My Poetry

Contains piece of writing originated, conceptualized and purely written by me. With no reference whatsoever from any written or documented source.

When I’m gone!

When_I_m_gone

 

 

Your tears will flow,
But I won’t know,
Cry for me now!

 

You’ll utter words of praise,
But I won’t hear,
Praise me now!

 

 

You’ll send flowers,
But I won’t see,
Send them now!

 

You’ll long my voice,
But I won’t speak,
Talk to me now!

 

You’ll be sorry,
But I won’t feel,
Apologize to me now!

 

You’ll crave my touch,
But I won’t budge,
Hold me now!

 

You’ll forget my faults,
But I won’t halt,
Forget them now!

 

You’ll miss me a lot,
But return will I not.
Miss me now!

 

You’ll have regrets,
But I won’t fret.
Acknowledge those now!

 

You’ll wish, you could’ve time for me,
But I won’t be with thee,
Be with me now!

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In my Solitude

solitudeIn my solitude, I stand,

far away in a distant land.

 

Sweltering heat, drying tears.

Unlike dreams,

coming true are fears.

 

Sweat, grime and dust.

Amidst the gloom,

someone my own, I lust.

 

Withering me, parched earth.

What I seek,

is in dearth.

 

With deafening silence abode.

In my habitat,

loneliness galore!

 

Barren land,

no footprints.

I swivel around,

Not a glint!

 

Lost I feel,

tired I am.

As I try to raise,

BAMMM!!

 

Back to the ground,

I’ve fallen,

All from the top,

right to the bottom.

 

I ask,

Is there life, is there hope?

Until when,

can I hope to cope?

 

As life and hope continue to gaze,

A mirage is what,

I seem to chase.

 

Will this solitude end?

In fading hope and years,

Who knows if…..

one summer may bend.

 

Until then,

I continue to stand,

In my solitude….

on a faraway land!

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Life : A paradox of sorts

images (5)

‘Ignorance is bliss’- I had heard,

But one living in it, is called a jerk.

Living is such a paradox here,

And then they say, the world is a sphere.

 

If this was true,

what goes, should come back to you,

But neither people nor time do.

 

They say its good to dream-

“Dream as if life’s a song”

Then they say,

“Get up and move,

life and dreams don’t get along!”

 

They say live in today, forget your past,

For your future,  raise the mast.

I say,

“Future is obscure, today’s gonna end”,

So, lets not pretend!

Truth is, “Only the past stays with you, till the end”.

 

When I question life,

I am crazy, I am being told.

But when it all thrusts upon them,

Why cannot they withhold.

 

What is life?

“Yes, i cannot understand”,

But those who do,

Still don’t give me a hand.

 

I want to fly and be free,

“You can do it –  have wings”

But then they say,

“You can’t live on a tree”.

 

Most beautiful is to be a child,

When I tried to remain one,

Why did you go wild?!

 

Its you –  who killed the child in me,

Why complain?

“The world is’nt the way it should be”.

 

“Live to the fullest,

Life is about to go”…

Then why do you tell me to go slow.

When I run, you tell me to walk,

Do you ever walk the talk!

 

When I laugh out loud,

“U laugh too much”,

And when I don’t,

“U shouldn’t be such”.

 

When You cry – Its pain.

When I do – Its insane!

 

When I don’t ask,

“U are not interested”,

And when I do,

“U just don’t get it!”

 

The paradox doesn’t end here –

What goes, never comes back,

And then they say, the world is a sphere !!!

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Dreams are made of…

I like to sleep.

In the emptiness of the night,

there are some dreams, so serene.Dream

 

Some dark and dry,

Some that make me cry.

Some, where there is only noise,

And some that you fantasize.

 

Some take you through the alleys of Eygpt,

Others just seem so crypt.

Sometimes they lead you into a dungeon,

Others may fly you over the bridge in London.

 

Some real, Some fake,

why is that dreams are made?

Is there a story behind those images,

Or did someone write a screenplay in pages.

 

I kept wondering how to define,

Yet at the end of the night,

Those dreams were mine.

 

I saw a pyre being lighted by me,

I woke up, only to cry and cry,

Assured it will never be,

Until weeks later, it indeed was me!

 

Did someone say, dreams do come true,

Little did they tell me,

Only the nightmares do.

 

Why are dreams made?

 

To give me happiness or pain.

Some lose, some retain,

But if they were not meant to be,

Why do one I even see?

 

Those dreams where I smile, I laugh,

Those dreams where I live happily ever after,

But those are dreams though,

When I open my eyes, flow away like water.

 

I think to myself,

Why did I have to wake up?

Is there no place on earth,

Where I could live it up.

 

So, what really are dreams made of?

 

Of plastic or of silk,

why don’t I seem to remember it at will.

 

Of demons or of angels,

no one could tell.

 

Of sweetness or of bitterness,

or randomly in wilderness.

 

Of reality or of fairytales,

lasts only until you are called “Awake!”

 

Of bright colors, or full of greys,

only the grey ones seem to stay.

 

Of a bright day or a gloomy night,

something you cannot seem to fight.

 

Of cotton or of wood,

I would choose them if I could.

 

Of water or of stone,

would capture them before they were gone.

 

Of  sugar or of salt,

I wish I could know it all……………

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