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Till the Lie Disappears

First Published on Readomania.

I did not know
that for most times
I write the truth, if not
the facts.

When the conversation
becomes grim,
tea, still warm to
the tongue,
sips in whole dialogue.

Should we skip
the bugs between our paths,
golden ears overlooking
the Sun among
washed out clouds.

But we tread,
as it takes
a routine till
the lie disappears.
Recent posts

Has Always Been

First Published on Poem Hunter

Once wide open
does seems the world is
riding on breeze
for a moment of thought

my pen is pouring
celebration of life, an afterthought
in own musing of ideas
where a tear is no longer a fear
nothing devises as found in

eternal or has always been.

Open-Ended Questions and Advaita Vedanta

What we decipher through eyes could almost be a truth but is there need to confirm to everything. Prior to internet the world we lived in, we exchanged information in professional spheres. Social life was largely restricted in community sense. The cyberspace is today filled with ambiguous energy yet we are associating in new manner of extended social life on basis of interests, hobbies, etc.  Knowledge as we know of now has changed in its meaning and deliverance. As we are exposed, many open-ended questions arise. Knowledge is a continuing factor and when it persists we understand that we should and can avoid further difficulties. Thus these open-ended questions about world chaos, social indiscipline, issues like pollution, gender equality/parity become a consolatory afterthought. What should we be doing next? There are no active and legalized platforms where we can share and elucidate on various thought-provoking scenarios. Importantly when we find a case related to these scenarios …

A New Year Soiree

First Published on Different Truths.

A night when ushers into new dawn
tripping on the past without exhaustion,
a momentary persuasion is life
this does not ends, burning a bright flame
our least possibilities, meagre circumstances
sometimes in deep trench of ocean
only we know the crystal shape of forms,
languidly to hang upon the sky, cast its stars
even when we go by unnoticed in cold wind
the music we hear, hum and laughter to share.

The lights chime hold on to close breath
and little anecdotes what life has in for surprise
a creaking door is closed,
all the dew on roses in vivid path
the fireplace opens up a circle
in half sleep, sleepiness, and a busy chatter
the Sun glows behind hills,
bells in synchronous and early resolutions.


Rising to the Sun

Rising to the Sun
steeping noise, hollowed voices
a ghost through fog, dense roads
barring the leaves fallen to their own crackle
drenched surface
nothing leaves footprints on an entrance
the gate creaks
before a new dawn
in complete envelope
of reclining hand in hand before fire
I sit and try to smile
more than usual
and play word games
find adjectives no more, nouns unknown
it must be the shrill of winter
I am waiting for
among thousand hundred naps
where among those memories
where among those paths
all those obvious talks, songs
a crescent moon of one's own continent
grows out, fades in birches unspent
in quarters where birds won't long fly
all the worries left
becoming a season, cold and misty
a silhouette of hills, grey horizon
limpid mesh of branches
rough contours of rocks and
relearning to climb.

Mind is a River

I am leading between breaths there is life
***
when something says a dance out of my mind how longer I have been here

***
I don't pluck out ray out of sky, it comes eventually
***
mind is a river flowing in deep meditation an aura around my head