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!

silence of the soul

Silence of the soul

Aftermath a long journey

Leaves behind countless questions

Unanswered

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

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!

Visit dversepoets & promisingpoetsparkinglot for read more crafty poets expressions! Thanks!

Latecomer

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

Unworthy

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

Embarrassing

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

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

Rose

‎" 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

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

Awaiting

Unison

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 :)

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.

Exhibition

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 glow less setting sun

Shaded by the orange clouds

And the light-dark sky

As they don’t know

If they will have another day

To wave along with 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 Image from Unsplash. 

Wings

Wild

Innovative

Navigational

Gear

Salvaged 

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.

Goodbye

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 :) Image from Unsplash. 

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. :) 

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.

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

Believe!

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.