A poem on poems

It could be the manner of a moment
Or may be the word of life greatest
I do write one just on the clouds
They did prophesize Geeta in words poetic

Playwright could extract a pound flesh
Novelist great might wring Great Expectations
Story we read of Magi’s gift most beautiful
Great, nonetheless, were just the tales of us

Shruti, the treasure of hindus
Illiad, Odyssey, identity of civilisations
Dante and divine beginning
Chaucher the father with canterburry

Nobel 29% only gained for poetry
Story of literature, but never else began
Its a poem that gives you wings
Mankind’s divine tool to concieve

Burden rich of character development
Pressure of finding ending binding
The hook to move to Act next
Novel, Story, or in a Play mighty

Flight of poem needed no hook
For No One is a poem best told
For No way is a poem’s best way
For a poem may not tell you all
For a poem will vary its layers
The tale of a poem can never be told
For a poem is the one only ‘you’ live

When will I meet you?

The mornings with your sniff
The expectant wait fulfilled
Waking up in your arms
Goosebumps of your brush
All I shall cherish again
When I will meet you

The long wait burning me
You living with the forests
Missing romance of your feel
Pervading the windy winter nights
When will I meet you?

My cheeks be flushed with colour
With your magical touch
Looking to dress cool with you
Oh what hills I’d climb
The highest of joys I’d have
When I will meet you

Dreams i saw in your arms
How long shall i bear unfulfilled
This separation afar
Meets 2 in year never suffice
When will I meet you?

My betrothal my current place
All thats keeping you away
The question wringing my heart
When will i meet you for life
My darling Himalayas…

Beyond : Buddha

Long before our times he came
The Chakravartin with curly hair
Light of Asia was he called
Born to rule or liberate humanity
As would be his wont

In the life of you
Miseries of the post modern small
Looking at the light he showed
8 ways to leave your suffering
No expectations – he said
And that’s all you did

But the one question you still had
Is that, what you live for?
The samsara did have son and wife
Being the buddha was his wont
But a dead ascetic, not your middle path

Born and dead, a cycle they say
But, Go for Middle, what he said
A life of constant is deed great
Bow to him for teaching that
But, the answers blowing in the wind
Beauty greatest comes from love and pain
To be dead is kill expectations
Sinusodial of life you prefer

Casteism be not your chasm
Your pain is life and love
4,8,32 the numbers he gave
No, math didn’t stop there
You lookout for platform 9 3/4
Working to irrationalise the perfect

Honey does stay millennia 5 and half
But wisdom aged 2k might be stale
Your tale can’t be his
Its the journey of you
For you, the one who shall go, Beyond..

Beyond : Tagore

Wither not ye weary traveller of post modern
The tomes of past you knew
The shoulders you stood upon
For they, lights shining of their age
The story none told beyond him
The clarion call to “ekla cholo”
When none listens to “tor daak”

O ye weary traveller of post modern
The walk you began alone
His Metered verse shrouding you
As you reminisce journey alone
The walk solo you see nowhere
Not just the ekla walk you took
A long and Winding Road you took with few

Well ye weary traveller of post modern
You to have the strength
To start The Long Walk alone
Shall forever be the gift of bard
Its your journey that teaches
The courses to take
And folks to tag along

Now ye weary traveller of post modern
A journey can start alone
Voyage none ended alone
What you never knew
In those darkest nights
For every rock moved
You open a new light

But ye weary traveller of post modern
The journey was never done
None has yet finished the trail
Your tale can’t be his
Its the journey of you
For you, the one who shall go, Beyond…