Wishing Stars

At night as I lie awake

Several thoughts running around

Only one does centre take

Good night, sleep sound

Every night I make a wish

Hoping, a shooting star passes by

Be it cold or scorching sun

Or the rain comes pouring down

Or the news of psycho guns

Just you be safe and sound

Every night I make a wish

Hoping, a shooting star passes by

Through the life’s' twists and turns

Across the trough or over the crown

Keep the memories that you earn

Always be happy, never a frown

Every night I make a wish

Hoping, a shooting star passes by

Hope you meet again one day

When and where I cannot say

Till that day comes, as it may

I shall look up, and pray

Every night I make a wish

Hoping, a shooting star passes by

What's in a shape

We live in a square world

Wishing it was rounds

All the lines drawn around us

Hoping ‘twill never be found

The sharp edge of the justice system

Overlapping with the underworld

The ever changing paths of society

The veritable labyrinth of all.

The strong arcs of family support

The dotted lines of love

The uneven edge of burnt bridges

the self-arc of things selfish

the crossroads on the way forward

surrounded by self-imposed horizons

a circle of kin within our comfort state

adjoining a sphere of things we hate

Forget for once these worldly lines

For they keep good within and without

For all you need cannot be defined

By lines or shapes, inside or out

At the end of it all, we all are

A rectangle , six feet underneath

Or 3 feet of logs overground.

Don't ask, Walk

A step to another

Hopes strung together

A man walks ahead

Prior baggage shed

Ignoring the wondrous eyes

Singing to the passer-bys

“Don’t ask, walk”.

Most of us in our lives

Don several masks at once

Seeking to fit in for a while

Pasting on a fake smile

A mask once put is a devil’s call

To the true angel within, a fall.

“Don’t ask, walk”

We fall in love,

We change for love,

Forgetting the one we were

A shadow of our precious self

Wanting to impress a world

Itself in a state of whorls.

“Don’t ask, walk”.

Let the past be where it was

Let the future be as it will

With a string of hope lighting the way

Don’t bother about what people say

Up the path you merrily go

Let people point and gawk

“Don’t ask, walk”.

Why Question?

Who am I to question why

What happens, when and how

To whom, whereabout

It’s all a big, yet simple maths

With as many variables

As many hats

Who am I to question why

A butterfly flaps in the west

Creating a terrible tempest

A persons’ poison is anothers’ wine

Some like shade, some sunshine

Who am I to question why

Some act in the name of God,

Some do not believe Him at all

Sometimes event occurs so,

“Oh my God”, atheists go.

Who am I to question why

For all I know is this one thing

Live your life and merrily sing

The song that you are made of

Be it off-tune, be it right chord

In the grand old equation of hats

Some rise, some fall flat

Some win, some lose out

Some race ahead, some crawl about

In the end, it all evens out.

Who am I to question why

Live, let live, do and die.

The Hope of a Leaf

Picking up the withered leaf
I could not help but feel
The leaf was a bud one day
Lived its life and mellowed away

Then came a time, a gust of wind
Broke the leaf from the bow
And down it came from its high seat
To become a part of mud and peat

But then a kindred soul came by
Feeling lonely and alive
Picked up the leaf mellowed away
And thought what it might have to say

The yellow leaf then spoke to him
About its life, great and grim
From the first frost to the last wind
A life of joy, laughter, hope and whim

One never knows when decay creeps in
Like a creeper climbing a trellis ring
Before you know it, the sun is waning
You now hope for a full moon, stars shining

It was hope that made the bud grow up
It was hope that kept the leaf hang on
It was hope that the wind will blow
it away, a place where it might mellow, slow.

When a leaf can have hope from birth to death
We creatures of a sentient mind
Lose hope at the first trough of life
When the crest ahead is shining bright

The leaf now lives in a park bin
Still hoping for a better life
Maybe, a kindred soul might pick it up
And make it a leaf, in his book of life.

Child with a Rose

A child on the street corner
dirty, hungry and pale
an object of everyone's stares
cheeks hollow, living bare

he plucks out the roses
torn and frayed
from a public park
and quickly runs away

and runs around in the rain
shriveled and shivering
trying to sell
the symbol of love

and the brave souls
walking in the chilly air
or bunched and hunched up
under their cozy wares

ignore this child
and pass him by
leaving him with
a broken smile

the smile that mends again
seeing another hunched pair
the smiling face,
the extended hand
yet again
the expectations began

at last a man walking by
bought all the roses at a time
the kid didn't even count the fare
ran to the sister and split it fair

his duty done
the day's work
he splashed around
and the rain and mud

the symbol of a carefree soul
still intact, still whole

Crossroads

I am at a crossroad
in my stroll of life
a turn that will define me
and everything that is to be

such turns are few and far
a one way door left ajar
to be or not to be
is the choice now before me

fear and anxiety take their roles
unsureness and apprehension take their toll
what lies beyond one does not know
taking solace in going with the flow

whichever door one chooses to take
whatever baggage you take or forsake
it is only your own decision to make