ध्वनि

गूगल से 

शब्दों से परे 

सचकित सशब्द 

ये अंतराल 

The Battle Mates

From Google

I am no saint when it comes to virtues

My vices kill me on every breath

As well as those who dare to reform

My unhinged soul , my wayward will

Yet in moments of deep reverie

I feel a Oneness with the Universe

The abode of the cherubs and the chaste

The debauch and the demoniacal alike

I wonder whether it is the vile and vicious in me

Which senses a resonance with the chaos in the cosmos

Or is it the shallow-breathing long-captivated angel

Asphyxiating somewhere deep within

Perhaps my saintliness lies in just being human

However, the fact of the matter remains that

Eternal is the residence of Saints and Satan both

On the fulcrum of the Consciousness Supreme

The degree lies in the tilt of the lever

And that's so simple, isn't it?

This poem is shared with Poet's United for the Midweek Motif : Saint/Saintliness

Murder Of A Rose

From Google

His earnest gaze pierces my soul

His clasp tightening on my hold

Lips quiver in innocent appeal

Eyes brim with moistened gleam

Promises fake futile foolish

Douse me with glimpses of a

Wishful future and joyful overtures

My limbs slacken and heart topples

As I give in to his impassioned zeal

The very next moment strikes the dagger

Its stainless shine trickled with streaks

A bloody rose crimson in colour

Is wrenched apart from its anchor-twig

I can hear its silent screams from afar

I gasp and fume and slowly resume

My plaintive plea however in vain ....!

Its weird how symbiotically we merge in each other's being

Weirder still how we devolve into strangled cries and shaken faith

This is shared with Poets' United Mid Week Motif : Weird

A Flower Was Offered To Me

From Google

A Flower was offered to me

A Flower frozen in time

A Flower so distinctly beautiful

Its Petals soft and curly

Its Stems looking up to the sky

A Flower of exquisite Creation

Of Colour, Contour and Design

A Flower in harmony with the Divine

I could not have asked for anything more

And nothing would have substituted

The Joy of holding it between my fingers

The Flower was not a Flower

But a gift from Heaven, am sure

Yet countless times I calculated

The Cause behind the Motif

The Motive behind the Present

The Reason behind the Joy

The Mystique behind the Miracle 

The Possibilities it Proposed

The Opportunities it Negated

And in assessing the pros and cons

(A gross folly of the human mind

I know now it is...)

I somewhere lost the Moment

The Ecstasy of Gaining something Worthwhile

The Epiphany of Visioning the Enormous

The Marvel behind all Miracles

The Wondrous Find of Discovery 

The Magnitude of Magnanimity

And so failing myself

I lost the Gift as well

The Gift from a Horizon Beyond

The Love that was twined in its Stalk

The Care that was imbued in its Palette

The Bliss that was weaved in its Touch

I was Offered a Flower I know

But I Lost a World I know not When

This Poem is shared with Poets United's Midweek Motif " A Flower Was Offered To Me"