Hope!

What can I do?
What more can I do?
What else should I do?
There is nothing I can do;
There is nothing much I can do;
The water is getting up his nose;
Half of his alveoli are choked
with fluid and the rest will soon
be fluidized too;
Lo! he's started to pant
for air but the fresh breeze
of the spring time is not for him;
His system is failing;
Failing with the dimming
Of his heart beat;
His pulse is becoming silent;
What can I do for him;
Him my friend;
I can do nothing;
I am not able to do anything
To help save his life;
Friendship, money, resources-
All helplessly watch him with awe;
The only thing I can do
In such a case,
In such circumstances
Is to hope for his life;
Hope is the last recourse
For the poor and weak;
For the rich and strong;
When the jinn of adversity
Attacks them and they have
No one, nothing to get them out
Of their misery
Except God
The other name for Hope! 
Or no God, if you insist.

Eclipse

A numberless sheet of sterile stars
strewn in the sky are no match
for the Sun and the Moon in love;
Stars twinkle but like a mottled mirage,
dissipate sporadic surges of light,
devoid of heart to eclipse and envious of
the Almighty Sun
which continues to burn in the fire of love,
radiating an aphrodisiac stream of light;
A giver of life, the sun is a power house of fiery love,
bestowing tranches of love with unparalleled generosity upon his beloved Moon, to keep it ever smiling
during the lonesome nights;
the Sun and the Moon are like two eternal lovers
destined to keep circling in the cosmic terrain,
and the Sun, overjoyed with the intermixed ecstasy of love,
gently whispers his compassion to the Moon ,
and the Moon approvingly nods as a token of
endearing consonance of self-surrender,
their hearts anxiously swing with the joy of meeting and imbricating each other,
but the heavens villainously turn their wishes into smoke,
the jealous earth intervening like a vampire wont to suck and enslave,
keeps the cross-fated lovers eternally apart;
lips sighing, hearts crying, the two ephemeral lovers finally succumb to the gloom of eclipse.
All the stars and meteors in the sky
watch the couple with awe and envy.

Poetry: Past, Present & Future

Present is a moment in time,
a pause ,a dwell between the past and the future;
it comes and goes like the blink of light
and perishes in the sea of unknown future;
the past lurks and lives on for ever,
like a Phoenix rising from the ashes
of time-charred corpses of the present and future
reincarnating into its Phoenix past;
the Phoenix of yore never dies
and lives on and on
manifesting itself in moments of time
in one form or the other.
the cycle of time moves on and on
never to end,
never !

Poetry: May be wrong may be right.

A king commands respect
he can do what he wants;
Who dare question him
when he's addressing someone?
Better save your neck

A whore is a woman
abashed not of men;
Who can dare stop her
screaming at you?
Better leave her alone
and keep your mouth shut.

A beggar is wretch
who's lost his honor;
Who can dare stop him
prattling on his own?
Better throw him a penny
Or just buzz off.

A money lender is a person
to him money is dearest;
Who can dare stop him
from urging his money back?
better for a debtor
not to keep his lips tight.

Four kinds of people are these
hard to stop from talking to you
telling them to hold their tongues
Is asking for a trouble yet new!

Barking dogs seldom bite;
May be wrong may be right.

Poetry: The Hateful Darkness of Estrangement

when hearts change, looks also change,
eyes reflect a dead man's pupils ;
the gazelle glance seem to abscond
in the dark vacuum of estrangement.
Fooled by the blind love for her I must be
as I failed to grasp the reflection of her eyes
the last time I met her.
Those sweet eyes had changed,
that lovely look had gone
all visionary joy had vanished;
she and I saw each other
as if I looked in a mirror
and she posing the back of it
over shadowed by a treacherous umbra,
surrounding two black holes.
like the ones astronauts find in the cosmos;
Oh, how devastating her looks were,
murderous enough to kill a horse!
I had but to ask her gently
to take off her looks from me;
to spare me from the indifferent glance
that had never been the hallmark of those eyes,
I might have failed in love
But my love still persists for those eyes-
the like of which no stars had been
until the last moment
some dark cloud overwhelmed them
with the hateful darkness
of estrangement for me!

Poetry: An Ode to Beauty

Oh, my beautiful dove,
may the sheen of your beauty never becloud,
the rosy complexion of your delicate rind
never lose its feel and freshness;
the freckles and bronzing of darkness
may never stigmatize your embodiment;
tumults of the mind and the storms of the soul,
may never bother your elegance;
let my love be the strength,life and blood
of your sparkling beauty,
my skin be a lampshade overhanging the lamp of your beauty,
and the tallow drawn from my innards fuel it;
let the rays diffusing through the lampshade,
bring extra charm to your beauty,
may the lamps of your eyes keep sparkling with love,
your beauty be no slave to seasons,
prevailing all through spring,summer, winter and fall
never, never to wither or wane.

Poetry: Sayonara to Vegan!

animals are living things,
so are vegetables;
killing one for the sake of other
is senseless;
the only need to show fairness
as a token of religious or secular belief
is to maintain an equitable and
balanced slaughter of them both;
the blood of one is the food of other,
the other is the fodder of the former;
and both are food for men.
come on let us eat both of them
without shame;
say Sayonara to Vegan!

Poetry: The Song of LIfe

LIFE is a puzzle,boy,
solve it and there you go;
TOSS it in a glass of wine
feel in heart its starry glow;
ALL roads lead to Rome,they say,
the right way but a few know;
THE moral of the story is
life is reaping what you sow!

Poetry: On the Assassination of a Politician

Politics has never been clean,
It had Adam and Eve chucked out from Eden;
history is replete with its sanguinary 'marvels',
Literature is full of Anthonies and fellows like Brutus;
it gave birth to World War One and Two
and God knows when the smoldering
tussle will end up in a Third World War;
politics runs the show of nations,
politics shapes the fate of people;
politics is an epidemic,nay, a pandemic,
it infects every home, every office,
every burg, town,state and people;
the cleverer a person, the better politician is he,
a ruler of men, a man of his own rules;
but seldom lies easy his head
from the infestation of his self-inflicted disease;
usually he recovers-and if he does
he's hailed as a statesmen, a leader of men
but sometimes he has to pay a heavy price
for recuperating, for his survival,
when his life line is cut short,
and he's destined to suffer a fate
sundered by the flying bullet of a jealous sniper,
or collateral death besides an over-zealous suicide bomber,
all that's left of him is dead red
blob of a pool of wasted blood,
or a charred black handful of dust.

Poetry: This Earth is a Killer Wave!

Proud be not of your beauty,sweet,
beauty is but a flicker of light,
a moment here, the next nowhere!
a flower that blooms in spring
is destined to bring
a momentous sensuous delight
then forever to roll in dust;
Many a joyous rose, Camellia ,Violet,Lily,
brighten hearts with their exuberant looks,
nourish the fountain of love with joy,
adorn the garb of Devi of love,
finally leave the floral clime
becoming dust to dust in time
that rolls back and sprouts
new roses and lilies from the dust again!

Ah, what a stark fate
for the beauty pure,
Oh, the killer fangs of the greedy voluptuous earth!
the flowers that we see blooming in life's garden
remind us of the multitude embedded in the dusty earth,
never to be reborn and adorn this world;
earth's womb is but a shroud for all things beautiful, young, handsome, lovely flowers,
of loved ones, creme de la creme and all,
lost forever,
the few that we happen to see
blossoming are just paradigms
of billions of beautiful flowers
that once decorated this world,
gulped away by this unkind earth;
only some of them lucky enough
to reincarnate and relive with flowery faces;
to ride on the crest of killer wave
to our heart's pleasure
to be lost again in time.

Poetry: A Miracle Has Happened!

In a city long hit by acute shortage
of electricity some miracle seems
to have happened; Of late, there have been
no power cut-offs--at least for the last few days
and I needn't have to get up time and again
to pull the gunk of my Chinese generator
to lighten my house and to reboot my computer
every time;
Incredibly, the lights havn't gone off,
not even blinked once ,
the ghost of occasional darkness did not pay his short frequent visits;
Viola, some miracle surely seems to have happened,
the days and nights of th entire city are electrified
uninterruptedly for the last few days.
But, hold on, I may be mistaken,
miracles are said to have ceased in this sinful world
the prophets are no more around,
only science seems to have replaced the need for God to send His messengers any more,
who would be commissioned to convince humans about the unseen God,
the dreams of heaven,blitz of hell and retribution and rewards for their deeds,
and who would corroborate their standing and that of their God
through show of miracles;
No, no, miracles are out of question but
then what on earth has so changed the look of my city?
every house is fairly lit and no personal computer
has to be rebooted for reasons of frequent power cut offs?
hold on, I got it! A curse deems to have befallen the city and its industry,
the denizens have gone on strike and the entire city is closed;
they are mourning the death of their leader
assassinated by the bullet of a vicious murderer,
whole atmosphere is resounding with the shriek of dirge;
shoot outs, violence, arson, looting are rampant followed by the dance of death;
pyromania prevails, ransacking goes on,
the city is hostage to furious rioters;
people are dying on the streets,maimed and killed,
there is horrible silence in the air ,
the living ones lie shrouded in the tombs of their houses,
precarious about the safety and security of their lives,
the clock of life has come to a standstill,
businesses have been closed,
the power-intensive industry is no more sucking the amperes to turn out economic stubs ;
no surprise then that the city has a surplus
of electricity
and every house is illuminated at the cost of the industry.
Yes, we are heading towards democracy!

Poetry: Augury for the New Year

Miracles may happen or not,
but the stars will keep twinkling,
the moon smiling,
days shall be brighter than ever
nights like ebony in springy weather;
time and space may govern our lives,
yet my heart beats faster than before
with the roaring thunder of hope
auguring that our wishes shall be fulfilled,
our long separation will end
and the new year sun will shine with all its glory
on the happy time we spent together
together we shall be again,
this year, every year,
just wait a while and see !

Poetry: The Irony of the Small!

Small things may seem innocent
but in fact most of them
are pain in the neck;
Little flies, mosquitoes and bugs
push their way every where,
are hard to tame;
they spare no one;
Bigger augurs bigger trouble;
lions, tigers, wolves and elephants
may be tamed
and kept under custody;
yet they are no match for the small!
Rodents, Pirhanas and microbes may be small,
very small,minute, microscopic,
but miraculously they may do things big;
atoms, electrons, neutrons and the protons
the nano-particles, Oh, you can just see them in
dreams!
How much strength they have is no secret,
yet their smallness is terrifically good or bad;
and as large as the universe itself.
or the beginning and end of unforeseen Big Bangs!
we fondly look at the little stars
knowing little that if it came closer
it would grow into a big fire ball,
a fiery blitz of cosmic death
gagging life once for all !

Poetry: Nirvana

She wakes up early in the morning
and says, 'early bird catches at the prey;'
(as if late risers would be left behind in the race !)
Well, that's fine for the mocking bird
as her appetite corresponds with the size of her beak,
and her gizzard for the amount of intake ;
but she doesn't seem to know
that the case with whales and sharks is different;
being early or late is no bar to them
as they sieve the seas relentlessly,
devouring whatever comes their way;
to stoke the fire of their endless appetite.
Last time when I met the petite bird
I had to clearly tell her,
it's the size of life that matters,
time is merely an illusion;
early or late in time doesn't matter,
give the humongous devil his due
and all the smaller creatures of the world
will never again need to suffer
from the pangs of hunger
or the limitation of working schedule
Nirvana shall be at their door steps
without trying and for ever.

Poetry: Dreams & Desires

Most of my dreams and desires,
the covetings of my heart,
my aspirations, my yearnings
seem to have been fulfilled,
yet thousands of them still smoulder
in the hearth of my heart
yet unfulfilled;
Ah, the mere inkling of these unearned wishes
pulls my heart apart;
each wish being sufficient enough
to make me feel like dying;
Like a heart full of a myriad of desires
yet to be fulfilled,
A victim of the brutal hands of time,
Here I sit with my fingers crossed.

Poetry: There's a Devil in Every Heart

who said the devil is ugly,
who said he doesn't have a heart?
who said he has not seen him,
who said he hasn't experienced him?
He lives in every heart
which is bereft of goodness
He beckons you to come,
to come and be his comrade,
He has no face, no arm, no legs,
yet he manages to grow up
a hand and hold a bough of flower
to attract, to lure people
towards him and be his disciples.
Do not judge him by his proffered kindness
look beyond that and further
all that appears pink is not rose,
even the best wine may seem amber,
crystal clear
but there are lees to it
which normal eyes cannot see !

Poetry: Newton's Law of Emotion

Were you the one, Newton,
who had the brains to frame
the laws of motion?
Well done, popped off amigo,
you were very correct;
yes, all things travel in a direction,
in a direction where they can finally
attain rest-
rest the destiny, rest the bliss,
rest a stationary spot of peace,
a cave, a dungeon, a well, a hole,, a slot-
whatever its shape be,
speed, velocity, acceleration,
all motions-Emotions- finally tend to finish
their instinctive journey there;
every action has an equal and opposite reaction ,
every motion-Emotion, recedes into inertia;
this cycle goes on and on ,
days in and days out,
even a living thing like love
being no exception;
it begins its motion like all other things
in search of union for peace and pleasure,
finally finding comfort and solace
in the Emotional lap of some point, a spot , a hole, a slot
or a multi-shaped vestibule,
deep, tight and hollow,
all receiving all embracing,
some call it Nirvana,
others call it lust,
both are a sort of orgasm,
one spiritual, the kundalini,
the other physical and carnal;
both insatiable though.
Bravo Newton !

Poetry: Neo-Physics

Let us give a new turn
to an old subject;
let's bring out the old
wine for all to share
in new bottles;
let's have the electrons go free,
let's have the nanoparticles dance
with sufic ecstasy;
let's see them collide
against one another
in sublime chaos,
in haphazard manner
like drunken men and women
looking for happiness and mirth
peace,love and joy
devoid of explosive detonative whims;
let's give physics a new turn;
let's make it more gentle,
more gentler than silk
smooth and harmless;
let's have it tantalize all humans
to enable them live in peace,
make it a subject open for all,
open to all,
sweet and lovely,
incalculably exuberant,
friendly and poetically affable
and- let's name it
Neo-physics !

Poetry: Ego

While I was praying on the mat last night
That gorgeous urchin appeared from somewhere,
And quietly whispered into my ear:
"Look up at me , my able saint !",
I looked up in the empty space
Only to find nothing there,
Nothing but something inside my heart
Which made me feel like a devil
Trying to eat my heart
And all that was previously
There !

Poetry: Getting Rid of the Itch (adapted)

First Voice::

Charm? Noooooo.!
Trained?? Noooooooooo !
Hubby can best struggle ,
strive to achieve addiction with the other half;
problems are then solved mostly,
and the struggle diminishes.
Just the minor matter of 30 or so years you see??
how can begum be trained to dote on hubby
while being in London on such a
short sojourn?
surely Ox street and Old Professor and libraries beckon.
pure 'salty and peppery'' charm i suspect.

Second Voice::

i wish most married men would follow
their 7-yr itch to its logical conclusion --
life would be so spicy.

The Bard:

.....but what would I do ?

I got a six and a half only !

Second Voice::

.......scratch yourself for 6 months to begin with..........

First Voice::

The itch dies rapidly
in a buzz light year
with one look at the trusting, unadulteratedly
loving faces of the children....

The Bard:::

Your words, friend , touched my heart but...

what would you do to kill the itch if----
you find your child or children's faces
smeared with blood-thirsty dragon's blood
in front of you
with YOU, hand-to-foot bound?
My friends, this life ain't not so simple,
no joke please....
Look at life in the eyes !!

Poetry: The Red Face Of The Disenchanted God!

Like a '' narrow thing in the grass'',
The Fear of Almighty God haunted him,
Scaring him to the thought of frozen death;
Then suddenly she stepped in
Consoled and exhorted him
To show his grit
And take the final lead and act!
Watching them in love together
The narrow thing in the grass,
the Evil, Hated Serpent,
Cunningly smiled with pride and glee
At the success of his scheme;
Or ,perhaps, for ridding Adam and Eve
Out of their perpetual agony from their creator's fear,
Or, perhaps, at the failure of the creator's flip-flop scheme.?
No sooner had the fear thus gone,
The loveless eyes of the First Couple recognized their Unseen Creator
Whom they called their God;
And Whom they made an un-forgetful symbol
For their posterity to always remember,
And keep their mind dreadfully alive and rich
With their forefathers' Inscrutable Sinful memory of
An eternal , terrific ,cyclic and circuitous punishment, a curse
For falling in love together,
In defiance to the Divine Wrath and Fear of God!
While the Innocent Adam and Eve got Exposed,
The red face of the Disenchanted God was also Unveiled,
Once and for all !

Poetry: On the Inauguration of a Vegan faux fastfood outlet in Canada

it's chicken this time;
next time it will be sheep and goats;
still next it will be cows and pigs,
seems we'll have to survive on grass alone !

Poetry: The Last Visit

(upon seeing this distressful picture !)
http://www.ozarts.com.au/__data/assets/image/0015/20346/Red_Tree_fish.jpg


Can't you see in her eyes,
O men and women on the street,
the surging sadness, hopelessness and despair
you have given her?
She roamed the oceans deep
like a maid in a daffodil field;
she had a clan, a tribe, a family
but all, yes all , is now gone!
She glances at her ''benefactors''
who don't even have the scruples
to cast a look upwards
at her heavenly soul;
Yes, she's dead and no more,
you may call it extinct
she's no more the ornament of the sea,
she's no more the wealth of the oceans;
like her kinfolk she has also been the victim
of the greedy humans
who killed her great population
just to make some dough
and fill their burning tummies.
Yes, she tasted delicious
to the humans
who 'slew' them to decorate
their dinners
wasting a better half of their meat
and bones
for feeding pigs, dogs, cats and poultry;

She was never a poor man's diet
neither is any fish the glory
of a poor man except
a source of subsistence for the poor
but heartless fishermen ;
the humans killed them all,
employed all means and methods
of catching them to kill;
trawling, trolling ,gill netting ,purse seining ,
even vacuum fishing ,,,,
nothing spared to spare their lives
just to satiate the hunger
of the rich,
the lust for money from every kill!
Ah, she and her folks ---all , yes all
have gone for eternity
from our oceans
to the land of eternity!
Name it grouper, grunter, bass, cod or croaker
----fish is always fish by whatever name
you call it !
She's dead and her soul flies
over our cities
over our heads
but we are least disturbed
even to look at her,
even to say "'God Bless your Departed soul''!
People on the streets
are indifferent and unmoved
by her appearance
a fleshless shadow,
a restless flying soul
like one has in his mind
or imagination
that which you call
'deja vous''!
With no one to greet her,
no one there even bothering
to lift his eyes to see her
the tongue-less pisces
moves ahead harmlessly
without disturbing the folks below
back to her celestial abode
her eyes filled with sheer sadness
and disappointment
at the ungratefulness
of human beings
on the gourmet-fillings
she had been providing them
for centuries in the past;
what a fate!
what a misery befallen
the kingly creature of the sea!
Once so dearly loved and prized
for her tasty meat
so typical of her big-mouth,
no one seems to bother about her,
no one seems to remember her!
Nevrmind, she leaves
without anybody heeding to her warning
'O humans ! I;m leaving nevr to come back
not even in your dreams!
By 2050 you will not have my like any more
in your oceans and seas!
Keep overfishing, devouring, wasting over catch
encashing us like carefree mad men
You will soon see fish only in museums''

Poetry: Looking in the Mirror

It made me laugh
at myself;
That was a deadly mistake
Looking in the mirror
At my age!
reflections of old follies,
timidity, audacities;
delights and regrets,
successes and failures,
done undone deeds;
Ah, all that crap
which made me up
which cooked me up
into the present shape
yet I live with a complaining heart;
so many desires still unfulfilled,
so many wishes that got killed
by the ruthless hand of time;
What can I do now
with my aching and shaking body?
The destination seems round the corner
no friend, no foe besides
to keep the fire of my ambitions
kindled;
Yet, I made a fool of myself
by glancing in the mirror
Only to find the broken edifice
of life now to be lifted
and dumped by someone
into a shallow narrow ditch,

Poetry: Cinquain Chain

let loose
not your feelings
high; I'm but a tiny
bit of hunch back, ugly and dark;
mind it!


-------------


jump out
of your black holes
proceed to the cosmos
someone might be waiting for you
up there


--------------


real world
lies beyond stars
but, hold on! Are the stars
really what they appear to be;
I doubt


-------------


freely?
There is no such
thing as a free lunch in
the world. Earning love freely is
rare chance


-----------------


happy?
No, I am not
a rose plucked from the bough
amidst spring and laid over the
dead, Oh!

Poetry: My Love

Should I say she's like a moon.
Should I tell you
what my love looks like?
Should I say she's like a moon
that brightens the dark nights?
Or, should I compare her to the sun
which shines with all its glory
and warms the days of life?
Should I compare her to a flower,
envied by a rose in the midst of spring;
Or, should I compare her to the veiled beauty
whom no eye has seen bare
except the walls and doors of her abode?
Like a houri on earth is she
the houris of paradise whom envy;
Yes, she is my love, my beloved,
her love runs like a sanguine fluid
across the veins of my heart and soul;
She lives with me, by me, all the time
beheld not by my eyes yet
I can see her, feel her in my heart
the music of her love resounds in my heartbeats,
she floats with my thoughts,
paints the true colors of my dreams.
I know She exists for me;
She's mine,my love, my life;
she may not know, so what?
but I know, I know.

Poetry: The Greatest Playwright of All

Just like a playwright knows,
to the loss of his unsuspecting
audience,
how his play would end,
God also knew
from the very first day,
as to what would happen
to his 'heroes, heroines and villains',
in the end of the story;.
the theme was there ,
,,and obviously the theme
is yet not over,,
only the tempo changes
the 'play'' goes on,
dramatically changing scenes,
unendingly,
suspensively,
to Man's horror,
to God's delight!

Poetry: Where art thou my sweetheart?

where art thou, my sweet heart?
the darkness of the night
is getting deeper and deeper
all around is silence
and me alone moving in my
bedroom here and there
without purpose
my heart is heavier
eyes are sored up
eye lids hard to lift up
my eye balls becoming dull
I don't know where the heck are you?
Every night you play games with me
until the sun rises and pokes the spear
of its sharp bright ray
into the iris of my eyes
shutting them down
finally
till i fall dead asleep
all day waiting to prepare
for the arrival of my sweet heart
some night.
At least in my dream-ridden Sleep!

Poetry: Live On & On

scared of death?
What a folly!
Death, the eternal truth,
the inevitable,
'the leveler of all things',
No way to escape it!
Come on,my dear,
join me and drink
from the golden vase of love
until you are satiated;
Bring the cup to your lips
and live on and on;
people may love to live
but they have to die some day;
If you want to live forever
drink incessantly
from the cup of love;
Believe me,
there is no such thing as Death
in Love's clime.

Poetry: Beauty Matters

Dark circles the breakouts,
the spots, the shine --
navigating the jungle
of her skin imperfections
,the powder box coming in kinda handy .
The perfect, lipsticky size
imperfection concealer ,
mirror-capped
for quick fixes
took the glum off
those itty bitty spots
of the flawless-looking Devi
rushing to the banquet.

Poetry: Love

LOVE IS A BLASPHEMOUS THING
IF YOU LOVE YOU ARE DOOMED
ADAM AND EVE LOVED MADE LOVE
YOU KNOW HOW THEY GOT PLUMED?

CHUCKED OUT OF PARADISE
BARE HEAD BARE FOOT NUDE
NO MERCY NO FORGIVENESS
NO LOVE FOR THE LOVING BROOD

FIRST HATE BEGAN WITH LOVE
EVEN BEFORE THIS EARTH WAS MADE
LAST LOVE WILL DESTROY HATE
LOVE'S SHALL BE THE LAST CRUSADE

Petry: The Contract

The Contract Stated
Shoot The Man Dead And Show Him
The Gun That You Used
To Kill Him To Justify
Your Position In The Contract

Poetry: Old Wine

extracted from the inebrious vines
from the vineyard of our relentless love,
my beloved, you are as sweet as old wine
that has been seasoned over years
and years in the carafe of my heart
serving and sharing the divine sentiment
with the exuberant joy of it.
I love you, my dear,
you love me, I can see that too,
not because we taste as sweet wine
to one another but because
the grapes that we'd tasted
and relished over the long time together
evolved into the ecstatic drink of love
without turning stale.
I love you, my dear, because you are
same as the old grapes and their nectar
and the tumbler of my love-heart
continues to be the same
towards you;
towards one another.
Aging matters not in love,
nothing seems to change in love
if the initial sweetness and purity of the grapes' juice
ferments and ages simultaneously
with the love-bottle of the heart
on the medium heat of faithful devotion and love
and finally transforms into the inebriation of
old wine that will never never stale out!

Poetry: Angling

The national sport of England
Angling is boring activity for many
Many like it but still find it boring
The fish is cannier than the canny

Those who don't like angling
Must have never gone to water
Or, perhaps gone there
And instead of fish found otter

Those who liked it
Went to water must be
But having caught no fish
Bored came back to their party

Well, angling is not that easy
You have to learn all its ins and outs
Check the color and flow of waters
in still waters you don't find trouts

Then you ought to have the right gadget
The right hook, the right line, the right fly
Sometimes to catch a squid or a cuttle fish
You may have to play music or cry !

All of you let's go fishing
Will have fish for dinner tonight
But if we fail to catch any fish
Remember, no one is going to fight !

Poetry: It all started with Osama

It all started with Osama
Mullah Omer his counterpart
Talibans and Afghanistan
War on Terror against terrorists
then came Sadam Hussein
The War has no end
the war continues
in Iraq in Afghanistan
innocent civilians dying
paying wages of war
US troopers dying
away from homes
God knows why?
terorism continues
Osama's still on the run
or perhaps dead
so is Mulla Omer
no trace of him either
sadam met his fate
alongwith his coterie
but the war continues
civilians dying
troopers killed
god knows why?
those who sparked the war
on America
are either dead or on the run
yet the war continues
god knows why?
against whom?
old enemies are dead
new ones necking out
ten terrorists springing
from the ashes
of one terrorist killed
like a Phoenix strange
what's the reason
what's going on
in the minds of nations
god knows better
or the ones playing the tune
and those dancing to it
but god knows why?
some say the super power
plus it rich allies
are vying for the wealth
of the war ridden regions
others say it's politics
america is the watchman of the world
a great, nay greatest super power of the world
that's true
but does that mean
the war should continue
innocent civilian be made to die
troopers lose their lives
their beloveds suffer grief
for the rest of their lives
motive of the war
still unmet
en masse killing continues
near and dear ones die
the root cause of all trouble
Osama,Sadam, Omer
gone to the side line
vanished like death
why then the war
this murderous sport
of barbarianism
against self and civilians
at the cost of their lives
and to the regret of their kins
at the cost of US economy
at the cost of peace
at the expense of people of America
for god's sake
think, ponder
is it sensible to continue the war
at the cost and risk of America
is it prudent that others use
America as a jumping board
an escape goat
nay, let it not happen
combine all well wishers of humanity
patriots and gentlemen
let us raise our voice
against the war
war is inhuman
detestable
abominable
unless for a good purpose
for a good cause
but do we have one?
dead or ambiguous enemies
dubious targets
far to hit
hard to see
far to take over
stop the war
let peace prevail
at home
and abroad !

Poetry: A Limerick

NICELY NOURISHED BY HIS MOTHER
HE DRANK MILK FROM COW'S UDDER
ATE TOMATOES WITH WHIPPED CREAM
IN HIS 'MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM'
YET 'SHAKESPEARE' WAS NOT MY BROTHER !!

Poetry: Falling from the Sky

Better not surmise,
Do not conjecture;
Never say a fallen body
gets bereft of feeling and soul
after it has fallen from an altitude;
Ask him his predicament-
the one who falls down the sky;
ask the broken star
which shoots down to earth
out of the celestial wreath;
care to ask the golden eagle
shot in the arm
by some jealous foe?
were he not to lurch down the sky
with a broken wing
then what else could he do?
Rolling down the sky
is reserved for only those
who know to fly high;
only they have this blessing
and to say that their feeling
dies with the fall
is but to call them small-
which they are not;
a heart risen to love's height
may suddenly have occasion to break
but it blithely beats on
in the quiet of its rapturing soul;
Every thing that goes up
is destined to get down;
Life is on the earth
Death is somewhere high on the berth;
some may fall short of distance
while others may be driven to a free fall
but they never fail to feel and live
but give new life to existence!

Poetry: The Gust of Suspicion is Not So Kind

Close the windows of your mind
The gust of suspicion is not so kind

Forcing its entry like a wanton thief
It steals from Heart the jewels of belief

Trusteth not what it ought to trust
Believeth not the word it must

Mind's world is treacherous place
Unscrupulously scrupulous without grace

It thinks and thinks for wordly gains
Matter and matter alone it entertains

Mind, the Arch Enemy of heart
In art of doubt and seduction, smart

Simple, gentle, kind and loving
Heart apart from heart is nothing

Devoid of treacherous Mind's guiles
Heart's like a face that always smile

No tricks, no play, no games, no jest
Heart alone is faith and love's nest

Heart's the resting place of God
The one and the only even and odd

In Beloved's love the Heart is blind
Free from thoughts of Gain and loss in its mind


When mind questions, love from Heart is gone
Faith vanishes from Heart's majestic throne

Mind has no spirit, it just consists of lowly matter
Stranger to Faith, love, and peace, it simply knows to chatter.

Poetry: The Deal: A Satire

You have ruled long enough,
Oh, dear Supreme Spirit
Of Evil and Unrighteousness
You have done enough harm
To the human race
Brought enough misery
And trouble for people
You are the cause and reason
For all the unrest and chaos
And malignant wickedness
Prevailing in this world of God
O Lucifer, Fiend, Devil,
O You Old Scatch, Old Nick,
O Lord, Old Gooseberry,
Lord of the Wicked !
We have served you faithfully
since this world came into being
We stood by you
When You challenged God
For his creation of Adam
It was we, you disciples,
Who assigned You the power
And will to defy God
It was we who placed you
On the Devils Throne
As King of the Dark World
It is we who convassed and convinced
The human kinds of your doctrine--
the doctrine of Evil and Disorder
It's we who supported you
In fulfillment of your unrighteous
Aims and objects and designs
All over God's earth
Distracting humans from your adversary
The God of Mercy and Magnificence
And leading them to the Wrong Path
It's we who blocked the minds
And Hearts Of humans
From the remembrance of God
And made most of them
critically critical
Of God's Supreme Being!
It's we, your army of Devils,
Who did more than anyone else
Could have done for You
To propagate Evil---
Universal Evil--
All over the world !
It's all due to us that
This world of God
Has been turned into Hell
Enough, enough, we have done for You
You have ruled long enough
And had your time
You have lost the zeal and fervour
Of Evil and Demonship
It is now our turn to choose
Another Leader for us !
Hearing this .........
The supreme Leader of All Evils
The Old Gooseberry, the Demon
Had to open up
His diabolic tongue
To allay the fears
And apprehensions of his Comrades
And say...........

Well, my dear little devils
I am proud of you
And acknowledge your services
You have rendered to our Community
In spreading Satanic hold
Over the humans
Over their minds and thoughts
I appreciate the great work
You have done to blacken
and block Men's hearts
From the remembrance of God
It's not you only
Whom I am indebted
for my obedience and loyalty
But also to the multitude of humans
On this earth
who are also your cousins
and unknowingly my disciples!
Well, I have an offer for you
A wonderful deal
A package gift of paramount Evil
Vote for me and
Let me sit on the Devil's Throne
Despite all the shortcomings
True or false assertions
You seem to have gathered about Me
I expect you to accept the deal
Lest God intervenes
And All goodness is let to prevail
With nothing more for us
to haggle about
So, accept my deal
Let me rule the Evil
Bow to me in Obedience
As that's the only choice
Left for you---
You who are not free from guilt--
Guilt of not doing
what you ought to have done
In destroying God's world
With Evil and unrighteousness
More than our followers
Still live by God's name
And I don't like it !
Your performance over the years
Has not been upto the mark!
You have to do better
In propagating Evil on Earth
Until no one remembers God
And the Hearts of all Men
Are blackened with the ink
Of evil and vulgarity
Until then
I will stay as your King
Without any demur from you
In return for your support
And promise
To perform better in future
I will reward you
By forgiving All your faults,
Corruption and crimes
And further give you a free hand
To make as much pelf as you want
Through Evil means and designs
i will also forgive
All your murderous actions
Your scandalous conduct
Anything wrong you have committed
In the past
These are my words of 'honour' to you
But, To affirm things more unambiguously
I'll put all this in an Ordinance
And sign it for record
This is a Deal
Take it or leave it
By the Grace of God
I am not going to Quit !

Poetry: To God's Delight

Just like a playwright knows,
to the loss of his unsuspecting
audience,
how his play would end,
God also knew
from the very first day,
as to what would happen
to his 'heroes, heroines and villains',
in the end of the story;.
the theme was there ,
and obviously the theme
is yet not over,,
the 'play'' goes on,
unendingly,
suspensively,
to Man's horror,
to God's delight!

Poetry: Hope!

What can I do?
What more can I do?
What else should I do?
There is nothing I can do;
There is nothing much I can do;
The water is getting up his nose;
Half of his alveoli are choked
with fluid and the rest will soon
be fluidized too;
Lo! he's started to pant
for air but the fresh breeze
of the spring time is not for him;
His system is failing;
Failing with the dimming
Of his heart beat;
His pulse is becoming silent;
What can I do for him;
Him my friend;
I can do nothing;
I am not able to do anything
To help save his life;
Friendship, money, resources-
All helplessly watch him with awe;
The only thing I can do
In such a case,
In such circumstances
Is to hope for his life;
Hope is the last recourse
For the poor and weak;
For the rich and strong;
When the jinn of adversity
Attacks them and they have
No one, nothing to get them out
Of their misery
Except God
The other name for Hope!
Or no God, if you insist.

Poetry: The Little Bunny

Go away, little bunny,
turn your face away from me;
Let me mind my business,
you yours;
Stare not at my dress,
Nor bewilder at my gait;
My instrument may frighten you
but don't
It's not your turn yet
nor am here for you;
Go away, little bunny,
nibble at the green grass,
crimson carrots and have fun;
Presently am in hurry
and will get back to you
upon your turn;
The old B***h is pregnant
and i am quite perplexed
what justice should I impart to her?
She has already seen her time
but the baby in her womb not;
But my religion doesn't know
pity for old, young or sick;
I just follow the orders
of the High Command;

Well, am I supposed to tell
you all this?
A day will come when you will come
to know;
know how I stealthily come
and finish off my prey
in a jiffy;
Go away, little bunny,
your name is not on the list
but....... remember,
keep this meeting with me
confidential
so that no body can figure out
my countenance and composure;
I fly with time and swim in space;
nothing , yes nothing can prevent me
from doing what i am wont to do;
I am a taker as well as a giver
of a life for life
enveloped in a world
beyond this world;
People dread me
call me names
but I may appear to be brutal
but i rid living things from their miseries,
take them to the cove of eternal bliss;
Oh, no, there's no such thing as hell;
That's just a hoax for men
to refrain them from exploiting women
and other fellow men;
Good or bad, all ends up
in eternal life,
a life unseen by you
yet a time of beautiful spring
and summer,
no winters to freeze your heart;
Adious! dear bunny, let us now part
to meet at the destined time
i promise I will be kinder to you
and rid you of your amazement
with the gift of eternal bliss-
the Death.