The hopes I snatch

A whiff of nectar
did embrace his senses
but before he could plunge
I chopped his wings.

The shy cocoon
was cracking slowly
but before his wings could spread,
I crushed it to the ground.

The hungry child
on the street was waiting
for the candy, before
I popped it and drove past him.

The poor kid
in the orphanage was asking
me to tell him the wonders of the world
I promised, then broke his soul.

To give a helpless, some hope
 and then to snatch it away:
I do that everyday
and say that I need hope. 

He never made it

                                                     

He sat alone,
scratching on the back of his head,
line after line,
recording the stillness
with the quivering quill that was his mind
drilling holes into his soul.

Verse after verse,
curse after curse.

The little bars upon him
looked on with contempt-
'Now to keep you in,
I give up my dream'
Smiling he turns his page,
his heart, rent with ink that is blood.

Verse after verse,
curse after curse.

Sun rises,
falls
then the stars,
the moon,
they fall too.
He looks up, down
left, right.
Clenching his hair,
punches the wall -
Ah! beautiful poetry.

Liars ! hypocrites !

Asleep, he mumbles
magical incantations,
tragic symphonies,
the notes transcend,
tearing at his skin to escape-
alarmed, he rises.
The end is nearing.

Like a soul, restless
to run and hide,
the pages of his book
stumble on rapidly,
blood filling his mind.,
Oh! Genius, he marvels
his mind, his book,
almost over.
Overjoyed.

Next morn,
they find a body.
No one will mourn.
From nothingness to nothing
he has now gone.
Yet, his mind relentless-
keeps locked his words, his thoughts -

Verse after verse,
Curse after curse !

इनके लिए तो हम बस खेल हैं

कल का दफ़्न सूरज

आज शर्मीली आँखो से

ओस भरी मैदान की तलाश मे

अपने किर्णो को बिखेर रहा है |

धूल से लदी यह फ़िज़ा,

कभी खाँसते तो कभी चीखते हुए,

इधर उधर गलियों मे भटक रही है,

कि कोई आवारा मित्र मिल जाए |

एक हमारा मित्र,

मस्ती मे मग्न

सपनो के संसार मे डूबा,

क्षण भर का इतिहास रचे जा रहा है |

की कुछ नर्म, कुछ सख़्त,

गालो को गुदगुदते हुए,

उसके कानो पे फुसफुरते हुए बोल पड़ा -

"शुरू हो गया है | अब चलते हैं | "

आँख मूंदकर देखा तो,

न भय दिखा न क्रोध,

होंठो पर खिलती ही मुस्कान,

और आँखो पर दुख की निशान |

नींद से ग्रस्त टांगे,

अभी रेंगने को तैयार न थे,

कसकर अपने कंधो पर,

लादकर चल पड़े वो थे |

"अच्छा अब तो बताओ,

क्या वही पुराना खेल है ?

हफ्ते भर की क़ैद,

और फिर लाशों का ढेर है ?"

"हाँ, इंसान मे बसा

हैवान का दहाड़ है |

जलते हुए सपनो

की चींखती हुई पहाड़ है |"

"अब मे समझा -

वो मुझसे हैं, जो अपनाते हैं

कट्पुतलियों को, मगर

फिर खेलकर, उन्हे दफनाते हैं |"

"बनाया था उसने,

की रहे जहाँ दो दिलो की मेल है,

सही कह रहा है तू -

इनके लिए तो हम बस खेल हैं | "

यह पोस्ट इस प्रतियोगिता के लिए है -  A picture can say a thousand words..  WriteUpCafe.com

Sometimes I wonder how a tree that flowers at night would feel. As the entire world wakes up to a new morning, the poor tree has to see each of its flowers falling. As the trees around it bloom upon the brandishes of the bright sun, these trees, bereft of their flowers, languish in their nudity. How often they might cry little dew drops upon the ground where their pretty flowers lie to be stamped upon by civilization?

One that blooms in the darkness

'What of me?', said the shiuli
to the Lord.
Blooming alone  in the darkest
of silence.
'Who will hold his breath,
while his eyes marvel my depth?'
'Who will sigh a sigh,
and smile without a why?'
'Who will let his face,
reflect my radiance?', she says.
'Who will?'


'Who will come and sit by me,
in the death of each hour?
And as the black engulfs everything,
blinding my very soul,
Who will come and stroke my boughs?
Or caress the petals of my dying flowers-
as they cling precariously for 
their last leap?
When the Sun will come marching,
glamorously banishing the darkness,
Who will console me, for my little flowers
that now lie lifeless on the floor that feeds me?
Who will?'