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My Poetry, My Songs
Memoirs of Graduate School
I am an avid follower of music and i have studied upto three levels of guitars [Elementary, Higher Secondary and Advanced]. Some of it i did at Indian Institute of Modern Music at Pune with Prof. SuhaasChandra Kulkarni and his son ShitalChandra Kulkarni. My brother has done the same too and so composition was a great challenge for both of us and we are both unique in our approaches. I have very little time from my work and study but i do sketch too though i am a bit lazy at times so it takes a while for my images to become final. I have a vision of putting my works together as my works of poetry will get in sync with my sketches and my own music. A pretty tall order...hope it does dawn as a reality instead of broken fragments of memory.
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Inspired
Who was there, whom I didn't make mine?
"Inspired" me with her gift of these few lines,
Like an angel so divine.
She gave me more than I could get, from any goldmine.
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A Reason to Live!
Life is devoid,
Man needs to fill in the void.
Immeasurable is the passage,
Choose the right companion, dialect of the sages.
Silent murmur of precepts,
Linger from every face to facet.
Amidst these thoughts: a lightning struck,
Never heard a thunder; a passing heartache.
I wondered: Have I ever seen such beauty?
Reminiscences strike no chord to better my clarity.
A shimmering sea, those drooping tresses, remind of the starless night,
O beloved: lucid love! To bask in its shade I would want to be within her sight.
A gentle glance, those gazelle eyes, reflect love afire,
O lord: pristine pacifier! Teach me to quench this thirst or feed me to the fire.
A subtle smile, those rosy lips, like bedazzled ruby outshine sapphire,
O divine: douce designer! To touch those gems, I put me up for hire.
A flawless character, churned in love & affection,
Built with passion, rendered with perfection.
Tryst between beauty and love, a unique creation!
Mind boggling intricacy, a lyrical composition.
From what I have seen,
Of your divine scheme.
For every season you give,
There is always "A Reason to Live".
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The Protagonist
Let's play a game; said my brother,
Whoever wins gets a name, "The Protagonist" forever.
I accepted without a blink knowing not what it meant,
To care for the power it could have lent.
Prosaic as it might seem to the intellectually inclined,
Such simple games in younger days are the reason for future decline.
Mind games and shallow fame, rampant demeanor, constant pain,
Win even in the false manner, just for a name: mortal gain.
Every story has a hero,
I want to be the central theme, even if it means to be zero.
The rule follows for each turn in life I take,
The things I adored escape for the grandiose name I fake.
Brutal quest to be the best, spare none, avoid rest,
Constant perusal for success is the ultimate test.
I leave no stone unturned, no paths unraveled,
A motivation rules my life, truly embezzled.
The idea was to be the ONE,
The only source to have it DONE.
Great merits lie in its way,
The burden is at times too great to sway.
I have learnt my lesson through all seasons,
It's an honor to be the only reason.
I wish I wouldn't fake it as this world makes,
A name so noble is always at stakes.
I want to be "The Protagonist", in real sense,
Realize its worth and vital essence.
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The Antagonist
A reaction is what they say needs a proponent: "The Protagonist",
To counter balance is supported by a powerful component: "The Antagonist".
The purpose of life is to fight even at brink,
What makes it worthwhile is to face an opponent who gives the cringe.
Great virtues are trampled, morals are tarnished,
In wake of glory few fathom the vanquished.
How did I win?
The answer lies herein.
Who lost this fight?
Is that the real thing?
I was the crowd puller when I was the hero,
If he wouldn't have lost I would have been the zero.
He uplifted my stature, gave me a name,
I wish I could do more or less the same.
Without a light, there isn't a shadow,
Without an adversary, would I have a glorious tomorrow?
He was unique as a thing to appreciate,
His zeal was infectious; I wish I could better contemplate.
At times I met a teacher,
Oft I fought a loser.
An enemy was all they saw in him,
I revered him as a true believer.
He taught me all I knew and made me better,
To convey my gratitude; I couldn't cover any letter.
If it weren't for him, I would have no claim to any game,
"The Antagonist" made my name a living fame.
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Zeal
Fill my cup till it is full,
I want to drink it all, until my last cull.
Instill in me the patience to garner hope,
To regain my "ZEAL", final end of life's rope.
I want to give my best, even if it takes the last,
Of my blood; this very thought is so fast.
I would love to climb the pinnacle of my success,
Without my "ZEAL", it would be a worthless digress.
Grandeur, fame, noble friend, arch enemy,
All stand aside like scattered penny.
My walk with "ZEAL", is applauded,
Is there any reason for my senses to be clouded?
Without him around, I felt the scorn,
Thrown in the bottomless pit; I was forlorn.
Who passes there; doesn't notice "ZEAL" now?
I outshine every moment, who wouldn't know.
Was that a standing ovation on life's platform to victory?
There were footprints there to even satisfactory.
All those steps had an addendum mark,
"ZEAL" was beside them till the living light became dark.
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Roses & Romance
All the while till the season's right,
There rests a silence in the girl's eyes; that's so trite.
When all at once the roses bloom,
Then sparks fly and romance is no longer a distant gloom.
Oft I wondered what's the mystery?
To ask it aloud has been man's crazy history.
The link to roses is pivotal to understand,
For a boy, a teen, a man, whose romance needs a chance to stand.
In the quest to gain that longing moment,
On the beach, in the garden, beside the lake, every lingering figment.
All's in the walk to pick a rose for the one,
With whom romance is the sheer hope.
The way we say; love can be won,
Is the path towards a task well done.
True love asks for a rose; no more than a flower,
If that is less then the romance has not much power.
All it takes is a small chance,
For destiny to make you dance.
Roses galore, romance seeks them,
If you understand this, please try then.
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A Love Letter
Who says love is difficult to express?
Give it a chance and you will not digress.
For want of time there isn't much left to be perplexed.
Lose no more; just pen it with adequate lexis.
My friends never knew I could put two words together,
When I wrote a love letter it found its way to get her.
Simple words, real thoughts, avid expressions, random projections,
All I cared was a chance to give my love a true reflection.
Was I to be blamed for being earnest?
To write such words in a letter: my love's nest.
I thought she would care to feel my haste,
To convey to her my utmost heart's quest.
Every word I wrote was a messenger,
A memory that outshines: a harbinger.
My feelings weren't confined to linger,
In absolute calmness; I wanted to bring her.
Let me play the tune for I know how to please her,
Give me one day so that I could wander,
In my thoughts, my heart: my barren lander.
"A Love Letter" is the thing in this world that makes me feel wiser.
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A Gift of Love
Since I was a child I have always wanted presents,
They found their way into my heart by mutual consent.
The way I took them, the way they were sent,
All conveyed the intent they meant.
As the years went by, my interest grew,
Better packages kindled it, even if they were few.
I rose to every occasion, as the ages flew,
Until I met a gorgeous gal with charming eyes blue.
The waves in her hair drowned me deep,
She cared less even if my heart gave a beep.
I was in a trance; my thoughts took a leap,
It didn't take long for her image in my mind to seep.
Her lovely lips glistened as rose petals soaked in honey,
An enchanting view none could buy with any kind of money.
She looked like Cameroon Diaz, though I didn't quite resemble George Clooney,
Standing amidst these thoughts so baloney, made me look looney.
She cast me a glance and knew I worshipped her,
She walked towards me as I held myself together.
A soft look in her eyes, a pleasant delight in her smile, nothing could be greater,
If only I could cut my heart out and place it at her altar.
We talked for long; she said she understood me,
What fate had chosen to my liking was to her, amusing.
We walked on the sands, talked about clouds and all things exciting,
Little did we know that time itself was fast fleeting.
The time to part had come; two hearts had become one,
It was difficult to relive those moments; two bodies with souls gone.
My heart cried for help: there was none.
Lifting the burden of emotions, we had to move on.
We met for a last time and she gave me a gift,
A Parthian shot into my heart as if through sift.
A few teardrops, a soul wrenching look with a famished smile, life bereft,
This was her parting gift whose burden I will not be able to lift.
She pulled me close and tucked in my hands a letter,
The words on her kiss there said "I am yours and you are mine forever".
Like broken twig loses its altitude and hits the ground,
"A Gift of Love" she gave me I carry around.
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Early Days of Rain
Being born and raised in India, where monsoon's a great season,
We await the end of the sultry summer, to soak for a reason.
The peasants, the landlords, the thinkers, the beggars,
All jump in glee for the seasonal fusion.
I distinctly remember the mangoes in the summer,
Those long days playing cricket a clear-cut game winner.
To bask under the natural shower,
Purified our souls and lifted our spirits higher.
I have watched the birds in the tree hide away; feathers drenched by raindrops,
Shaking them vigorously; enjoying every bit till the rain stops.
They glide down swiftly and break the fall of dew drops,
Touch the flowers and play in the puddle of water nonstop.
My dog jumps around,
He wants to get in the crowd.
What a feeling to last a few rounds,
"Early Days of Rain" beats all other sounds.
We all know soon we will lose these moments,
So we treasure it while it lasts; these few early torrents.
A gift of gods to the folks on earth, to whom He lents,
Every pretty thing He created with the right intents.
The peacocks dance with their feathers spread wide,
Acknowledge the beauty of rain, take it in full stride.
I watch the sun peep out and create a texture full of pride,
As the kids run towards the rainbow stretched along the mountainside.
As I grew from a boy to a young man, it gave a new meaning,
A lovely girl I knew now was a young woman, stood by the roof leaning.
The first drops of rain touched us both as if teasing,
To quench the outer heat only to stir inner feelings.
It was the first time I felt my heart buds anew,
Those feelings had blossomed like young flowers I knew.
Love was in the air: such a magnificent hue,
"Early Days of Rain": I will always cherish you.
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Rhythm & Melody
The wise say: In life we need a rhythm.
For us to maintain sanity; prevent cataclysm.
The thumb-rule for all things not being random,
Is the art to follow a tandem.
But unique is the concept of melody,
Any particular arrangement varied for intensity or parody.
It's difficult to achieve good clarity,
If not handled with true virtuosity, hampers its fragility.
To learn to sync,
You need the craving to think.
Put heart & mind to chant a hymn,
For the "Rhythm" in life needs the perfect "Melody" to reach Him.
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Singularity
Graduate school is all about singularity,
Identify your motives to achieve greater clarity.
The games they play here aren't expected to be taken in lighter vein,
Lest you plan to watch your own career, go down the drain in vain.
Everyone here wants to beat the other,
The rules here undergo change from one to another.
Satisfaction is such a mere claim,
Brutal vindication is the real fame.
To achieve uniqueness is to plant your seed to success,
Others just watch as you are lauded in excess.
Purpose of life is to face one's own fight,
The more unique a man: better his sight.
To give knowledge and attain wisdom is great glory,
Here "Singularity" is the most sought after story.
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The Stepping Stone
Days of glory make me wonder,
To a place yonder,
Where my thoughts wander,
To my liking, love's a lot there to squander.
I ponder where it all began?
Neither an atheist nor a pagan,
I was here for a reason,
To witness the perfect unison.
My memories roll back to my mother, whose creation,
Laid the solid foundation,
With loving care and attention,
She made me her remarkable invention.
I have traveled far and wide,
To one end of world and the other side,
She gave me her blessings with great pride,
To reach to the sky and enjoy the ride.
I garnered the virtues, achieved the stature I own,
As I retrace my path to home,
Again I walk alone,
Until I reach her, "The Stepping Stone".
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Follow the Follower
I believe I am a believer,
To a large extent my life is larger,
For a sharp mind I am sharper,
For a brave heart I am braver,
For every good catch I am a great catcher,
In every simple thought I am simpler,
In all noble acts I am nobler,
In all kind deeds I am kinder,
If close to humility I am closer,
If far from arrogance I am farther,
If deep in understanding I am deeper,
So cool to watch I am cooler,
So hot to touch I am hotter,
So give me my chance I am a giver,
I tried it hard they said try harder,
I knew I could win I am a winner,
I gave it all they said I was a loser.
My heart traces its path to my mind, it retraces to Him up higher,
I simply "Follow the Follower".
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The Winning Edge
I fought so hard,
To be heard.
On trodden path,
Lacking reckless wrath.
I craved for love,
Like a lonely dove.
They told me I could get it, if only I knew,
To find a place amongst the selected few.
How do I get there?
From nowhere to somewhere, then to everywhere.
Who could be my teacher?
My caretaker, my lover, my preacher.
What did I need?
To better my deed.
To learn a path to get to my goal,
Prevent myself from falling in the black hole.
The answer lies in my question,
Sans fiction.
The harder I fall, the greater the fight,
The stronger will be my inclination for full flight.
All I wanted was to free myself from this worldly cage,
And get to "The Winning Edge".
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A Fading Memory
She stood by the brook,
And her look,
Was like a child, whose broken kite fell from the roof.
Unattached, unresolved was her motive,
And thoughts collective,
To stay in my heart was imperative.
We met when we were young,
And all songs sung,
Forever in the memories were hung.
I met her for the first time,
As she passed through a line,
Gifting to the poor and needy a few shinning dimes.
With bated breath I joined last,
A dime into my hand fell fast,
I looked up into her eyes and a spell she cast.
I held back an edge of her flowing raiment,
Hoping fate's arrangement,
Was truly for my heart's engagement.
She spun around as in a dance,
A questioning glance,
From her eyes shot through my heart like a lance.
I stammered: "I need no penny, or any kind of money,
Just a kind look from your eyes like intoxicating martini,
Few words from your lips dripping like honey".
Her eyes drooped like rose petals low,
Her smile was like a gushing stream's flow,
She fulfilled my request with her inner beauty's golden glow.
Every now and then, from a distance, her smiles,
Across thousand miles,
I travel yet see those pictures stored within some files.
For love's glory,
I wanted her to be my life's story,
Destiny engraved her as "A Fading Memory".
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An Obscure Reflection
Somewhere in the woods is a lovely lake,
If you have the time to take,
A trip down the memory lanes for old time's sake,
Dreams are wide awake.
I have a feeling,
I have seen these waters before gleaming,
In the deep forests of tall trees leaning,
Was a blurred shadow of someone reclining.
Who was he, my mind queried?
It looks younger than me, I agreed.
Those days of playing in the water with reeds,
No caution or heed.
As the images reconciled,
All loose strings got tied.
The absolute truth couldn't be defied,
"An Obscure Reflection" of my younger days I couldn't have denied.
Time never stopped, nor those younger years.
The lake was visited by a herd of deer.
A kind maiden tended to them playing her lyre.
New memories became clear, as now they reappear.
I had walked up to her and had given her flowers,
Such a charming damsel was the daughter of the ranchers.
She understood the birds, animals and nature, a predecessor to the class of interpreters.
Beside that lake, near those flowerbeds, we mingled like true lovers.
She had stolen my heart, given it a wound,
An angel of love had swept me off my ground.
I heard her melodious rapture in the forest sound,
Her voices kept me bound.
Awoken by the silence of parting,
I saw her memories darting,
Into the farther recesses of years gone, difficult for sighting,
"An Obscure Reflection" is all that is forever lasting.
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The Music Room at Tech
At GeorgiaTech where I was a student without any question,
There was a room in the student center with one intention,
To give a break to the student's from the daily intellectual convention.
I was very busy as a research student,
With hardly any time for a musical vent.
Wished often I could go around that great hall for personal advent.
To my surprise there were people like me, who wanted some change,
Within this college, a wide range.
"The Music Room" was our Stonehenge.
Some fiddled with the violin,
Others played the piano and mandolin.
I played my guitar in the recluse we called "An Artist's Bin".
We all played something different,
From Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Eagles, Metallica to Megadeth.
The common ground we shared was the love for music in this room we rent.
We all had our fair share of problems and mental pollution,
Through this room we found a combination,
"The Music Room at Tech" was a great solution.
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The Fountain at Tech
I have often noticed the crowd at Tech,
Wandering around the fountain place,
While the bustling crowd of morning pace,
Towards their individual department space.
Some have hot coffee, some eat bagels,
While some move quickly with their packed parcels,
Each carries a burden more than you can tell,
As they dodge and glide towards the ringing bells.
Some ride bikes; some have their roller skates,
All that takes,
To avoid all stakes,
Till the time for the short breaks.
In summer they hang out in front of the fountain,
Play Frisbee and jump with their pets in the garden,
Enjoy the sun's rays as if seated on the throne of their kingdom.
In fall the scenario is a fulsome sight,
The students run up and down; day and night,
New and old chaps mix and match the semester's might.
In spring it's all blossom and bloom,
The chirpiness is clearly evident after the winter gloom.
This semester has loads of functions at the fountain: Tech's heirloom.
In summer the missionaries read the psalms and it's all calm,
The guys and gals drink lemonade; get sun burnt and apply balm,
"The Fountain at Tech" has its own qualms.
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Roaches at Lynch
I had a friend Ashish Sinha who landed from IIT, Kharagpur, India,
We were hunting for an apartment together kinda,
While he stayed with another of his buddies: opposite to Cynthia.
Now this room of his was near Tech on Lynch,
And I have a cinch,
There were roaches aplenty near the kitchen and sink.
His roommate was Kamlesh Nair from Mumbai,
Who liked the gals in Tech who were tomboys,
And used soaps with the brand name Lifebuoy.
He was a doctorate student of chemistry,
And he had tried every chemical dreaded in roach history,
But their ever growing population was to him a great mystery.
As the weeks had passed, these folks accepted the roaches' presence,
Their grad friends joked and subjected them to more nonsense,
While other visitors argued over recipes for cooking or killing intense.
This went on until the day they moved,
A crowd came to see a theory being proved,
Till there stayed a loyal roach lover, "Roaches at Lynch" couldn't be removed.
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Fall in FresnoState
I was selected by FresnoState,
To join an elite part of CalState,
With scholarship and reduced tuition rate.
I flew from India in August.
To start my MS in ECE in a rush,
Enrollment in fall was a must.
I landed in San Francisco,
Saw the Silicon Valley that started 3Com & Cisco,
Took a ride to see Stanford in Palo Alto.
I took Greyhound and reached Fresno,
The countryside of California was much like India, I didn't know,
I was greeted by an American couple, Ann & Doyle Merrow.
They drove me to my new apartment,
Only to be greeted by loads of new Indian grad students,
All of us were in sincere acknowledgement of a great American treatment.
The academic week began with an aura of grandeur,
From fluttering flags to marching bands in splendor,
Such sights were memorable in my mind to harbor.
The college had it own distinct charm,
Undergrads flocked in groups until the rains set in to make them scram,
Into the glass enclosed student center they ran, to prevent their books from harm.
Then came 9/11,
A cry rose to the heaven,
Prayers were heard, sad faces lingered and stillness prevailed even.
Time is a great healer,
Day passer, night stealer,
As a family helped Americans get closer.
The Middletons were my host family and friend,
Invited me to for every good occasion in style and trend,
I lived for the moment in true American blend.
Then there were the Mahanty's, the Dhillon's and Sita Aunty,
Cared for us a lot like love had no bounty,
Took us shopping to Indian stores and invited us to eat aplenty.
FresnoState had its own great way,
Rock bands in the cafe under student center came to play,
In between the classes the students got some time with the tunes to sway.
The California babes were pretty tall and slender,
I was a GTA for such gals, who wore all sorts of colors mixed in a blender,
They asked me all kinds of questions as if I was a computer vendor.
The fall colors shone great and wide,
I learnt to carve a pumpkin for Halloween; Middletons put a candle in it for fright,
I played my guitar while Amit & Kalpesh sang at the International night with pride.
The semester was coming towards the end; the last month of exams was insane,
I was to take a transfer to GeorgiaTech to learn about designing planes,
Christmas was around the corner; decorations and gifts packed all lanes.
Readers wouldn't believe this poem is a part of my life's real story,
The days in Fresno I spent would soon become history,
"Fall at FresnoState" is now a picture etched in my memory.
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Elusive Twins: Inspirational Duality
When I was 20, life's melody became sweeter,
Governed by the notations formed by the playfulness of the elusive twins,
In front of a house my parents rented for a couple of years,
Nonchalantly they strolled while their jocular eyes played le jeu d'esprit.
Their presence at times mimicked the nature of the ripples in water,
Sometimes the color spectrum of light through a prism,
Other times the blossoming of fresh flowers in a season.
The younger of the twins was sober and diligent,
An epitome of equanimity; facile, farouche yet fascinating,
Still I read in her eyes; a longing for acknowledgement,
Felt in her smiles; a casual flair for mischief,
Believed the frou-frou dress and dangling jewels she wore, a story they told,
Embedded in her thoughts like a pod was she indehiscent,
Movements of her body: the language of flowers.
The elder was bolder and exuded charm,
Her glances were gravid; graceful, gnomic yet gorgeous,
Distinct in her ways; a desire to move a step closer,
Flow of her hair; soft mizzles,
Curves of her cuddled lips, those radiant eyes were mnemonics for my portrait,
Flowing raiment, her sari all swish and swirl, aesthetic bindi, a song they recalled,
Glister of her soft skin: an oojamaflip rhythm.
My conscience jaded my inquisitive mind,
Harped on the delicate strings of my heart as a novice,
Their laughter at times played the slow tango,
Sometimes the improvisation of the funk and jazz,
Other times it echoed the strains of the calm before an impending storm.
Destiny the crooked schemer snatched my lucky days,
Threw me in front of an unopened lock and took the key away.
Few months passed playing the game of hide and seek,
Few weeks rolled by in contemplation of the words from their eyes,
The crux of this matter was to find the one, who had the substance to inspire,
A mere vocal chord to give the music I sought from this blazing fire,
Soon it was the elder one, whose mind had set her heart free while the younger remained cautious,
She lent her hand outstretched to me and set my heart's wings aflutter,
To embark on a journey to fuel the igniting sparks of my keen intent.
Cognitive was the process, decisive action was to decipher,
I was student of science and music,
They defined an originality that was inspired by duality,
My foundation got a grip; my vision took a futuristic leap,
She sketched so well, I decided to learn from her and amaze her,
Through my inner belief I drew a part of her and her twin,
One art involving both was meant to complete my mind's real picture.
A year had gone by and time gave a last chance,
I wrote a poem for their birthday and made up a tune with my guitar to dance,
I saw her smile and the joy she felt was so deep,
In retrospect I decided to never hurt any of that,
She wanted me to be their friend; I stayed glued to my true name,
Codswallop it was for others to understand my quest for altruism,
The elusive twins gave me the dual inspiration I was longing since forever.
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Love or Devotion: The Greater Virtue
Once I heard a melodious song,
It carried the burden of a melancholic rhythm.
The words expressed love,
The thoughts portrayed devotion.
Far towards the horizon,
Just like the sky seems to kiss the earth.
The words seemed to showcase a visage,
Unbeknownst more things lingered in perspective.
My restless mind broods over the intangible,
Whilst the mellifluous raptures my heart explores.
How was I a mere mortal to fathom?
Motivation for such precise differences that leave us entangled.
The concept manifested into two parts,
One was cogent and the other was obscure.
One expected to be reciprocated,
The other hoped for a chance to be near.
Love seeks and in return is willing to give,
Devotion gives and prays hoping someday to be heard.
Love blossoms with care, dries up if thwarted,
Devotion accepts being ignored, increases with mere mention.
Love's radiance beams with acceptance,
Prides on achieving the one it sought.
Devotion's humility folds hands in supplication,
Humbleness exceeds on acknowledgement.
Love's a gift from the Gods; the magi say,
Devotion is inherent; an intrinsic virtue all must weigh.
Love's beauty can only equal devotion,
The moment its immaculateness reaches its pinnacle!
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What Can You See?
I was dejected by life's immorality, stood leaning by the corner,
A blind man walked into me and asked: What can you see?
I told him there was hatred and envy in the air,
Life's a big shallow vase with no end to misery,
I paused a little while he pondered,
Couldn't you smell the flowers and be content with their beauty?
Would it be too much to ask about the birds, the clouds and the sun?
Isn't nature's beauty worth your eyes to feast?
My mind was fixated with the polluted gimmicks of the media,
I talked of the tainted pictures of the man's slaughter of Mother Nature,
I told him freedom had a new name: Power Struggle.
The hungry starved and the rich were never satiated,
Women plunged into sin and man was neck deep in adversaries,
Love was a concept unknown,
Machines were the way to go.
God's name was plundered for money, and lust lingered every corner.
He left me alone and sat at a distance,
A passerby who heard us told me about the blind man's situation.
His love was snatched from him and into gloom he was cast,
I could clearly see for myself now the scars on his palms,
His wounds to which he had tied some bands,
His hand too had sharp and rough cuts like a whiplash from a foe,
She was an angel of love, so pure and divine,
They snatched her away from him and made him blind,
Gave him a walking stick,
Whipped him black and blue,
In a cell where rats grew and dead carcasses they threw,
All along they gave him neither water nor food.
I walked to give him some solace along with some food & water,
Before he took it, he asked: What can you see?
I told him I knew about him and all the wounds he got,
The pain he feels and the atrocities they committed on him,
Was ignoble and poignant even to the mean.
He gave to me a smile and laughed at my concern,
You worry about the ones, who gave me a hard time,
And it's so strange that you can't see a man in love all this while.
What he said next held my glance; in pain he seemed to enjoy his life's last dance,
He had found love and had his faith restored in divine,
She had given him a hug and smiled to him,
He had learnt from her to praise the beauty of the roses in bloom,
The joy of the clouds outstretched along the sun's rays towards the horizon,
Learnt to sing alleluia in the lord's name,
She gave him the ambrosia of love and told him: life's a beauty worth treasuring,
A smile: the panacea; A gentle touch: the elixir.
He taught me a unique lesson for a broken man engulfed in love,
"What Can You See" is really special?
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Inner Beauty
A thought came across my mind, as I gazed
through the pictures in front of me aligned.
Subtle feeling of empathy hard to find,
enamored my being, devoid yet feeling blind!
Is it abstract fallacy or something divine?
To fathom love, truth and beauty: undefined!
Blur images portray views split asunder,
encompassing like the skies,
torn apart with lightning and thunder.
Denizen of mundane existence,
I alleviate my pain and struggle.
Your beauty is what I was longing for:
to profoundly appreciate and contemplate.
Eclectic memories and immaculate concepts,
now that I truly retrospect.
Your presence has made me ponder:
true beauty lies within!
Assimilate the realistic and kindle,
the essence of true "INNER BEAUTY".
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