The Sample Shoes

Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty. - Mother Teresa.

Pickles in a pickled jar,

A song sung to a star!

His eyes breathe to the sky’s par,

Birds thus sing afar...

The wind sings song a bell,

Dreams are his cloud’s waiting tell.

A coin talks to him from a wishing well,

On a road is where the rain thus fell...

Fingernails are agony’s weep,

He writes a poem in his sleep.

The street cries to a song that’s deep,

Freedom speaks to him indeed...

The moon and her treaty,

Asleep is the bed of a needy.

A tree lofts the root neatly,

The wind speaks to him all greedy...

His eyes leave behind a footprint,

The street lamp smiles a tint.

Silver’s where no gold’s a mint,

His hair in a lonely sprint...

His yarn sings to a pillow yearn,

His feet cried to a waking burn...

Heaven reads as his nails learn,

A toe smiles in return!

All that’s gold is not wheat,

Waves can make agony complete!

Birds thus find their fleet,

Hence sang the sky to the shoring greet...

Thank You! http://www.brainyquote.com/

The Winter Stray Poem – Part 2

“This poem is dedicated to all who are in need and the ones who died waiting. For World Peace”

He waits for the smoke to clear,

His eyes brown as a Blessed pear...

Could the dusk cleanse his fear?

 His mother comes home raped with lust’s tainted spear...

The wind aches for freedom,

A tree weeps in her dying breath...

The children crave for wisdom,

Bullets relish peace’s empty death...

The crying sky aches for a cloud,

Rain thus comes down to wash a tear...

Eyes look for the moon’s *laud,

Birds hide from the war’s painful sear...

The poor is naked as the rich eats,

A new sky paints his precious feet...

Hungry as his craving heart beats,

The birds fly again their previous fleet...

His fingers cry to a blood clot,

The broken nail speaks to him...

A pencil to fill the waiting dot,

He finds beside him a precious grim...

Eyes wait for Heaven’s dream,

Her breath is pale in need...

His face scratched with the crying seam,

An ice-cream is theirs indeed...

She looks at his empty eyes,

An Iris waits and cries...

The cream speaks to the ice,

The birds now sing in anxious tries...

His eyebrows look at her,

Her eyes still look at them...

The sky’s now an exemplar,

A tree now grows her stem...

The Winter Poet’s Note – We do not fail when we don’t give; we fail when we can give yet we eat greedy.

Key from the Oxford Reference Dictionary:

*Laud - Praise highly.

*Exemplar – a person or thing serving a typical example or appropriate model.

The Poem

Plural is a verb to blind optimism,
Hope’s the candle in an empty prison.
The dusk sleeps with a lonely prism,
Alas, died the sky to a moon’s treason...

A palm pale with pained sickness,
The birds outside sing free...
Death is failure’s drowning weakness,
The window shut as the walls breathe...

Sleeping Madrigal thus sealed no lip,
A Garth cries a weeping bliss!
The empty moon in a sorrow dip,
Pale are my lips we hence kiss!

Sleeping silkworm thus breathes a knit,
How sad could be agony’s grey pencil?
My awaiting cobweb has your candle lit,
The empty sky is hope’s painted stencil...

The waiting dawn aches to breathe,
A night paints a portrait grey.
The amused streetlight sets life free,
Heaven’s *wreathe to his empty prey...

The wind’s a spelling on a chin,
Flowers died before the wedding...
The nightingale has a monopoly sing,
A Rosary to look up the blue bedding...

The Evening

His fingers run through the book slops,

A bookworm in between...

The place where the food shops,

A hungry stomach’s cream...        

He looks around the sea shore,

The lighthouse is a queen...

A sky is where the clouds pour,

His moon shines where its seen...

In the sand where the snail snores,

No cobwebs in a seam..

For kites the tragic wind roars,

How dead could be a dream?

A fountain’s where the lights glow,

He watched as it breathes...

The flight of her water flow,

A Smile less as he recedes...

In a garden where the fruits grow,

A place across the sea...

The sand in an eyebrow,

And thus the princess had a pea...

The Hope Poem!

“And here’s another one for women. Never give up! Hope is indeed a good word!”

Her eyes filled with Kajal*,

A spirit is Heaven’s bestow.

She’s a mother in her anchal*

Hope for life is a womb’s tow!

She’s the moon with her lights,

Her wings spread wide in starred flights.

Give a woman her blessed rights,

She’ll fly high and reach destined heights.

Weep for none and smile for life,

If breath gets heavy she’ll still be man’s precious wife.

Hope is gold and it’s us to spread its rife,

 Freedom’s hers and God spells it right!

Not some gun or a bleeding knife!

Give life a thought if it strikes your mind,

We are one and only faith can bind.

Don’t turn back and life’s never to rewind,

            Tomorrow’s yours only if you try to find!

Truth is to give ‘yourself’ some light,

If it gets dark you can still get it right.

All you need is just your will and might,

It’s never easy till you put up a peaceful fight! 

The Cry of ‘She!’- A Smile Indeed!

"This is for all women who've been abused, hope's a candle and light's just a smile away!"

She looks up to the sky,

The dark Mehandi enriched on a palm.

On her cheek sat a fly,

A sweeping wind to rest and calm!

The only daughter

to a smiling mother,

The Diyas to light the eve!

In debt would be a Father,

A bride soon to take his leave.

She looks up to the empty sky,

Shades of grey and yes! Ears are deaf!!?

If life could breathe a try,

She’ll paint a picture in a colorful shelf? Yes!

Her dreams are met in a man’s bed,

            Asleep was she in an earthly pled?

She said, ‘leave me please, I’m already dead.’

He said, ‘was that not what your father said when we wed?’

The word dowry in itself is a curse,

It’s just lusty men to find  a woman’s purse.

If life can play cards in reverse,

Breathe for a woman and then rehearse!

What’s a woman without a man?

If a man could speak for a woman!

Which in hell he seldom can,

And that’s how ‘SHE’ smiled as the men ran!

                                               

Her breath will breathe and yes it will,

            A girl to a woman is free to be!

Smile for God and her windmill,

‘She’ is indeed a plant with a tree.

                        And yea she gives life for FREE!’

and ‘SHE’ is a blessing indeed..!!!!

Willing to Die! – The Winter Friendship Poem

(This poem is dedicated to friendship which is far more than just a mere word! At least not to me!) 

PS: All lines amazingly written by "Friend" is indeed by a very talented poet and of course a very special friend! And we call her Indu Hari! "Another Friend" is of course the one you would guess! :-)

Friend:

“Crying for the love of God,

         In a place completely abroad.

                       Kissed by the black rose of death,

                                Woke me up startled with regrets.”

Another Friend:

“The sky is sadness,

            How pale am I in wilderness?

                     This bed spells of madness,

                            How forsaken am I in soberness?”

Friend:

I see the sunshine,

                But I don’t feel no warmth!

                            I see trees,

                 But I don’t see breeze!

         I see the snow,

                 But I don’t feel cold…

           I see children,

                     But don’t feel their bliss.

                 Suffocated from within,

                                Creeping me inside out!

Another Friend:

“Am I breathing better?

                  Or it’s just a tone!

                        Life’s indeed written with feathers,

                                       A call called hope is on the telephone.”

Friend:

“I went crazy,

         Waking up dazy!

                In the middle of the night,

                           Gifted with a poetic light!”

“As the moon rises,

                   And the sunset.

             Let’s talk about our lives,

                         And see where it gets!”

Another Friend:

“Not sure where this life heads,

           Yet I could relish a little breath.

                  We’ll stick needles with black threads,

                        And if life gets tragic, we’ll sing to death!!

  

Author’s Note:

Life writes tales with a grey cloud,

Indeed! A friend can hear you aloud!

Life has a meaning and just be proud,

   I’ll be there for you and I’ll say it aloud!