An Experiment With Words and Thoughts

8/9/2019 An Experiment With Words and Thoughts

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An Experiment With Words And Though ts

A Collection Of Poetries

By

Om Anand



SUBLIME

(Adapted from Urdu Ghazal "Maiqada Saaz hun" by famous poet

"Jigar Muradabadi")

That evening was our separation,

This separation has brought a lot more temptation,

Night has no one to host,

Yet it is passing youthfully,

I live to decorate,

Not to demolish...

I and my bottle standing still,

Half empty half filled,

I drink so to see you,

In those empty glass that I feel,

I live to decorate,

Not to demolish....

Stone,buildings,statues and beads,Are worshipped and paid alot of heed,

LIfe is itself a worship,

Yet unrecognised.



ABOUT A WIDOW

Blue river with subtle yellow tint,

Upon the balmy air,

A delicate footprints,

An empty pot carrying nothing but hope.

Blue river showed her the hope,

Tasted like a honey filled nectar.

Amazed by her own position,

She smiled after a long running season,

tickling with joy,

All her sadness tickled with joy,And a faint smile,

Smiling like the poet who loves to rhyme.

She carried back the honey filled pot,

And in tripping pace,

following the same footprints



The Spirit Of Banaras

As the boat is in its way,

Water splashes beneath,

A horizon can be seen,

The water and the land.

Spiritualism in those heads,

Hands shutting the nose,

And that dip in the water,

Lot happens;With the rising sun.

Gaints and coloured with sand,

Following uncountable steps,

A bearded sadhu in trance,

Throwing smokes of redemption.

Ghats so enormous,

Under those lights in dark,

A width of coloured and black,Away from every fact.



Nature's Frown

Forehead curls itself with a frown,But why is there a smile laid in their face?

Is there no man left?

Or the world has come to an end.

Beaches are outlined with the "thrown away",

Trees are converted in many ways,

Soil famished;yet are reused,

Development is just an excuse.

Sunlight;an alien to the plant?

Leaves burns without any smoke.

But still air smokes out the sadness,

Forest or concrete;greed or madness?

Fast growing,Low valued,

Had earlier been clued?

Forehead curls itself with a frown,

But why is there a smile laid in their face?

Is there no man left?

Or the world has come to an end.



Far

Nowhere close;so can be seen,

Thy art far and have always been,

Summer,fall, winter spring,

Seasons are no more keen.

A wind not very strong,

Carries those withered leaves,

They float on water to swim,

I hold it just like your lost letter.

Even sun makes mistake,

It is born too late than before,

That made me wait more,

Till the time it is over the dark.

The moon seems to be a lamp,

Should i bring it down,

Or should I move my lamp,To the universe above,so to wait.

Sea rushing towards the sand,

And gently going back,

Why is it so reluctant?

Reluctant to go back



Little Did I Mention You In My Prose

Little Did I Mention You In My Prose,

Our hands gathered and we rose,

Some solitude that brought us together,

I still remember the humble weather.


You couldnt understand; and were froze,

Tranquil breeze that inspired me to write,

I insulted so to be might.


I still remember the place and river flow,

Where the communion was to grow,

We were quite and world very slow.


It was the day when we were close,Rain,thunder,lighting and many more,

Mention everything without any lore



Those were the broken lines I had writtenlong back

Those were the broken lines I had written long back,

I realised, there was a sunset and it was dark,

Black mountains,flowing water and some dried sand,

A blind shepherd walking;and moon was his lamp.

That day was difficult to survive,

Fuming weather and no grass had revived,

Counting his ten sheeps with his stick too long,

Then, count back his steps to go back to his dilapidated home.

Even the white flock knew about the master's eye,

Walking like men who go to fight,

Day was over but still the stomach lacked,

Those were the broken lines I had written long back.



They kill by profession,not by choice.

There is no sound,

There is hardly any movement,Its as if they have just passed,

They kill by profession,

Not by choice.

They are fed by intentions,

Its as if inhumans feed them with venom,

Venom which takes lifes,

THEY KILL BY PROFESSION,NOT BY CHOICE.

Why are they standing behing the bar?

They should be sent back to the feeders,

Back to reacharge their venom,

As they kill by profession,

Not by choice.



Congenital Oppression

Eyes wide open for the first time,

A pat and then a loud cry,

A loud cry and then a fade smile,

Why this smile for the world ahead?

Growing is hard but life is harder,

Schools caters for the wealth,

And wealth cares only for the rich,

Book are expensive and uniform stiched.

The first interview was even harder,

Promised to work hard throughout,

But,"Give money to get salary"

Laws and principles have now changed.

Death is hardest of all,

Ventilator and dialysis drinks notes,Then funeral fire burns it,

Body is now ashes of Congenital Oppression.



A Thousand Crore Man

Once upon in our land,

There was a misanthropic man,

He was the victim of 2-G spectrum scam,

Mercedes gone,now only police van.

There is still a hint,

Every thing is just in media,paper and ink,

He is still smiling at those money,

received by fooling one and many.

He is still living in charm,

With a lot of examples to calm,

Looking forward to grow money in his farm,

looking forward to cause more and more harm.



SLEEP

Sleeping in her bosom,

Was scattered me,

She collecting me in her arms,

But I still felt as if free.

A bed that i still remember,

It was for whom i dedicate my slumber,

Me and my mom side by side,

Darkened room but never stuck by fright.

Now i sleep alone,

Hugging the pillow,

Pillow having no arm or feet,

But reminds me of my mom,

When i am asleep.



Games I Play

I am not in a feild,

Nor i am in a battle with a sheild,Its those simple things with which i deal,

Its the game I play,

the game of life.

Having told my weaknesses,

For which i have no regret,

Boasting about my success,

But its just a part of my ambition.

Had some wishes,

Wishes still.....

But game is not over,

as i havent won.



A PIANIST

Painist' hand over the accordium,

Jingling and mingling with tones aloud,

Fingers on the deck and head held high,

Melody was made looking at the god above.

Stamping foot on the tone he made,

It was a unique tone not for trade,

Neither about love nor about battle,

It was all about a child on mother's cradle.

An applause by the audience,

They made a strong note about the man,

And his love for his art,

A fire of laughter and shout when the tune ended,

Yet there was the silence of music.



A Common Man

I have ransacked my life for happiness,

But didnt find any,

Torn clothes of my wife,

But her smiles are many.

I wish not to return from work,

Reminds me of my ill mother,

still her medicine didnt bought,

health is what money bothers.

Broken toys of my child,

His broken heart cant mend,

does homework;with books that he lend,

i have ransacked my life for happiness.

I feel lack of happiness,

but whatever it is,

Its my life.



New Sun

Today is the last day of the old sun,

from tommorow a new sun will be born,

yet it will have the same smile and scorn,

its not easy to say whether it will have a small horn.

New sun will give us the same old light,

but the happiness from it will be new,

It will also have that pain,

which will be a few.

new birds will be born under this sun,

which will make its mother proud,

it will raise its voice against the odd,

that too very loud.

these birds will make the sun dimmer,

by its own aura,

but the sun will not hate,because the bird is born under his shade.



The Third Day Of Hunger

Food comes first,

than the mortals,

i believe i don't live to eat,

but i eat to live,

yet its the third day of hunger.

third day of hunger,

was difficult enough,

yet life tempted me to survive,

but the fourth day depends on my first bread.

marble is my cushion,

sparse dust i didn't clean,

my hand doesn't allow,

yet its the third day.

now moon seems to me as a rice plate,

i just want a spoon,so to survive on the forth day,

to search for food for the next day.



Spin An Impossible Yarn

Beneath the dark cloud,

silent and hushed so noone has any doubt,

we meet to see each other's eyes

and to spin the impossible yarn.

an impossible yarn is now spinned,

bright light seems to be dim,

and we in eachother's arm,

still spinning the impossible yarn.

snowy cold is the wind tonight.

your eyes are soothing to my sight,

i hope there is no end to this night,

watching us the stars are jealous and fight.

The impossible yarn is completely spinned,

its now bright enough;behinds are the dims,

yet the dawn is silent.



A Lady In Waiting

A smell of gratitude touched my eyes,

when i saw a lady in waiting,

old enough to handle herself,

she was waiting for something,

something which could bring her happiness or agony.

In front of her was a man lying,

he was asleep since a long time,

his blood was churned in the ventilator,

and a breathing which was forced.

But the lady was still waiting,

waiting for the man,

she was waiting for him to survive,

or waiting for him to die.



An Ode To St.Bernard

(a poem on historic fiction on the two world wars)

St.Bernard is not a saint,

nor is he a grocer dealing with grains,

he is a dog with a lots of pride and some shame,

Chop is his master with unauthorized fame.

St. Bernard's left nostril is neither calm nor cold,

its the whole universe that his nostrils can hold,

mucus beach,black trees,

and the whole area is almost sold.

chop uses allergic soap lotion,

because of that he killed many emotions,

St. Bernard sneezed because of it,

and caused the first world war to hit.

it was not Hitler who started the second world war,

it was Chop who made his dog sneeze the second time,

real estate value were not fine,

and cause a lot of destruction to mankind.

now there is no world war.

as Chop uses a soap bar



Changing Earth

Flickering sun burns earth as a coal,

Men busy making money and gold,It seems that the world is sold,

Earth is like an old lady having no one to hold.

Caravan entering the forest to cut the trees,

Forest is locked but money is the key,

Trees are cut and it cant heal,

the owner cut it for a very good deal.

Animals skin are in fashion,

It is said that people live for their passion,

Nature has not given them sanction,

Yet they are busy showing their fashion.

There will come a day,

when earth will not be good to stay,

poisonous will be the sun rays,

But no one is there to say.



Babari Masjid (THE FINAL VERDICT)

The saphrons attacking the greens,

the greens attacking the reds,It can cause nothing but lots and lots of death,

the people are fighting for nothing but their god,

fire,sword,guns and lots and lots of mob.

its the final verdict of a long lost case,

will the people accept the judgement,

or spit on eachother's face,

well its the final verdict which no one can change,its definite that it will be accused by some foolish saints.

Jama masjid has given us a lots and lots of grace,

but the grace is much less than the bloods flown in haste,

the religion is fighting for a simple patch of land,

Be it temple or a mosque;let it be a peaceful house of god.



The Shedding

Under the shadow of the wavy clouds,

flowing river;clashing of rock and sound,

a man quietly shed his tears,

when leaves were shedding as well.

the shedding was quiet,

without much of expression,

only the two eyes and a soul,

and the balmy air was not too good to heal,

tears rolling calm and quiet,

tears for lost love,

tears as a response to recollect.

that moment had shed with time,

but the meeting spot was still in his mind,

he was living his autumn,

in the nature's autumn.



A Place I Remember

A place I remember,

During the day or while I slumber,

When I feel the heat,

Or when I hug my blanket,

A place which calls me,

My own place, my own land.

Sweet taste of words,

Plucked from my neighbor's stock,

The goats that sings,

Spirited quotes, staying in flocks.The wind seems calmer,

And the rain seems as if,

Dropping happiness,

Draining the agony in me.

I place I remember,

Where I have time to watch stars,

Guided by the moon,

Darkness in the sky,And one serene lady milky white,

Some times shy sometime expressive.

A black cloth which cover it some time,

Just like a Muslim maiden,

Devoted and serene,

Stars are like her servant,

Standing with her but very low.

A place I remember,Where there is a difference between night and day.



My four walled room

fatigue were those depressing days,

exhausted by those sunlight,

that pinched my soul,

a twin chair that spoke among themselves,

reminded me of the eyes which are never separated.

a room i had...

a four walled room,

my only friend and my only foe,

a room which gave me comfort,like a mother.

being a well wisher to me,

a mirror which showed me myself,

pointing the flaws i had.

a cupboard in front of the mirror,

combing the mirror all the time.

a small bed with a broken stand,

reminded me of my grandmother's lap,it was both annoyed and happy....

a window showing me the outside world,

preventing me from the fear of darkness......

now that i live away from there,

i sit in my veranda looking the stars,

realizing about my four walled room,

which spoke to me,realizing about my lost friend.



Desire

A thousand thoughts in my mind,

each thought expressed with a desired smile

its bounded that ill survive with these desires,

survive till i laugh at my own smile..............

people cry people morn,

unfulfilled desire that they own,

another desire to strive for,

another desire to work for.....

minds plotting the desires,

heart leading it to where it should be,

me having millions.....

now its the time i hope it to be,

the hope to live for,

my million desires....................



A Realization

pointing the gun onto my head,

rain was making me wet,beneath the dark clouds,

i had the only shed............

but shedding my tears

as god........

who was my greatest fear,

i had no one to hear....

tears of a mother

fall on my feet....i was the one who planted all the seeds,

the seeds of destruction....

killed many to save my life,

now killing my self to save the world....

its the time....

its the moment....

to hear the gunshot....

the gunshot as i have realized....

peace is the only thing to strive..................................



symphony of love (part 2)

splendid evening with you,

birds returning home that flew,

love inside was really true,

it was your eyes that amused.

sun setting for the day,

will be your light if you say,

in the shadow of moon that too new,

i could see your hair and gestures you do,

free me from the barrier of anxiety,as we are paired by the almighty,

it was you who made me secure,

it was the tym the flower of love should mature......

walking near the beach,

water touched my feet,

the same touch....

you touched me,the first touch.



symphony of love (part 3)

its eyes that satisfies the taste of love,

its the soul which connects and senses it,defining love is a lost battle for me,

sensing it seems to be an immortal glee.....

love is a flower with thorns,

though pricking your hands sometimes,

it perfumes the whole scenario,

beautifying the world.......

the sea seems calmer,

the wind was taking a great care,

the dawn tat frowned smiled this time,

during the dusk my day doesn't end.....

talking to the man in me,

closed the eyes and could see,

could see my love in me,

my love in me.....................



Flower

With the daily sunrise,

a flower is born,

it may die,

till the time its another dawn.....

the butterfly which suck its nectar,

the lake in which it is reflects it beauty,

will never die....

will never die the beauty of the child which picked its petal,

the expression with which a maiden saw it,

will never die.....

will never die the trees

which gave her shadow,

those porous soil will remain the same,

giving food to another flower from the same mother,

the whole experience of the flower will never die.

will never die........



an awakening thought.................

sun is born and the rainbow appears,

i was a boy who loved you, dear,

seven colors of rainbow expressing your smile,

i wonder whether you are mine........

the dew on the flowers shining bright,

sun ashamed of its own bright light,

moving on grass,

contemplating of you,

i realized the love that grew,

cloud that makes a farmer smile,moving as if a traveler on exile,

i realized you were distant so mile.....

oh rainbow bring my love to me.............................



It rained that night

{poem about a husband who loses his wife}

she was gone,

memories left all alone,

no happiness there was only scorn,

my life was like a flower with only thorns........

it rained that night,

washed away all the happiness......

washed the nest next door,

bird was terrified.........

bird was as sad as me,

we both have lost our love and cant be,

there is no future i could see,

it was because i loved thee........

next morning i saw a rising sun,

bird was no more terrified,it had stopped its loud cry,

and was making a new dream......

was making a new nest...........................



Something more than Blondie

Dylan's commander-in-chief said not to cry,

Entered Blondie, Ordered a chicken fry,After kissing her;his lips were dry,

And it also had a ruthless bite.

Then entered a saloon;his waist and gun tied,

Listening to old records all day and night,

Spared sometime to kill and to fly kite,

Then one day,had a foresight.

It was when his master died,

He was the new leader and had to hide,Two eggs and a bun as his diet,

It was fourth of the day light,

He was sure not to be might,

Fag tied between; like a knight,

He killed each one of them in the fight,

Dropped his gun;looked up to the sky,

He wanted a redemption,not to a slight,

He was in a narrow road riding his bike,

He went far away;out of plight.

An Experiment With Words and Thoughts

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