Saturday, 28 July 2012


O baby pilgrim, the beauty of the earth,
Do you search love we care first for your marching forward?
When we meditate in yellow aspires, you just arrive in love,
To fill our heart to live more, looking in your innocent new eyes,
Those are beautiful to give way to compose shape of life,
That you need, more syllables of measured steps for growing up.

We leave no stone unturned to keep you best in our endeavor,
To make you a man with black hair, with wide looks of significance,
And you will make threads of knowledge to hold divine earth,
That is the harmony we do desire to live in peace with shining
Of the sun, controls of each footing will not be waste
Over our life, dissolving the river of moving objects of awakening.  

Thursday, 26 July 2012


She is grandmother
She knows the worth of baby grandson,
Sometime she is feeling like a picked up flower,
That comes in her mind in bubble moves.
She now is living without him,
Far away to look after her ailing mother.

She feels loneliness, and takes notice of her feeling,
That is reeling under awful rainstorm,
When she sits alone after performing duty for mother,
She thinks of the baby, whom she loves most,
As if she joins hands to pick grass roots of her love,
A frozen lake sends silent voice in grief and pain. 

Taking her time to telephonic talks with his son
Who sends, in long intervals, messages of her sweet grandson,
That is not her sensation of joy, but a short cut
To reach curious looks of naughty grandchild
Who was once her lap when his son and daughter-in-law
Went out of home, and she was glad to look after the baby.

From the dance of baby interfering in her lap,
She sees her dream in glittering of bay’s toothless smiles,
She smiles with him, cuddling deeply with kisses and hugging,
And she does not know computer uses, and
Cannot share in web video sharing with the baby, yet over life,
More blessings she prays for grandson’s smiling all the time.

Sunday, 22 July 2012


She is now a new grandmother, and
In the form of newness of sea change,
Neither her daughter-in-law, nor her son,
Does know for the time being
What feeling she is bearing to the new comer.
She rises up to be generous to all,

Yet none to share her dream,
As her daughter-in-law is service holder,
A proud mother of present time culture,
The middle aged mother feels the pain,
When new mother is away from home,
Leaving behind the new born to grandma.

And grandma thinks of the past
Of her son, how deeply and carefully
She nourished, being always at home,
Minute to minute she took quiet look,
It is like silent shore to know and to hear,
The wave and the sound of the new sea,

And thus she made her son adult
With love, and now he becomes a father,
And does not feel the share of his mother,
Who once as young mother loved him more,
And in little mistake, if she does now
To her grandson, she feels the angry score.

Grandma knows how to make one baby
Happy and smiling in cherished mood
Born in a baby, and she acts in that way,
And when his son and daughter-in-law
Return home, they show displeasure
To her, as if she does not know child caring.

Things are painful to her,
And she plays like a slave to her son,
Who is changed in the wave of newness,
That comes from huge printed book guides,
She feels like snow to live in frozen tears,
Dreaming for a country where she has no son or grandson.

Saturday, 21 July 2012



Willingness travels on shadows,
Travelling in dream is to wondering
With real leaves that are taken from trees.
It is life that is weary of the rainbows,
That move in desires of love inside.
Once it is life, once it is dream.


Growing of pain is like squeezing dreams,
Day and night give true returns,
Burning of the sun is knocking of dream,
Rising of the sun gives growing expectation,
That guides thoughts in promise.
Once it is life, once it is dream.


Dream flows in wave of fluorescence of mind,
That glows in fragrance of rose sublime,
Blues turn into reds if life becomes drops of rain,
In realm of contacting wisdom in mind,
Leaves of careful wishes fill our heart with dream.
Once it is life, once it is dream. 

Friday, 20 July 2012

Lover’s Existence

Short Story Slam Week 23: Lover’s Existence

Wordle: Today's Weather
                                                         Image Credit: by Meredith Storm via Wordle-Create...

That is an imagination,
Of the future and of the dream orchards
Wherein I dwell, yet cannot touch.

All imaginations glitter,
As if rain of loving clouds of the earth,
Wets my heart with spirit of creations,
And I am filled with limitless energy.

I cannot rehearse daydream
That comes if I feel disinterested
With my beloved friend, who has first come in
My life in July, my marriage month.

I cannot halt for a moment
If I differ to my loved one’s bitterish anguish,
As the life I deal now is full of freedom
To know my lover’s existence all the time.  

Tuesday, 17 July 2012


The world of her loneliness moves with her return at home,
When her son is away with his wife and her daughter living with husband,
She scares herself for a moment in execution of her existence like stars,
As she wants to stand as upright young heart living upon green grass.

Of late she is feeling loneliness; none is there in home to greet her,
And she thinks about the mode of expression of love in sharing with dear one,
She thinks about questioning her friends about best way of expression of love,
Or she is just thinking high in getting and taking someone descending upon her.

Her neighbors are friends, who are on her web page friends’ list,
She feels good as long as she is with them as she is talking with them,
She has given expressions on the page like bosom on the moon’s love,
Then wind of love blows like avalanche in the snow picked mountain.

Kids are kids; they are grown up to think for themselves as if they are spring water,
And move as they like to take their lives as their own, taking mother as ornament
That is great God, rather than thinking of her as human being to be taken care of again,
When she thinks of bad things in dark shadow of her living, she shed tears like a child. 

Sunday, 15 July 2012


What I perceive is silence,
As if I breathe gently in silence,
Last fifteen days are like objects of tracing love,
Like sleeping baby in front of mother,
And I stand in vast blue seconds in the sky,
It is not false; the body of silence is sinking like swallowing pain.

Many days I try to write something,
Many times I feel something has disappeared
Love is invisible, and I am also invisible,
The thread of love that creates our existence, is
Like an object that is closed in wind parlance,
Wherein I only move and talk and work as machine.

To this feeling of silence,
I live like an object which can only give work schedule,
I do not breathing in sound of this silence,
And if you can give me an essence of awakening dream in love,
My words then discover my life in love of need and homely visits,
To the world wherein we live like angels with roses of waking love.

Friday, 6 July 2012


Dear friend, forgive me, I cannot go far,
As you travel more and deserve for companion,
And when you need my presence,
I would kneel and say, “Stay in my premises.”

House to house you build some feeling,
That is miracle and wealth of mind
When you reside inside me to call someone
Who can touch me, taking that person as mine.

As if I am your force to grow in your smooth passage,
And I am in your desire to share someone’s feeling,
With sweet things those are great and never be forgotten,
Life is in conduct and practice; I feel it now, in my senses.

Thursday, 5 July 2012


Electron, neutron, and proton and ………………
Noble particles, share of life and optical shades
That share line of speckled moves,
Life is full of love wherein golden beam of light
Enthralls of settings and configuration,
All are symbols and syllables of life and heart.

From the naked intensity, we do love,
In the time-domain stimulation, like dear and near regions,
From the cast that dares our love of universe,
Straining body in scanned inheritance,
That is conducted to complete our adaptation,
With rewards of knowledge we travel in great search.

Sunday, 1 July 2012


I cannot count my moments on the way of love.
If I can make myself frequently moving in the shades of bodies,
The size of life becomes time-searching episodes spent on shares.
All ordinary living episodes are just small things of silence.

And in the silence I want to fit myself in the matter of formation,
That is needed in the sacrifice, perhaps I do not obtain that desire,
Life is institution, that gets injured moments much more than happier moments,
And working out for love moments I pass fingers to break silence for supporting love.