30 Nov 2011

Dawn of retirement

They worked like machines through ages
To build their lives and future of their kids
Now, old to be dynamic,
Yet, for authorities, they are not old enough
To seek the leisure and peace of retirement
May be they are living in fool’s paradise
As politicians never retire until heaven calls them
 What will these hapless people do?
Alone in their final days
Nobody around to look after
Left to face the freeze in the winter
With no heat aids to support
No money for holidays
Pawns of hedging pension funds
Generations spoiled with benefits
Cut aside from the values of Victorian age
The system of looking after the old aged
All within the family
In the name of independence
Leaving home at early age
Leaving the burden on government
To look after an ageing population
Who is to blame?
The middle aged can’t even rest
As pensions mocks at their face
As a question mark over their future
With no choices to opt
Destined to work longer
In the name of higher life expectancy
Some of them can’t even see the dawn of retirement
Recession is a silly excuse
To cover the holes of faulty economic policies
There is money to support wars abroad
But, there is no money for the beleaguered
Now they can work more
With a dream about a dawn
Sitting in the couch, reading a paper
Going out with friends to the pub
To beach to feel the sunshine
Without the stress from bosses
Without the worry about paychecks
With pension, the mr. safeguard on side
Without depending on anyone else
But, that dawn of retirement is moving farther
Somebody has to stop it sooner!

 This poem is a form of support for those people who deserve early retirement!When the legs and hands become weak, we should let them rest and live the life without worries! Extending the retirement age is an escapism! Images: Thanks to respected copyright holders!

23 Sep 2011

silence of the soul

Silence of the soul
Aftermath a long journey
Leaves behind countless questions
Yet, everyone ask beloved
What happened?
Without knowing what to say
To console them
To overcome the pain of irrecoverable loss
The tears of the loved ones
Raise questions towards heaven
Hoping that it will be heard
Why did you do it?
We all were here for you
We were part of your happiness
We celebrated it as ours
But when you had a sorrow
You thought, you were alone
Now, we are helpless
We have to survive through this life
With a regret that we couldn’t heal your sorrow
We wish, you had kept some moments
To share your problem with us
We would have found a solution
Now, we can only shower our love for you
With our prayers for you

1 Sep 2011

Lost flowers

Flowers decorate our gardens
Alleys, abandoned lands
On the ten glorious days starting with Atham
It’s the jewel on the courtyards of our homes

I remember the buzz in the mornings
To pluck the mist filled flowers
To create floral layouts of joy
Striving to create something different
Every day, with whatever flowers available
I’ve seen kids visiting homes
Collecting flowers with exuberance

Now , they get it from market
Preserved flowers at exorbitant prices
Grown and cared just for us somewhere else
Far away from our culture and our lives

This makes me wonder!
Where did we bury our flowering plants?
To stop it from blooming in our little spaces
It takes a few minutes to water
But, its more easy to buy colorful flowers
These aren’t our flowers which decorated our lives
There are more residential associations than residents itself
Yet nobody got time to raise flowers for the kids
When they got time to organize all kind of silly events

Acres of farmlands are laying barren
Yet nobody wish to grow flowers for ourselves
We have outsourced that right to our neighboring states
Youth have time to squeeze money from people on streets
In the name of non-existent arts associations for onam celebrations
Yeah, they don’t have time to raise silly flowers bearing our culture

People have time to queue up infront of liquor outlets
They have creativity to create layouts with empty bottles of liquor
But, raising flowers is waste of time, as it gives fragrance
So fresh and exotic than the much priced rums, brandies, beers and more

We create new limca records for floral arrangements every year
To show how much we care about our onam
An event of glits and glamour for flowers for media 
But, I wish they could see use the colors and flowers of our lives

The big floral layouts on the street, sprouted by the active youth
It was part of our lives, now it’s on the wane
As salt filled , artificial colored layouts smiles at us
I wonder, even they have abandoned our flowers

When these tv channels shower our eyes with the floral extravaganza
Even they forgot our roots and our flowers
They can sell ads for showing prices of flowers
Just like, they do with any other sensational news

Government pays huge bills to organize events
To show the world our onam celebrations
But even they don’t realize we celebrate onam at the mercy of others
Our king is welcomed with dead flowers from afar
It speaks the language of another culture to him
What if he stops visiting us one day?
Disillusioned with his welcome!

Anybody care!
Sorry, we are busy, shopping flowers at trade fairs!

images: thanks to rightful owners!

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29 Jul 2011


Running briskly
With perspiring senses
Wildly beating heart
Checking the watch every other moment
To see how much time lost already
To calculate possible reaching time
To raise the speed
And to prepare for an abrupt entrance

There is a big price to pay
For getting late
A risk
As you stand to lose out
The savory moments upfront
Amongst the settled audience
Engaged fluidly up to the occasion

Then the door cracks up
Breaking the silence of even the noise
Making heads to turn around for a glimpse
To see the distracting latecomer
With countless eyes sprinkling spotlights
Walking past the aisle
Becomes nervy like on a ramp

Nodding the sorry with the eyes
And the bowing head
Whispering the excuse
From the shell of a sorry figure
Without any idea about the scenario
That persisted there

A messy catch up work remains
To be done, to get on level terms
With all those present there
With short enquiries for briefings
Fighting against the time  
To make up for the lost time
Before gelling into the zone
With the ease in breathe 

Scary, if there is scolding
Funny, if there is mocking
Light hearted banter for folks
There is always an awkward moment
Awaiting the late comer

Images: Thanks to rightful owners

24 Jul 2011

The Fiddle Player

On the corner of a bustling city centre
He stood,
Another tough day to conquer
At the mercy of strangers
Walking past the street
He played his fiddle
Emitting the heavenly aura
With the sweetness of his music
Some people stood there to listen
Some sat on the benches and engaged
In the rhythm of his solemn creativity
He played song after song
Changing the mood with each beat
A talented musician plying his art
On the street, to earn bread
Some acknowledged his efforts
And threw some pence in his fiddle cover
He wasn’t looking at the money
He just played the music
Until he got tired
I hope, one day his luck may turn golden
As his music has a soul of honesty and hope
May be, one well-wisher will give him a big break
To play his fiddle amidst the symphony than on street

There are so many talented musicians who play their music on streets just for pennies.They play simple but heartening music, without any show offs.  Images : Thanks to rightful owners

23 Jul 2011


" every rose blooms,
 spreads fragrance, 
spreads smile, 
carries the love,
 dazzles in mist, 
becomes mystic in drizzle,
 then dulls down with the sun,
 bidding adieu to the world, 
but rose still catches imagination,
 making us love its successors,
 just as it,
 with the charm"

Images : Thanks to the rightful owners

7 Jun 2011

Erratic luminous omen

Life was erratic
Disillusioned with the greed
Disoriented with the purpose
Of living, when I failed to buy time
To save my dearest soul
To catch the precious breath
To survive in this world
Though, I ran like a sprinter
On that fateful night
I might never run like that again
For anything, no matter what at stake
Though, my heart pounds harder still
With nerves wrangling tighter
When I face those deadlines
That I always shied away
Still a luminous angel
Drives me to walk again
To climb the mountains
Of tasks left to achieve
To survive
And thrive again
Like the trees growing green
Again in spring, after the fall
By raining a gritty omen
With actions of courage
Outwitting the fears
To achieve the things beyond
With an ease
Making me wonder!
Why I can’t do the same !

Surreal to Real

Barriers are crumbling down
Distances are narrowing down
Hearts are falling down
For the invisible souls
That keeps flying afar
Through the wings of the web
Sharing all the sweetest dreams
Poaching all the darkest secrets
Sourcing all the hardest exploits
Wiping all the bloody tears
Riding an adventure
Full of hope
Face to face
Voice to voice
Embrace to embrace
So real from surreal
Hours that brought together
The souls through words
Magical views on screen
Games played with fun
Fights fought with fury
Patch ups done with passion
Promises made with devotion
Altogether now looks real
While holding the hands
While looking at the eyes
Bemused without words
It’s the dawn of a relation
Cemented with love
From surreal to real 

This poem is about two people who fell in love through facebook, whom i met today on a park. Images thanks to google.

 This poem is for  oneshotwednesday . Visit there for more creations of other poets. Thanks :)

17 May 2011

My Freedom Lies in Fire

                                                            Image from Mag 66

Sally sat on her couch, glancing at the river through her window, while she eased her mind away from the thoughts that preoccupied her for last many days. She kept the book closer to her chest as if she was embracing someone. Even in her calmness, her eyes glowed like that of a conqueror.  Last many days, this old book from the village library has given her a reason to come alive, a welcome break from her monotonous life with no purpose. She travelled a lot and visited as many libraries she could as she tried to put final touches on her research paper on “libraries and its influence on social life in villages.”Mulford, a sleepy village was her last stop.

Three days back, while visiting the Mulford library along with a kid in her new neighborhood, she never thought that she would find so many old books there. She just scrambled through the books casually until the slip on a book caught her attention. “289.6 CRI”. There was no name of the author or publisher on the side, unlike other books. The dilapidated binding showed its age. When she flipped the pages, she felt the smell of past hidden within its soul. She lent the book out of sheer curiosity. She realized that the book was relatively a new book for library, as was kept amongst recent arrivals section. From the librarian, she learned that one old man has recently donated it along with other seven books recently. Though tried to find the name of the donor, librarian refused to reveal the identity as it was against the rules of library. She had an intuition that she knew the donor somehow.

 While walking back to her home, she recollected that she has once tried to take this book from a library in her hometown Salford, as she stared at the code all along. Back then, she couldn’t as someone had already ordered for that book.  Though she tried to get this book for many months 10 years back, she was told that someone hasn’t returned the book. After reading the book, she found a new energy in her life. However, she wasn’t sure about the reason behind her rejuvenation. She spent major part of her life on books and studies. Finally, loneliness has taken toll on her journey as she missed her long-lost husband more with each day. She had given up his fortune to lead a nomadic lifestyle of travelling along the sleepy towns and villages to find the soul of libraries.  All along, she hoped to find this old book somewhere.

At night, she sat on the steps outside the house, watching the flames arising from the pages of the book. She warmed her hands with its heat. “My freedom lies in fire”, the book she enjoyed reading became ashes. She collected it in her hand and threw it in air as if releasing pigeons. Indeed, she has freed the soul of book just as the author wished. It was the only copy of that book printed by the writer himself in a quest to get a publisher. He tried his whole life to get a reader. However, he could not get one. He carried this book along with him to the small towns and villages he visited for work and displayed it on libraries. With time, the book caught up with tears and wears of ageing just as much as his own beard. In every library, he donated the book, but somehow stole it away after seeing it without takers. Every day, he used to go to library to see if it’s still there. However, Mulford was his last stop as he had lost his hope! He donated his only fortune, the eight books, to the library. She whispered, goodbye Jonathan Jopster. A name nobody will remember nor will know. But, she will keep the name in her heart for rest of the life.

Two days earlier, she came across the news that a long bearded man found dead on the river, nearer to library. She went to the spot out of curiosity. She realized that the old man might be the one who donated the book to the library. The librarian acknowledged it, even as refused to reveal the name. She saw him in every library she visited. It may be mere coincidence. Sometimes, she wondered whether she was following him or other way around. Libraries were the one common interest that kept them meeting from distance, though they didn’t know each other and their mottos. She always has noticed that he never took any book, but sat on bench staring at some stands. Then after few days, he will vanish.  As it didn’t affect her, she never tried to talk to him nor tried to find the reason for his visits to the places she visit. She became curios about the book as she felt that there might be some clue about the old man in it.

While reading, she came across one page in which she found just these words, “My freedom lies in fire. I carried this burden all my life. I can’t bear it anymore. I might not exist while you read this. I am grateful to you for reading. You have fulfilled my dream by reading my story. I don’t think, there will be another afterwards, like before you. So, burn this book and throw the ashes in air and free my soul.” Jonathan Jopster

Written on prompt Mag 66 @ Magpie Tales . Visit there to experience other writers creations. Thanks.

15 May 2011


Emblem of momentous hopes to outgrow
Xeric past with glittering glory and tears
Historic opportunity unveiled to
Illustrate the never-ending desire  
Baptized by the forgone brave red hearts
Industrious and flamboyant with their talents
Tantalized the heartbeats of opponents defence
In their quest to be the winners, sweating all their efforts
On a mission to thrill the legion of followers with magic on ball
Narrating a new chapter to the folklore of red devils for the future 

Exhibition of arrogance will spur the rivals!Just as Chants of Munich still  hurts! I hope the dreams of Busy Babes will be fulfilled by generations of red devils with humility! 

Written on Prompt 168: Exhibition   @ onesingleimpression . Images: Thanks to google images.

Dusk of contrast

Entangled green bushes
With no leaves to wave
Arched with flower bud
Waiting to break free
When the sunshine giggles
To see an unseen world
To explore the magic of nature
To receive the love from unknown
As the bloomed flowers
Spreading the magic of red
Amidst the creepy green layers
Like spots of limitless joy
On the faces of kids in a crowd
Reluctant to say goodbye
To the glowless setting sun
Shaded by the orange clouds
And light dark sky
As they don’t know
If they will have another day
To wave along the wind
While enjoying the sunshine

Inspired by picture taken by Fee Easton. Option 1.Written for  one-stop,challenge time . Visit to explore other poets expressions! Thanks 

14 May 2011



Prompt 1: Single Word (SW) – WINGS @ acrosticonly . Please visit to see other poets acrostic. Thanks
Images: Thanks to NASA and google images

River Usk

A stream with unpredictable flow
Moving in opposite directions
Depending upon the tide in the sea
Slim and calm at times
Exposes its bare muddy skin beneath
Storage of balls, cycles, bottles, and junks

Many people had their stuffs falling by chance
And just watched them moving away
As it was risky to retrieve

With the thick mud acting as hindrance
Boats stacks up in mud here and there
Away from its dock
It reminds me of lost boats in deserts
They get back to the shore
When water rises again

At night it flows in its full glory
With big belly burgeoned by tides
Glamorized by the lights on the shore
I try to see, which direction it is flowing
Every other day, before crossing the bridge
Sometimes, I just look at its silence
Through the big windows at university

Sometimes I sit on the bench
On the walkway, just to feel the wind
And to listen to the heart of the river
It’s peaceful to sit and read at night
Underneath the streetlight
With the river giving a nice company
Along with the freezy wind and stars 
I have found a friend in this lazy and frenzy river

Images: Thanks to google images & various websites.

18 Feb 2011


I am moving to a new shore
I have left a piece of my heart
At your door
Without knocking, like a trespasser
I hope you will open the door
I wonder if you will see it
It holds a piece of my dreams
Which I wished to share with you
It still carries the urn of my feelings
That I never expressed
I wished to conquer your heart
Silently, with a feather touch of emotions
Now, you are beyond my reach
As you have found your destiny
I wish to hold your smile
In my eyes forever as a precious gift
I still hear your voice, when I am alone
Through the realms of my ears
I don’t wish to see tears or fury
In your eyes
As I love it to remain vibrant
So, I won’t leave any words
That might hurt your beliefs
Though I wish to let you know
I’ve fallen for you
Right when I saw your eyes greeting me

Please visit  thursdaypoetsrallypoetry for other poets works. Thanks :)

13 Feb 2011

Be My Valentine

Bring a new spring into my barren life
Erasing the thorns of past from memory

My heart is waiting with roses of hope to welcome you
Yearning to drizzle love in your heart like a monsoon 

Vast seasons await our journey together
Across the world with the wings of dreams
Let me show all the wonders you wish to see
Elating you to the skies, fulfilling your wishes
Nurturing your smile like a classic portrait
Teasing your eyes with silent acts of drama
I wish to hold your hand for rest of my life  
Negating all the lows and rooting all the highs
Emptying your sorrows with a touch of magic

I dedicate this poem to all the people who are in love! Happy Valentines Day ! You may get blessed with love of your life! Images Thanks to Google. Visit  acrosticonly  and onestoppoetry  for other poets works. Thanks. :) 

12 Feb 2011

Mr He He

Any body know
Who is “Mr. He He"
Yeah nobody, I know
Let’s find out who is “Mr. He He"

My friend was mobbed by proposals
From the guys who liked her a lot
She had to find a way-out,
She said she has a boy friend
But no one knew, it’s imaginary
So curious guys asked her his name
She said, it’s “Mr. He He"
Yeah, it sounds weird n funny

“Mr. He He"
He is a mystery
“Mr. He He"
He is adorable
“Mr. He He"
He is enviable
But still, who is “Mr. He He"

So every one got surprised
Who is “Mr. He He”
No body has heard about “Mr. He He”
They asked her to introduce him
As they were not ready to believe it
She got in a fix
She had an idea
She told them that he is one among them
And they kept guessing
Checking out all the probable matches
Naming one guy after another
While they were busy finding out who it was
Somebody conquered her heart
Truly he was mysterious
Everyone knew him
Though she shared lighter moments with him
In public, nobody suspected him
Even as she built her castles of love
And laughed with her “Mr He He”
About their secret love story 

This is  a song i tried to write for my online sister kavita,who made beautiful posters of my poetry. It didn't turn out that way.Neverthless,this is a sweet little present for her.

9 Feb 2011

Come back kings

Minutes to go
A Mountain to climb
Dreaded moments waiting
To cage in the destiny
We look for a miracle
As the tired legs
Try to spark magic
The crowd goes roaring
Passes galore with one aim
To force through the iron walls
To sneak in a ray of hope
As red devils, trigger shots at the post
They did it at Nou camp
They did it at white hart lane
They did it at Bloomfield
And many times elsewhere
Breaching through for glory
Breaking the hearts of opponents
They are the comeback kings
Everyone wish to see them loose
Everyone tries to write them off
But they come back chasing an equalizer
And then goes on for the final kill
They are the thrillers of dying seconds
With the doses of passion and determination
Never to lose the game until the whistle is blown 

Written for participating in onestoppoetry . Please visit there to read pieces of works of talented writers. Thanks.

3 Feb 2011

Dreaming to dream

I am day dreaming to dream
In this lazy afternoon
As I am getting bored
Waiting for the rain
It’s teasing me,
But hiding somewhere

Take me to Dubai’s islands
I wish to sail in those canals
To see the marvels
Weaved on the laps of sand 

Take me to "Theatre of Dreams"
I wish to sit at the Stretford end
Let me sing, “Glory glory man united”
While watching red-devils play liverpool

I’m getting deluded
I wish to travel in magnetic roads
I’m fed up with the gutters here
I want to ride rotor-less bikes
It will be sliding over magnetic fields
Like good old, Santa Claus’s deer sledge

I am sleepy
But where is my lullaby
Angels please take me to your heaven of dreams
I wish to hear you sing
“Baby sleep like an innocent cat”,

                                               Images thanks to google. :)