Introvert’s prayer.

Reminiscences of past..
Packed in caliberated sequal of pregrine musings..
Merged with festooned blossoms of present..
I owe myself a bamboozled quagmire of words…
Intoxicated in escsty..
A wish a blessing be at peace & live in dreams of fulfilled pleasures…

@fidoic

Isabella and Me.

Isabella and Me.. (Unlineated Poem)

Octuber; a cold month trees shed their cloths and sun its light. Isabella and me we ran together to seek a shelter. Octuber is cold it rains outside; social and political together; raindrops. The trees shed their leaves some yellow and some still green and the sunlight it grows lighter, colder, and darker. And me and isabella walked through these leaves crushing them under our feet. The sunlight didnt touch us but some leaves have thorns and her feet bleed and some rays are harsher and her skin burned. The raindrops soothed us; emotional. Social and political; drenched us. Isabella and me still found a shelter, a safer place, a stone stands there. Octuber is a cold month but we are safe me and isabella now lay asleep.

(©fidoic First Appeared in Unbroken Journal)

@fidoic

Abstract Noise.

In this abstract noise,
where each and every voice, comes from distinct source,
Filled with joy or remorse, 
one among them is mine,
not inseparable from thine,
I am trying to find myself,
In this dark mist of time,
quagmire of felling chime,
holy disdains regime,
and I am trying to tune my rhyme,

Apple Tree and Me!

image

Apples!

                 Pic by Younis Bhat.

Standing tall stocked with red apples,
He earns more than i do.
A kilo of these is my hour’s wage.
A quarter of it my month’s income.

I despise and grow jealous,
Standing still and lazy,
He does what i cant despite
My locomotive and artistic ability.

At 25 he is more independent
And rooted than i can ever be
His vacations are more festooned
And longer than i can ever have

He’s got more friends, the birds
The ants, the bees who sing to him
Vistors form distant lands migrate
Every season to meet him..

He’s socially more responsible
He amends for what i ruin
He reduces carbon imprints
And sucks in pollution

He’s more Famous than me,
He got clients in distant lands
And is talked-of in elite societies.
He’s got relatives all over the world.

The son of a seed!
Brute! Standing still
Outruns me in every field
When he even can’t walk.

What do We Talk When We Talk About Love!

If its not showing love and care…
Not even being always there…
Then what do we talk…
When we talk about love…

If its not touches and kisses…
Not even sending messages of wishes…
Then what do we talk…
When we talk of love…

If its not about gifts and cards…
Not even walking miles of yards…
Then what do we talk…
When we talk about love…

If its not about bread and wine…
Not even siting together to dine…
Then what do we talk…
When we talk about love…

Its first submission and then compromise…
To hang on till eternity and still suffice…
And this is why we dont talk much…
When we talk about this love…

Dr Kalam: A poetic tribute.

now the feet had grown ‘wings of fire’ of their own

the ‘ignited minds’ were numb as a clown

senses collapsed and were scating fast

time ran and was not going to last

tears had life and life tears

eyes denied sight for fears

words fled away trying to hide

ears heard a lot but didnt stride

one was missing a world apart

nobody could find, none’s that smart

a stone just said Rest In Peace

and rest were trying to be in peace..

A tribute to Dr APJ Abdul Kalam.

Fate.

leh2

if you believe in the lines

than mine are fainted,

if you believe in stars,

than mine are clouded,

the blue sky is no more blue,

the black clouds have eaten it up,

if you believe in fate,

than its my enemy,

the road to my home,

is left from his,

he passes by,

from  the turn; mile away.

the umbrella,

keeps me dry,

the rain,

passes overhead.

the forest,

keeps the sun away,

the light never reaches down,

the plants here are wilted,

the tides,

here are shallow,

the waters keep the shells away,

the sand here is dry,

the winter,

here is long,

the yellow remains yellow,

the green is short,

the bed,

here is not soft,

the cotton is unwrought,

the rocks are hard

if you believe in god,

than mine is not,

if you believe in god,

than mine is not,

if you believe in god,

than he almost forgot,

the sun, the water, the rain, the spring, the cotton,

is also for me