For the another Love Shot

Slowly walk through my heart,

Let me feel that we are not apart.

Shining of blue eyes, rain it,

Over my broken heart…

It screamed a lot, like a,

Deadliest, unbearable wound.

Pic the pieces of broken heart,

Wandering to be merge in a newly,

Built craft….

I still wanted to be the same,

Pretending like the loving the person you being.

You have change, you have change.

This evening I have decided,

Let you give one more chance to wave,

In the streets of my broken heart,

If the wounds would heal,

And your eyes would that feel.

But it is the last, what I have,

Besides the memories of love we had.

Know you are, what you did,

Transformed a green into the deep dark.

Yes It that’s it is,

Then after, It’s open the dearest world,

To play, in a new move, in the search of,

May be true, or in another love shot.

Advertisements

One Last Try

My arms leaned in the deep,

Widened Shadow…

My head feels caught into

The loop of unknowns…

Raised pumping of my blood,

Into the veins of my heart,

Sign of my tiredness…

Depressed eyes of mine,

Made me away to reality…

Doors Awaits to open, but

Dead dead my efforts are dead…

my motive just lost in dark boom,

One last try, could be Filled or Emptied… 

But One last try……. To

Dignified my retirement 

For next survival

One last try…

Hard Days Of Life

One shoulder up another,

Deep down,

Work tampered my thigh,

And Stressed my back,

Thousand tones of weight, seems

Burden of donkey’s neck,

Hard to bear, without a tear…..

But should Calm the chest,

Without hardship, could any one

himself got raised.

With surplus of heavy talk,

Let us keep over slow walk.

Hard days of life,

It’s a play in forward mode,

Just to watch the moves,

And to prepare as smooth.

Its a consignment to complete,

In way of boom,

To resist the temper,

And perform as long jumper.

Time to stick with goal,

If destabilized,

There will be,

No moon, no sky,

Only remains a shadow,and

A dusty loom…

Hard days of life, are

to make, not 

to destroy.

Destruction in lap,

That mean,

Lack a few moments of courage.

Demon Inside

I don’t see beyond the Eyes,

When they shutdown in Night,

The view of Light,

Remains caught inside…

But this Night,

I dreamed some,

Horrible, terrifying,

View look like..

Which I never gazed,

Never as a single look,

Then where they come from?

Having pillow at near,

At hearts side,

I wandered for these horrifying,

Giant…..

Where did they come from?

where did I counter wit this sight?

No…..No….. Never

I realized.

Do these all inside?

Am I hiding these inside?

What a bullshit!

I am not,

I never be thought of,

I never did as like,

Then why? But

What if I would?

What if I become the same?

The demon, people keeps inside,

When comes out,

Depends on what they desire.

What should I do?

How do I not be as like?

Thought!

Thought!

Ending night…………and

Morning arise.

 

Got publish in International Journal of research for studies in English Language and Literature (Link- Demon Inside)

Life being a ‘Earth’

Being a ‘EARTH’, proud to be,

Sky keeps us away….

from the reality, to the world

in true sense,

Judging from the car,

to Man…

Earning live, being worked 12 hour..

‘DIFFICULT’.

Does the softness of sheet,

makes us to feel;

the ‘PAIN’ behind; and

Dedication and consistency of work.

One can,

Feel touchy when sit on ground…

play with grass;

laid on ground,

to be mercied by cloud,

for chance

to ‘GROW’..

But still fighting 

against the worst days

in life with ‘SMILE’,

to survive in less.

Local people, not the poor

in heart, richer than ‘RICH’;

they worked, they will;

hopefully at heights

of work,

till the body favor to;

stand;

for life being a ‘EARTH’.

Scarcity of Thoughts

Scarcity of thoughts,
In people, made of pieces,
Of beautiful, aggressive, and
useful Flower pot.
If it is, that it was,
The smells, 
Waved to enlighten others,
To be exposed.
Exposed to show,
Their talent,
Their art,
Their wonderfulness,
To predict,
A success,
Behind the huge wall of,
Failure.
Thoughts,
Makes people alive,
To worth first to himself,
then the others. And
Scarcity makes,
Other to dead for,
And then him for other..
It’s a wheel,
Rotating slow,
Each perimeter passes,
Creates a way to thousand,
To drop you in well,
Full of folk tells..
The vision of thoughts,
Pusses through a
Narrow and panic tunnel,
Ending the imprisonment,
To delighted, the world,
First to you, then the others…