• My Truth

    January 30, 2016
    life, poems, poetry, Truth

    My truth,
    shall be my own.
    Experienced, trusted and
    proved by myself.
    it shall not be borrowed, not read in a book,
    neither heard from someone else.
    It shall not be rehearsed or
    veiled under depth of lies.
    My truth, shall be bright and clear,
    like the bold sun in the skies.
    Free from bias of gender, caste and religions.
    My truth shall be fixed, unchanging with the seasons.
    Once and for all,
    it shall need no revisions.
    Not flashy, neither catchy yet captivating.
    My truth shall triumph when I may be failing.
    Free from morals and free from malice.
    My truth shall stand without an accomplice.

    – Mayank Mishra

    28.634899 77.361128

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  • The Weather Superstition

    January 27, 2016
    Animals, life, poems, poetry, Superstition, Weather

    The Creek American natives believe that in the beginning of the world daily animals used to have magic powers to keep the Sun in the sky. Night animals on the other side tried everything to keep the everlasting darkness.
    One day all animals set a meeting to solve the problem. After hours of arguing they found the solution. Seeing the stripped tail of raccoon one animal suggested why do not we split the day equally into time of light and time of darkness.
    Here is my version of it in a poem. 

    During a random twilight,
    were gathered animals of sorts.
    They were to their own delight,
    here to solve a matter of powers.

    All kinds- reptiles, mammals,birds and insects.
    Some fleshy, some ugly, some bony.
    All in all, it was a cacophony.
    Some shrieking, braying, cherping.
    Others barking, roaring ,
    cawing according to their choices.
    Some just nodding their heads,
    unable to make the voices.

    Not everyone had a say in it.
    It was a matter of precision.
    With due discussion over the matter,
    the animals had to make the decision.
    The trouble was pretty much tight.
    It was about causing day and night.
    Diurnals held the sun, wanted the light.
    The nocturnals in turn brought the night.

    After hours of arguing and noise.
    A little frog spoke with some poise
    ‘As I see the striped tail of the raccoon,
    I suggest we divide the time between the sun and the moon.
    Half a day can be night
    And the other half could be light.’

    So that’s how went the saying.
    how the day and night came into being.

    28.544689 77.331801

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  • The Look Back

    January 7, 2016
    life, new year, poetry
    Among few things there is no binding,
    no divisions, neither any surrounding
    Life is round , so is the world,
    So went the last year in rounding
    Measured quantities of sharp emotions
    with discontent and hued notions.
    Becoming more mechanic each day.
    I survive and dine on potions..
    it all went, it all then came…
    There was happiness, there was pain
    What stayed was the worthless moment,
    passed away often in vain !
    wisdom arrived disguised in experiences,
    cruel and striking at the heart,
    taking away each time
    a part of me cut apart.
    The raging past reminds me again
    to redeem that which was lost
    To rise and walk again
    and bury the sins of the past.

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  • Very often. 

    November 27, 2015
    Uncategorized

    Very often I have found myself

    Torn between two thoughts

    Been guided and misguided

    But lived through these lots. 

    I have been struck down

    And been discouraged to stand up. 

    Very often, I have given away 

    All that I ever desired.

    To borrow a moment of happiness

    To outgrow my skin, to move on

    Very often I have left my past behind

    But it always catches up

    And pulls me down into darkness

    I have been left desolate and forlorn.

    Very often in such times

    I have found my inspiration

    Among these failures and setbacks

    I discovered my motivation

    Very often I have been defeated,

    But never given up. 

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  • Time.

    November 1, 2015
    life, poems, poetry

    Time is a fascinating concept
    Growing with us, on us.
    Like a great controller
    Adjusting things, making changes.
    Rolling the dice,it shifts characters
    In and out of life and death.
    We are so believing in it’s game
    that we measure our lives with it.
    Past and future are non existent.
    You never see them come and
    You never see them go.
    It’s our own creation that keeps us busy.
    Our own ‘time’ that haunts us.
    First man learnt to measure a day
    Then came hours,minutes and it went on.
    Can’t you see we are all racing
    equipped with rocket fuels and roaring engines
    we are bound for sure destruction.
    While man will always be caught
    between past and future.
    I will let you in on a secret.
    There is only one time
    and that is now and
    it will always be so.

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  • Writer’s block

    October 21, 2015
    poems, poetry

    Writer’s block ?
    A lame excuse
    given by many
    who try to set a price
    to an art or few words.
    a shield used by those
    who don’t wan’t to deal with life
    you can find them everywhere.

    Creativity demands patience
    a thing every true artist knows
    so don’t rush it
    we are not machines!

    sometimes I go months
    without having written a word
    for endless days I feel
    locked and caged like a bird.
    I know these aren’t blocks
    for I am no writer
    these by all means
    are my stepping stones
    to life.
    these silences
    are responsible for
    the music in my life.

    Whenever I have stopped
    I have begun anew.
    With new meanings added to life,
    Everything changed !

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  • A Realization

    October 20, 2015
    poetry

    As life rolled by
    It took me long enough
    to realize
    I was only looking
    not observing.
    Hearing and not listening.
    Clear as light
    now looks the world.
    I hear and I hear myself
    When I speak !
    Curtains lifted
    The stage now
    looks clear and true.
    Ignorance was a bliss
    but knowledge
    prevailing made me
    understand bliss.

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  • Ode to Nature

    June 25, 2015
    ode, poetry

    How the seasons change?
    With them the colours,
    the trees,the animals and the skies.

    How the days and nights go on?
    In an eternal cycle.
    Melting into each other.

    In the day the sun,
    replenishing ,re-energising,brings light.

    The evening,
    a canvas of colours blending.
    Masterpieces of nature emerging.

    Then the night falls
    and swiftly comes the band of stars,
    lead by the moon.
    The clouds hiding it
    and sometimes giving it away.
    A game,a sort of child’s play.

    How the wind blows?
    Carrying on its wings,
    the message of rain,
    which arrives soon
    hidden within clouds,
    which burst open,
    stabbed by thunders.

    How the snow falls?
    Like little stars falling from sky,
    only they remained so little.
    Melting at a finger’s touch

    How the time moves?
    Ever so silently,
    yet announcing itself aloud
    Centuries,decades,years,months,weeks and days
    and their hours and minutes,
    passing away into tiny seconds.
    every moment ticking away,
    leaving change behind it.

    How beautiful the universe is?
    Never could it be captured in words,
    no matter how deeply they are written.
    For it can only be seen and felt,
    with two eyes and a heart,
    which is one with it.

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  • Strangers on a Street

    June 1, 2015
    poems, poetry, Uncategorized
    Strangers on a Street

    very often two glances meet

    In a crowded street

    Puzzled, smiling, expressionless sometimes

    In such fashions , each other, they greet

    New strangers,new faces every moment 

    And the glances repeat
    Few eyes meet

    in these ephemeral glances

    Strangers come together

    In these subtle chances

    Life gathers in tiny traces

    Reflected in two eyes

    Upon backdrop of faces
    The stage is set

    Characters come and go

    Some move along

    Few break the flow

    Destinies unfold while humans conceit

    With planned coincidences

    Do Strangers meet.

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  • Shiva in you 

    May 23, 2015
    poems, poetry
    Shiva in you 

    Atop the kailasha
    amidst snow and cold

    sat a hermit

    with his eyes closed

    indifferent to differences

    unaware of appearances

    abiding by no laws

    never taking a pause

    from his deep meditation

    lost in deep contemplation

    clad in tiger skin

    all animals his kin

    a snake garland

    ash on forehead

    destroyer and life-giver

    the hermit was Shiva

    rejected and an outcast

    never dwells on his past

    neither a teacher, nor a preacher

    never thinking of the future

    he is guileless and tough 

    lost and unbound

    if you look hard enough

    within you, he may be found

    to be like Shiva

    all you need to do

    is open that third eye

    and take a view

    if you can 

    wield his trident

    strike down every impediment

    which stands between you

    and the Shiva in you.

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