny little Zoo?

Be brave, be strong and be proud,
I am immortal now underneath the shroud.
I kept my promise Claire, I came back,
Will be waiting for you at the end of this track…

I am writing to you with love and care,
Life is a gift but it isn’t fair.

- A Soldier