I Forsook My Special Pen

I forsook my special pen
That once helped me jot down
My life in lyrical way, open,
And that now gives me a let down!

For how many days had I written,
In how many ways, but still
That old gift is not rotten;
Let me start again, with my quill!

My heart has poems, joyous ones 
Leaping to flow out in several ways,
With wavering emotions in tons
To rebuild the glory of olden days!

I Never See Me!

I made a brief visit last day
To the places,
Which were once dearer to me,
And I traversed through
The familiar paths
With palpitating heart!


On my psychological walk
I saw a boy there in early teens,
Who smiled, and jumped
Out of joy, and sometimes,
Cried, shouted and sat silent.


My inquisitive eyes
Watched him curiously,
And I identified him as the younger me
Whom I lost once, somewhere
In the path of
My transfer to adulthood.


Amidst my dust-coated memories
I scanned for myself
How did I look? How did I behave?
Oh, these obsolete, nonsensical thoughts!


I never see me
And I was seen by myself,
Through others’ eyes, silent narrations,
And through the reversed reflections.


When would I see myself?
Perhaps on the day,
When time travelling gets possible,
And when I learn the trick of 
Psychic transmigration.

Retrieved Pieces of My Lost Poetry

I stood up, in the dark
In my half-slept awkward bed,

Letting the string of broken dreams

Enjoy a free sub-conscious wander!

The clock struck 2’

Alarming my weak beating soul!

The wail of a night bird resonated

Lamenting at its sleepless curse!

I recollected a lost time,

When I put on a poet’s charming robe!

Sometimes the words came in a flow

Sometimes with its usual blockades!

I thought, was it a dream?

Had I made such so called attempts?

Or was it just the smartness

Exhibited by a words’ apprentice?

In the dark, a support I searched for

With my wavering quivering hands!

My thumping heart too had become

Anxious at the loss of reality!

As the first rays of light

Touched the earth in golden mist!

I started yet another day

With the regained consciousness!

Song of Hope

We sang,
The songs of sadness,
The songs of despondency
A lot as yet!
And we dipped our tarnished time
In our unhappy thoughts!

So useless were those thoughts,
Those unnecessary waverings,
That would only help us to have
Gray hairs and wrinkles on faces!

Now let’s think about happiness
And independence
For the remaining little time!

Preachers visited us
During our irresolute pasts
And many philosophers accompanied.
With a dangerously unanimous resonance
Everyone echoed,
The same thing,
“Life is Perishable”!

These philosophers immersed us
Into desolation,
With their repeated verses,
“Happiness, music and even arts
Are subject to decay”!

Call them fools!
Be happy first
In the reflection of your cherished life!

Be proud of being a human!
A special power lies behind
Every existence
And every life!

Be happy in every phase of life!
Find pleasure,
When a new leaflet takes it birth,
When the morning birds
Sing with the virgin wind,
When the morning mists
Colour the environs, and
When rainbows paint the sky
With colourful symphony.

Be happy in humanness,
In its various emotions,
In angry, in peace,
In jealousy
And in fakery
Because everything is yours!

Be liberated!
Take out the attire of independence
That is kept within yourself
And show off!
Enjoy the beauty of independence!

Be a dreamer sometimes!
Dream immortality!
Life has to flower in you
In its full bloom!
And the beauty of life as well!

My New Poem

Would it pave a new path for me?
Would it be funny, or agonized?
Would it rhyme all the way till end?
Would it be a harvest of my dreams?

I was in grief after finishing the elegy tower,
And was dreamy after the princess’s birthday.
The exam poem made my mind nostalgic,
And the mystery island made it horror-struck.

The lover girl made me so proud, like a master,
As it rhymed from head to toe, though with mistakes.
The rhyming mystery girl made me to boast around,
As it mentioned my friend’s love adventures.

When would the next appear, as in a true flow?
Not with the pretensions, as I am doing now.
Would it be something fallacious, or romantic?
Let it come soon, waiting to see its triumph.