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Notions
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In the midst of concrete jungle
Where dreams live, life tangles
I hunt for a spot with my finesse
Where I can see life's axenic face.
Where there is calmness of heartstrings
Melodies of birds - joy they bring
A feeling free from poisonous brace
How lovely would be my loneliness!
Yet life exhibits its cruel act
A Fallen race' dismal facts
A belief of mine lacks the space
No place for Eden on earth's base.
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Gone Like My Childhood
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Remembering those days
When days were bright
Trees were green - soothing to the eyes
Birds flying and chirping
Flowers were brilliantly colourful
I used to chase the butterflies
In my childhood fun;
Green was my playground
There I used to roll and lay
Just to see the sky
Vast blue empty space -
Scattered white clouds
Like angels from the heaven
A place to see-
Illogically logical childhood dreams -
Then touch of breeze felt like
Caress of mother - nature;
Standing and looking at a ground
Full of dust and broken stones
Laying there in confusion like this era
Over there few children are playing
Trying to compensate the green
By there innocent jubilant greenery
No chirping birds
No butterflies roaming
Try to find some flowers
But I hardly find one
Trees are green but not green enough
Covering by the dust
Like hunted by disease;
Sky is now square like my window
Can see it over the neighbour's roof -
No soothing breeze
Rather nature's angry warm wind
Dust folded earth
In the malady of this period;
Wher
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My First
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Your first blunt lie to me
My first feel of the crude destiny
For the first time I cried alone all night long
Now I'm trying to make that a pensive song
When I realized life's not as it seems
It's not all about pleasant dreams
When you decided to break off the thread
For the first time I felt that, I'm dead
First time I tied up myself with the cigarette
Smoke and ashes lies at the heaven's gate
As I used to know, they call love a heaven
But I perceived hatred is also planted at Eden's lane
Shame, hatred, anger turned to a rage
I filled up my diary's page after page
When I walked down alone in your street
I got my first taste of resentful defeat
Then I picked up my reclusive guitar
A piquant pen and a piece of paper
My feelings started to play an eventful word game
And unknowingly came out my first written poem.
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