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Freedom is a dream A subtle silvery dream Hanging around the hills and vales of our desires Delicate threads Interwoven in intricate patterns A trap for the naive mind. Freedom is a constant struggle The writhing battle between The butterfly
Watching the charred remains of the toys you want me to search for another house. Eventually I decide to go for a voiceless door. Who was calling whom? Eternity hurts me. I want to come to a stop, pause for
Scribbling down the essence of my heart, Writing down the unsaid words so easily, Hiding it with those blank pages, Which will be filled with the same sweet agony, How I know the pre-written destiny, And still giving my all
Building a relationship takes time. A slow becoming of each other’s identity. A steady student in a firm desk where attendance is vital and homework isn’t necessarily done with pen and paper. To willingly give until nothing is left, to
My lonely heart loses its way Always looks for a one, Wandering here and there Gets a mirage, but not a real one. Oh!!! Exhausted feelings that come And life becomes lifeless for a while, No way to stop, but
Born with nothing in this place Tattered clothes and dirty lace Searching food to suffice my hunger When can this life get so over? Stomach crumbling and dying Insufficiency keeps me on crying Looking for a one big help! This
A green smoke was rising to ferret out the elusive pain without body. I went in search of fidgety words to patch up the conflicts of flesh. Bold as Passiflora, Crucifixion was complete. Today a gift of obeyance will arrive.
A parallel pain walks with you when you split into space and time. You were too shy to die, to feel the anguish and bliss of death. Something inside you springs into a tree for a half-life. The search for
An isle so lonely, that no one seeks. Full of allure and comeliness, that no one sees. I search, I seek, my Shangri-La, in solitude purdah of wilderness, seeking for my ecstasy. It’s the detritus they see, winsomeness, is what
I was a little kid, reading books, listening to my grandpa and grandma, telling stories about the rainbow. I was fond of it, I was even sharing it, Drawing about it even if I am not good in painting it.
Rhymes another part lies in your heart, Before seeing its noble birth. Strains beset like cascading blacken hairs long, Too soft and sense touching strong. Never let it assume slumberous maidenhood And fly fast to some distant wood. Stories, handful
Endless search false starts hope lives on through broken hearts fate will tease gives a peek grabs it back a cruel streak Illusion perhaps a dreamer’s mind a fairy tale you’ll never find or even worse unrequited disenchanted hurt and
Generation to generation I witness years passing by Trapped in the days that I don’t remember Through the disasters and the wars And history repeats itself Again I have to find a new home River side or a jungle For
Yonder the horizon A red dawn rises Into the gorges’ deep Over peaks of old Into my hearty throbbing Waking love into a wingless flight To seek again for my heart’s Ever longing shine A blaze of yellow light alight
Sitting on the bed your legs stretched, on your shoulder so lovingly you kept my head, holding my face with your palms you kissed me on my forehead, embracing me in your arms you kissed me on both my eyes,
It’s said search for happiness Is the main reason for unhappiness All our life we search for happiness, We wait for some big happiness to come our way In the run, in the rush to get some big happiness We
When I depart the realm of the terrestrial for the splendour of the celestial, do not bury my remains in the valley of the Kings, for robbers would move my bones in search of gold rings. I detest sharing the
Dense deep and dark… what does it mark? Think the eyes speak? What do they really seek? Quiet and calm, as if darkness is like a balm.. No shimmer, no shine… is everything fine?? Dark though it be.. Seek search
The warmest place is where the heart stays Where sweet memories abide This house of old, creaking timber and leaking roof Where in the courtyard stands my trusty friend Its boughs swaying in the path of the north wind And
When the whole world is busy, the pathway seems so dark; The eyes search for the only one who can light the spark; The heart craves for his presence, wishing for his one call; Wishing if he could hold you
On my birth, they were smiling at me while I was crying at them When in the cradle they were trying to kiss me while I was seeking to miss them While as a kid they were pinching my cheeks, I was shouting at their pranks When I was a
Facing the wrath of the blazing Sun, She, with her tangled hair, toothy smile, deeply lined face ; in a coarse cotton and battered bag, walks through the lofty gates of a mansion ; A fine blend of art, wealth
I walk through crowded streets trying to find a face I pass by cold stares in search of a warm embrace I get nothing in return… No smile, no stare I walk with emptiness, uncoloured, unaware. Its noisy, I know,
Ask Van Gogh why he painted; A lunatic left at his own devices His grey mind sucking colors from the world into a canvas. Each rub leading to liberation from the known world The thick paste transforming a canvas; Into
Two stars partially shrouded with clouds, Standing in the terrace to behold the glimmering horizon, That was Sikkim. Days after the torrential rain, And death People’s bodies were beneath the debris, And trees Be it heat or frigid, poorer dies.
Call me time and again an incurable romantic. accuse me offensively of revering unrealism. laugh at me heartlessly for I over-idealize you. or just leave me forlorn, if I’m gallingly tractable. but I’ve a warm, not weak, heart. I sincerely
The Child… Nature’s complex and fascinating bundle of joy…. begins his exploratory itinerary of Life in the big world, outside the shelter … of his mother’s arms… recording the inexhaustible personality of Nature around him!! Looking around …he sees Nature,