Little Fawn and Her Adventures

Little fawn stood next to her mom,

Drinking the sight of her new surroundings,

That is peaceful and calm.

Suddenly a wasp appeared from nowhere,

Attracting little fawn's attention,

Who hasn't seen anything like that anywhere.

She peered carefully,

At every movement of the wasp,

Unaware that she had strayed away from her pack steadily.

The wasp disappeared into bush,

A lioness appeared instead of tiny wasp,

Looking scary and huge.

With eyes closed tight,

Little fawn screamed,

While she shivered in fright.

Suddenly herd of mumbling buffaloes arrived,

Seeing them, lioness ran away,

Leaving the little fawn relieved,

In safe custody of her Uncle Buffalo and his herd.

Dreams

Across few blocks,

Stands tall and colossal,

A building named The Royal,

Which is home to a girl with coffee colored locks,

Unassuming and Docile.

She watches out of her window,

Staring blankly at sky,

That is clear and sunny,

While she dreams on things to do,

If she had wings to fly.

She would soar up,

Away from the silly world,

That laughs at her every flaw and blunder,

And makes her feel want to give up,

On dreams she had carefully stitched.

She would spread,

Love and Joy,

To places ripped,

By war and misery,

Conflicts and poverty.

She would remove,

Fears and insecurity,

Engulfing everybody,

And instill in them hopes,

To fly high.

Weekday Blues

Every week, it's same old thing,

'Mondays bring no joy', we sing,

While Tuesdays ,Wednesdays and Thursdays seem bearable,

But during Friday evenings, our patience level seem negligible,

Waiting for the weekend to spring.

Long gone Youth

His eyes are still bright,

Though he cannot see,

Clear blue sea,

That brushes him slight.

His ears still longs for that voice,

So melodious and mellifluous,

Now he has no choice,

But listen to nature's raucous.

His lips are dry,

Like the barren land,

They curl up into smile,

As he remembers sweet memories of holding her hand.

His bald head shines,

Which was once filled with hair,

Long, thick and fine,

Waving and dancing in the air.

Youth held his hand,

Like gorgeous trophy wife,

Making him beam with pride,

While his ego grew leaps and bound.

One fine day,

He woke up from his dream,

And found himself alone,

With no one to care,

Only memories of past

That were once so sweet.

This journey called Life

There will be hiccups,
And there will be smooth landings,
But one must not give up hope,
In this journey called Life.


Relationship you once sowed,
With love and care,
May break apart,
But one must not give up hope,
In this journey called Life.

After season of good times,
Comes the severe drought,
Making us desire cool breeze,
But one must not give up hope,
In this journey called Life.

Success and Failures,
Are part of picture,
That is bigger and brighter,
But one must not give up hope,
In this journey called Life.

People will say,
Words of wisdom or folly,
That may take you up,
Or pull you down,
But one must not give up hope,
In this journey called Life.

The cycle of sorrow,
Will end surely,
And bright sun will shine,
Over you,
In this journey called Life.

What shall I write?

What shall I write,

I think casually,

On cool Friday evening,

With my eyes open wide,

Staring at empty post,

Blank and bright.

What shall I write,

I ponder and wonder,

While rejecting the ideas,

Wandering in my mind.

What shall I write,

A poem or short tale,

That makes one smile,

After coming from tiring day.

What shall I write,

To satisfy my creative cravings,

And love for written art,

On this lazy Friday evening.

What shall I write,

Is puzzle on my mind,

Unsolved and untouched,

Like a hidden treasure.

What shall I write,

I think restlessly,

While time flies by,

And my hubby arrives,

Hungry for dinner,

That I am yet to cook.

Summer nights

On cool summer nights,

The breeze is feast,

To hot bodies,

Burning due to heat.

It's that time of year,

When we lay on terrace tops,

To watch stars twinkling,

And bright moon shining,

Above us.

During those nights,

Closed ones get together,

To share juicy stories,

Or make false spook tales.

Waking up till odd hours,

To watch first ray of light,

Fall on our tired faces,

As we cuddle in our thin blankets.

It's camping night,

On terrace top,

For days until holidays end,

And we are back to monotony,

Of our lives,

Back to school,

With mind full of memories.