Being yourself

Lofty dreams, sights set high

Expectations pile, you really want to try,

But somewhere in between,

The real you dies

You become someone whom you don’t recognize,

It’s too late, you realize,

Dreams keep you awake but you still strive,

Your life seems to have taken its worst dive

Though all you need is a leap of faith,

Belief that you will rightly retake,

Your identity and your life at stake,

A majestic dolphin, leaving viewers at wake

Sure, misfortune befalls,

Sure, it seems like a wall,

However take the gall,

To hear your own call,

And thus you will have it all,

Your Voice

I sit here all day long,

With a face down by a furlong,

Awaiting to hear your melody,

Curing my heart of this malady

Your voice, so mellow

Like the autumn that turns yellow,

A voice, so sweet

Makes my heartstring weep and repeat

A voice that is fresh like the evergreen blades,

From which even Death may fade,

Speak, I plead you,

Everyone will heed you

Let your voice be carried across the meadows,

Let your voice be carried through the shadows,

Let it cross the mountains and the ravines,

Let it fill the fountains and every crevice

Let it be heard to both man and beast,

From the highest of the high eagle’s nest,

To the dead men’s rest,

Let your voice hold them behest

Call to Arms

The vision that heartens us all,
The fear the darkens before a fall,
The pounding at battle’s call,
The boom of trumpets at the mighty hall

The ring of fire binds us all,
The truth hidden behind a wall,
The fear within us crawls,
The heart trapped in a squall

Fear not! And arise,
Take your weapons and fight till sunrise,
For words of valour shall last not,
You shall last if freedom begot

Cast away your chains of haplessness,
Drink the nectar of fearlessness,
Strike out your heart’s fierceness
For the child you love and your woman’s tress

Weep not for the ones you lost,
Everyone dies those whoever trod,
Accept and move on with a nod,
Trust in yourself and in your Lord.

New World

We set sail to distant lands,
To fertile plains with leafy fans,
Farms and food we build and grow,
For a great civilization we plow.

The meadows green and honey sweet,
Several trees, even strong ones like teak,
The forests lush and deep,
Loads of lumber to reap

A quarry lying asleep,
Limestone to crack,
Carry them to slopes steep,
Walls to build to protect our keep

A mine runs in the deep,
Veins of gold, silver heaps,
Coins to mint, money to make,
Prosperity is ours to take,

A senate to make,
Decisions to take,
Taxes to rake,
From trades that awake

A city to build,
With people to fill,
Trades to open,
To be a merchant’s haven

Thus we sail on with dreams aloft,
From rough clay we mould,
Our power impossible to curb and control,
We unleash ourselves to this New World.

Summer Sings

The heat is on,
The light is warm,
The mangoes reborn,
The mid-afternoon yawn,
That’s summer’s song.

The heather is soft,
Springy and clean,
The ‘morn sunny and preened,
The skies – a clear blue,
Spring’s son is Summer, so true.

The flowers are pleasing,
Cold – drinks become very appeasing,
True, the heat makes for heavy breathing,
But that makes our heart beating,
Blood pumps and sadness abate,
As we play under the sun,
While Summer’s awake,
And sing the song sung by the crickets,
While Summer gazes – happily at this racket.

Comeback

‘Twas the day when I was defeated,
Broken and utterly humiliated.
I thought nothing could cheer me up,
Life seemed listless, an empty cup

Try hard I, I never succeeded,
I am not cut out for it, I heeded,
But not any more, not any more,
I comeback to claim glory galore

I wipe my tears of frustration,
Chin up with realization,
Mistakes of the past remain put,
Not my business, they are kaput

Fears of the future, terrifying
But the present’s joy is nullifying
Tongues wag, people sway,
Another journey is underway
A comeback comes today

Consciousness

That nagging voice in your mind,
That guilty feeling which makes it chime,
The pleasure you get from being kind,
And the pleasure I get from this little rhyme;
Where do you think it comes from?
Where do you get that feeling so warm?
Where do you get all fuzzy?
When you are sad, you are misty.
Where do you think it comes from?

The gut feeling,
Mind’s little mewing,
The powerful mental healing,
And the body that is growing.
Your mind that expands,
And the thoughts that respawn,
Where do you think it comes from?

The chocolate’s deliciousness,
The feeling of muscle’s strengthness,
The sorrow of helplessness,
The joy of happiness,
Yes, I know.
This is consciousness.

Light Footsteps

Those light running footsteps
Across the snow,
Across the halls,
Across the fields,
Across the malls,
Those light running footsteps

I see you not,
O! Woman of my soul,
I only hear,
Your footsteps’ sound pours
I met you not,
O! Woman of my soul,
I only wished,
You be mine –
My heart tore
Those light running footsteps

I seek you, I find ye
I meet not
Neither I know where
But I shall endure,
I shall persevere
This dark mystery shall clear.

I am not the best,
I am not the worst,
I am not the best of the worst and-
I am not the worst of the best
I am what I am

Accept me when you behold,
Hearken me when feelings not withhold,
I shall come,
And we be one
Then my footfalls shall merge –
With your light footsteps

Wind

O, what art thee, wind!
Thou hast no boundaries,
Thou are extraordinary,
Thou hast moods,
When Gentle and Calm,
Are Soothing and Charm;
When Angry and Furious,
Thou are victorious!

Thou bring the clouds,
And shower the parched Earth,
Bring farmer their merriment and mirth.
Thou sail the seas, fill the sails,
Without thy blessings,
The merchants do not have trades.

In a tempest, thy growl;
Thou Anger are limitless;
Devastating –
Turning the land lifeless,
I bow to thee.

Keep blowing, keep moving,
Thou instruct and say –
“Else you will destruct”

Thou bring the scent –
Of blood and war –
And also
Of the dream woman afar,
A harbinger and messiah –
No one at par,
I bow to thee.

Music

It is Music,
The intangible thing
Cannot be seen,
Cannot be touched,
Can only be heard,
Can only be felt.

It can endear you, hearten you, beseech you,
It can rock you, shock you, make you go wild,
Its untamed and certainly not mild,
Something loved by both adult and child.
Always making friends,
Gaining popularity in its wake,
Without so much as turning a rake.

Life without Music is lost,
It’s worthless and meaningless,
You may ask why,
Or ‘How can it be!!’ you may cry
But remember this,
Music is in heaven so it is in Hell,
The Nine Muses play for Zeus and Poseidon,
So do they for Hades.

Love

Oh, what art thou, love?
Thou hast no boundaries,
Thou not care surrounding,
Thou move in gay abandon,
Honored and mesmerized,
In thy nation.

Thy affect ages all,
Men, children and women fall,
Thy art graceful, yes
So maddening, so wonderful,
Sweet as the bride’s dress.

Thou hast the power to destroy,
Thou hast the power to create,
Thou can make or break,
The hearts of the many,
And the heart of one,
And that can be,
Even me.

Language

You wander down the street,
Looking to eat,
That chocolate bar,
Or that fruit tart.
You walk to the shop,
And ask the man,
Given me the bar, pops!

Perhaps the story,
Should begin more evenly;
Long ago, that is
A very long ago,
Man lived in caves,
Or in trees or mountains,
He was very lonely,
Wanted to be a family,
But how could he do it?
When he had no way to tell it?

So he invented gestures,
But that couldn’t tell everything,
Others began to look up to him,
Feeling glad,
Since he made sounds that were rad,
He got the family he wanted.

His son later thought,
What his father had brought,
And decided to advance,
Creating sounds,
That became his venture.
He began slowly,
Talking with sounds,
Only with his family;
And so came sounds,
And he became famous in a glance.

Later his son,
But unfortunately a bum,
Spent his time,
Sounds mumbling away,
But he discovered,
That which we have mastered,
Language.

That’s the story of language,
But it may not be true,
For if you know what’s true,
You can make it true,
For language is flexible,
And it is evolving,
So will its past and so will its future.

Moderation

There was an old man in Sparta,
Who spent most of his time in pasta.
But wise was he,
For he lived a hundred and was preordained,
To live a thousand more.
He boasted of his wit and his pasta,
So came a smart aleck,
Decked in smart robes,
With a smart foot and smart looks,
Smart air and a smart brain,
And most of all with a smart mouth.

Asked he the old man about moderation,
Telling the old man stupid with acclamation,
Great was the old man’s fury,
Punched the smart man in the gut,
And kicked him on his butt.
Bore it with silence, did he,
Without uttering a word of misery.

The old man then said,
“Overwhelmed in moderation is Contentment”;
“Overjoyed in moderation is Happiness”;
“Obsessed in moderation is passionate”;
“Anger in moderation is just right”;
“And age in moderation is fulfilment”;

Having so listened, the smart man asked,
Tell me O man,
You rained kicks and blows,
You beat me with sticks and stones,
You bruised my heart with actions and words,
Such was your anger.
Then where was your moderation?
And more so, old man,
If moderate you are,
Then why do you have to live an age so far?

Bent with sorrow and shame,
Did the old man admit,
That he had been defeated in his game.
The man was old with sorrow,
But grew wiser with age.
And respect did he forevermore,
All those who came in smart robes, smart walk and smart talk.

O Creator!

I love you, O Lord!
Not as a wife,
Not as a beloved,
But as a son, who loved his Father.

You gave me life,
You gave me strength,
You gave me wisdom,
You gave me health,
Gave me my dreams,
And the determination to accomplish,
And the power to succeed.

You held me,
Cherished me,
Nurtured me,
Made me what I am.
For that I am truly in your debt.
What will you have of me?

I shall fulfil you,
And make you proud,
You set hopes,
And I shall complete them.
To create order from chaos,
To purge all evil from me &
The world.

I shall protect Earth,
Your dream and creation.
Thy will be done,
O creator!

Beauty of Life

Some people wander around aimlessly,
In their monotonous jobs,
Of their monotonous lives,
For their monotonous desires,
Nothing to live for,
Nothing to die for,
Hard as rock is their life,
Shattering almost instantly.

While there are others,
Having dynamic jobs,
Dynamic features,
Never is there any monotony,
Living life to the fullest,
The rising sun is their joy greatest,
The setting sun is their sorrow greatest.
Their life is rich, materially,
And abundant spiritually,
For they never age or die,
Never are they defeated in the school of life.

So friends, life is a story,
With fame and glory,
Riches and melody,
For only few have succeeded as such,
And they have changed the world so much.