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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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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Dreams

Dreams

Close your eyes! And get ready to dream,

Light 'em up with your imagination's gleam.

Create an intricate mystical world of your own,

Fill it up with all the quixotic stuff you've ever known.

The closed door that's blocking your view,

Gently knock at it and just walk through.

It's the door of imagination, of fantasy unheard,

Which as a rule would seem most absurd.

Take a walk in the gardens of fantasy,

You shall come to face with a reality.

The reality of dreams, so profound, so true,

It's sparkling beauty, hiding in plain view.

Dream as though you never could have thought,

Of all the beautiful places you ever sought.

Of open fields, warm sun, and the unending sky,

But, most important of all, never let them go wry.

For they are different, original like people's views,

And now as such I'd quote Sir Langston Hughes:

"Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die,

Life is a broken-winged bird,

Unable to fly."

"Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go,

Life is a barren field,

Frozen with snow."

Thus, dreams are precious and now you know why,

So wake up every morning but don't say good bye.

**************************

Countryside

Countryside

Across the meadows, over the fences,

Every inch therein is a feast for the senses.

To describe it to perfection where do I begin?

Well, it's a perfect worldly abode to dwell in.

It all starts with the first breath you take,

As the first rays of the sun wash over your face.

Illuminating all that there is to see and behold,

Having left nothing for the darkness to withhold.

Open fields, as far as the eye can see,

The blue sky above, stretching endlessly.

With the birds chirping and the flowers dancing,

Trust me, it's all quite mood enhancing.

As the day progresses, several scenes unfold,

A farmer boy and his flock of sheep strolled.

Water was drawn and fields were irrigated,

While at the local store, a short queue waited.

The weather was perfect, landscape picturesque,

Horses trotted and would happily spree.

The entire scenario was so lively!

With the sun at a corner, shining brightly.

Soon it was afternoon, evening thereafter,

And in the air there was a distinctive laughter.

Of men coming home, having toiled all day,

All in a light mood, though they'd been away.

Finally, the chapter closes as the last rays,

Fall upon the countryside, assuring happier days.

****************************

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.

*******************************************

The Stone Face

   The Stone Face

It was but an anonymous face,

Of a man of an unknown race.

Of some great leader perhaps,

Someone who'd redesigned maps.

It was as if he watched over the town,

And in all these years, he didn't frown.

The lines on his face were smooth,

Of a man, at the prime of his youth.

There he was, engraved in a hill,

His face, carved with great skill.

Highlighting his presence was a folklore,

Justifying its integrity, people swore.

According to the legend, the people were sure,

That the great man had never walked their shore.

He was yet to come, a harbinger of good,

They longed to see him, if only they could!

One fine day, the mysterious man appeared,

Just according to the legend they'd reared!

"It's him!" Shrieked an old woman with delight,

As she opened her door to the man, gaily bedight.

He was taken aback by her sudden reaction,

Couldn't decide the next course of action.

The woman then held out her hand, pointing afar,

At his stone face, as radiant as an evening star.

Astonished he stood, in an awe,

Couldn't digest what he just saw.

Before he could pull himself all  together,

The old woman had left, full of endeavor.

Spreading the news, she ran from house to house,

And through the orchards, sleeping men she'd rouse.

They had all started to gather around the man,

Without any delay, with all his might he ran!

For little did he know of what was happening,

All he knew to save his life he was scrambling.

And they darted after him like maniacs,

Trying to stop him dead in his tracks.

He ran expeditiously to the shore,

Untied his boat that was offshore. 

And by the time to the shore they'd drawn,

Their long awaited legend had already gone.

*******************************

Hahaha unexpected ending huh? I just love twists here and there in the plot. Hope you all enjoyed it!

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 Knight's Night

The Knight's Night

An eerie night,

A gallant knight.

Sat with his horse by a fire,

Dressed in his knightly attire.

And in his lap he had a sword,

The one that he deeply adored.

He sat there, polishing it,

Up and down, bit by bit.

He then ran a finger across its blade,

All enemy weapons it'd outweighed.

And as in it he saw his own reflection,

Of all his wars he had a faint recollection.

Riding his dauntless horse,

And the armour he'd endorse,

All they would see was a flash of light,

Of the gleaming sword and its knight.

As he glided over the battlefields,

Ripping through armours and shields.

All hail the valiant knight they'd say,

And would leave their fears at bay.

But now he'd grown old,

This knight once so bold.

And so did his arrogance and pride,

It had now stretched far and wide.

He then held out his sword upright,

And let it bathe in the moonlight.

It emitted a glistening white glow,

Lightening up the ground below.

He felt superior to everything he knew,

And his pride in himself perilously grew. 

Suddenly, lightening struck the sword he bore,

And that once gallant knight was there no more.

********************************

"Arrogance diminishes wisdom."

The Cave of Lost Dreams part 2

Continued............

"Ah! I see it's the scroll you seek",

"Enchanted by the cave's mystique".

"The scroll has only twice been previously opened.",

"Well I must have deserved it" the prince reckoned."

The prince reached out and took the scroll,

As himself, he could no longer control.

The old man retreated, yet said nothing,

His strange manner indicated something.

Finally he spoke, his manner grave, voice commanding,

The prince wondered what would he now be demanding?

"People have killed, been killed for the cave."

"And it's secret lies beyond the scroll I gave."

"Even so, what makes ye think ye'll find it?"

In ominous silence he stood, facing the twit.

"It invokes not in men mere curiosity.",

"It beseeches in them vulgar brutality."

The prince could now visualise in his head,

Blood being shed and entire armies dead.

He looked at the scroll, expressions grim,

Took a deep breath, handed it back to him.

The prince was nihilistic all over again,

The cave was indeed far beyond his domain.

He had finally looked forward to something,

But all his elation was chipped down to nothing.

Then for the first time in a while the old man smiled,

His expressions returned back to being soft and mild.

"Noble prince is thy dream this short lived?"

"That ye won't get up once you've tripped?"

"But would reaching the cave do me any good?",

"For it's a place of beauty, nothing else I've understood."

"My father's kingdom stretches far and wide.",

"With landscapes that hath left men open eyed."

"The cave of lost dreams.." The old man began,

As if it were all a part of some master plan.

"The cave of lost dreams or as it is said,"

"Is a place where dreams go once they're dead."

"But what's in it for me, the prince bluntly enquired",

"It holds all that thou heart once deeply desired."

"Happiness ye shall find of all sorts and kind",

"Wasn't that what thou were dying to find!?"

And yet again the old man's mystical ways,

Left the prince aghast, without a phrase.

The old man handed him back the scroll,

"Ye are now fit enough to pursue thou goal."

He turned to the door to depart at last,

"Who are you?" The prince suddenly asked.

The old man halted, his hand on the doorknob,

The prince's heart started to violently throb.

He turned around wearing a strange smile,

That sent a chill down his spine for a while.

"I'm the guardian of the cave I just told you,"

Opened the door and went straight through.

The prince went back and sat on his bed,

And reflected upon what the old man said.

He then opened the scroll after all,

Which hath never failed to enthrall.

What he saw of it eluded him,

But nevertheless excited him.

For it was a riddle like none he had seen,

And so adamant to solve one he'd never been.

On a parched, old paper with plush black ink,

Was written something it'd take  years to think.

For an ordinary man perhaps but not him,

Cause solving it had now become his whim.

*****************************

The Cave of Lost Dreams part 1

Writing is an underestimated art. People should heed the gravity of the fact that we writers paint colorful pictures in people's minds using mere words of black. That being said, Oh and happy Friendship Day dear viewers. And it's a Sunday as a matter of fact so yaay. I may have an extra post for that. So anyway 'Dreams'. What are dreams? Dreams believe it or not are in some way or the other related to happiness. They kind of give incentive to people to look forward to a new day. And this quote; "The richer you get, more expensive happiness becomes." I don't remember the author of this quote but, it's so deep and true. Dreams are what we all look forward to in life. We associate the fulfillment of that dream with happiness and contentment, and we pursue it with all our vigor and might. But, what if someone has no dreams? Someone has no reason to wake up every morning? Someone always searching for something but has no idea of what it is. And so is the story you all are about to go through. Of a Prince, who finally finds a dream and dares pursue it. 

The Cave of Lost Dreams

This story should particularly interest you,

Cause it has to it a rare and a mystical hue.

It's a story unlike anything you've previously read,

Of a noble prince, warm at heart and cool at head.

A young man he was, full of hope and means,

But oddly enough, he had no wishes or dreams.

He had everything that the heart could desire,

From horses and servants to the best of attire.

Yet had nothing to wake up to every morn,

And would often wonder "why was I born"?

And yet he was a man most kind and just,

In all of land well known for his trust.

And thus, everyday the prince would set out,

In quest of some exotic dream, full of doubt.

And he'd ask his people: what were theirs,

They'd turn up to be for him, petty wares.

Ever so unmotivated, yet he treaded on,

And would be gone from dusk to dawn.

But one day, illness caught him at bay,

Retiring him to bed, all sore and gray.

Finest doctors in all of land were called up,

But none could get him on his feet, back up.

They'd say he'd drunk from the death cup,

And long ago on his life he had given up.

The king, sent for the wisest man he knew,

As more worried and enraged he grew.

With an air of humility the old man turned up,

With a flowing white beard and face cheered up.

His face was illuminated with a brilliant white glow,

Peace upon the king and his family he'd come to bestow.

He then gently moved in into the prince's room,

And motioned everyone to stay out of the room

.

He took a plush chair by the prince's bed,

And in his mesmerizing voice he said:

"Dear prince, how hast thou fallen so low?"

Then replied the prince, his voice soft, words slow.

"Death for me is a peaceful retreat",

"and its nothing to fear for the elite".

"My Lord has been to my to entirely merciful",

"But I'm afraid myself together, I cannot pull".

"So what's thy last wish?" Enquired the old man,

"Narrate to me a story for you are a wise man."

The old man's eyes gleamed in excitement,

And stroked his beard, full of incitement.

"I shall narrate to thy a beautiful narrative",

And thus he began in a manner so imperative,

There's a cave he said." Aye a cave like none other."

"To get to it, a man would slay his brother."

And what is it called inquired the latter,

"The cave of lost dreams. Of dreams that'd shatter'd."

The prince had been mystified, sat bolt upright,

Thus continued the old man, his eyes ever so bright.

"In a remote corner of this busy world",

"There lies a cave, in itself, peacefully curled".

And he said a cave of mesmerising beauty it was,

"Explorers from all over the world it draws".

He demanded "Tell me of its location!",

The prince was clearly getting impatient.

"Noble prince thy must first be patient",

"for indeed, unsuccessful are the impatient".

He immediately regretted, apologized for his actions,

For they were accompanied by the strangest reactions.

"The cave is a place of impeccable beauty",

"But, to know further you'll have to fulfill a duty".

"And what would that be?" He inquired,

For he had now definitely been inspired.

"Promise me thy will get well soon",

"And never again shall thy swoon"

"For you shall find the cave; it's thy dream",

"And will be fired up with a new self esteem"

And so, the wise old man took his leave,

His visit had an effect none could perceive.

The prince astonishingly started to get well,

And felt that In his bed, he could no longer dwell.

And he read more and more of the mystical cave,

To find it, his heart had made him to crave.

With books around his bed, all piled up,

He had decided that he'd now pack up.

He'd long waited for the old man to be back,

He thought as he stared out into the black.

And suddenly, there was a knock on his door,

Quivering with excitement, he jumped to the floor.

And as he reached out to the door,

It was the old man, of it he was sure.

And he opened the door to that same soul,

But this time, in his hands he had a scroll.

"Ah my prince, how well can you now stand!"

But the prince's senses were fixed on his hand.

******************

Huh I couldn't find pictures that would go with the first part of the poem. Nevertheless, for the second part and the actual cave, I've come across loads of awesome pics. So, see you all next week with more from my best work till date. So long then. Ciao!

Interstellar part 1

Hello people! You must all be knowing Christopher Nolan's epic blockbuster; Interstellar. Those of you who have watched it must have been obsessed by the movie. But, for all of you who haven't watched it, don't worry! Today's post is going to be really unique. Why? Cheer up for its a ballad this time!! Oh and I'm not going to upload the whole ballad at once or some of the non poetic people out there would label me as insane!! Haha and also since it is obviously my finest work till date, it's in the professional rhyme scheme. Sorry folks no simple poem today! Haha well, buckle up and enjoy the ride!!

Interstellar

This is the touching story of a little girl,

Whose dad set out out save the earth.

Who promised her as he straightened her curls,

His departure to a new civilization would give birth.

And he promised her that he’d be back,

It was noble mission he’d set off to.

As never could he see the future of his race black,

At the price of her disappointment he however knew.

But then there’s another aspect to it,

The so called ‘ghost’ in her room.

Helped her jot down the code bit by bit,

Leading them to NASA’s control room.

The ‘ghost’ communicated using gravity,

A quite unusual thing to do.

And gave a message bitty and gritty,

To ‘stay’ is what you must do.

The control room was where they met,

Professor Brand and his ‘plans’ to save the earth.

Towards a distant galaxy the father would set,

Saving the species it would be worth.

Devastated by a global crop blight,

And a second expected dust bowl,

To add to their plight.

The stakes were pretty high, the humanity as a whole.

But, the future prospects were equally rewarding,

A wormhole near Saturn had been discovered.

And no human would stop him from going,

Only the disapproval of his daughter hovered.

5000 frozen embryos they’d carry,

On the inhabitable planets discovered.

In order to cut down a major worry,

Till the time the cons of plan ‘B’ get uncovered.

The plan B’s final obstacle was,

To overcome earth’s gravity.

To escape its powerful jaws,

And make earth a celestial city.

But the professor assured them,

That by the time they’d be back.

He would have it all hemmed,

All they had to do was to come back.

The meeting was adjourned,

He being an ex NASA pilot.

To take to the skies, he yearned,

The fancy job of a test pilot.

The father and daughter to their farm returned,

The ex pilot and his father stayed up all night.

Discussing their fate before he adjourned,

And the little girl’s plight.

The new day dawned to him,

His daughter still mad to his frustration. 

But it was she who meant the most to him,

Tried to talk but faced her recrimination.

It says ‘stay’ she screamed,

But it was a job to be done.

With all his tries unredeemed,

He gave a gift to his loved one.

A watch it was, for her a utility,

But for him the time would slow down.

And tried to excite her with the possibility,

That he might be of her age the next time he’d come around.

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Loved it?!! Let me know how much in the comments below! And I hope that the story is clear to you all and yeah the action is about to start so stay tuned for the upcoming parts!

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.

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 !!