Oh! My love, “When will you propose?”

There are thorns with a rose,

Oh! My love, “When will you propose?”

I don’t want a pink one,

It stands for appreciation.

Appreciation is always in your words,

I am happy with it’s only two thirds.

There are thorns with a rose,

Oh! My love, “When will you propose?”

I don’t want a yellow one,

We are already friends for a ton.

Friendship with you is happiness,

Which I will cherish with all my craziness.

There are thorns with a rose,

Oh! My love, “When will you propose?”

I don’t want a white one,

It’s for purity, peace and reverence.

All suggest us to keep peace,

But fights between us can’t be ceased.

There are thorns with a rose,

Oh! My love, “When will you propose?”

What I want is a ROSE,

Filled with poetic prose.

Oh! My love, “Give me a RED ROSE,

The day you propose.”

Happy ROSE Day!!

Wishes Forever

When we met,

And today when we are together, 

                 

Is a long journey of sheer hope and love.

Here hoping that,

This hand in hand journey,

Continues forever and ever.

Words have fallen short,

But would swear,

That by any circumstances,

Will always stand beside you.

And once again saying it to you:

“ May all your wishes come true,

In such a way,

That even the stars’ beam,

Fall short in front of you.”

HINGLISH, a very funny language

Hinglish is a very funny language,

It’s a club of English and Hindi sandwich.

I often get confused,

When both languages are fused.

Hinglish is a very funny language...

Everyone is ‘First Class’,

When ‘How are you?’ is asked.

‘Na’ has become a suffix,

This is quite a fix.

Hinglish is a very funny language...

‘Poor Joke” is a term,

Used only by us.

And ‘toh’ is the most poular,

Of its time to discuss.

Hinglish is a very funny language...

He is my ‘Sabse” best friend,

Hinglish is a ‘Sabse” funny blend.

‘Good Name’ doesn’t exist,

Atleast lets finish this mist.

Hinglish is a very funny language...

‘Boss” can be find everywhere,

From waiter to conductor to the person on chair.

Caught between the two,

Make a way with ‘Hinglish” flu.

Hinglish is a very funny language...

It’s a club of English and Hindi sandwich.

Life after Marriage

I had left my home,

My dear and known.

Entered a life,

Which was completely unknown.

With fear and dreams,

All together,

Not to mention,

The aim was to gather.

Not only love,

But care was up most.

Which I had seen,
In my parents the most.

To my surprise,

Which I had never thought,

With God’s grace,

I was given love with no cost.

After months,

Of my wedding today,

I feel happy,
And privilege to be a part of his today.

Spirit of Life

February 4th, is World Cancer Day. I salute to all cancer survivors, fighters and those who have lost their life to Cancer. Here is a poetry depicting the Spirit of Life and Bond of Friendship.

I woke up early today,

Because it was important.

To wish her the day,

Hoping she finds her gift significant.

Last night,

When clock struck twelve.

I hurriedly ran in the twilight,

To ask the stars for her longer survive.

She was under dejection,

With her life.

But her art never went under suppression,

Although it came out to be stronger and fine.

I held her hand,

Tight enough, not to let her go.

And kissed her band,

Which I had tied years ago.

Our friendship means a lot,

It is a strong bond of trust.

My prayers for her are on every dot,

We have built this relation from crust.

I wished her good day,

With wishes filled in my arms.

Hope she conquers the world someday,

And her lost smile arrives with a charm.

What is POETRY?

Music

Music in my ears,
Everytime, I wish to hear.
Touches my soul,
Deep down when it rolls.

Mystic Mountains

Down the stream rolls,

From the mystic mountains.

Reaching the plains,

Just like a troll.

Standing up high,

With my open arms.

Looking up there,

Wish could touch the sky.

I love creating both :)

Mother and her Child

A mother with her child,
Sometimes go wild.
Babbling of her baby,
Makes her go crazy.
Nurse, massage, bathe, clean,
And sing a lullaby, till she becomes lean.
She still manages to put a smile,
After all distress and mess up life.
Every day, she is eager to stay awake,
And do anything for his sake.
He is a new world to her,
And her love has no bound to swear.
But, yes sometimes they go wild,
A mother with her child.

Love Story

I was there, sitting high,

At a bar, in a resort and was touching sky.

Sky had become my limit,

But deep down, I was lonely and timid.

Noon, that day was sunny and bright,

Unlike my dreams, that had become out of sight.

With a blow of smoke out of my mouth,

I turned around to be shocked and rout.

‘Was she the same?’ my heart did a question,

‘Yes’ or ‘No’ didn’t matter, nor did any suggestion.

The smoke spread between our faces,

It was more like the past revolving cases.

I was stuck, my eyes wide open,

She was numb and our heart had revolving oceans.

Again the words were missing,

But our empathy was touching.

She was on the verge of leaving,

                                                      And my heart was not so giving.                           

Her eyes for the first time were on me,

Ongoing and seeing deep down of me.

She was not mine,

Nor could be, with any help of divine.

She already had a shoulder to cry,

And hand to hold, life to enjoy.

Leaving me there alone,

She swept away with her known.

A tear fell from right,

I asked God for my right.

There was no reply,

I was left far behind with my heart’s cry.

Creation

Sitting idle,

Solving a riddle.

With body in a lazy phase,

Here comes an idea with amaze.

Hurriedly went inside my room,

From the lonely chair outside, near the moon.

The glittery eye,

Caught the armor’s sight,

Which was laying slant,

With support of the container upright.

Swiftly with the other hand,

Get hold of white sheets in grand.

Rushed to the lonely night,

Under the beam of moonlight.

With the shivering hand,

And many thoughts in my head,

I wrote on the paper,

My first line of treasure.

Months ahead,

Forward being the thread,

One by one was adding,

My creation to form a book of writing.

Home Sweet Home

Enter my house,

With an eyebrow arouse.

Lits up your face,

One forgets all the disgrace.

There are people in it with welcoming heart,

Found together with love adequate.

There is chirping of music,

Smile, full of magic.

Hugs are all around,

With jokes and twisters which are very sound.

Creativity can be seen everywhere,

Whether on wall or on hands to swear.

Behind these faces, are the tragic mazes.

Which have worked for today’s happy appearances.

Outside its thought,

That everything here is sought.

The family in this house,

Is full of treasure.

Treasure is there, no doubt,

But not in terms of wealth to count.

It’s in the heart of their,

To make every single moment lively and full of care.

Perseverance is taught here,

Not to forget how to fight back with dare.

Enter my house,

With an eyebrow arouse.

It’s not merely a house,

Though it’s a home of hope, emotion and creative grouse.

Photography

Ordinary are the moments,

But pictures make them beautiful memories of prudent.

Your mother’s pride,

Your beloved’s smile.

Someone’s heart out,

Or many in a rout.

Camera places them right,

Not in a manner but in every sight.

Moments which are captured,

To them we become attached.

It touches life,

And forms a creative aspire.

Beauty is enhanced,

Creativity is exhaled.

People are enthralled,

When life shrinks in one picture of all.

Ordinary are the moments,

But pictures make them beautiful memories of prudent.

Mouse on his head

The mouse was on his head,
And he was frightened with threat.
Slowly and swiftly, it moved its tail,
Like was on a gentle sail.
He peeped from corner of his eye,
But could not take a sigh.
He was standing like a freeze,
And was melting in a squeeze.
Touching it, was a thought,
It was not brought.
It had landed with a thump,
And his throat made a lump.
Its ears moved a little,
With eyes rolling in a circle.
Leaped on his shoulder,
With his sound of cry to molder.
It took a high jump over his body,
And it landed on one of his copy.
His head swirled with madness,
He cried for help in distress.
‘Shoo’ he said, again and again,
But could not move it again.
Stick was the last option, he had,
Its tail got black and red.
Diving on his head,
The mouse was again on Jaine’s head,
And he was frightened his threat.

Schooling in India

Sketching and painting,

Ranking and debating.

For self and others,

Do schools have anything to offer?

Screening the minds is a game now,

Feeding knowledge is a mere to row.

Challenges are taken in a room,

And some are order to groom.

Competition is prevailing the most,

Not among the students, between the teachers to roast.

Bullies and harassment are increasing,

With burden to sustain are also rising.

Some are pushed to an extent to win,

Others peep from within.

Influential parents’ children are famous,

Others being a result of envious.

Gifts and favors are offered in abundance,

Leaving behind the purity of reception.

Everyone are encircled in this frame,

Schooling has just become a game.

Doting Figure - My Father

A doting figure,

Everyone’s dear.

He is a man of words,

With everything so clear.

His smile of affection,

Makes my day with his love’s reaction.

The first step we took together,

Reminds me of his desire.

My eyes always look for him,

Where ever I go, even with him.

The joy was never ending,

Having fun with his teachings.

Music or dance,

It was always with his charm.

The tuning was always set,

And together we won several bets.

I wish him a life long,

In our hearts and in the world to be as a long song.

Mother

You are cared by one, loved by the only one,

Nourished a ton.

Her hugs are meant to be all,

Filled with warmth & cared for her dolls.

She’s the family’s delight,

And runs for their every plight.

Her hands have magic,

Which makes the world go ecstatic.

Devotion of hers can’t be compared,

It’s simply with heart and care.

I am grateful to have one,

Wish no one loses her for none.

The Beginning

The encircles around the fire,

Were there for us to admire.

I thought to reciprocate,

But the feelings were a little quiet.

Steadily but slowly,

Readily and gradually, I was bound to be loved gently.

Apart from the sorrows of past,

I got the warmth from your heart.

You gave me the strength to be one,

And today I have almost won.

This journey with you has just begun,

I wish it to continue in infinite run.

Memories

Love was there deep within,

Someone was there to creep in.

Making me smile bright,

And taking my life in the light.

Moving like a clatter,

Were there for each other.

But the winds changed their course,

Taking me away from my Morse.

I was away with myself,

And he was envious with himself.


Destiny played the role,

And made us apart in a roll.

I hope he cherishes the moments gone,

And never took me wrong.

His love will remain in my heart,

And continue to grow like a dart.

Today he is with someone else,

But his fondness remains.

His memory doesn’t fades,

And reminds me of his days.

Blessings on him remain,

May he blossom again and again.

A Blessing

It was clustered and packed; I somehow managed and grabbed a seat. I was in the metro, ladies compartment, wearing a patialla suit and a vermillion color little bindi on my forehead. After two stops, I got down and my eyes were searching for someone. There a little far off, I saw a lean, bald man waving at me. My face relaxed, I went towards him, grabbed his hand and went along with him.

Walking beside him was a feel of comfort, protectiveness and a kind of support which enhanced my persona from inside.

We walked a little ahead, checked out of the station, and went through the accelerator upstairs. 

There was noise all over; all along the way, shoulders crashing each other, things clustered booming together.

Since, I hate noise, my forehead was filled with lines but the touch and feel of that hand was supportive enough to make me calm. Walking down and moving outside the metro station was all changed, new stalls, confectionary shops, stylish outlets. I was wondering, where am I? The outlook of the place was completely new, the air seemed to be filled with freshness, not of air but of something mesmerizing, felt like liking the place though being crowded. It was a strange feeling. My eyes went here and there searching something I could catch and hold it in my arms. I was looking for something soft, cozy, actually a nice soft shawl for my dad. I could see across so many dupattas hanging with shining embellishments. Far off in a corner of a shop, I viewed some dark cloth pieces lying. I quickly moved my steps ahead, as if someone would grab them all. Eventually reached there, looked for a descent one and found a nice brown colored shawl. Asked for the price, my mouth went open like anything. Thousand bucks, “Oh! My God” I wondered what made it so expensive. Agreed, it was a beautiful shawl made of light fibre, soft, frizzle looking but the price exceeded my pocket size.

The best idea was just to bargain at the moment.

 I was about to bargain, immediately, the shopkeeper said, “eight hundred would be final, mam”. I was shocked, before I started bargaining further… “I said five hundred would be fine.” “No, mam, see the fabric, color, its hand woven, I can’t accept it for beyond eight hundred”. Taking two minutes, I gave it a thought and said to myself that it’s not a bad deal. I happily took out money from my purse and handed over to the shopkeeper. He grinned and took it immediately. His big smile, made me a little conscious, I felt as if I was cheated. But couldn’t react and felt as its better to take my stuff and move ahead. I was loitering around the shops, a hand tabbed at my shoulder. I looked back; my husband was standing with a furious face looking at me. “Where have you been? I have been searching you all around.” “Come; let’s move ahead, we are already late. Still in the dilemma for the price of the shawl, unknowingly, I followed him.

We hurriedly caught an auto and reached our destination.

As we reached our destination, there was huge entry gate in front of us. For me, it was the first time that I was visiting this place. My husband was a regular visitor of this place. For him this place was not merely a place to visit. It was a place where he found solace and inner happiness. The very first step of his on the ground; brought an instant smile on his face, a smile which was undying. I felt as if it was the first time he came to this place. His face appeared as a small child as if whose imagination or dream came true. I kept looking at his face with many questions in my mind. Not even looking at me, he simply grabbed my hand and started walking ahead. As we reached near the gate, a young, handsome guy came and stood in front of us. His outlook was very pleasing. His face showered kindness and calmness and his attire represented his depth and soundness of choice. Very gently he bowed and wished us, gave us a warm smile.

Again, he wished us and parted.

We walked ahead, crossing the barren land on the muddy pathway. Entered a small cabin, where a very strict seemed woman was sitting engrossed in her work or should be said piled up with work, I guess so far.  My husband gently knocked at the door, she looked up and said yes please. She smiled at us and gave us a form sort of paper to my husband. He began writing and in the mean while a young lady surprisingly handed over a numb, little doll in my arms of mine. I was in state of shock and the feel of that little one made my eyes shut, I touched her and hugged her to my chest. The water droplets rolled down my heart, throat and finally my eyes.

“It is my child”, and got with joy.

My husband was hiding his emotions but couldn’t and wept slightly. “The eight year long journey to day came to an end but with a new beginning.”

Tiny Tots

Tiny tots,

Here and there,

Making toys with paper tear.

A rabbit, a monkey, a dog and a deer,

All are there,

Just to amuse,

Here and there.

Rabbit hops and eats carrots in red,

And a dog is fed with milk and bread.

A monkey scratches and jumps,

Here and there.

Similar to a deer who also runs,

Here and there.

Tiny tots,

Here and there.

Glittery Drops

Slowly and steadily the drops roll,

Like the sky’s glittery dots troll.

If the falling stars could fulfill a wish,

Then these falling drops could certainly ask for some wish.

Those hollow and sorrow almond eyes,

Still remain the source of many sighs.

Can one imagine, what’s the fate of those?

Indebt longings,

Covered all around with slogging?

Or lending a way to cure one’s plight,

To make a life starry bright J