The Pen Needs Some Rest

Incessantly he thinks and thinks
Deeper and deeper his heart sinks.
He still doesn't know what went wrong, and
Thinks about her all day long.
It's certainly difficult to move on;
To forget the days that had gone.
He has neither seen her
Nor has he heard her.
But her thoughts make him soar,
Lifting his feet off the floor.
Pondering deeply in the quiet
Has made him a romantic poet.
But he now puts his pen to rest,
To resume thinking about her.

My Love Never Dies

My emotions have a voice,
Which now makes a great noise.
Its sound will never go unheard.
It'll reach the ears of my love bird.

My unshakable belief,
Provides me essential relief.
The tide will definitely turn, and
Douse the flames that burn.

Destiny brought you into my life,
Not to bisect our bond with its knife.
But to make it strong.
I'm sure I'm not wrong.

I know my feelings are intense,
Like the sun's rays passing through a lens.
But the sparkle created by it
Will only give birth to a flame of ice.

Grieve Not

A thousand and one dreams
We harbour in our minds.
We know how hard it seems,
As life unwinds.

What we desire,
Sometimes doesn't happen.
It is good for fire,
But not for our spirits to dampen.

There is no such thing as sorrow,
Everything is a lesson.
If it had happened that way
It certainly had a reason.

'Sochitumarhasi'*, friends.
We live in an unreal world.
Everything here is a lie,
The only truth is love.


*- a phrase from the Bhagavad Gita which means 'grieve not'.

Who Am I?

I laid awake late at nights writing articles,
My mom said I was dying for money.
I cracked one sex joke after another,
My classmate labelled me a 'pervert'.
I didn't show interest in computer science,
My lecturer said I was vain.
I refused to move on after falling in love,
Some called me an emotional jerk.
I spoke excessively about my dreams,
Many said I was an impractical bloke.
Now, I express myself through these verses,
You call me a poet.
Oh come on!
I'm just a plain-speaking simpleton
Who has a lot of love and passion.

The Heart of a Poet

A poet is deadly when he's in his element.
Deadlier when he's in love, and
Deadliest when he's in sorrow.
His soul truly does reside in his heart.
A delicate heart it is.

He derives joy from emotions,
Not from reason.
His love for anything is great.
Isn't that what made him a poet?

An Amazing World

Harmony of the nine planets,

Oversee the glands [endocrine] of man.

Ruling his attitude and habits,

Operate his life, they can.

Sages knew how it worked,

Contemplate cosmos, did they.

Obtained excellence in it, and

Passed it on to lead the way.

Endless mysteries are in them.

Save the fact they influence our lives.

The Lonely Steed

I knew I'd get tears,
Zandu Balm stimulated tears.
I did get them.
Alas! Real ones though.

What am I left with now?
A broken heart?
Shattered dreams?
No, an invaluable lesson.

Oh yeah, I'm a horse.
I can't be one,
If I don't know to gallop.
And gallop, should I.
Fast and faraway,
Alone and without direction,
Till the right jockey comes my way.