Thursday, 22 April 2010

The Ocean

Shallow waters have no treasures.
But you people are lucky
For, I'm an ocean.
An artist is a creator.
Unfathomable is his depth.
Immeasurable is his love.

Colourful fishes are found
When he is happy.
Treacherous ones are found too
When he is sad.
Therein lies the beauty;
The colours are too vivid.
The dark areas are too uninviting.

No restrictions, no limits.
Various things dwell in him
The source of which is a mystery.
But swim in him or sail on him
He'll give you pleasure always.
Extreme artist.

Monday, 19 April 2010

Red Hot

I walk hand in hand with art,
With an open mind and a joyful heart.
I bestow upon it matchless love,
It comes to me easily now.

Music amazes me,
Poetry amuses me.
My fingers have created the same.
Passion is that force's name.

Red hot does it glow,
Through my blood does it flow.
In many an art am I self-taught,
For, impossible there is naught.

I'm one of the infinite artists
Who never bare their teeth nor clench their fists.
For, the language of heart is what we speak.
Love makes our knees go weak.

Love, passion and gratitude
Have moulded my ever cheerful attitude.
I'll never ever fall in life,
For me it's a festival and not a strife.

Saturday, 17 April 2010

To Sorrow With Love

The swaying tender green leaves
On a picturesque blue backdrop,
I beheld yesterday.
I derived joy from it.
The same I did today.
Not for pleasure, but to seek solace.

The white masses of cumulus clouds
Transported me to a faraway place
When I beheld them yesterday.
The same I did today
Not to get transported
But to see if I'll get a ticket.

I flew with the flock of birds,
I danced with the full bloomed roses
When I beheld them yesterday.
They invite me happily today.
But I can neither spread my wings
Nor shake a leg with them.

If things of the past are dead,
So is my happiness.
But I'll march ahead with hope now.
For, I can revive the lost glory only in the present.

The Tree

I sowed a seed and
Waited long.
I cared for it well,
It came out very strong.

From a delicate plant
To a sturdy tree
The growth was great
It made me free.

Flowers and fruits
It bore many.
I couldn't sell them
Just for money.

Birds sat on it
Singing happy songs.
Bees buzzed around it
All day long.

I beamed with pride
Looking at it.
It made me happy
Whenever I sat under its shade.

One day I found that
It stood on an encroached land.
And I had to abandon it
With a heavy heart.

Sunday, 11 April 2010

An Hour is Not Too Short

It was half to eight
When I logged in to chat.
For her message did I wait,
And I silently sat.

She didn't buzz me
For half an hour
I was wondering why she
Hasn't messaged me so far.

She told me that
She was on a call.
I said nothing but
"Carry on Mal :)"

Our chat did last
For just an hour.
But time went fast
Like a Formula1 car.

We bade 'Good bye'
And went back to work.
Till the next message of 'Hi'
I decided to lurk.

In the end I wasn't sad.
For, it was just an hour.
I was completely elated that
It was 3600 seconds that I spent with her.

Wednesday, 7 April 2010


The words of my heart
Sometimes act like a lump in the throat.
Up and down they move.
They fail to come out
Trying hard to make their way out of
The excessive love in my heart.

I knew not pain
Till I experienced it.
Disappointment was unknown
Till I faced dejection.
Neither is love an exception.
I had to fall in love to understand it.

Grand, graceful and exquisite it is.
Teeming emotions it brings along.
I fell so soon,
'Cause it swept me off my feet.
This orderly disorder of words
Is the result of love's choking my heart.

Monday, 5 April 2010

And That's How It Began....

No fear or apprehension occupied me
When I showed her what I wrote.
Only my poem she could see
In that little note.

The rhyme was bad; the lines were long
But still she said nothing.
I gave it a tune; I made it a song.
The same she asked me to sing.

I stood on-stage with my best friend.
We sang that childish rhyme.
Thus came into being a novel trend
That you enjoy many a time.

A furious stare or silent scorn
Would have instantly turned me off.
The poet in me would have never been born
Had there been a mocking laugh.

That's how I began my poetic quest,
With her motivation and support.
This passion made a girl realize her zest
For the words she can't write in a report.