IF my life was a song

February 17, 2009 § 14 Comments

Note:-thanks Indyeah for “IF my life was a song”

If my life was a song,
Then in the verses between
In a candour coveted hand,
I would breathe alive-
An expression set to the breeze
A serenade from the versatile winds
And forever free,in the wild laps
Of the one infinity.

If my life was a song,
Than in the notes high and low,
Connected above and below,
I shall ring the senses
Of mankind and be a passe
To the future-yet remembered
As the sound which propelled
The venerated verses of a magician-
Her wishes in me carried
And complete in wholesome alacrity.

If my life was a song,
I then long,
To be spread as unseen
lengths,in the several
Sounds of a violin;
the breath of a maiden
The etude of an epiphany-
Symphony,an encore to the passion,
The penchant of divine creativity.

If my life was a song,
Somewhere,somewhere,
From I rose,
And maybe it was a lover in remorse,
Or a conundrum engraved to a suppose-
To enchant the gullible and parade
The rhetoric manevolence of a ruler
Set to dispose,the knight right
Chivalry of a mixed man.

Or a dirge ,
A lament of someone young
And fine,In verses set to a graveyard rime.
If my life was a song,
Than maybe a war cry-the sound of melee
And bombs which rob the day and night
Of people with dreams and azure wild dreams,
So as to satisfy the whims of one obscene.

If my life was a song,
I would rather be the praises
Of an exactitude,proposals
Of multitude to some Unseen
And one which the pride of
Man and ignorance is obsessed
And binds and bonds those who will free.

Or if my life was a song,
I shall be the verses of the bard,
Sung aloud in a kinder park of
Beautiful flowers and vivacious
Hearts all running to the willies
Of unknown dangers aware
Which seeked by a few who dare
And than inspired ,fought to wear
And in their arsenal sound memory’s wear.

Or a rare sound from a exotic bird,
One rare,precious chirp.
Or the virtual wisdom of a poet
And in that the wisdom’s tune,
Alive and upright,
Command and comrade,
Never to fade,
Into the shallow depths of human memory.

Yet what ever I may be,
A whine or a rhapsody,
I shall be the one who travels
The beyonds of any verse,
The corners of the hidden universe.
I shall be in my company-
The one who sees life
And death as one to sung
And then the instrument hung,
But never shall I end before another
Has begun,as the world in a song,
Seeks solace and in that phase,
I shall be the winds of change.

Mutiny’s tenacity,
That which can never be disconnected,
The works of masters mortal yet immortal,
Beyond moral and miser and miserable medieval
Macabre,the memoir of the birth of the universe,
Unbound and skinless and soulful and sounded
Strings of severe success in killing the cull-able
And pushing the dare-able
To the path of infinite morality,
One where no virtue but that of great
And echoed sounds of the beaten
Shall be a light to those who seek life within.

And as a song,
All along,in march
and in may
on a winter or a sunny day,
The sounds keep the world alive,
Oh! you blind who fails to hear this
Forever shall be self-cursed of the divine bliss.
Come alive and listen,if not to the world ,within,
The notes of the world are never missing,
For a missing verse,is worse than a visceral curse!

And if my life was a song,
I would all this, sing along,
In your sleep,
In your awaken dreams,
I shall pass on the mystery
And guard you, I shall be the sentry.
And yet do not take me for a mystic,
Just listen to me,
I am a prophet,
One by nature born to be,
If you do not act,
But in ignorance relax,
Faith shall curdle
And earth perish,
Lend a voice sing aloud,
Shout as a scout,
Or a bout of feverish hail,
If my life was a song,
I am being sung!!

If my life was a song,
I am being sung!
If my life was a song,
I am being sung.
Life has just begun
And forever it shall run!

The light shines the brightest

Peace of sound

February 8, 2009 § 15 Comments

Peace of sound,
Sense of belonging,
A Romanticism within,
A prosperous zenith,
An excess of emotions,
A blur of vision,
Clarity in that disruption.

Animals are born to survive,
Man is born to live,
Earth is a place of haunt
And to create it and lend life,penchant
Of all things alive-
An euphoric sense of divine;
The magic brush which speaks-
Of fantasies and gross truth-
A parade,a tribute,
To the power,which dares not to be mute.

The war within,
The war in the world around,
Faceless and dangerous,
An adventurer within ,
A daredevil about,
The verses of an invention
Hoarse to a few,
Alive and divine to the rest.

In the virgin gaps between the sound,
A belonging-the world is alive,
More so in the silence,
Than the condescending virtue.
In thought there is a superiority,
In life there is an affinity,
A negation to the moment,
An anti to the passion,
A verve to the mundane,
A candour to the bane,
That which seeks home,
When insults are thrown.

The peace of sound,
Shakes and bares the ground.
Releasing those who are bound
Within the pride of human crowd,
They thrall the arbitrary
And lend form and break immunity.
Pecuniary of the universe,
The adage of the moral serf.

And yet they give life,
And beauty they abide,
Within they strike,
The chords and chime the life,
And make humans forget their blight;
And in love,move high,
Towards their aptitude and divinitude.

Peace of sound,
Sense of belonging,
A romanticism within,
A prosperous zenith,
An excess of emotions,
A blur of vision,
Clarity in that disruption.

The light shines the brightest

Revolution

January 30, 2009 § 11 Comments

A calm ,A quiet,
A horrenous riot.
An hour of sense,
An ounce of innocence,
A peferct balance;
The disturbance,
permutation for revolution-
Time to change and live innovation.

As the sun moves North,
And at six o clock strikes crimson,
And at such a vertex,
Earth seems a abode,
Of nature and nurture, propose.
Thoughts concave to the power
Within;Gesticulations cover
The paradigm and belonging
Gives rise to the mind and spirit
To work in collaboration,
To churn and grow the seeds of innovation.

Action and admiration,
Solace and Revival,
The knowledge that yonder
Sallies moves the hands
To move the bows ,
Spark the verses felt within
And arise the sense to a new-
To hilt the epiphany
And turn the arbitrary
Into a modus operandi
Of reason and purpose-
Actions and reactions
Of thoughts and conclusions.

And at such magnanimity
The force against is a hurt
To remind,a scar borne
To inspire and become livelier.
In the strength never shall wilt
And now in force there be no guilt.
An excess maybe split,
But creation and mutation
Are there to push-a shove
To the reaches and a drag
To the limits,an urge to think
Better and discover,
An urge to see beyond the seen
And to life,the secrets redeem.

Revolution,
Revolution,
Revolution,
The world in change is constant.
And at such gullible penchant,
Remains a reverberation,
The need to know,
The need to throw
Light on the ability to fight
With tools ,to sound the wind
With words of wisdom
And of conclusive thought-might;
So that the err of the weak
Shall be an onus for them to bear
And face their own needy glare.

Never shall a sown thought die,
Nor shall the greatness of knowledge go by
Without a struggle and in surrender to the darkness,
Of those who are afraid
Of their very shadow,
As they destine themselves to a dark morrow.

The light shines the brightest

Silence

January 27, 2009 § 14 Comments

Silence.

Noise.

World.

Hallucination. 

Sleepy.

Blurred.

Day.

Thoughts.

Belonging.

Affinity.

Rage.

Calm.

Lull.

Storm.

Night.

Neither.

Never.

Nerves.

Nemesis.

Rebirth.

Revolve.

Self.

Being.

Revolution.

Revival.

Resistance.

Penchant.

Growth.

Bonds.

Believe.

Virtue.

You.

Universe.

Mean.

Deal.

Eerie.

Humongous.

Contained.

Tenacious.

Satisfied.

Lied.

Dive.

Labyrinth.

Out.

Exit.

Behind.

Great.

Sight.

Scenic.

Swell.

Swirl.

Sound.

Evolve.

Noise.

Thoughts.

World.

Finale.

Silence.

Happy Republic Day

January 26, 2009 § 16 Comments

 

Today is India’s republic day 🙂 (a reminder to all those who have forgotten). Instead of a long post,let me ask you all a question.

This day,all those years back in 1950,our constitution came into effect.How much do you think we have improved since then,economically,socially,politically and how close are we achieving its objectives? 

And to those who haven’t read my poems on India:-

My India

61 years have gone by

India Through the Lenses

Mother India

A metaphor called God

January 19, 2009 § 19 Comments

A blanket above,
A world below,
As dreams fill sleep,
Angles oblique and steep,
Fill grotesque hours with
Inert worth of days, betwixt.

The day scumbs to night,
The hours hang alive,by minutes,
Postulates to the sense of being alive.
Attachments call,to feel,
To be,to sense victory,of something
Which is an image of something greater.

A metaphor called God,
Revives a sense of an all
Engraved hour-into one,
Of an acclaimed need,in a few
Verses,which relight the sight,
To the touch of a greater proportion,
The value of life-the pinnacle of salvation.

To err is human,yet to err is not human.
A cell of nature,an atom of a final being,
Circular waves of creation and destruction,
Flow within,thus making a final preposition-
That balance is within and around,
Freedom senseible and yet bound.
The liberty to move,
The capricious constants,
Which grow and grew,
Thanks to winds of east and west,
Some ultimate zest,a locus at every point,
So cunningly mystic,
that to not dream is drastic.

In the being,a sense lives.
Of what?Of whom? Of where?
Is something which few dare,
To raise and even fewer to chase.
And to one whose moral is low,
How to put across,how to show,
That beyond everything there is a gap,
And that which dares not to show up,
Is the one which we need to find,
For a known foe is better than an unknown fiend.

God,a superlative common,
To all.Yet one which we deem to be stoned
Or ubiquitous yet made to be borne.
But nay,the circumstances,
The thee breaths free-as free
As any human born into the world,
A product of nature and essentially
Of something greater,a wall against to run,
To constantly compare and raise to,
From birth to death through.

The God is of a greatness,which within
We strive to evolve,to push the being,
As God is one,and all is one,termed
Or understood to be God.If not for
Man’s intellect how would a word,
Be thrown about,stud to every language,
Common to everyone alive? how a concept
Be so profound and left to interpret
And yet be starved with glorious neglect
Of a few? From where or when arose
This force or concept such,
That its value be so little yet so lush?

When can a mind,be so alive,
That is sees life? When can pain
Be so alive,that living is a sense?
What worth is this world,
When one dreams? And what of
God,does is it mean?
A mode through which we know?
Or a clear and stark iridescent show?
A spark of light?
Or the setting sigh of a twilight?

What integrity does everything propose
To,that we have a value to set aside
And compare and abide? The way of God?
If so,then a balance and not goodness to all
Can be seen,how can a universe be,
Set to a better tune,when the impact
Is seen as the one to reach and not the
Beauty and vivacity of each string and sound?
Is this a way to be bound? Ignorance
Seems to chaff life of a greater benevolence.
Yet something keeps alive.
Something tells you,you are right.

One in all,
All in one,
Justice, poetic,
Illusions mystic.
Movements,songs,
Verses,Prayers,
Sounds,sight,
visions and thoughts
All within and around a circle,
Yet what tangent should we find,
To take a new path and understand
The nature of light?
If life be a force,
If earth be or not be more than a rock,
What is the master plot?

God,A feeling,a sense,
To be seen within,that which
Prompts and pulls and moves,
The being from within,
That which strives to give
Sense to all.If life was just
A being with thought and sense
And the ability to feel,
God is that which makes
All of it real and a sense of superior,
Which motivates the being to move,
And then search its value.

If God is the truth,then it means
To search it,means an means to an end.
If God be life,then it means a calm
To overcome phases of death.
If God means everything,
Then it is a negation of nothing.
And so God be everything,
That which is everything we know
Moves,which prompts us to move,
So that it too,can grow through
And intend its virtue to a few more,
Of cosmic worlds unknown and unseen.

God is a metaphor,
The name,the forms given to the blur,
Which we all see.
The force which makes us think,
The force that makes us seek.
Instinct and knowledge,
Worlds and Wisdom,
Virtue and venerated.

Without a gap,
Without a constant arising
From all,what curve can be right?
Might and brutish strength,
Achievements through veiled plagues,
Yet justice served is infinite
And so it is poetic.
God at a poet’s heart,
Seems to sketch,something,
Consistent and thoughtful
Yet a play with misery and beauty,
Every tone to its worth.

But what can draw,all this?
Unless one explodes at a point
In time,that which forces a rime,
To be made alive and burst
alive ,forces forced to move,
Gravity of it all,new.
Unseen but felt,
We can value it,relative
To our life and what we sell.

Thus all in all God,
Is that which we be
That which causes and
Is the virtue of causation,
Whose effects infuse a
Sense and make us seek
The beginning as the end,
And again the end,
All the while seeking a tangent
To move to a different sense,
Where in elevation is gained by
Meeting another circle and another
Way out,in and out of life and
Virtual into a mental idea and stride
All the while in a world of real illusions.

The God is a metaphor,
Of superior sight,
Of the innate we abide.
Truth is not the end
But means to an end.

mortality is lost when
sense of reality is found.
Man’s work is to break inability
To achieve it or not destiny.

The light shines the brightest

plagiarized!

January 13, 2009 § 22 Comments

Someone has stolen my Poem – And so life will kiss .I am shocked by this.This is the site. I do not know what to say.Thanks Michael ,who seeing that the person has stolen my poem,bothered to search me out and notify me.

I have commented at the person’s site to remove the content immediately and hope he does it.I tried to contact blogger about this,but could only report it as spam.Maybe it is time,I get my poems in order and copyright them.

I have been blogging for almost three years and this is the first time someone has plagiarized( or if others have,I am not aware).

All I can say is be original.

An ancient knowledge,life and survival

January 12, 2009 § 2 Comments

Knowledge from the past-
Clear and still at a sagacious heart.
With nature nurtured thoughts,
In a single need all move to the mast.
In a world of survival, to live,
Dominance of spirit is quintessential.
And such a spirit is one who dares
And wishes to follow the inner will,
To move a pawn,so that it is not a loss
But a  gambit,a gain at an apparent faux pas.
To edge out the miser and the assumed sinner,
So as to create a world peaceful and “better”,
A few culled the apparent weak,
And those in fear and at heart meek,
Tried to cheat and call it witches meat.

Yet the power of life will strive,
For the chain is to reach a height,
So high that life would quail
Not at a challenge but run the circle again,
Till a  suitable tangent is found,
To reinvent a being and strength,
Alive from within,ablaze
With the strength of  the first being,
Nay capricious,but of definite strength,
Of known yet unknown origin and malleability.
Why does the light shine and not be dark?
Why so nature be born white and sight
Not bleed out and blind? 

To become greater is the spirit,
Yet how far is the star,that shimmers,
Within the reach of the eye?
What intuition moves the world,
Why be held with gravity,
When we are potent of greater vivacity?
If the soul be a constant,then expression
of  it,is everything in its legion.
Yet the eye sees and the mouth eats,
A few farther a few,few more,
A stretch in the limits of known
To the extent of a better known,
All the while embedded in an unknown,
A definite finite,something,
Nothing and anything.

In darkness,hours flow, aby
They,the propensity to enhance the way.
To carve a place,in history-
While life is dismally short,
Engraved can be in immortal
That which will last,
As long as  it wishes to be a part.

By selection,of some conceit
Notion,A deeper cognition
In into the motives and aspirations.
The relationship between future
And the past,the present is a state
Of affairs,where in one thins
All the while becoming thicker into many.

An affection,an embrace to evolve,
Lest you be left behind,so unfelt,
So ruthless,weakness is a paranoid
Belt,worn to remind us of the ancient
Way and name.Yet in it a few find
Better,for in it lies an approach,worthier
And more occult ,waiting to be tamed
And used as a step,to climb a level higher,
To make man so much more healthier and better.

Nexus between and insanity in living,
The integrity of a being to abide
By choice to his code,will persist,for
It is the secret knock on a known door-
Opening to a different world,for each,
Thoughts different and differences to teach.

And finally that which shall live be the strongest,
For the light seen  is the brightest.
Truth is not the end
But means to an end.

The light shines the brightest

Earth(a poem for four year old kids)

January 11, 2009 § 12 Comments

Someone I know who is doing a Montessori course,asked me to write a poem for “four year old,in not more than five lines.” And by far this is one of the toughest things I have done.It was fun trying to think like a four year old.At four,you know more and you are aware of things around you more.But I can’t remember much what I felt about earth,when I was a four year old.I am more sure of what I felt when I was a six year old.

 

From mobile

Geography has always been a fascination to me,so has history(people still wonder,how I managed to ask “doubts” i.e. questions in history class),well so much for five lines.The hardest part,was keeping it within five lines,especially doing it with what possibly might be the vocabulary of a four year old(truthfully,my English was nothing to write home about,until tenth standard,I started writing poetry more often and got interested in improving my language). So tell me what you think.Here goes:-

Earth is a round ball-

A small rock near a big hot star,

Round with blue , brown and green.

Twinkling little stars and moon can be seen-

Here there is lots to play and see!

P.S:- Those of you who have a “kid” at home,tell me what they think about the poem 😛

Thinking

January 8, 2009 § 8 Comments

A few moments in time,

Hours spent within the mind.

A few thoughts churned about,

Options battle their bout.

And hours fly by,

Yet a few moments,it is a sigh

In the clock of the world,

Yet in your herald,

It is of life and living,

Pictures, alive and playing.

Nothing can melt the thought,

And the winner of the bouts fought,

Shall be the one which decide the path.

And so chosen you will move,

Till the end,day in and minutes through.

Regret not what you chose,

World will always oppose.

And the best will rise,

When the world lies,

For the strength lies wthin,

Nothing in it is a sin-

Except not thinking 

and dieing within.

And a few moments of thought,

Will mean what you fought 

And what you win,Life

Is to be lived and strive

To it,we will.

 

the light shines the brightest

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