You, The Mountains
You precipices of sheer rock,
You violent ejections from the Mother Earth,
You straight faced contortions,
You proud beings of utter nakedness.
You coldly shed light and ice,
You shrug gust or storm,
You witness summer merge to summer, spring to spring,
It hollows out here
At the end of time ...
But as the rainclouds gather
And through the cold rock crevices
Drops of water seep through
To moisten the floor,
The paintings all come to life!
And you can see for yourself
The fear these men felt
This poem is inspired by a vision of what education should be. It’s also a lament on our current mainstream methods of learning that is obsessed with memorization, regurgitation and a unilateral approach to evaluating meritocracy. As much as it is a rant against the current norm of educatio...
I stand alone at the bottom,
as though i start,
because I do.
Home is as i know it,
home is home is home, forlorn.
The mystic sound of,
croaking frogs and gurgling drains,
rainfall on the grey pavements.
If you get angry,
please don't shake your lap.
The mountains crumble,
and I find myself buried in debris.
If you cry,
your tears flood my mood.
The tide sweeps away my adobe,
my family, my life as I knew.
In the autumn morning,
when I wake up to see
She came to me ever so silent,
like a cool breeze on a summer day,
but the night was dark as ever,
pouring down like cats and dogs may.
Yet she whisphered..
she whispered right beside my ear,
whispered something i could not hear.
she made me shiver..
my brain, my heart and my liver,
I wish to see a fair human society.
Where humanity is
above & beyond
the words of a mere scripture,
or a constitution.
I wish to see only human beings.
No more classes and castes.
Nor the color of our skins.
Where there will be no
Hindu, no Islam, no Yehudi, no Buddhist ...
Don't make me write
I'll stare just stare at you.
Let me touch you.
Whisper and perhaps, I'll understand.
No please don't make me write.
You'll find a cold tip but you'll miss out the ever deranged cold cold bottom.
I'll call my friends you call yours We ...
The Song of the waves,
when the ocean meets the shore
resonates with my soul.
The song, the calling,
to the infinity.
The vastness of the ocean
resembles my naivety.
It mocks the pettiness of my fleeting existence.
Resisting changes, I await the low tide.
I await the tidal waves to take ...
I thought we were perfect with a 2 seater
But then you got bored and wanted to upgrade her
Was afraid to let it go
Cause it took a while to balance so
You were so fond of the new style and design
So thought to give it a chance and stop the whine
Slowly and slowly we got the hold of it