The Old man and the Night

                     The old man and the night,

Both of them lie awake.

His life fading out of sight,

Cough, meanwhile, doth a serious shake.

 

Lost out dark world around,

Times ago he was born,

The soul when got aground,

Old, old! Now it is other world-lorn.

 

Night is his companion now,

The day too hectic and bright,

So many of them swiftly passed, how?

Now the night comes, fades as the sight.

 

The night tries to bring sleep,

O mother, child sleepless for too long,

Time may come for a slumber deep,

And motherly it whispers a song.

 

Too much hurried was the day,

While the night has much patience,

The day only for the hair’s grey,

The night doth die it black in silence.

 

The old man and his old mother,

Thus, stand by each other,

Stepmother will come with sunrise,

How will then cope the sun wise?

Perhaps, It will Rain Today

 

The sky is overcast,

Grayish dark clouds

Ebriatedly stoop over,

Perhaps, rain will come,

And the birds anticipatedly fly,

Like the children turned all urchins;

Roaming across the streets,

Shouting with every thunder above.

The breeze comes cool,

To cool down the eagerness,

It whispers, wait, wait ye fellows,

Listen to that thunder,

God is certainly preparing water,

Listen to His bowl.

The trees wait with their wisdom;

Oh, the patience of decades, years!

While, the chirpy leaves, branches;

Childhood with its swinging moods,

Seems it as if an infant

Kicks grandpa’s lap gone serene.

 

Only God knows when it will come,

When the dreams will reality become?

God’s Child Playing

 

Once again I fall,

Fall on my knees,

Like a child after a ball,

And like father, God watches with please.

 

The mighty father sees

His cherub playing, learning,

Helps He not with every breeze,

Exclaims, ‘Thou art just a starter darling!'

 

My mountainous tumbles,

To him just childish rolls,

And complaints just boyish grumbles,

Pacifies, ‘Thou just play son, I worry about goals!’

 

And I go on playing

For the father’s muse,

Constantly with spirits flying,

Till the teacher Himself rues.

 

The child thus goes

For the biggest of tries,

Yes! Smiles only a rose

After the branch gives many thorny cries.

The Hero

 

What if a man’s might

Beats destiny’s delight?

Like the aerolite,

In a cold dreary night,

Gives the brightest fight,

For the sake of light,

O the never ending aerolite!

Always too bright,

Defeating fate’s sight,

Escaping its play site,

Where nothing holds tight,

And all fateless in their own right,

Paying a blissful rite,

To the destiny gone quiet,

Yes! There are some kites,

Which reach such heights,

Not to fall for earthly delights.

Surrender

 

God! Here and now I surrender before thee,

Let fate onwards be

At war with the prime deity,

Let it draw all arrows from its kitty.

 

Surrender to the nectarine form,

God! Brave now thee, thy own norm,

For I have lost the battle,

And leave war for you to settle.

 

I bow before thy supreme grace,

As defeat proudly brace

The low held head,

While, all willpower gone dead.

 

Too loudly the victorious conchs blare,

And the defeated, wounded can’t dare

To touch the weapons in dust lying,

For, winner’s fatal most arrow still eyeing.

 

So many efforts butchered this macabre,

Aah! The annihilator with its tabor,

Its ghastly, nasty dance,

Gives me not the singlest chance.

 

God! Now I lie at thy feet,

And see how thou beat

Someone who fought so valiantly,

Fell then down silently.

Processing of Greatness

 

A fluty wail from the well of woe,

With angels playing harp softly above,

Dumb music from this most tragic tragedy,

Go on, Go on! Crown of mercy too greedy.

 

The tragic, saddened heart,

Where the lamp of longest pain burn,

Its light reaching transcendental eye,

And the oil of fallacy saying smoky bye.

 

Aah the ways of destiny!

Who can understand its allegory?

Why doth purest affection of human soul,

Gets crushed for the purest emblem of the whole?

 

Too far is heaven’s corbel!

There sanctified souls dwell,

They sing, go to tragedy’s depth,

For, without pain’s awake, no one ever slept,

 

Perhaps, too vivid is pleasure after a long pain;

Golden glow of morning after night’s rain,

The pure star in clearest sky,

After worst elements, now shining high!

The Music in Solitude

 

He just went on a long journey,

Which the soul lit up,

While, the matter’s stern pride

Trying to stave off the fighter.

 

With his great heart glowing;

The living fountain of light,

Went on fighting the darkness,–

Heavenly luminary kindled this lamp!

 

Sacred mystery giving him safe passage,

From that bottom of appearance;

The sorrow-stricken bearance,

Aha, nobler destiny awaits somewhere!

 

The musical journey!

Music of word, heart and nature,

For that fountain of splendour,

Gushing heavenly at the infinity’s fringe.

  

Traveller himself amuser and the amused,

Such is the inward symmetry,

His rhythmic footsteps with a song,

While, divinity sways to his tune.