Staring

Sitting in front of me,
A girl in a yellow dress,
Seeing her, is a glee,
Fair skin given by god’s bless.

Pretending to write this poem,
I watch with my dirty fantasies,
The figure so awesome,
On her, eyes of every male freeze.

Then, a feeling was recalled,
By my mother, I was told,
Be sensitive, not just bold,
How will you feel mister,
If she was your own sister.

Of course! I don’t want,
Anyone staring at my sister,,
So this girl in yellow does not
Deserves stares of every observer.

At that point, I understood,
That if I want a girl,
I need the guts to say,
That, I want to stand beside you,
Weather it is night or day.

So until I have that guts,
Seeing every women
With respect and dignity is a must.

Advertisements

Stories in a metro

In the metro I travel,
A dozen stories to unravel,
Each passenger carry a fable,
I can guess only the label.

I like to play a detective,
Observing quietly is my tactic,
Analysing different retrospective,
Makes you more connective.

First, I see a man,
Sitting on a seat,
Clutching his bag,
Like a thief away a feet,
Must have learnt a lesson,
In public,
never be careless for a beat.

A women holding hands of her child,
Dropping her to school on early rise,
Parenting is a job of big size.

Some Muslim men with long beard,
Might change at Central Secretariat,
For Jama Masgid is neared.

All youngster on their phones,
Listening music or playing games,
Too busy to appreciate the,
Beauty around them, what a shame.

A couple lurking in back corner,
Showing affection to each other,
God not, love be for how much longer,
Little gurantee, they will take it further.
(lovers now a days)

An old man entered the train,
Body frail and the face pale,
3 people at once stand up without fail.
Seeing this kind of sensitivity,
My trust strengths in humanity.

Many other characters,
Young and old,
Each is a conspirator,
Of stories usually not told.

And here comes my station,
I got off the train,
Leaving behind all the characters,
To travel alone on my lane.

What I did today

Before going to bed,
Stand in front of mirror,
Light on today is shed,
Events of the day shimmer.

Another day over of my life,
Have I lived it to fullest,
In crowd, am I just a rife,
Is there nothing, I can best.

Today, I woke up early,
One point in my kitty,
Though 4 hours nearly,
On a show, in continuity.

I try to do some studies,
But didn’t feel ready,
Tried things, to pass time,
Day was over in this comedy,

Like this, many days come,
And without much go,
I feel like a person dumb,
Progress in everything, too slow.

I try to maintain a flow,
But stones in the way,
Makes it difficult to row,
And away from targets, I sway.

Standing in front of mirror,
I had this realization,
My heart goes aflutter,
I am living in an​ illusion.

Illusion that, I have time,
Enough for all I want,
Alas! life do not give overtime,
Time was never a grant,

Every day passed in ‘timepass’,
Is a day lost of your small life,
Most persons never outlast,
The time needed to complete​ the vibe.

So if I wanna die with satisfaction,
I have to step up my game,
Difficult is process of corse correction,
But much better then dying in shame.

So, for the night,
I will sleep tight,
To rise…. bright.

A father’s life

In the early morning,
I start the race,
Against all the abating,
And obstacles I face.
Forcing by way, battering,
Through many many gates.

Woke up early,
Still, no time to rest,
100 chores waiting,
Each in itself a test.

First, I remember my weight,
To reduce it, let us go to walk,
Even if last night, I slept late,
Then rising son on time,
Thinking about the grocery rates,
In front of the kids, being sublime,
Searching for my daughter’s mate,
Working several hours overtime,
To protect my children’s fate.

Seems like a difficult job,
Years of lifetime, it rob,
Many times, it is not enough
The appreciation you got.

But, I am still happy to do it,
There are perks to this lunacy,
A life having a purpose to it,
Better then a perfect life of fantasy.

When, I see my kids grow,
From small steps to giant leaps,
Watching this my eyes glow,
Better then thousand gold heaps.

So, I stick to fight,
For, I can announce aloud,
In all trials and delight,
They will make me proud.

Test or Trouble

When things go wrong,
And you must be strong,
Never you dare cry,
It is a week’s song.

Be as hard as stone,
Face all troubles alone,
When fall, don’t just moan,
Stand up, grow some bone.

This is what we are taught,,
Only way, success can be bought,
Asking for help, makes you rot,
Not worth if it is, an easy shot.

This, seems like a noble precept,
A great way in society to gain respect,
And it is, but sometimes,
We forget, a very important fact.

No need to tread a difficult path,
Just because it is difficult,
No need to alone face fate’s wrath,
Does it really have that worth.

Sometimes, we take difficult path,
Just to prove ourselves to others,
Chose centre of road, rather than footpath,
Even if, they reach same terminus.

So, open your eyes,
Reaching goal, not so significant,
Not work hard, work wise,
Enjoying journey is also important.
Fealing on which you thrives,
That great feeling of contentment,
Is your true prize,
Your most epic achievement.

Also, it is ok to ask for help,
To rest a while, cry on mother’s lap,
What do wrong about it,
To sit a while, to make a map.
(spending time in planning most productive path)

Test or Trouble

When things go wrong,
And you must be strong,
Never you dare cry,
It is a week’s song.

Be as hard as stone,
Face all troubles alone,
When fall, don’t just moan,
Stand up, grow some bone.

This is what we are taught,,
Only way, success can be bought,
Asking for help, makes you rot,
Not worth if it is, an easy shot.

This, seems like a noble precept,
A great way in society to gain respect,
And it is, but sometimes,
We forget, a very important fact.

No need to tread a difficult path,
Just because it is difficult,
No need to alone face fate’s wrath,
Does it really have that worth.

Sometimes, we take difficult path,
Just to prove ourselves to others,
Chose centre of road, rather than footpath,
Even if, they reach same terminus.

So, open your eyes,
Reaching goal, not so significant,
Not work hard, work wise,
Enjoying journey is also important.
Fealing on which you thrives,
That great feeling of contentment,
Is your true prize,
Your most epic achievement.

Also, it is ok to ask for help,
To rest a while, cry on mother’s lap,
What do wrong about it,
To sit a while, to make a map.
(spending time in planning most productive path)

Mosul

The sun goes down,
The earth is brown,
The entire city is down,
what happens to this town.

Thousands here to moun,
Having lost families friends,
Thousands are left alone,
Destruction all across lands.

Their brave soldiers,
Fought bombs, traps, drones,
Ways new and older,
Till reaching their grave stones.

Fought for every inch, every street,
With death lurking in every corner,
Till the enemy’s final defeat,
Ground free for sister and brother.

People are free again,
But, little left to gain,
The losses are insane,
Is freedom curse or bane.

Atleast, now they have hope,
That they can rebuild,
Though, it is little help to cop,
With their life’s just stilled.

Sitting hundreds of miles away,
In my AC room and watching news ,
How could I may,
Fanthom those dreadful views,
Without roof the sick lay,
Searching for their death clues,
In the rubbles, children play,
On pointy stones without shoes,
These people roaming astray,
Just nothing left to loose.

I can do only one thing,
In prayers of morning evening,
I pray for their future well being,
Atleast better then doing nothing.