Duality Poems

I am waiting for a miracle. A miracle of meteorological proportions. A miracle whose atmospheric propositions would be large enough to render it, and anything appertaining to it, be it high up in the sky that ends it, or down

Have you tasted the silk in the pit of snakes? Exit was not in my fate. Winter was kissing my toes and spring was blooming down in my estranged poems. You don’t feel like to wake up for ingrained disbelief.

Rain, wet and unrelenting Sun, so hot and dazzling Dreams of misty, cool rain And rides in an air-conditioned train Skylines of harsh, cold concrete Valleys of lush, green meadows Thunderstorms over a thrashing sea Beaches of soft, golden sand

It is so cloudy, blue and black. If we could only see the end of the track. Heaven knows what we are likely to see. For what we really are is all we can be. It’s so sad that we

If I If I ventured in the slipstream Between the viaducts of your dream. I’m sorry. It was the only place I ever wanted to be. From the fresh breeze of a first love to a sonic jolt of oneness.

Stranger, why should I not smile at you? Why should we be entrapped under false separations of race, color, caste, creed or any duality? Are not we beings cast in the image of God? Is not all – one! We

Often kith and kin friends and relatives kids and aged would meet either in functions or in funerals of the dead The smiles, the laughs the Ecstasy the warmth, the affection are all there to be seen when participating in

As I look around me, The world becomes so different, So full of love, So full of hate Hate is hard to keep away, But sometimes it’s the only way The person who you hate, May have a perfect fate,

In emptiness staying aloof to set the wings free, a shadow self without flesh and bones to rip out the enormity of silence of words, cold in the face of duality metaphysical but of somber echo of tension between reconciliation

This was my book of pain with no ending. Life had two meanings- Anticipation of today, and fear of tomorrow. Time was running out like sand from fists, mists were rising, commentaries on setting sun had begun. Mind was calculating,

Meditating quietly, On the self within, In the serene calm of mind Devoid of motion or sound Every day, Like a vibration, With a speed of thought, I travel manifold universes & Beyond, Amusing my-self In various lokas¹, Ever shining,

The human? That is not a question mark, but purely a contemplative issue. Dilemma, bridge connecting light from dark. And timelessness, cocooned in timely tissue. Recumbent on duality of mind, pulled multiple directions by his cares, the human, guilty, slumbers

Light a sharpie so bright shines on beauty seen through decay. Both beauty and decay form a duality of darkness and luminosity. Beauty is a love that can provide for its reality against dismay. Just as tradition is a security

We, You and I, Are individuals. As individuals, Regardless of how steadfastly We assert individuality, We’ll either blend in Or be drowned in a sea of Excessively passionate individuals; Each uniquely manufactured to personify Their respective soul. We, You and

When I converse with him, He is high, up in the night sky.. It’s all about you and me, And about the silence that expresses the loudest thought that dwells in our mind. While shinning bright it does flicker at

Let your wings flutter for a while, you may walk,run or crawl but not to give a cry Shimmering stars will flirt with the young night but you may resist to hide in plain sight. The constant clutter of your

How can I Hope to fly If I’m shy ‘Bout The Try? “Do or die” Choose to try Lose will I Without The Try. And if I Buy the lie “Pointless to try” Dreams will fly Out of sight. Far

It was astounding sitting under the stars, the words were set free out of all bars, emotions and feelings were ready to pour, as if someone had opened long awaited doors. There was so much to share and speak, which

I hold you in my arms watching you sleep, Feeling your breath against my cheek. I feel your heart beat against mine, I hold your hands feeling them intertwine. I feel overwhelmed with sudden love. You look so innocent and

As I sit, in silence, With just my soul, I can see the present, More so, than ever before I feel as if I was just born, Unto the mother’s breast All fresh and new, Wrapped in pink, The unconscious

Have you given birth? If you have written poetry then you have It doesn’t matter if you are young or old Man or woman Tall or short Poets give life to words Everyday, in every way, everywhere In a hectic

We are born when we are born. We look around and see what we see. We then get on with it. We deal with what we have. This was true for those born one thousand years ago. It is true

At the shore of the world we meet, every day, as if by accident, as if we are characters in a play written by someone else. At the edge of the world we meet, every night, as the sea and

Look how the sky changes rapidly though as in fazes stopping still the clouds do hoover like above the trees to look we turn our faces dim though the reality seems recollecting our midnight dreams Dark and rampant with the

Syrian I am, Not by breed, but as a human I see spring so colorless and dull, yet dreamy red! And I dream this dream with all its dread In day and night Or even in sleep and fight: A

The moths came in pitch darkness of that night towards the flickering flame of the candle I lit to cry all night to relive, from pain of stings inflicted by thousands of wasps, the yellow banded ones, wild and ferocious, the

“Take a lover” she said As if it were my choice. As if there would be a line-up and I would walk along it and grab a lover by the hand, turn calmly to the audience and state, “This one

Sometimes, what you find in a study can only be expressed in the way that you walk it out. Occasionally, one can attempt to explain in words what his recent studies have revealed. Many things that we have already learned

You are somewhere And that is enough Enough is all I have Great empty arms Of distance Cavernous miles Resound and echo Filling the void With love’s longing I ache to close the gap Dissolve the miles Obliterate time And

So cold But so still Will my well Begin to kill my Own selfish ways Or should I just stay Frozen in order to decay In the mist of the bay May I fly to die? Or soar to become

We all seek something bigger than us Something strong our hearts can trust Greater than what we can understand So great our hearts could bend Something far from the usual Definitely not what our minds used to know But what

One Day, You will have to leave this world It does not matter how rich you With the money you can not buy life After Death You will be taken to a court Which will be different from our court

Aspires every one for prosperity Some slog to achieve it on priority Some dreams to get it on charity One giving priority will forego life’s beauty One taking it easy will enjoy life’s serenity The successful one will die as

October evening besets on topping hill Dividing the cluster of hilly heads in twin shapes One in foggy spell another of lighting face with cloudy embrace. Behind the cloudy veil lies the snowy peaks Overlooking the hill church spire, old

Every day every moment I come to the shore longing for you and I go back disappointed without seeing you I’m glad you asked me to talk to you My waves speaks of the limitless desires I hold Only a

Nights with no glimmer of moon In your half-silvered mirror Anonymity silhouettes fading memories Ages ago I was a child trapped In the nightmare clutches of scorn and penury And playmates I had but few I half-remember of an early

One unthinkably hostile debate started in a colosseum: a path to kill the clemency. A comatose truth was listening to lies. They were pointingly arguing about the nukes option to bring about the peace and prosperity on the strife torn

Well and if you should come while I am asleep Lord I want you to know I never meant to fall off the band Wagon. If I have to live through the 7 year tribulation And Christian persecution, famine and

On the battle turfs of a vernacular hunger, the hikes were killing the uncertain values. Committing suicide was a regular feature. To pay off the debts of a flag. By using pesticides on unsuspecting guests of tomorrow. The clocks were

Your insistence to become something, to overstay existence was not fair. On a row of white shrouds – holding innocent beings, death was walking barefoot, crying. Between farewell and stupidity, staccato, shooting questions to life. What was the need for

All things come and they go leaving behind the ones who stay, wondering into clouds and looking at the sky getting carried away by the wind and stopping by with the rain leaving behind the places that would no more

Minor casualties dredging towards delicate situations It is a fool’s choice to be seeking binding sensations Regardless to say, this is a mythomane and moments of despondancy loom over in shame Untouched withdrawals nesting in places of repression and segregation