Sometimes we bury our self deep,
and refuse to get out,
the world outside is scary for us,
without a mere doubt,
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Tag Archives: Fiction & Poetry
Path
All bodies await,
the burning over pyre,
the cycle will go on,
till there is desire,
Amidst the flame and fire,
lives turn to ashes,
the material body is an illusion,
soul is freed in flashes,
The path of life,
ends here,
and new paths unravel,
it is a mystery indeed,
for which the soul travels.
Poem + Food
Hot Coffee with chocolate,
a packet of chips,
screw the diet plan,
ignorance is the bliss,
writing is easy,
with food around,
I think better when,
my stomach is sound,
chocolates and cakes,
truffles and shakes,
I now wonder why,
GRRM has such a good waist,
(George R.R.Martin,Writer, A Song of Ice and Fire)
with so much eating,
and keyboard on fire,
i feel the urge to sleep,
my utmost desire,
stuffed till the neck,
with food and love,
the heart sings a rhythm,
so melodious,
as I pass to my dreamy world,
I see words dancing,
all-seeing me at once,
like cute puppies glancing,
I pick the one, whose rhythm matches my heart,
the writing isn’t over,it’s about to start,
as soon as I wake up, keyboard’s again on fire
with words all over from the dreamy world supplier,
Ice cubes
What if we were ice cubes,
floating in a bowl of life,
some drift to the edge ,
some drift to the right,
all waiting to melt,
some untimely day,
life would be felt,
as we disappear,
and become a part of it,
to let others float,
in a colder place,
better for others and
more of life.
Glass
Every time I see the mirror,
I see a contrast of images,
I sometimes see,
a kid wandering in the world,
lost in thoughts,
willing to paint the world,
in canvas of words.
And sometimes,
a writer struggling for words,
to paint the world,
in canvas of never seen words,
But the glass,
is a deceiving perception,
it makes us see,
Either
What we don’t have,
or what we need,
never it shows,
the real me.
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Paper-Boat
Sitting in a coffee shop,
with a beautiful book to read,
seeing the raindrops falling,
all over the leaves,
through the fogged mirror,
something catches my attention,
a little girl rushes in the rain,
with such utter excitement,
she sits at the pavements,
and sails the paper boat,
that glides over the rain tide,
with no one aboard,
the girl sees the boat,
till it’s out of sight,
sighed a beautiful prayer,
with all faith in her might,
and I sit and wonder,
where did we fall apart?,
turning the pages of books,
is that what we really are?
she saw me sitting inside,
signaled me to join,
I learned the paper-boat again,
indeed it sailed pretty fine.
Writings to Heaven 