Wednesday, September 29, 2010


Words must be floating in the air
Words are here and words are there.
A poet is urged to catch them from the air,
To seek them out from here and there.

To fashion something from the wealth
Of words, to catch them by stealth;
Of hidden words there is a wealth
And they can be caught only by stealth.

They are so clever at hiding.
Infront of your eyes they may be residing
But a poet has to shake them out of hiding
By stealing them from where they are residing.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Silly Rhyme

It was by my fate
that i issued The Golden Gate
by Vikram Seth
of serial number 7788.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Alone in a Crowd-II

I can say that i'm really alone
When i am not on my own;
When even amongst people i am alone
Is when i wish i was on my own.

Why does it always seem to me
That people are conspiring against me?
They seem to be determined not to let me be
Only because they want to be.

I feel like i'm swimming
Against a current and not with it;
The rest of the world seems to want to go forward,
But i for one want to go backward.

Why does the world make me feel
That i have to be something?
Why can't i savour the beauty of not being?
It is in being a disaster i'm seeing.

A mind cannot work when veiled
By fears of what would happen if it failed
To do what it was made to to
By those only to be who do.

A human when free
Is the best of what beauty can be.
If a human wasn't free
Then would he be?

Alone in a Crowd-I

Alone in a crowd
That's who i am.
But am i proud
Of who i am?

Friday, September 3, 2010

It's a realisation that hits me
As soon as i open my eyes at dawn,
It's people, not the sun i see
And that's when i wish i was born,
In a little isle far away
From the world's prying eyes;
Not where only people stay;
About freedom i can only fantasise.

It is in that little isle i want to stay,
To just eat, sleep, and arise
And observing nature by the day;
About freedom i can only fantasise.

Perhaps it would be a life,
Of not much worth, people would say.
But it would be a life
In which a day is a day.

Not when people try
To look into the murky depths of what's to come
Or look at you with a critical eye
To see what you've done.

Not when people point an accusing finger
At you when you try to spread your wings;
And they'll make you linger
So that you wouldn't achieve anything.

Even your achievements are not yours
When they're just a blueprint of the past;
An achivement is not an achievement i'm sure
When it's attained in haste.

Why be insecure of the world
When i've been blessed with a mind,
Which makes me as free as a bird.
I can also happiness find
Even in conditions most beastial,
When people are stingy and snappy
That's when it is a trial
Of how and why i'll remain happy.