Death Talks

A poem in which the death talks about himself

Talking about me is fascinating
And philosophical
Hearing about is sentimental
For the faint hearted
Witnessing me is truly terrific
But experiencing me is crucial.

I am the death, the destroyer
Of the world as many addresses me
The fear of cowards and the friend of the brave
Guests of fools hope to helpless

I have pulled many from life

And pushed many to the exile

None has complained until my hands

Have gripped tight on the neck

What I have known I swear it’s true

I promise I’m honest

When there is a birth, I’m also born

When they grow up I am growing up too

And when they are ready

They cannot escape from my fingers..

Though painful once

You will later feel better and grateful

For what I have done

Living lives

I sat on the ashlars lain on my garden
And leaned my back to the pillar that was worn
Looked up and closed my eyes
For the sun was bright in that summer evening
I again opened and saw something moving
High above me bearing a misty hole
Clouds they were with a strange
Hole of blurred beam of yellow or white
From which a heavenly hand
Stretched outside holding a heart
Closed my eyes and again I saw
No other hole, no other hand
Winning the beam, dreariness came ahead.
With the hole, it pulled itself inside
Closing me in darkness

Many say they live
But they don’t live lives
But death
Only few live it, lovely life.

My Heart

Blood! Red Blood!
On my footprints
Oozing out from my heart
Drop by drop
Scarlet drops
Wetting my body
Drenching my path

The memories prickles
The painful memories
Tears me apart
Without kindness

I looked around

Consolence? anywhere?
The silence seemed so weird
So much painful
Than the miseries

No smiling faces
No patting hands
No kind words
So strange it seemed
The world-
Nothingness, dreary nothingness

Darkness showed its face
Haunted me, teased me
Making me more and more miserable
Rolling eyes not on me
But my beloved

I waited
For months and years
With nothing
For nothing, I realised at last
The true faith is myself
The true consolence
Comes from me

There's nothingness
'Coz i never used my eyes

There's no patting hands

'Coz i never touched anyone

There's no smiles

'Coz i forgot to smile

I found no words

'Coz i was busy

With my meaningless blabber

With the evil

Open your eyes!

See the world

Enjoy its beauty

Feel sorry for the helpless

Be yourselves happy

Because you are gifted

You are not alone

Perch firmly to your faith

And achieve your goals

Then the heart heals

The rush of blood stops, sets and

Wipes away the miseries

After years when you touch it

You will feel the warmth

The tenderness

The joy of your victory

And then you will smile

At the past

And push yourselves

To the merriment...

The ever-lasting happiness...

A to Z

Avoid negetive sources
Believe in yourself
Consider things from every angle.
Don't give up and don't give in.
Enjoy life today.
Family and friends are hidden treasures.

Father - An invaluable gift

My Father

"Hey! why do you make it so hard?

Why don't you make it so nice??"

Prays my dad to my lord

With tears swimming eyes 

All day along i have towards him

Love, loyalty, respect and admiration......

Getting me always the best

Wiping off my bitter tears

Even if he has to be hungry

All day along i have towards him

Love, loyalty, respect, admiration and

The feeling that is very strong:

"How lucky i am to  get such a wonderful dad!!!"

I'm lucky, really.

Hard workers of history

           A. P. J. Abdul Kalam

Former president of India Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam fought his way across many difficulties. His family was that of great generosity that he was greatly influenced by moral and social values. He earned his first salary through newspaper distribution in his village, Rameshwaram. He is not at all hesitant to say he is proud of the same still.

             

Hardwork- a flight to success

                     The greatness of Hard-work is proclaimed so loudly that sometimes they damage our ears and slows down our enthusiasm so severely, instead of enhancing a common man to work more. Hard-work doesn't reveal its soul meaning through a mere word. It should be given blaze and shine by walking through it. But often this way is not very familiar to most. Those who has tried the path at least once in their life would have found it very difficult to endure the distress and sufferings. But it is a true fact that all the bitterness will be converted into sweetness of life for those who are willing to attempt it.There is no substitutes for Hard-work. Remember, Hard-work + Creativity = Success.