The Bridge

The Bridge

Ever heard 'Bridge' the differences?

Ever heard 'Bridge' the gaps?

Of a bridge one can make several inferences,

Most importantly two ends together it clasps.

A bridge is a binding force,

One of many a name.

To the force that many endorse,

But their work is all the same.

Some call it the cementing material,

Of the building blocks of the society.

Yet others find the description unreal,

But hey! I'm not here to discuss their anxiety.

The Bridge seems fine by me.

And it wouldn't be wrong to think,

That we need lots of them to be,

For the people to interlink!

For the society to act as one,

For communities to be united.

Many ideas are born under the sun,

But none of them have left me so delighted!

So let's create bridges wherever we go!

For they be the seeds of happiness we sow.

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End of The Road

End of The Road

It feels as though you've nothing more to give,

It feels as though you've nothing left for to live,

Left all alone without a comforting friend,

It's apparent that the road has come to an end.

The daylight is covered by a veil of darkness,

Life seems to you but a beautiful mess.

And to your open wounds with no one to tend,

It's apparent that the road has come to an end.

Where has all your strength gone you wonder,

Where did it all start to go wrong you ponder.

Wondering if your ways you'll ever mend,

It's apparent that the road has come to an end.

Standing at life's crossroads helpless,

With no words to express your distress.

When finally you run out of happiness to pretend,

It's apparent that the road has come to an end.

Just get out of your grief for an instant,

And fix your gaze on that 'end' not so distant. 

For what you yourself made a so called 'end',

Was actually nothing more than a mere 'bend'.

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The Ark of Good Hope

The Ark of Good Hope

Our ship; our vessel is battered and damaged,

Sleepless nights have left the crew famished.

And over each and every decaying log of wood,

My worthy crew, once pompously stood.

But now, they're thrown to every corner,

I beg of them to bear with me a little longer.

The raging storms have left us all battered,

And the black horizon above: hope's shattered.

Oh how we long to the warmth of the sun,

Oh if we could lay our hands upon some bun!

But I've got keep them from wailing and despairing.

You see? I say. Our hope, the Ark's still sailing.

We'll soon make it ashore, to the bells,

To the harbour, the sun and the sea shells.

Oh men get up and take your positions,

We won't abandon the finest of expeditions!

And ah! finally! Some hope within them stirs,

The storm we then faced, my memory it blurs.

Yet when we opened our eyes through our shrouds,

Our star; the sun, shone brightly through the clouds.

Oh wake each of you from your deathly slumber!

The Most Merciful has made the storm encumber.

And see! At a distance is an earthly piece of land,

Our ship will now only rest on its golden sand.

Our ghost ship was greeted with whistles and bells,

And although my tattered Ark now peacefully dwells.

It's safe in the harbour but that's not what it's for,

It's meant to sail the oceans, it's meant to explore.

Regardless of it being made of wood and scrap,

It's meant to sail beyond the edges of the map.

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Gladiator

Gladiator

Standing by the Colosseum's door,

In the shimmering armour he wore.

He grunts and takes a step forward,

As the massive doors open inward.

His metal chains clink as he paces,

Staring up at the thousands of faces.

That greet him with screams of death,

Fueling the gladiator's so fiery a breath.

A table is laid over which the blades rest,

He tries them all, then chooses the best.

The choice of which he makes,

There is no room for mistakes.

The sun batters down upon the field,

He looks upwards and raises his shield.

Standing at a distance is his foe, 

His death would be painful and slow.

Both ready to fight till the death'd bite,

Either or both of them and end this fight

With no further thought they charged,

As the massive doors were barred.

The crowd burst into screams of life and death,

As dodging a blow, he swore under his breath.

His adversary was furious, he no less,

Each move counted, like a game of chess.

Blows he'd dodge and blows he'd give,

It was for what he'd come down to live.

The crowd chants death as if it were a hymn,

Spilling blood had become routine for him.

And when it was felt they fought equally hard,

One swift move of his caught the foe off guard.

The crowd erupted into screams once again,

As it looked like he won his part of the bargain.

The foe numb with pain, started to sway,

Death for him was just a fatal blow away.

He crouched, now at the mercy of his foe,

Closing his eyes, awaiting the final blow.

With a sword in his hand, a helpless foe at his feet.

The dominance he felt, was strangely incomplete.

Although the sword he bore was at his will,

Ready to strike down his worthy kill.

A faint conscience somewhere within him stirs,

Which expeditiously grows till him it blurs.

An ominous silence now covers the crowd,

As guilt, now hovers above him like a cloud.

Astonishingly, his sword rises to take the blow,

Bringing it fiercely downwards then he lets go.

It's a moment previously  unwitnessed in history,

That someone lets go an inch away from victory.

The crowd, their mouths now wide open,

His deed, screamed what couldn't be spoken.

Cowardice! Someone from the crowd bellowed,

Soon enough, across the Colosseum 'coward' echoed.

He ignored them and turned around,

His feet still felt shaky on the ground.

But his mighty heart was content at last,

Never had he felt happiness so vast.

His foe though hadn't forgotten his part,

He had long practised, mastered the art.

The final blow, he was the one to impart,

As he put his sword through a content heart.

And as he fell, a feeble smile escaped his lips,

As with both hands his bleeding heart he grips.

The feeble smile now a painful laughter,

As he'd achieved the much sought after.

The hooting crowd now fell dead silent,

Was the scene for them a bit too violent?

Or perhaps the dead had become the valiant? 

Hearts were moved. That was apparent.

And even as the gladiator peacefully lay,

People had learnt a lesson, if only for a day.

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Introspection

Introspection

The Brain

The brain always found its human weak,

Impractical, sentimental, emotional. Meek.

Yet the human preferred over it its counterpart,

The unpredictable, unworthy organ. The heart.

The heart would make him laugh and cry,

'Encourage him to set futile goals sky high.

The heart would warmly console him then,

As he'd fail to achieve his goals time and again.

The brain had no feelings towards the pitiable soul,

And felt that it alone should be in control.

Of his body, his actions it'd be the supervisor,

As it was more practical, therefore wiser.

The Heart

The heart was a gentle, humble piece of flesh,

And unlike the brain, it'd constantly need to refresh.

Yes, it was sentimental yet it'd feel strongly,

Against any deed done to a person, wrongly.

It felt sad that the human favored the brain,

And yeah, the brain's maturity it'd never attain.

But nonetheless it toiled hard and more it would,

To keep it's human happy and everyone it could.

The human tries to find the logic behind everything,

Love and compassion means to him nothing.

He lives but to fulfill his unending greed,

Yet the heart would be there when it he'd need.

The Human

The human felt neither of what the two said,

He'd try to stop their arguing till he dropped dead.

Amidst brain the practical and heart the sentimental,

Was stuck someone. Human the judgmental.

Was always at the loss of words and deeds,

Owing to the two viciously arguing fiends. 

At times he was firm, cold and practical,

And at others, he'd be overly sentimental.

Each would draw him towards its worthy self,

In an effort to completely merge him with itself.

The human would resist, but sometimes he couldn't,

When some trouble got the better of him, he wouldn't.

With the heart breathing fire in his veins,

The brain tormenting him with losses and gains.

He eternally chained each one of them, utterly rebellious,

Each to the other's view competently impervious.

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The Philosophical Kid

The Philosophical Kid

The world was a strange place for a little kid,

He used to feel accountable for all that he did.

There was no evil in that world he knew,

Only good. In everyone. That was his view.

Yet, one thing about that child was really odd,

That clothing of all sorts, he'd label them as fraud.

It was a strange fact, very strange indeed,

But the little brain had an explanation for the deed.

For it would change the people he'd recognize,

Not people exactly, their personalities to be precise.

The way they'd walk, and how they'd behave,

It would all confuse the little child so naive.

From casuals to fancy suits and dresses,

Their behavioral changes met his guesses.

Expensive clothing had a serious effect,

The clothes themselves demanded respect!

The child went on and on with his imagination,

He concluded. It was all an act of domination.

With the clothes ironically, the masters,

And the people; slaves of their captors!

People could only behave, he admitted,

The way their fancy clothing permitted.

And obliterated was the idea of men born free,

Enslaved they were since their first clothing thought he.

And while fancy clothes stood by waiting to be adorned,

An innocent little kid, into a philosopher had transformed.

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As If Time Stood Still

As If Time Stood Still

It was as if the time stood still,

 Down the valley and up the hill.

Across the fields and round the corner,

Van Gogh's works did him great honour.

It was as if the time stood still,

When the peasants tore down Bastille.

When they marched in, chanting slogans

Death upon the king was their only notion.

And yet again, time stood terribly still,

As the atom bombs made their first kill.

Vaporising all there ever was of happiness,

Bestowing upon them profound darkness.

Stood back and patiently waited  time and tide,

As the first man-made bird stretched it's wings wide.

Made up of but spruce and canvas,

Effectively clothing it's wooden truss.

Time must have stood still and watched,

As humans, one small step up we notched.

But that small step was one of its kind,

It was one giant leap for mankind.

Caesar fell as the time watched,

Some say that it had even stopped.

Bursting through his heart was a  dagger,

His once most loyal friend was his attacker

Clocks of that room stood still in a silent awe

As it was the single greatest thing they ever saw.

Having cracked the Enigma, stood a team of men,

Hitler and the Nazi were defeated only then.

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The Coin Interpreter

The Coin Interpreter 

A gleaming coin in his hand,

With an eyepiece he scanned.

And made notes of the same,

As if it were a puzzle game.

And on his desk sat other coins waiting,

Of gold and silver of the highest rating.

              He studied each of them carefully,              

For days and days, weeks rarely.

They were not merely restricted to his table,

Lying in every corner they were, yet to label.

A very peculiar man he was indeed,

But, where to would these coins lead?

A sea of coins he had in his possession,

His love for them had turned to obsession.

But it was not wealth that he was after,

He was a true historian, a history drafter.

He believed that every coin had it's story,

Which he'd patiently listen to in all its glory.

And coins taught him a lot about history,

About the things that'd remained a mystery.

About emperors, epic battles and noble men,

And common day things every now and then.

About financial and political conditions,

All told by the coins and their compositions.

He always felt that coins highlighted the past,

And reflected the future, in a glossy contrast.

So, as the world moved on and time flew by,

He ever sat there, with a coin to meet his eye.

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The idea for this poem actually came from a dream I had a few days back! Never let your dreams die! Transform them into reality! If not, go to the cave of lost dreams! Haha I've left the riddle up to you people to solve!

As a matter of fact, take a look at these coins. They are basically Spanish coins. But, they are stunning!! Their beauty has literally held together my poem!

The Art of Writing

My first tutorial on effective writing. Enjoy!

The Art of Writing

Today I'm gonna teach you an awesome art,
So say your prayers and buckle up for here I start.
I'll take u by the hand and show you how to write,
Thereby making your reader's day nice and bright.

Now pay attention or you might miss out,
The fundamentals that you can't do without.
To my previous posts if u were paying attention,
Emphasizing on the rhyme scheme I did mention.

Because u see it gives your work the beauty,

Which is every responsible author's duty.
Well you must be getting what I mean,

 Equal lines give it a look nice and clean.

But don't worry it's not as hard as it looks,
And u needn't go through all those books.
I'll be your mentor and guide you the way,
Just be patient, resolute and do as I say.

Finally shave down the unwanted edges that are thick,
And your rhyme will fit together with a satisfying click.

Bon Voyage

Bon Voyage

Raise the anchor!

And feel the hanker!

Hoist the sails!

And face the gales!

Take the wheel!

It's the sea you feel!

 Let's set sail to the unending sea !!

Freedom, as far as the eye can see.

The awesome feeling of being alive,

Consciousness within me, it revives.

With the pleasant sea breeze blowing,

Add to that the gentle waves flowing.

With the sea gulls, chirping and trailing,

And the beautiful sky at me, ever staring.

Towards our destination we sail !!

To our massive vessel, all hail !!

Cruising, we cut through the ocean,

In an ever gentle, harmonic motion.

Never have I felt so alive!!

There is no hurry to arrive

Brush the clouds and let it rain !!

Fell the wind and hear it sing !!

Get carried by the wind and the waves

For more my heart desperately craves!!

And that bobby white sail at a distance you see,

It's my heart, of all its shackles set free !!

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Intoxication

Life is tough for an idealist. To content oneself with the lie that our world can still be reformed. To stand up to one's rights. To not be able to watch injustice and tyranny. To defend one's principles and ideals. To be a reformer; optimistic, buoyant and utopian. To be impractical in every sense there is. To be me.

We today, at the pinnacle of our civilisation don't bother looking back, looking down, at the hindrances; at the obstacles of our long hike to the crown of where we stand today. Those hindrances that we temporarily dealt with then and there. Yet, we carried them as hosts, feeding on our backs. Because they had the better part of us. Because they were things that we humans weren't capable of disposing off once and for all. And, never will be.

Bringing in the topic, intoxication. Or, to be more precise alcohol. Look around yourselves. Indeed, little has something done more harm to our society; a free, secular society than the advent of this legal poison, taken uniformly across all its sections. Look around yourselves. Look at the signature this thing leaves wherever it goes. Done ?? You might not have been able to visualise it's effect on the so called upper section of the society but, try visualising this. People are forced, packed; yes, like cartons; literally packed into cars and sent back home to prevent any further damage to the gathering or the party they were attending.

There you go, that's the reality. And the poem that follows, I crafted it intricately, as an expression of my  disgust. And in such a manner that if words were to change hearts for once in history I'd like it to be the moment. So, go forth and experience this moment of truth and stone cold reality. Come face to face with what you were trying to avoid. I introduce to you,

 Intoxication

When the sun goes down,

And in their emotions men drown,

When they realise they need it.

Carve for it, every little bit of it.

It's a moment quite unlike any other,

When it's not about air they bother.

It's allure grows deeper and deeper,

Till all other desires fall cheaper.

A cynical deception for the sober,

Yet, a pleasure drunks can't get over

Embedding itself beneath the skin,

A fight that they cannot ever win.

Each moment of it them u deprive, 

Feels like an eternity to survive.

A veil of ignorance covers them,

Which I cannot help but condemn.

A sense of vulgar satisfaction,

Demanding strict legal action.

And yet they roam about in the street,

And with their rancid breath they greet.

A virtue of darkness it certainly is,

That parents endorse all this.

It's all right to take just a sip,

And into the world of darkness forever slip.

And what once brought elation,

Now brings but intoxication.

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Hope you all liked it !! And as always, stay tuned for more awesome poetry next week !! 

A Little To Reflect Upon

I was all out of options. I didn't feel like blogging today. But then, a call from my friend kind of motivated me. No, motivated is not the exact word, it kind of urged to me to write. My dear friend Aditya called up today saying that bro you should start writing under a pen name !!
Haha and that he thought that I was going to pursue writing as a business in future. I was like yeah why not !! Although I didn't make up my mind to it completely, and it's too early to decide anyway.

Anyway, I wrote down three really nice, short and crisp poems, thereby maintaining my habit of blogging every Sunday. These poems, they are actually meant to be reflected upon. And, I've noticed that most people here prefer a simple rhyme scheme that's pleasant to read and hear so, I wrote them in really simple and a straight forward manner.

                             Money

Money may come and money may go,
You shall reap that what you sow.
So be careful that even if it may grow,
Spend it wisely you know...
Cause it wasn't with you a while ago !!

                             Life

Ah life, about it there is so little to say,
You never know which might be your last day.
It's departure leaves all the work at bay,
But righteously spent, it does handsomely pay.
The message that I'm trying to convey:
Spend it wisely or you shall face dismay.

                             Death

And the intoxication of death, utterly sore,
Is what everyone wants to flee from for sure.
A feeling of truth so placid, so pure,
A fatal ailment for which, there is no cure.
And if a pleasant death you'd want to secure,
Spend you're life wisely you'd ensure.

Introduction

Welcome to my blog,

I'm here to clear the fog.

I sincerely hope you enjoy,

And In poetry, your brains you deploy.

I kind of have this art, this flair,

Which I shall with you all, share. 

I'll try my best to be clear and concise,

And act like an old man, full of advice. 

Oh and I'm also here to clear misconceptions,

About poetry, it's formation and foundations.

And come on its not as tough as it looks,

And you needn't go through dusty old books.

To learn the art, just follow my blog,

And your brains with poetry I'll clog.

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Haha welcome to my blog! You'll definitely enjoy!!