There is a story here,
amidst the ordinary.
Read it if,
you can smell,
the blooming of the flowers.
Almost hear,
the rising of a power,
the crowning of a King.
Before the storm,
there is always a silence.
Before the actual,
comes always the pretence.
Read between the lines,
you will find my story ,
go along the vines,
maybe you will meet your glory.
– sahar
For long I have been fooled
over its vicious tunes I drooled.
For too long I have fought my heart.
And I always return to the start.
My journey ends where I began,
nothing ever goes according to plan.
I have tried and now I know,
nothing is certain, follow the flow.
For long I believed in what I was told,
Very soon another world did unfold,
Before my eyes, a certain flow,
a gust of wind, a speck to blow.
You can always return to the start
and start again, just don’t halt.
For long I have been writing these wars,
different pens, papers and ink jars.
The time is now to make peace and verse,
and to vibrate as one with the universe.
– sahar
As a young boy,
I used to look at the sun,
with eyes wide open,
I stared at its burns.
I tried to fight,
the burning sensation in my eyes.
After a short while,
I had to close my eyes.
I couldn’t even face it,
let alone stare.
I realized somehow,
things are not fair.
Man is powerless
but beyond the limits of body,
mind is infinite and limitless.
It doesn’t need,
a burning sun to impress.
Nurture the mind
capture the world.
And then one day
you shall face the sun.
-sahar (Mayank Mishra)
I am forced to type,
When I want to write .
Cause there is this hype ,
People don’t read books any more.
Paper is obsolete .
and they read outta screens.
I am tired of those type.
Who just talk and don’t think any more ,
I am forced to follow
When I want to explore
Not smile in fake pictures
Drink potions or mixtures
I want to experience it all
But not out of some chemical
Drugs can’t revisit that call
Which I am trying to hear
While I painted pictures of my own
There is a world who wants to tear down
I am forced to bear witness
To the horrors and terrors
of the things I didn’t choose.
I liked being simple
they made me complicated
and now my habits, they tell me
cannot be tolerated
I am leaving for now
but I will be back
this my friends,
was just the kickback!
One of the most beautiful musical pieces I have ever heard in my life.
What I do is,
I step into a stranger’s shoes,
and walk along finding the clues.
I see, I hear and talk like him
I be him, am him, belong to him.
He may be painter, a soldier or a killer,
I have been both pious and sinner.
I see through your eye,
The same ground the same sky.
But wrought with perceptions of my own,
Things I see, to you I have shown.
Strung in the harmony of words,
I will narrate you the chirping of birds
Like crackling of galaxies, a herd of herds.
Drop the honeyed sun in the ocean
Or set upon entire worlds in motion.
What I do,
Is I speak a language,
of a universal syntax.
Please do correct me if I am lax,
I do not mean to impose,
I just don’t talk in prose.
If you are looking for patterns,
You won’t find any.
There is not one but one too many.
I simply plough in the mind field,
some times sowing ,others slashing.
Seeds in the corners of the unknown minds.
Shall they grow up to be a labyrinth ?
Or remain just seeds.
How much of what I say is true ?
It is all up to you.
What I do is,
I reflect you in my lines.
Read your life in between them,
In one I have lived many lives.
I like to shuffle between them.
Moving between you I study you.
Unknown, I live among you.
Long after I am gone and my bones are interred.
My verses shall be read, my songs sung, my poetry heard.
I shine in your dreamy eyes.
I reveal the truth behind your lies.
What I do is I read, not books.
But smile,frowns,faces and looks.
What I do is,
I bend the rules.
Even make them break them.
Sometimes I have to remake them.
My characters are real,
the scenes and my experiences.
The sights are really surreal.
A lot of wrong turns, not mere events.
In the pitch dark night.
I will describe the light
For you I will shine bright.
Is what I do !
– sahar
the featured picture is a copyright of ©Prabal Pandey , a professional photographer and traveller. you can see his photo album at https://m.flickr.com/#/photos/prabalpandey/
Yeats has been always great, this is one of his poems I read today and I think it suits my condition best right now.
If there is nothing you can write,
write nothing.
If you there is nothing you can be,
be nothing.
If you want nothing,
take nothing.
The best thing there was and there will be,
Is nothing.
I was lost in deeper pursuits,
in canopied labyrinths and mountain blues
looking for life in larger pictures,
while it rested in the mildest details.
I was lost in luxuries and leather,
life greeted me in simplicity and feather
i have shifted names and lives
tamed spirits and stripes,
i have been a wonderer
neither lost or found…
rumoured a great mysteries,
formed a million grounds
I have tested faith and God,
and found them dispensable
of all things that happen to us,
only we are responsible.
I have been to the other side,
and we are not alone.
Long after even when we are dust,
they shall never be gone.
Whispers of Immortality 