Writing poetry is like the newborn draughts of ecstatic wind; kissing
the innocuous cluster of green leaves; with the most uninhibited ardor
and camaraderie of all times,

Writing poetry is like the soul wholesomely cleansing itself of even
the most inadvertently committed of its sins; as it blended with the
beats of magical verse; which transcended over every religion; caste;
creed; color and tribe,

Writing poetry is like a bird exuberantly flapping its wings; having
just being released from years of insidious captivity; and now ready
to commence upon its most royal flight,

Writing poetry is like the queenly droplet of glistening sweat; which
tantalized the skin to the nth degree of sensuousness; as it
enchantingly traversed towards the most hidden corner of the big toe;
and then embraced death,

Writing poetry is like a kingly magnet attracting the most inanimate
objects; and then befriending them forever in a swirl of invincible
togetherness; under the broadest daylight and sinister blackness of
the morbid night,

Writing poetry is like a vivacious rainbow enlightening even the most
drearily lambasted portions of adulterated living kind; with new found
rays of courage; compassion and everlasting hope,

Writing poetry is like pristine white lightening enrapturing the
entire Universe; reducing every trace of sin to infinitesimal ash; and
rekindling every soul towards the path of freshly untainted optimism,

Writing poetry is like an untamed whirlpool reaching its enthralling
crescendo; and devouring everything and anything that came in its
vicinity; into the flames of its unabashed desire,

Writing poetry is like the ebullient scent of virgin mud after showers
of unfettered rain; which evoked life of all shapes; sizes and color
on the Universe; to sing and dance in the timeless rhythm of a united
existence,

Writing poetry is like a cathartic revolution for something to happen
from the wisps of absolute nothingness; so that every ingredient of
the besmirched human atmosphere; started to reverberate with the
pulsations of companionship,

Writing poetry is like the wail of freshly born life; when the cradle
of undefeated innocence bonded one and all alike; in a never before
celebration of infallible newness,

Writing poetry is like the crackling voice of thunder heard at a
distance; tingling the corridors of the mind with mystery
unprecedented; as cloudbursts of rain fervently advance in their
odyssey towards simmering ground,

Writing poetry is like freshly formed globules of golden dew being
dispersed into a boundless more bits of their kind; with every
footstep that voluptuously caresses the blades of sensitive grass,

Writing poetry is like dazzling rays of dawn splitting into zillion
rays of blessed light; illuminating every conceivable cranny of earth;
with the joyously rejoicing power to survive; till destined,

Writing poetry is like a promise made and irrefutably adhered to till
the end of life; upon the foundations of solidarity; truth; friendship
and most importantly the religion of humanity,

Writing poetry is like a nightingale humming the sweetest songs of its
life; every day a different tune; but with an unhindered intensity
which kept proliferating leaps and bounds; till the time it existed,

Writing poetry is like an undefeated zealous wave; which rose yet
again; victoriously undulating and high towards blue sky; even after
being reduced to nothingness- clashing against the merciless grey
rocks,

Writing poetry is like uninhibitedly dancing upon every chance that
life offered; expending every ounce of trapped frustration in the
nerve wrecked body; to blend in impregnable oneness with the
fathomless atmosphere,

Writing poetry is like falling deeper and deeper into the valley of
Immortal love; a love which made you feel alive without a grain of
food in your body; as it became your sole reason; elixir; direction
and adventure to survive….

http://nikhilparekh.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/12/writing-poetry.htm

The most treasured thing for a bird soaring
astronomically high in blue sky; was her clusters of
eggs handsomely stacked in the nest,

The most treasured thing for the ominous network of
black clouds; was its king sized droplets of
revitalizing rain,

The most treasured thing for the majestic lioness; was
her tiny and mischievous little cub sleeping
innocently in the den,

The most treasured thing for the eyeball; was its
glistening coat of moisture; shimmering splendidly
under the blazing Sun,

The most treasured thing for a cup of sizzling coffee;
was its tantalizing and rejuvenating aroma,

The most treasured thing for a scorpion jumping in
spurts through the bushes; was its hostile and deadly
pugnacious sting,

The most treasured thing for a conventionally
embellished telephonic contraption; was its loud and
melodious series of rings,

The most treasured thing for a fat biscuit of gold;
was its perpetual glow that emanated even in the most
dullest of light,

The most treasured thing for the lips; was the kiss
received from the person they solely loved and
revered,

The most treasured thing for a sheet of bonded paper;
was the sensitive lining of words that imparted
paramount importance to its otherwise vacant persona,

The most treasured thing for a blanket of stars
studded in the plain cosmos; was its resplendent
shimmer that cast a spell on anyone beneath it,

The most treasured thing for a cacophonic bee buzzing
rampantly around in free air; was its serrated hives
replete and oozing with stupendously golden wells of
honey,

The most treasured thing for a destitute freezing to
the point of extinction in the disastrous cold of
winter; was the photo of his God held intimate and
close to his heart; with a wistful glimmer of hope
lingering profoundly in his famished eyes,

The most treasured thing for the bespectacled teacher;
was her colossal reservoir of knowledge which she
judiciously disseminated amongst a varied array of
students,

The most treasured thing for the hollow armpits; was a
passionate stream of silver sweat which flowed all
around the clock,

The most treasured thing for the tongue; was its
eloquent speech; the infinite bundles of currency it
was able to generate; by adeptly captivating the
opposite party,

The most treasured thing for the mother; was her baby
bouncing flirtatiously in her compassionately and
invincible arms,

The most treasured thing for Almighty God; was all his
disciples; each of the tangible and intangible form
that he had evolved to live on this earth,

And the most treasured thing for my heart; was her
love; drowning myself wholesomely into the enchantment
of her eyes; blending each beat of mine with hers for
infinite more births to unveil…

http://nikhilparekh.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/10/the-most-treasured-thing-for-my-heart.htm

jis pe likha tha ki tu mere muqaddar mein nahi,
apne maathe ki woh tehreer mita li meine,

har janm sabko yahaan sachha pyaar kahaan milta hai,
teri chaahat mein to umr bita li meine,

mujhko jaane kahaan ehsaas mere le jaayein,
waqt ke haathon se ek nazm utha li meine,

ghere rehti hai mujhe ek anokhi khushbu,
teri yaadon se har ek saans saja li meine,

jiske sheron ko woh sunke bahut roya tha,
bas wohi ek ghazal sabse chupa li meine.

http://sumanpisces.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/10/mujse-mat-pooch.htm

An endless romance with time

Nurture the seeds that you have sown

they will grow into forests divine

Let tinsel fall upon those tears

and turn them into pearl

Let rosy lips sing a song

of happy yesteryears

For yesterday was’nt far away

not far from what lies tomorrow

A hundred years cannot undo

What went by as lonely sorrow

http://mallipooh.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/10/time.htm

I feel an empty space
In my heart within
Will what flew out
Come back and rest in me?

I feel the rustling air
Bring a chill within
Fear of what has been
Fear of what will be.

I feel the flowing water
Like tears within
Weeping steady and silent
Will they reach its source?

I feel the solid earth
Growing roots within
Deep in search of love
Will they touch and anchor?

First appeared as Prize winner in The Sunday Brunch Edition of Asian Age dated April 13 2003. The first verse (in italics ) was given and the participant had to complete the poem in five verses.

Words in the black and white

Speak so much to you

May it be a dawn or night

Always they are quick and cue.

They enjoy the joy among us

Enjoy our teasing too

They listen to sob of ours

A lot is hidden, words so few.

What is in the world so new?

Naught enjoyable, without you

Words are my, only crew

Crossing the sea’s swinging slew.

Empty steps like wordless fuss

Killing silence, notching rue

Pricey words are history thus

Words are now with wings that flew.

Words are even naughty bright.

Too they are mischievous few.

Some compel to speak them right.

Some persist for your lovely view.

On your path I fix my sight.

I even envy the birds twilight.

Based on the pier of words so quiet.

I face the awaited waves of plight!

I may read it or it might be heard

Your words are like rhymed croon!

Love those words that keep your word

That you would come back very soon!

http://suhasbokare.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/09/words.htm

Above is the second picture for Express Yourself # 34. This building certainly has a grand desiign. In 1970, something I heard on the news changed my life; it got me thinking about the grand design of this universe.

Into the Light, by Harry Kottler, 2006,
18”x24”, acrylic and collage on clayboard

The Grand Design

by Harry Kottler

As a child, my sister perished

And I had two friends who died, too.

The Lord Divine I had cherished.

Now I doubted He was true.

In my twenties, my doubt doubled

Midst America’s political strife.

My heart was sick, and my mind was troubled.

I longed to know how to live my life.

Then I heard on the television

People moaning about the environment.

They said pollution was unnatural.

They said the world was being rent.

I thought about the word unnatural.

What could be unnatural about human deeds?

Surely man is part of nature

Even when he plants bad seeds.

That idea turned on a light bulb.

My mind lit up with consciousness.

Either there is a grand design

Or all designs must be dismissed.

Suddenly, I knew the world is perfect.

If it’s not perfect, how can there be

Any beauty or any virtue

Or any trace of sanity?

A grand design must be quite perfect

Or else there is no plan at all.

Miraculously, unity now I worshiped

As I broke through a mental wall.

That wall had said, “The world has trouble.”

That wall had said, “Oh, woe is me.”

Now it began to turn to rubble

As I reached for eternity.

There is a design behind each story.

There is a design behind the Whole.

Find the light that leads to glory.

Find the light which is your soul.

Dismiss the thought, “I’ve got these problems.”

Nurture the thought, “My life is fine.”

In a cloth, each thread is cotton.

In the Whole, each soul’s divine.

In a cloth, each stitch is perfect.

In a structure, each beam is right.

In the Whole, we each can nurture

Clarity and true insight.

The grand design is all around us,

And we’re of the grand design as well.

To know this surely will astound us.

Hear the ringing of God’s bell!

I was lost, and then I found God.

One great thought steered me to His feet.

Now this bard sends you a message:

The Whole is completely neatly sweet.

http://harryandhelen.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/09/the-grand-design.htm

In our lives full of lies

Some who cheated

Some who were defeated

We’re little killers, we hide

Behind pretty faces

How I love to strip you

Naked, do you mind?

I want to see your insides

Does it pain?

Like heartbreaks do

When you lover died

Did you wonder if you’ll make it through?

And what about your mother

Who stood by the door crying?

When you chose to be

Honest to yourself who was defying

Ever childhood truth unlearnt

You want to know how it felt to be burnt

Before you could even

Begin to feel purged

How could I, you sing

Begin to control the urge?

When it rains

And shadows dance

Old sins, they come revisiting -

You face them in honor

And you don’t budge

You don’t flinch

In your scarce horrors

You try to unmask

The inglorious you

Taking self to task

The baby you gave up

It whines uncontrollably

You know it’s just a bad figment

Of another bad dream

A canned dream

How I wish you would

Allow yourself to scream

And say, never mind

I’m made of mistakes

And that’s how I leant

To know I wasn’t fake

Not cosmetic

Just living a shame

More mistakes?

I’m game

How I wish

You and I

Would strip and bathe

In natural sunshine

And burn the scars

Till they turn to ashes

And know that in time

Even the strong one crashes

Is such a bad idea

To come undone?

Treat yourself some dignity

Accord the hurt some rights?

Stay, linger

Just touch it deeply

Deep inside

Your love, your life

Why don’t you come undone?

http://hebrewprincess.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/09/come-undone.htm

As the dawn breaks

Spreading its light,

Sparkling dew droplets,

Chirping of the birds,

Chime from the temple

Creating divine melody in the air,

Colorful blossoms smiling,

Cool serene breeze blowing,

Make my heart feel like

Spreading my wings of dreams

And grab new opportunities,

To make me experience my existence

At the time day winds up.

My heart want to say

“GOOD MORNING DEAR”

http://geets.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/09/good-morning.htm

Dosti naam hai sukh-dukh ke afsaane ka.

Yeh raaz hai sada muskuraane ka.

Yeh pal do pal ki rishtedaari nahi.

Yeh to farz hai umr bhar nibhaane ka.

Zindagi mein aakar kabhi na vaapas jaane ka.

Najaane kyu ek ajeeb si dor mein bandh jaane ka.

Ismein hoti nahi hain shartein.

Yeh to naam hai khud ek shart mein bandh jaane ka.

Yeh to farz hai umr bhar nibhaane ka.

Dosti dard nahi rone rulane ka.

Yeh to armaan hai ek khushi ke ashiyaane ka.

Ise kaanta na samajhna koi.

Yeh to phool hai Zindagi ki raahon ko mehkaane ka.

Yeh to farz hai umr bhar nibhaane ka.

Dosti naam hai doston mein khushiya bikher jane ka.

Ankhon ke ansuon ko noor me badal jane ka.

Yeh to apni hi taqdeer mein likhi hoti hai.

Dheere-dheere khud afsaana ban jati hai zamaane ka.

Yeh to farz hai umr bhar nibhaane ka.

Dosti naam hai kuch khokar bhi sab kuch paane ka.

Khud rokar bhi apne dost ko hasane ka.

Ismein pyaar bhi hai aur taqraar bhi.

Dosti toh naam hai us taqraar mein bhi apne yaar ko manaane ka.

Yeh to farz hai umr bhar nibhaane ka.

Yeh to farz hai umr bhar nibhaane ka….

http://kunal-chitkara.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/09/dosti-a-hindi-poem.htm