Colony Poems

The nobles’ officials sigh, When the storm starts in the sky, For soon or later, It will be too late to blow the horn, All wealth and pleasures they enjoy, Puts them at the mercy of the peasant minority, For

The vagabond was once again on the window, Begging love and asking to open the gate, And the fairy inside the house reluctant, Said helpless she was being slave of the fate, First you peep in the four windows, Starting

A motley group had made an affiliation of sorts It sprouted and mushroomed in our back lane And there was born a poetry club with no name Passion it was for the verses written in Urdu That linked them beyond

I’ m kohl dark, darker than darkness, my skin, coarse and dirty, disturbs you. but you say dark is beautiful! you are “correct”! although I smile, it’s painful. And you get up and go the moment I sit next to

I had a chance meeting with a quiet fellow No, we did not meet Didn’t even share a breath Unsure if it was male, female or hermaphrodite Still it was unlooked for Rising in a predawn hour, ready for the

Sun is to rise, It is morning five, Dew drops on grass, these beautiful fresh vibes. I peddle my bike with eight bundles stacked, On my back and side by side. Woo — I turn the wheels To that other

To achieve each goal, you become industrious, Queen and worker each by roles distinguished. To cause to flourish and be established; a colony whose peace could get precarious, when intruders are stung in defensive fury by your weapons of stings

All braced to face the day, The diurnal engine ignited, Gently revving up, Barging into the quietude Of the colony, With a daily prayer escaping His mumbling lips, As he steered mildly Into the road, To see a car pulled

With the brightness of Sun shading away Today is slipping away into yesterday With darkness hovering deep over the skies Tonight is inching towards tomorrow Deep into slumber are the birds,the creatures, the animals so also the roads,the colony and

With the brightness of Sun shading away Today is slipping away into yesterday With darkness hovering deep over the skies Tonight is inching towards tomorrow Deep into slumber are the birds,the creatures, the animals so also the roads,the colony and

Well and they came by sea in the 17th century. They had the highest of hopes as they did come ashore the wild woodlands. And setting up housekeeping they were in the best of spirits in the beginning. But in

I toil ceaselessly in the Summer, to store in barns beneath the Earth for the winter. I get scorched by the tropical Sun for a colony made sufficient, yet without exhaustion, for my instincts make me efficient. I gather, heap,

The graceful dance of butterfly wings, The budding romance attending Spring — The morning melody of birds who sing, The opportunities each new day brings — The serene swaying of porch swings, The relaxing splashing of gentle rain — Wedding

Work for your day – Satisfaction is what you ultimately crave. Die each day, do you wish to celebrate THE day? Laugh off every sting that penetrates. Deep inside it recovers and sprouts the ache. Laugh at the moment, for

The Poet Turns 100 In Honor of Stanley Kunitz When my body wears to dust let the remains be language find only verbs at the core struck flints from explosive ore nouns charged with names of foes and lovers cool

Without you near me the world is hazy, living without you is nothing short of crazy. Your perspective aids me to see things better, without you life is restricted with many a fetter. Your company beautifies the ambience, star gazing

July 20th, 1822. We’ve done it. As I lay down my tools for the last time, Here stands before me the fruit of my labour. This night, a technology beyond its time has been born. She truly is beautiful. A

In a way I’m jealous of the blind man and he’s jealous of me, for the world he will more than likely never see. The beautiful mountains and the palm trees, the beautiful blue wide open seas. The bright blue

Am a swallow who’s fled from this world; to reside in a personal inferno! I fell into the hands of a virtual nomad; who got lost between what was unsaid & untrue. Like a greenhorn I followed him & ventured;

From dawn to dusk The great beggar used to move from door to door, He was tireless in his motion, People poured plenty of corns into his big bowl And offered their spontaneous love and affection, The journey never seemed

I love to see the winter trees Their twisted boughs and bony knees Contorted knuckles, warted bark The lichens staining limbs so stark If they could speak, a tale they’d tell Of suffering through winter’s hell I love the springtime’s

Lost Destination I peep through the window: they keep running with the mobiles humming warming up their frozen spirits till the last breath in them. They run every morning on the bank of the lake to be afar from the

The biggest discredit to one’s own self is to not be ‘ yourself ’. To strive to be like someone is the biggest injustice, ever done. To be your own biggest critic. To judge with an impossible yardstick. To never

Oh! That Bose you would live by now! And teach these men, for blow they how Unto me! And hash they how my skin to pain In bleeding red not, but fluids of frame. I do shade all, give them

Plain steps Grey concrete smooth polished to look Like marble But they are not; nothing in this courtroom is real I came here a Free Man Under licence and bonded high, but free all the same I chose to face

(Trite thoughts on marriage, how it starts and how it lasts) Soulful words that allay and lull the heart Astral ebullience, those moments oft impart… Smiles that hold some mischief, some virtue… Glory and happiness, oaths, a good fortitude. Love

He walks in fire, Fire breathing all hidden passions In intense fashion, Moves him like a particle riding on mad waves. Boiling blood being too humid Pouring words of moist wants. Exasperated heart tempering with scenting dewdrops That cool uncalled

Days they end and the years may pass, He’s coming soon and He’s coming fast, I reflect on my life and what I might say, Would I be ready to meet my Lord Jesus today? Is my life in order,

I don’t like the sound of lies But I myself speak one or two With a poker face many times Hiding the truth through and through Still I preach honesty Like I am a saint and divine Pretending to stall

Deep in my heart is a home Where both of us roam A second heart Where your heart can roam Everywhere I go With your heart in tow Much is said Between the heart and head I have been told

February, had just bid farewell to its 29th day, Knowing that it won’t see it for next four years And that’s why I guess the night seemed a bit longer And silent, and calm, and the wind chose to lazily

Look at them; I struggle to believe time, Seems like yesterday, all were so young, Together in the fields of Kalia, domesticating was fun, Games that touched our young souls, brightening childhood, Like the birds in the onset of rains,

Today I met a stranger, he was nice but his thoughts were dangerous. But he seems to be nice. Let me tell you what he Said to me about the future The man says; There will be days, When our

She sits there looking so cold and alone But somewhere under there, There beats a heart Beneath all the black and chrome The smooth lines that glimmer Soft but sharp in the night Are begging you to play the game

You are dying inside me, my little god. I am awakening after a long pause. The forked hazel wand does not bend back, perched on a buried treasure. I am disembarking from divining. I stayed without body, nervous; like aspen

Life is not a guess, neither taking up of a stress; It’s a divine beauty, to respect it is our duty; Whatever may be the conflict, you need to face: It’s not a race, so slow down your pace. Live

It’s nice in here, warm and cozy And dark and oh-so-quiet Except for the strange ‘thump-thump’ And the occasional words of love. I’ve heard mama talking to me Telling me of the world out there She talks about squirrels and

With fractured hands I lit a pyre of small nudes with pink globes. A moon bleaches me white in a long night. A reprieve was needed from the scorching sun opening a jinx of a metaphor. The poems will take

You know I do not hope any intermission, between life and death. My path goes nowhere. A hiatus between the mirrors has questions. From childhood I was always floating between the meanings of lessons unknown. I longed for straight humilities.

I have no hi-fi desire, To overcome the mountains. I have no hi-fi desire, To bring draught to the water filled oceans. I have no hi-fi desire, To tread beyond the dark clustered clouds. I have no hi-fi desire, To