An old man walks with his experienceAnd his adorable paunch, With an ailment in his pocket,A newspaper ‘neath his arm. Keen eyes for the steps ahead,Not so much for the drunken path, Chained to the table of time,Where he finds his daily bread, A life
A family of clothesHanging out in the sun,Taking in all the light,With it, the delightAnd the warmth of kinship.Unclipped for freedom,Jiving to the tunes of the wind,Rising and fallingWith the ocean waves. Failed to noticeA gust of wind,Blowing a shirt downWhere it lies with the
This body might’ve embraced many,But nothing compares to your warm caress,All the cells in my body affirm,They sing love songs of yoreWhose tremors are felt underneath the layersRight where the soul lurks –It feels at peaceThat it often forgets exists,Every organ prepares to mergeTo unite
So many words in my mouthThat don’t come out,When there is so much to say,I choose to obeyMy lethargic mindThat tries to findReasons to not pick up my pen,While all my menWait for a storyAround a campfire of glory,That were to put me on a
“रुमाली रोटी! आज फिर तेरी याद आयी रे!” मन अचरज में पड़ाकी इतनी पतली हो कर भी तू कैसे भर देती पेट मेरा?रूमाल की हरकतें देख कर है तेरा नाम पड़ा, कई बार तो मैं धोखा खा कर जेब में तुझे ले चल पड़ा। न
When a flower wilts,It hurts the bee,So does it bother the thirsty,When the last drop of the river dries,Oars are no longer worthy,Does the boat forget its journey?Does the plant remember its child?Or the bee forgets to rueThe loss of a good thing in its
I often miss our communication,When we would speak so muchThat the world would evanesce,When we would hold each other’s gazeFor so longIt would unveil our longingTo be with each otherSo closeThat our breaths would mingleAnd fail to make out Yours from mine.What’s mine is yours,What’s
जब तुम ठहरे हो एक कगार पर,कि अब टूटे की तब टूटे,जहाँ टूटने के सिवा और कुछ न कभी होता,इंतज़ार के चौखट पर शायद ही मन कभी सोता,तो क्या फ़ायदा हथेलियों का? जब रेत रोके न रुके, जब हर सोच हो बिखरने की, रास्ता हो
Why I hate to fightIs not the hurt,It is actually the aftermathWhen she pulls herself under a shellAnd struggles to trust me again.I was a monsterSome unfortunate minutes ago,It is so difficult to convinceThat I am not the same man,I was merely at my lowest
I can’t hold your attention anymore,You always stop to read what the other book has to say,Constantly jumping between conversations.I am often forced to wonderWhich one do you hold the mostDear!I can’t make out What your mystery smile tries to sayAnd whose words bring you to