The Poet

Ode to the Broomstick

Feeling at home, cuddled in the corner,

All alone, yet grudges none to harbor.

So humble, that it always serves the floor,

So loyal, that it never leaves the door.

Inconspicuous, lies the demure broom,

A home without it, will see the doom.

Never does it expect a pat in the back,

Never does it cease to wait on the human pack.

Behold ! Look at the unemphatic daily,

With its head low, still remains vital to the emphatic melee.


An Unending Thirst for Dawn and Dusk

We call for the sunshine

When forlorn in Pluto.

We seek the moonlight

On a serene Venus.

Thirst for the light in dark

Quenches the thirst of the devil in our hearts.

Darkness is the respite

From the dogged heat of sunshine.

Sunshine, the interstice

Between devilish dreams of darkness.

So how do we reason

The unreasonable balance of light and dark ?

We say,

That dawn and dusk seek each other,

That we understand it and not wither.


Untie the Entangled Thoughts

The world so vast

But the heart so cramped.

The crust’s so calm

But the core’s with the qualm.

Burning are the thoughts inside

Even logic fails and reason denied.

Soul full of thoughts arcane

Yet antiquated and archaic. 

So confused is the thinking man

When muddled are his thoughts

When untied are the senescent knots.

Arcadian is the thinking man

When lucid are his thoughts

Where there’s no tumult, even with untied knots. 

And a day will arrive

When the cramped hearts strive

While the knots untie

And the thoughts too die.

Oh ! The tumult mind dies confused ! 

So what’s the way

To an uncluttered bay ?

Not letting the flow of thoughts

Row against our chosen path

Is the way to reach the shores of life

With the thinking cap, that’s a double-edged knife.

The world so vast

The heart so cramped

But what’s the worry ?

With the virtual space

We can have it revamped !


The Grandeur before Sunset..The Life before Death

Born amidst the cheer and roar

To face a world that’s sweet and sour

Only to fizzle out the mighty door

As if life was a banal chore.

The Sun rises to bring to life

The globes that make a joyous ride

Box and Cox, the world that is

But the will to live, ours it is.

Life and death are no end points

Where we come in blubbering

And go out slumbering

Means are they to make a mark

Darned are they who fail to spark.

Grandiose is the setting Sun

For its deeds provides the stupefaction

Every seed that gets its life

Should see the golden hour of light

And make this life a worthy fight

Before the Danse Macabre shows its might.


The Sun of the Soul

The core that burns

In the heart of the earth.

The heart that pumps

In the soul of a life.

The Sun that shines

In the core of the milky ocean.

Each being the hub of the wheel

That spins around and goes profound

Sans which the journey plunges to ground.

If I were the spinning wheel

Need a soul that can keep me real

Exuding a gravity that beats surreal

And here I get the soul of zeal.

And so the Earth gets its Sun

Life becomes a joyous run

The journey that begins as fun

Gets eternally etched where life yarns get spun.