Monthly Archives: August 2010

Mind storms

Watching a storm ,

In its great fury,

Caused a reform,

With a fine dreary.


The racing  apprehension

Blew in a  terrible rage,

Confining  the   tension

Within its range.


The  swirling violence,

Created a despair

Restoring the  silence,

To a quiet whisper.


The roaring hurricane,

Dealt a thunder

Resulting a foregone,

In a gloomy  shudder.


The angry typhoon,

Instilled a furore,

Convicting  the siren

To an endless   chore.



The mind like the storm,

Runs in  an insane form,

Relapsing on an uncertain qualm,

Unnerving the genial balm.


A disarming fear lurks,

An unkempt  cringe smirks,

Leaving a perilous  refrain

As a lasting  design,.













Jazz Up

Break  the monotony ,

With a   fine symphony,

Ease the hardship,

With a cordial friendship,

Revive the spirit,

With a  jubilant merit.

Rejuvenate the soul,

With an   easy  roll.

Enliven the mood,

With a  gay brood.

Enhance the self ,

With a grand play off,

Recuperate the mind,

With a novel find,

Pour out your feelings,

With a strong inkling

Jazz up  my friend,

With a newest  trend.

Let Me Come Out.

I  am a closed book,

As I stand hooked,

Away from the   buzz,

Into a thorny rush.


I went into a shell,

Aghast of the alarming bell,

Away from the tussle,

Into a close nestle.




I withdrew from the crowd,

Afraid of the proud,

Away from the  deceit,

Into a sullen retreat..





I  confined myself to a spot,

Apprehensive of  burning hot,

Away from the malice,

Into a  sombre solace.




I am  now an old hag,

Walking with a drag,

Waiting for the  boat.

Oh!Let me come out.

A Cane On The Lane.

Going down the lane,

I saw a big cane,

Lying idly  on the middle,

Creating a perplexing riddle,

The passers crossed over,

With a slight tremor,

No one dared to take,

As  though it was fake,

Lest it would turn like,

A hideous omen alike,

Marking a risk too  much,

Dispensing a terrible fear  as such,

A man came  groping towards it,

With uneasy effort lifted it,

 Surprised  the spectator’s find,

 That he was blind.

Few knots

 The little obstacles that come up,

Are nothing much to distemper,

 As the stoic attitude that  keep up

The equanimity   under proper

Controlling the eventual let  up,

With a manoeuvering    clipper

That lead to an easy  set up.

Booking a quality  somber,

Disentangling a knotty  prop up,

Heralding a convenient   empower.





The Left Over.

There is a balance.

Which poses a challenge ,

How to  carry over?



There is a grievance,

Which creates a misery.

How to tide over?





There is a   deliverance,

Which  makes a difference,

How to cross over?



There is a reverence ,

Which expresses a preference ,

How to bow over?





There is a   boldness

Which shows an awareness

How to ride over?




There is a remembrance,

which  cries for a  recurrence.,

How to think over?




There is a permanence,

Which calls for  freshness,

How to  link over?




There is a tolerance,

Which kindles patience,

How to  brook over? 

There is a graciousness,

Which reinstate a significance,

How to leave over?



There is   callousness

Which forms a  wickedness ,

How to  shield  over?






There is a resonance,

Which waits for a reason.,

Is it the left over?