2 hours tale

On a small flight of about 2 hours,

I realised one simple silly fact.

This seemingly social society of ours,

Behaves such when there is nothing to distract.

A 2 hours tale…

So I sat next to this seemingly ordinary person,

Whose name is not important to this tale.

The flight took off as we acted to our version,

Unknown of the things that were about to unveil.

It took us a while to settle down and adjust,

There were no books, tv shows, or movies to trust,

Eventually the protocol came into effect,

Awkwardly two strangers decided a conversation is a must.

With no fear of coming across as boring,

No expectations or the necessity to impress,

We talked freely and kept on exploring,

And soon realised that both her and I were a mess.

Funnily we kept on talking for the entire duration,

Two travel freaks who wanted to travel cross nation,

And later as we deboarded at our destination,

It hit me. Chatting is nice but nicer is a good conversation.

Post flight

Stop chatting and start conversing.

 

Blanket

To most it was a blanket to curl in,

But for one it was a cape.

While the sleeping slept after their win,

The innocent one took on a hero’s shape.

Innocence makes the world so different,

For they see what anyone would do.

But their interpretations are invigorant,

Do you remember the last time you flew?

Powered with strength, powered with energy,

Power to spread laughter and joy,

The blanketed hero can avert any jeopardy,

As would any who knew evil can only toy.


Add some innocence to the seriousness

Walk in the Park

Something that gets us closer to redemption,

Is something worth searching for.

So while many things are paving our direction,

Let me invite you to the floor.

Knock knock, who’s there?

Smile at.

Smile at who?

Whomever you want to, it’s free.

The world is your audience looking at you,

Could be daunting only if it were to be true,

Laughing eyes helps to see right through,

Says the Poet who has no clue.

Just break into laughter and smile a while,

For my words seem wise because I do hit and trial.

Curious, each smile has one unique style,

Searching for laughter is worthwhile.

Unreal reality

Let us believe that our believes are wrong,

Days are short but the hours are long,

Deaf is hearing a dumb person’s song,

And the reality was unreal all along.

We aren’t whom we thought we were,

Winters are clear while summers are blur,

Each argument is accepted without any demur,

Can you imagine, Madame and Monsieur?

I pave the way for you to see a new world,

Unreal reality is laminar yet twirled,

Add a little randomness, let logic get swirled,

For that time it is just your world.

Let others live by the rules and norm,

Enjoy the wind and rain of what they call storm,

Just wander the reality of an unreal platform,

For when you come back, you will be happy, you will perform.

Musical Muse

I hear music when it rains,

Little drops strumming the leaves.

I hear music when wind gushes windowpanes,

Trying to break in like notorious thieves.

I hear music when the living moves,

Rhythm of life in every maneuver.

I hear music amidst all the fuss and grooves,

Musical muse is all about humour.

Each lyric strikes a chord,

Sending waves to times of past.

Light shines on the emotions we hold,

Music is a magic. Eternal, natural, and vast.

Some pour happiness while some are sad,

Some are short-lived while others last.

Some bring excitement while some peace,

In presence of true music, I happen to cease.

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.

Bicycle story

Some memories from the old shelves,

Came across as I was passing by.

Without any effort there was a smile,

As for a moment past and I were ally.

On one side is me, rushing from goal to goal,

While on the other was I, running freely as a whole.

On one side is me, with clean and ironed shirt,

While on the other was I, a knight who couldn’t be hurt.

On one side is me, cruising in my car,

While on the other was I, peddling my bicycle to the stars.

For a moment I became me,

For in that moment I was free,

Amazing is that kid we all see,

Bicycle stories are for us to flee.

I and me, The Poet and the Pen

Simple Physics

It is said to have started with a big bang,

And so did the wheels of time.

Just like cosmic bodies we grow old,

And forget many who were once prime.

Life takes us to many places,

Ups and downs being the typical way.

While transversing the idiosyncratic story,

We let go of many without a say.

Old friend you are now lost,

Existing only in the initial pages.

Neither of us did anything wrong,

But we drifted with different stages.

Each one remembers the other,

Smiling with tears at memories of past.

Hope you are doing well,

Friend is one you just cannot recast.

Sage old story

Temptation leads to an act of action,

Action comes with certain deeds.

Good and bad co-create junction,

Oh fool why don’t you limit your needs?

Enough itself is never enough.

A concept relative to every being.

Our unnecessary necessity synonyms tough,

Fallacy is all that I am seeing.

Age old stories are being treated ill,

All for the comfort and purpose of some.

A game where end is peril,

I found a sage of ageless term.

White clothed with a smiling gaze,

Has no money or possession of his own.

Yet his wealth is beyond our chase,

Answering all in his calm and soft tone.

Simplicity, truth, non-violence and kindness,

Are principles to break the cycle of Karma,

Harbors the flame which ends all blindness,

Ageless Sage’s definition of Dharma




Be it any country, religion, race or identity, core values all remain the same. In the end we are all but a name.

en el final

Gushing voices need to calm,

Racing steps need to amble,

Infuriated minds need to breathe,

As in the end it is just a gamble.

End is endless for it is desire,

No one ever acquired it all,

For while will is the necessary fire,

Peace and happiness are your call.

For if there is a smile on your face,

And the want to do something good,

Invest yourself in a valuable chase,

In the end it will be all you actually could.