Some time it’s compulsory to say, ‘I love you’.

Having your arms in mine,

Today! Don’t safe guard me.

From my own…. It’s kinda

Difficult to explain, but

It’s true… Something has changed.

And I am on mission to understand.
It’s not that I don’t have love for you, but

It’s complicated to pretend, that

I missed you.
Your face is in front of me,

Your body waving in air,

I can smell you too. But

Still thing is same.

Baby I miss you…
Do I ask one question?

Did I made some mistake?

In the past, in present or just continuing the same,

Baby I love you…
Stupid….

Fool… I know you may say.

But just want to hear that…

That..
Baby you love me..

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Pipal’s Tree

In the indian era of traditions,

Pipal’s tree has its own importance.

But I see it as Old Monk,

With vast experience and exposure.

A tower with proud, faced

Number of difficult exposure.

But remained stick to its roots,

To grow old and show it’s glory.

I accept it’s fellowship, to enlighten

My heart when stuck in past.

But I am a plant of future,

Born in chest of Pipal,

Grabbed tight it’s branches,

To experience it’s conquest. 

But in the end I grow flowers, 

Of my own type,

Of my own virtue,

Of my own ways of glory,

And Pipal has to be quiet,

Because I lead the way to future,

And I carry it’s recognition,

To next generation.

Old Voice

My words look for proud,
From this new generation.
My old, strengthless voice,
Several time faced full stop,
In interval of few minutes.

And, asked ‘Why?’
Why they don’t want to listen me,
Why they are avoiding my faith?
What are the possible reasons?

Disappointment caught my body,
I feel deadly before death.
And tored paper of my behalf,
Admitting mistakes of my past..

We never taught them ethics,
We never forced them to respect,
We never showed them mercy,
We never liquidised their heart.

Then how they will feel?
Then what can heal,
Agony of my heart, and
Respect my words,
To concrete my situation.

Aah! They never listen,
They never act,
They only oppose,
My experience, my maturity,
Like a experience one..

Is it okay?
No!
I failed myself as messenger,
Of carefullness, lovingness, affectionateness, and,
Of ethical livingness.

I can see my future,
Darker than midnight.
I can feel my personality,
Lighter than Ice.

Is that okay? I will die proudnessless,
Without valuing my words,
Spotting them priceless.
Among the blood line of my clan.

No!
I know that.
But couldn’t do anything.
I am a old voice,
And my words lost importance.