A Soul


A soul, so fragile –

Stir it, and it will shatter

you in a while.

A soul, so silent –

Force it, and it won’t pour

its feelings, however violent.

A soul, so docile –

Count on it, and it will walk

with you, a thousand miles.

A soul, so optimistic –

Hold it, and it will enlighten

your paths, most drastic.

A soul, so mine –

The yang of my yin,

my heartbeat, my lifeline.


The Last


Walking together, hand in hand
Beneath the starless night – bland,
the two bodies, the single soul
knew it was their ‘the last’ stroll.
The moon obscure behind the grey,
hide and seek it seemed to play.
The pirouetting breeze, tickling the soul,
poured out no giggles, just the dole.
Eyes shadowed with gloom profound,
hearts with sheer melancholy drowned.
‘The last’ touch of their warm skin,
they felt with blue emotions, akin.
Hearts brimming with tears umpteen,
Yet, faces, still and serene;
They were together in their moments last
And thus, won the battle vast.
Together their red lips morphed
and all the pain in the moments dwarfed;
For it was a single spirit in bodies two,
Ever inseparable, painted in the same hue.
The heaven echoed with two bullets – loud
Now, burst opened that black rain cloud
This time, poured the crimson delight,
As fell down the two bodies, clenched tight.



When, with applause,
Will echo the hall,
It will enlighten
By the longing glare in my eyes, on your name-call.
Wearing the ‘He’s my friend’ shirt,
With its collar raised up high,
I’ll be applauding the loudest,
My hands – tireless, vivified.
I’ll be sitting in the front row,
Collecting all your bouquets.
While receiving your honor,
I’ll capture your happiness in a photos’ array.
With utmost interest
I’ll listen your thanking speech.
And high above to Him,
My thanks would reach.
These hands have yearned
To touch the trophy in my dreams, few.
And one day carrying it eminently,
I’ll walk after you.

… And I Have Toiled to Chase it

They say I’m no good–

I shall work harder.

So they ebb me away,

But I can not go any farther

For my passion lies here

And I have toiled to chase it.


I have moved far

From the alluring baits,

Have closed my eyes

And left it on fate,

For my passion lies here

And I have toiled to chase it.


I can be no good at other arts

They bore me away–though highly paid.

But, do I care more,

If I can tread the path I myself made?

For my passion lies here

And I have toiled to chase it.


I may not be ‘perfect in my passion’

But faithful am I to it

And it too, has been with me.

So, I will grow bit by bit,

For my passion lies here

And I have toiled to chase it.


So for a hundredth time,

I pick my pen

And slit the nerve

To spill the ink again,

For my passion lies here

And I have toiled to chase it.

The Crescent Moon

The crescent moon – so serene and calm,
On my maimed heart – a soothing balm,
Scintillating the nooks of my gloomy soul;
Keeping watchful eyes on its night-stroll.

The moon whose touch melts my pain,
On my barren mind, showers the rain.
Its piousness dwindling my soul’s evil,
and presence creating an aura – so tranquil.

The moon, vivifying my impervious cells
Through the radiance, it gently spells.
Obscured behind the melancholic clouds
Yet, hugging me in its peaceful shroud.

The crescent moon, which pacifies my night
High above, yet penetrates into my heart – infinite.
Treading with me wherever I go,
You are the only crescent moon I know.