Tag Archive: Rhymes


He pondered what to write…

He pondered what to write…
In the middle of the night
A clumsy writer he was
Living a writer’s block – he preferred calling it a pause

Every now and then, he tried to break the same,
Write something new, he tried..but wrote usual rhymes lame
That night too… like all the rest…
He was thoughtless, wordless, still tried rhyming at his best !

Fool…realised too well that he missed that spark now,
Faced an emptiness within, sought something new somehow,
Yet acknowledging the same, meant defeat, and defeated he wont be
Remain caught in random old rhymes, to sense new thoughts…new ideas.. he was never free…

Confusion…

He wanted to rhyme but had no clue…
The writer, my friend, had words none…thoughts random incoherent few…
Lost in confusion, he tried his best to express
His intentions… his actions.. but with his words he always further failed to impress…

Confusion was the flavour of the season…
Random thoughts in a crowded mind, for no apparent reason…
Like a crowded Mumbai local, all on-board – set for the journey, but fatally at discomfort,
Such were the writer’s thoughts, in his words they reflected, the rhymes that he finally wrote.

Happy Janmashtmi / Happy Teachers Day

Tum kya lekar aaye the… Tum kya lekar jaaoge…
Mujhse hi aaye the.. Mujhmein hi aajaaoge…

You came without nothing.. You will leave without nothing…
You came from me… You will come back to me…
The focus then …is not… what you earned in life
Rather how you lived it.. for what really was your strife…
Whether to seek desires materialistic.. that will always be there,
Or rise above them.. do your deeds and in the end be self-aware

L.K. (A teacher, a friend, an author, a guide, a strategist, a counsellor and also a God)

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We are… after all… travellers of a different time
Different wanderers with different tales… different stanzas that complete a rhyme
Shadows of our former selves.. faded and old
Shadows with different stories.. some forgotten.. some untold…

Time ticked away…

And as time ticked away… many tales did too…
Of characters random… some lasted long.. some had snippets few…
Some endings were incomplete.. Some were complete but felt wrong…
The tales were short… But life is long…

Another high will pass.. so will.. another low..
Life moves on.. and so on one will go…

New tales…new characters…new plots too
New drama to add some spice… emotions new…
And so will be set right everything that now seems wrong..
These tales too will be short.. but they will add to a life too long…

For now rhyming wasn’t easy…

Poetry wasn’t that, what he wrote for her…
It was that, what he lived with her…

There’s was a tale – of words few.. not too long,
Just a few simple walks, silent conversations, short moments now gone…

Rhymes were his way to remember those moments now…
Random outburst of nostalgic thoughts.. written in words somehow…

He wasn’t that good with rhymes… he knew.. anyone could tell…
For now rhyming wasn’t easy.. like him.. his thoughts felt incomplete as well.

Song : Na Sahi — Movie : Socha Na Tha

Tum Raasta… Main Ajnabee.. Lagta tha kyun yeh har ghadi..
Aadhe adhure geet ki.. ek tum kadi.. ek main kadi….
Tumhein dekhke lagta tha ye… tum ho bane.. mere waaste…
Milna hi tha.. humko magar.. hum naa miley… toh naa sahi…

You were the road… I a wanderer… Felt like this everytime..
Like two stanzas of a broken song… Two lines that complete a rhyme…
Everytime I saw you.. I knew you were the one  for me…
Together we were meant to be.. we didn’t meet though… let it be…..

Random writings…

 

All are disillusioned.. chasing their dreams…
One desires gold.. for another even copper gleams…

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Everyone cries.. for what seems the greatest pain…
One faces drought… Another laments rain…

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An oneirophobic struggled to sleep another night…
Hoping to find peace in dreams.. and not another fright !

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He tried to write a tale too long…
Lost track in between.. wrote it all wrong..

In a cafe at night, he attempted to write another tale,
His words he misspelt, his chain of thoughts would again fail…

He attempted to write.. a perfect beginning.. and a perfect end..
Neither was possible, broken segments of the tale, he had to mend…
That’s the trouble,. he faced as a writer always..
Good stories needed high drama, twisted ways…

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He tried to survive a night too cold…
Shivered to death as per the tale retold

His tale was short…with words too less…
The plot hardly mattered.. no one heard it I guess…

He was once a writer…failed at his work…
Unread his writings remained..he just had no luck…

He disappeared that night… gone away forever..
Remembered by none.. as if he existed never…

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Writing was…

Rhymes came easy, simple they were,
A clever play of words, to anyone it could occur,
Yet he made it his forte, his love of life,
Writing was his passion and also his strife.

A poet he was, one that never made sense,
I must say he rhymed well though, a point in his defense,
Sometimes though rhyming could be crazy, make him write stuff too insane…
Writing was his boon and also his bane.

An addict he was of tales too many,
Wrote many of his own, happy endings weren’t any,
Though he always started a tale on high notes, couldn’t end it so well..
Writing was his heaven and also his hell…