M

They were looking at each other
they always looked at each other !!!
their eyes face and hands
amazing language they had ,
they were together , hand in hand
in their mute world….
melancholy tunes , turning blue ,
colours of rainbow
splashing through ,
agitated discussions
opinions and arguments ,
so much chaos
in their mute world……
strong and firm ,
ideas and vision ,
in tune with the world
imagination galore ,
war and peace
always within ,
in their mute world…….
yet determined to thrive ,
grow and strive ,
so what if no sound
no syllables found ,
They were looking at each other
they always looked at each other !!!

( © Dr. Swati A Gadgil , All Rights Reserved .)

I think it was some ghost of yesteryears,
knocked on the doors of worshippers;
A centuries old, grudged spirit had come alive,
concocted horror and rage to live and thrive.

Carved was the year and the place on his firearm,
that day, the spirit had recalled the dead past,
smeared his hands playing bloody game twice.
With his insane moves put the groups to sacrifice.

For sure, you’re not the Roman, they were not the Ottomans,
we’re mere strugglers in life’s terrible grind, we’re humans;
Following an obsolete book of diatribe,
you decided the fate of fifty poor lives.

Crescent and cross can’t harmonize in a bloodbath,
can’t thrive ensuing mayhem amid unaware stalwarts;
You can’t purge souls as per your whims and fancies;
For the peace to prevail we need to mend our fences.

Copyright © March 2019 DrNikhat Bano All rights reserved

There are some women

Who are beautiful at dawn

And there are some women

Who are beautifulat dusk.

However, all women are beautiful

In the darkness of the night.

pramila khadun

When nations rage, yet everyone is right.
No one listens, just believe their sight.
Experience and wisdom lets us see
The simple way to set all people free.

Where does innocence end and initiative begin?
Where’s religion with systems, judgement, sin?
When there’s insanity and mass confusion.
We think this is the way, but it’s delusion.

Choose love; embrace love with all its mystery.
Consume love, for it’s the centrepiece of history.
For love is giving, the cornerstone of living.
Our family, partners, children, friends.
Love the essential, on which we all depend.

Seek love, with patient selflessness.
Love which does not envy, surrounds with gentleness.
Love that does not boast, keeps no account of wrong.
Forgives, protects, is kind, for which we long.

Love that trusts, hopes, always perseveres.
Love which deep within our souls releases tears.
Love that never fails surpasses age and time.
For He fashioned love – it was His design.

It’s not something that blooms overnight
Or that visits you on your specified intervals;
You breathe it,
Inhaling all that comes your way
And letting out the ones that left an indelible mark.

When you revisit yourself
In the innermost confines of your thoughts
You get back what you lost.
A pen that bleeds with you.
That heals you
And gets you back;
The way to yourself.

Tears are overly deceitful,
that go way beyond the surface
of truth and reality,
and holds the hand of the soul.

Being janus-faced
Some prognosticate it as puissant,
others deduce it to be feeble.
And there is a bunch considering it as vacillating.

But tears get stubborn
over the worthiness of relations.
They pour out in jubilation
and surrender in distress.

They behold the power of oneness,
stand together in agony.
They make the stoic meaningful
with passion of empathy.

Tears make the best of companions,
that make us pure in heart.
They yield out the best in us
and make us buoyant forever.

Mehak Gupta Grover

Someday, I’ll look into your eyes

And tell you,

Of how I suffered blows in silence

Merely for your sake!

Yes,

I believed in that which was projected to me

I believed in the mysticism surrounding it

I believed in it to such an extent

That it became the reason why I breathed!

I suffered the blows, yes,

I hid my tears behind smiles

I learnt to love the agony of it all

I let the prickly thorns swim all over my bloodstream

I pretended that it did not hurt

I pretended that I was the jolliest of them all

Even if the demons of darkness kept sending, to my soul,

The doubts that meaning binding us both

May not seem to have as solid a foundation for you

As it does for me!

Pray, this world is a sorrowful one,

It keeps revolving for no reason

Taking us there where we speculate about

Without any concrete proof!

Amidst all of this madness,

I choose to rest my faith

In the love I hold for you

As, someday,

I want to look into your eyes

And tell you of how I suffered for you

Merely because the universe had whispered to me

That your fate is linked to mine!

Someday, love, we’ll both look back

And be grateful that we survived everything

I am confident of this

As river water is certain to meet with the ocean

As flowers are certain to taste of dew each morning

As poets are certain to be immortalized through their words

As Earth is certain she is revolving for the sake of the power which rules her!

Caring God’s way. Is it really true
That He will give all it takes for me and you
To live free and open lives not hiding from each other,
Not causing pain when we are hurt by sister or by brother.

Will He break the grip of worry and of pain?
Remove the will to live for personal gain.
Not hide behind our walls of pride and self-defence
Pretending to be someone else and not in innocence.

Lord can you change our hearts to care about each other?
To prefer others blessings and really to discover
That helping other people rather than ourselves
Will release new freedom as His Spirit delves.

You said that He has paid the price for all of us to care.
That all we have to do is to cry to Him in prayer.
We can be changed, never be the same again.
Love each other from the heart; release each other’s pain.

But that would revolutionise bring about real change,
Would show the world a way that it might exchange.
What’s happening all around us now, something new and free.
Oh God, it sounds impossible, but please, please start with me!

Days change;
Also mindsets.
So do people.

What stays is in fact;
The scars and carvings
Engraved with piercing stones
In the fragile conscious canvas-
That lay torn and creased;
Yet incredibly intact.