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.

We will converse

Let me ask you about your dream.

Close your eyes and shuffle your thoughts.

Reckon you are witnessing images in stream,

Now stand back and connect the dots.

Plenty of pictures and moments to look at,

But very few of them brighten your eyes.

Well dear reader I hope you get that,

Nobody but you can nullify your lies.

Yes, things aren’t as simple as philosophy claims to be,

Yes, life has its way of being bounded or free,

Smile and claim your goals. Deal but don’t plea,

And once you do, we will converse your story.

Tea or coffee?

Tree in the woods

I met a tree in the woods I was lost,

Green and lavish with a little bit frost,

Seeking some rest and shelter from wind,

I ate the fruits it bore, free of cost.

Days passed as I remained stuck,

Fearing the worst as I questioned my luck,

When suddenly I heard, “Life”.

Said the face on the tree trunk.

“Neither can I speak nor run,

Standing still under the Sun.

Facing wind and taking on rain,

I provide all with nothing to gain.

I live life like life lives in us all,

Let me show you though I cannot stroll.

Your childhood is spring, while youth is summer,

Elderly is the autumn and absence is the fall.

However, those who fall are replaced by new,

As that is what life is, simple and true.

Moral of tree is not to scare or haunt,

Live life as if you want because,

Today you are, tomorrow you won’t,

Leaves may fall but roots don’t.”

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.

Right I write

Daunting it is to see what goes around,

We don’t lose just time with time.

We have been told to fly whilst bound,

And living simply is like fighting crime.

The structured world has a way of getting,

Who or what does not matter much.

Since the beginning you are letting,

The world change your course without a touch.

Some say for good, some bad,

Who to judge while the judge gets judged.

At least try to be happily mad.

There are always ways to be glad.

Reap and Sow

This is tough. Every human faces friction when he/she change the gears in life (slow or fast doesn’t matter). After all we are the Human Race.

So as I try to figure out my plan for ahead I am reminded of nature’s most simple principle. You reap what you sow. Now this is important, it is important to sow in the good seeds before the rain arrives, it is important to water them with positivity whenever required otherwise all the wait, the work, and the worry will bear withered crops.

Whenever there is a change in pace, Reap and Sow principle is a must.

Reap and Sow

Every harvest brings a chance of change,

An opportunity to plough and plant.

With life it is an honest exchange,

Sow what you really want.

Each term comes in phases,

Cold, warm, wet and/or wind.

Yet what really amazes is,

Some remain intact while others, skinned.

Difference lies in care and nuture.

It all depends on how you row.

Either take the chance to do better,

Regardless, you reap what you sow.

Nishant Gang, The Poet and the Pen

Unvalued’s value

So much for some while so little for many,

Fairly assesses the unfairness of life.

Value of what is ours is hardly any,

While over valuing the absent is rife.

Till the day we acquire the unavailable,

It is marked as precious, as a goal.

Price tags which are marked on each saleable,

Can best depict how we treat the world as a whole.

As soon as it becomes one of our possessions,

Its value just like a tag is reduced to dust.

In each one’s mind it will be a confession,

Unvalued’s value is like an iron on rust.

Value everything for it is a must.