Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Choose to pray and not prey...

Fight with might, be a man,
face to face, with a warrior's elan,
Why do you hide, behind your sleazy shroud of a reason?
Why do slaughter men,women and children every season..?

Fight with might, be a man,
face to face, with a warrior's elan,
One moment.. deafening blast, and the day is a bloody day,
people die,lose some limbs and its a black-wednesday,thursday..friday..

Fight with might, be a man,
face to face,with a warrior's elan,
How many set of numbers would you make infamous now?
9/11,7/11..oh I've lost count already,somehow!

Fight with might,be a man,
face to face,with a warrior's elan,
Fear if you may wish to see,
see it within yourself, its in your actions,its naked,its bare in thee!

Fight with might,be a man,
face to face,with a warrior's elan,
Choose to pray and not prey,
You shall lose yourself, in this fray..

Saturday, September 03, 2011

fighting writer's block..to keep the hobby intact!

A question does every child loathe ;when time after time, it comes forth..
"Dear child..what hobbies do you have, yet untold?"

Some just pick up their natural choice,
few others attend classes once a week,twice or thrice..

With a beeming smile will the mother foretell,
how her little one will be a Sania,a Sachin and MF Hussain,

From books and bags to paint brush and raquets,
from homework to tuition to boxing and karate,

The child moves on from school life,
the question alas stays right behind..

"Dear Fatcha(first year)..what hobbies do you have, yet untold?"
They make you sing,dance,mimic,act..
Hobbies or no hobbies..not a matter in fact!

And from college to workplace, the question follows,
in interviews, in forms..the HR hallows..
"Dear employee,what hobbies do you have,yet untold?"

You lived with them, you die with them..
a conversation starter, a symbol of an almamater,
a life's lesson, a moment's fashion..

None can leave the other,
weaved into the person, mingled with the soul..
for me its singing,poetry,swimming what's your hobby,yet untold?

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

why on earth...?

If only I could help not saying what I said, if only I could help not feeling what I did,
If only I could hold my words back and weigh my thoughts,
Why on earth would you have been made for me at all?

If I could change my ways, if I would not be reckless or a moment of craze,
if only I could understand how to react appropriate, or give you perfect space,
Why on earth would you have been made for me at all?

If I could walk without tripping at all,
If I could sing without the slightest disc(h)ord (sic)
If I could stay chirpy all the while,
Why on earth would you have been made for me at all?


You're there to listen to my unweighed thoughts before they turn to words,
You're there to weigh my spoken words,

You're there to be next to me,standing tall,
You're there to hold me close when I trip or fall

You're the one to hear me out in not so cheerful times, to bear with my tantrums and the moods galore in life's mundane rhymes..

You're the one chosen for me to complement me in every right,
its a mix and match you know, the heavens conspired..

Had we been so alike, so as to agree upon everything under the sun,
life together wouldn't be half as fun, as it is to fight and make up in turn...