Congratulations to me 😝

Really I cannot fathom this time, how it rolled by. I have learnt a lot through the blogging community.

There are great poets, writers here to whom I follow and read. It’s surely unlike any frivolous social media blogging is really a complete package for development of a skill.

Thanks a lot every one who read my posts and support and encourage me. Peace and blessings upon you all.


Life progress ahead
Mauve sheets dribble hues of blues,
Stories get unfold.

She brings bright gospels
Her fingers sparkle glitters
Spring trailing behind.

Love died when she died,
She grew flowers and branches,
Preyed upon by some foes.

Sun shines but doesn’t smile,
His moon eclipsed forever
Sky shatters on ground.

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//Into the reality//

The money plant,
It was three in my
Backyard and
Few more plants
Adorning the house
But clasped in my memory.

They were my
Friends whom I used to
Water and
pluck a few
Leaves and few flowers.
They were my price possessions.

I used to
Sit with my Bambi
The he-goat,
And patted
Him as he looked through
My eyes and licking my hand.

The star as
You see embellished
These are your
Tales you wished
Were true into the
reality but now dead.


On the auspicious wedding night
She told him to sleep sound & tight
Nay! not with her but with flimsy,
Car, AC, cash and bright filigree.

Till date the Couplets are told,
“Oh Mir! your daughter is no more”.
He only forgot to give the white shroud,
A body laden with red Lehga was brought.

He was in a Masjid on a mat,
Almost bare hand with no cash,
A Mulazim came,”Sire! the car is aback”,
A death caused by the Dowry’s wrath.

She died of the honour of her father,
Cannot fathom why she was a daughter ?
Her mind bedazzled by the thoughts
Was she a commodity or a wrought.

Destiny has it’s fate a dignified death,
Of chaste, pure soul an epitome of faith
A martyr surely in the Sight of ALLAH,
Mir She isn’t dead but in the ranks of Suhada.

Mir Taqi Mir’s poetry has always made fascinating reading for me. He wrote short couplets, used simple words but provided extremely sensitive portrayal almost as fragile as glass. Living in extreme penury in Lucknow of the last century, Mir harboured a robust self, which brooked no begging of favours from the powers that be as was the wont of his contemporary poets. As a result, he hardly ever enjoyed a good meal, let alone life. Misery bleached his life. His poetry holds mirror to the tragedy the life was for him. Creature of the age that he was, and blessed with a daughter, dowry for her marriage was a nagging concern for the penury-stricken poet. Mir gifted her all that could be conceived, as much as his savings and borrowings could buy. Being the lone daughter, parting was painful for both the doting father and the daughter who had been witness to the father’s ordeal. So intense was the sorrow that the bride could not take it any more. Off on the palanquin, she sobbed inconsolably and developed hiccups. She breathed her last around midnight on reaching her bridal home in a nearby village. Shocked, the susral folk dispatched a messenger with the sad news to the agonised father. Messenger’s knock at the door at the unearthly hour of night sent a chill down Mir’s spine. He thought it must be a call to fulfill some vital deficiency. “My Lord, Did I forget anything”, he thought and asked the messenger to spell out the demand to be fulfilled the next morning. But to his utter disbelief, the messenger conveyed the sad news of daughter’s death. Later arriving at the bridegroom’s home, Mir found the body of the bride laid out amid the huge pile of dowry articles. Awash in red bridal clothes, for Mir Taqi Mir, the sorrow filled ambience had a touch of irony.
Victim of greed and grief, Mir Taqi Mir was never the same again. Hope the Mir’s tragedy will have enough lessons for the youth.


I used to look into her eyes,
And kiss those beautiful eye lids,
Clasped hands together tightly
We would witness the sun
glorifying us,
We would listen to the endearing
Zephyr singing ballads.
The cuckoo bird welcoming us
With beautiful symphonies.
I told her about good tales
That fairies did exist and elves did dance.
That dreams transformed into reality,
She believed in me word by word.
Our figments of conversation
Lies in the realm magnificent.
Ah! How beautiful is to live but not live,
But live in a world of Utopia,
Where love begets love only.
The sunkissed face of mine,
Telling my stardust stories
To the moon with tears in my eyes.
I sit alone with the caricature of my beloved.
Because the love never dies.

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Utopic love

Spring brings petrichor tales
Of enigmatic love of the pasts
Embedded in the ballads.
Oh, I sing your love to every
Passer-by and in folks.
And to dandelions ànd periwinkles
Dancing on the roads.
The winds sashay symphonies,
Oh! Ye who hear there are tune
Hearken as they speak of mirth
The yester day which heralds
Epiphanic memories that
gifts euphoria and well being.
I live on these pure petals
And in the bubble of love
Though a beautiful mirage
But alive in the worlds of words.

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The aura on your face
I wonder the scintillation
That shower on your demure
So valvety, vivid and voracious. 

The moon sometimes envy you
Oh beloved! Loving you was my blessings,
Wish our endearment lasted forever.
Today the moon is crying as well,
And the sunflower watching in despair.
For you are the angel walking
With you periwinkle dance in air
And moon smile
And the sun smirk.
For the love that kindled
Was trampled under the flim flam.

But the star you see above
Among them is the one
Shining bright and so vivid.
Even the moon shares that light.
For those who live in the heart
Their enigma and aura
Lives forever.

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House that
Was painted
Blue and studded
with glitters of gloom,
Epitaphs Of lost love
And few epiphanic scars
Is christening me for the world
I love every ounce of memories
I thrive there for I write my poesy.



Tempus est dominus

Time travels like a time,
I cannot fathom,
what actually it is?
But it is like a circle
With the one center
And we all are

This long span of our togetherness
Trailing behind this time,
Passed in a jiffy.
I wanted to re-live that forever.
With your beady eyes
Looking at me – transfixed.
Your balmy breath
Your confused expressions:
I want to steal those.

Ah! But this strange
paradoxical paradigm!
Your hazy image- disintegrating
Time surely taught me the lesson.
It took away ‘you’ from ‘me’;
My only tranquility.

I count on my fingers each second
for one day I will meet you
And again shall we travail
this ocean of life together.
Sowing seeds, from them
Our enigmatic memories will born.

I will then collect all the sparkles
Of life in jars and will preserve them.
This time I have learnt my lesson
For the time surely is a teacher
And we are nothing but
The product of the time.


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