The Night of Ninety Nine

Long ago in my alley
Did sing a solitary maiden
Out amidst the long lost valley
The numbers dropped like rain
The final drops of heavenly dew
Did plummet over the waters
That formed her melancholy strain

All the trouts with bubbles afresh
Now danced over the crimson rays
Making way through the watery mesh
And leaving traces of bygone days

Yet so lonely they stretched along
For oft the life did lose its name
In their shady haunts for long
Life came with a life-like game


Seldom sets the yellow Sun
Between the mates of might
For its glow seems undone
By the furrow of a latent fright

As of now lies the drops of tears
Against the dew drops on the window
Wet it seems since a hundred years
Wet by rain or by sorrow?

I wish I could retain her tone
In the crystalline cage of mine
A few words of love alone
Made up the night of ninety nine.

I no longer write..

The water still flows
And the birds still glide
Over the massive blows
And the jumping tide
It does overwhelm
This wonderful sight
But in my empty realm
I no longer write
I no longer write

The clock ticks life away
The silence creeps
The leafy caravan's day
The eerie breath weeps
It does slowly prey
My miserable plight
But in the emotion of clay
I no longer write
I no longer write

A thousand trees wave
A million skies shelter
A few rocks pave
A few stones better
It lies beyond my place
To know what is right
But through this people's race
I no longer write
I no longer write

The stormy days last
The dark nights rest
The heaven so overcast
The hearts mighty test
It is the living story
Still a wonderful sight
But in my empty realm
I no longer write
I no longer write

THE PRESENT IS INDIFFERENT

Nursery rhymes seem obsolete
The trodden steps of  joy
Loving care is nowhere to see
The fading face of childhood
Remarked to be growing up
It's the process to realize
Challenges come your way
But the world is indifferent.

The rain when comes
Washes the wounds of the past
And the silent drops that fall
Freshens the worries of the present.
The Sun that shines
Will glorify the day
The stars that also shine
Will pacify the night.

The poems of glory 
That lie eternal for generations
The songs of  love
That make you cry.
All exist, somewhere in the vicinity
It is tangible, to the heart I believe.
They are to be won back
By you and by me.

The face of life
Is evident  to us.
The loss of love
Is reasonable.
The cries of  glee
No more do overcome.
The world shall change
And so shall you and me.

WHITEMAN APPREHENDED

Once with certain resolve Whiteman to his men

Uttered the words,”At cost of life shall they be mine

Over to you my nobles, my desire shall ensue then

With your might and wisdom, but to the world as my sign.”

The nobles had but no choice to make

On them shall rest the mighty’s decree

Had they been asked to move forward

Do it must or the face of death they shall see

Once on his bed with ease Whiteman lay

And saw outside the window left ajar

A house on fire that fed on fumes of dismay;

Curious to inspect the house not the most far

Whiteman walked with his heavy, long steps

To the fateful place that was left only with a scar

Of a mother and her dear, blemished with sorrow

All had they lost,  left only too puny to borrow.

Whiteman was addressed by the pain-stricken lady

“Your Highness we stand fore your mansion

That lies grand with embellished spangles

We also stand by the emperor of Vanderlan

Who exists  unfortunate, poorer a man!

Who knows not what riches mean

As only the corpulent treasures has he seen

Dear Majesty, a man with a broader heart

Stands richer than you, farther apart!”

Hearing this Whiteman orders right away

“All my men off  to fetch me affluence

Duly move no farther, as there you shall move astray

Wealth of true worth I have found in me

That needs no mention, profound as the sea.”

Whiteman's character is referred to the sheer lavishness enjoyed by emperors without caring for their subjects.It is set in the fictional kingdom called "Vanderlan",and goes out strongly against desire for riches

and greed for fame.After the incident, Whiteman changed into an emperor who lived the rest of his life for the countrymen, devoted to their service and his contributions remained significant in the hearts of destitute and poor men and women whose lives changed after the Organization of Goodwill and Compassion set up by Whiteman.

“Life as an art is a priceless beauty.It is the manifestation of your journey through a mixed fabric of black and white.“

I WROTE SOME DAY..

I wrote some day all that I felt

And filled the paper with my day

I wrote some day all that I saw

And filled the paper with what I couldn't say.

I wrote some day when I was sad

And wrote about the one whom I abhor

I wrote some day when I was glad

And wrote about the joy I bore

I wrote some day about what was in sight

And envisaged the scene of my story

I wrote some day about the light

That filled my life with glory.

I wrote some day when I did win

A place in the heart of a friend

I wrote some day when I effected a sin

That took ages and ages to mend

I write even today of all that I wonder

All the merry and jolly incidents

That colour my life with splendor

And leave a tinge of magnificence.


I write for a reason, mostly out of distress and annoyance.But for once, trying out something simple, describing a writing style totally opposite to mine.Enjoy reading...

MY BIOGRAPHY OF EARLY POETRY

And all began when one day I wanted a reward,

For all my endless writings had yet not fetched an award,
So taking the bunch of papers, straight up the road I went
With a hope for fruitfulness, to the awarding committee president.

Skimming through the white sheets of ink-filled paper
He looked right into my eyes and revealed the drawer

Taking out a stamp that said “Rejected”, he said
As though with steaming surge of anger and hatred.

“Your poems are not simple and straight,
Flowery literature interlaced with high intellect”
Might be apt for a distinguished scholar like me
But certainly not for the common man, you see.”

So the next morning, I hurried with an all new bunch
That was simple and lucid and required no crunch
Any common man could read and comprehend
With no slightest sign of poetic device; nor any “emotion-blend”.

Then, for the second time, he scanned the sheets and conveyed
That he was still not happy with the way I had arrayed 
My thoughts to plain and natural expression
“You need not be so straight to get an ovation.”
So the next day, I wrote a few poems on some leading issues,
Casteism and Secularism, and humanism did I choose
This I thought was certainly not what I wanted to do
Oh I said “For the sake of an award”, neither for me nor for you.


“Ah, your poems are excellent, now you get
A foreword and appreciation written by an eminent poet
Then launch your works at a gala public gathering
With people of different views and different social standing.

But there’s one more thing you have to do, I’m afraid!
“The official scanning of the poems”, he said.
So, to ensure your works are well received by the public
You must get it reviewed by a well-known critic.”

So I did as told, and at the end of all sweat that I had spent
A yellow and blue letter to me was sent
Declaring that they were only to glad
To finally confer me the “Best Poet “award.

ALLAN'S MIGHT NOT ENOUGH TO SAVE HIS PLIGHT

Heaven’s grace! “The world is ours”, so said the Majesty

“No, thee”, to say that again you durst O Lord

Replies Allan(Majesty) with grace,”The Sea stands by my glory

And sleeps with my word, so do the mountains with the trust

I say it loud that I own even the particle of dust, even so our God.

With brimming supremacy I say that so do I own  this very crust.

That shelters the blooming flowers and also the dormant sand

And the people of mercy that dwell upon this mighty land .”

With the flow of a storm that moves with fury

Fills with dust and muck Allan’s colossal territory

Rage and annoyance accompanies his countenance

And  this small bit of nuisance questions his sustenance

And then replies Ron “O Majesty, thee owns all

Thus, you go and let them out of your court hall.

Seems by the ruin that occurs, that the storm shall bring dismay

To oppose it with your might and power, if you can then may!”

“Overpower will I this scanty  flow  of wind, it’s nothing for me you see”

Says Lord, and commands the wind to obey his plea.

But against all his valor, the storm that came says nowhere to go

And all day and all night with wrath and passion, it continues to blow.

Suspecting his vigor, he cries “Where is all my power?”

With a gentle  smile Ron replies, “HE is the creator and so shall be the destroyer.”



Allan's character is anonymous and refers to the selfish and egotistic nature of man.When Allan claims to be the owner of the world, a storm comes by and destroys everything, including his territory.When the storm continues in full swing, his courtier(Ron) asks him to stop the wind with his so-called power.When Allan tries, he fails and his feeling of superiority is crushed, when  Ron remarks that everything rests in the hands of the Almighty.

A Bird is All I Want to Be..

In this vast sky of emotions, boundless and endless, there lies a bird who sings along

 And tastes the life’s past pleasure and prosperity, so also its gloom and melancholy-

She who chirps away the dust and desolation of the plummeting structure, who sways across the haven of love

And hums amidst the gardens of a jovial paradise with everlasting buoyancy and exuberance.

She who folds her wings as a touch of life and rests on the melodies of the mellow leas,

And drops like a dancing tear from the ever glowing eyes of life’s passions, in glee.

But she also discerns and contemplates the affliction and adversity of some,

Who are fatigued by the sins of poverty, dishonesty, malfeasance and amorality.

She glides from heaven to reinstall rejuvenation and infatuate them with the fragrance of purity.

Lone yet brimming with optimism and solace she continues doing so in her own solitary world,

And skimming and streaming across the refuges of hope, to propagate steadfast candor, in reality.

My sole prayer to the divine –the omnipotent, that bird is all I want to be.



The flight of the bird in freedom being the metaphor for an angel who brings reason to the lives of people and fights the injustices of the society.