All she wants

Precious stones,
Priceless jewels,
Doesn’t attract her anymore,
Like it used to during her youthful days.

Exotic travels,
Luxury palaces,
She enjoyed once upon a time,
Bores her now.

Those pompous fiesta,
And celebratory parties,
She always longed for ,
Doesn’t matter to her anymore.

The fantasies,
Classic literature,
Delighted her once upon a time ,
Now do not entice her anymore.

All she wants,
Is eternal love,
That is everlasting,
And fulfilling,
And completes her.

Doing Nothing

I lay on the couch,

With blank expression,

And head longing for little sleep,

Doing nothing,

On this warm lazy day.

I stare at the ceiling,

Not completely plain white,

With thin cracks ,

That looks like wrinkle lines,

On a lady ageing naturally.

The couch is cozy,

Making  me even more lazy,

Though I have piles of work in process,

I m in no mood to start.

Soft breeze from the fan,

Blows on my face,

Making me relaxed,

And extend my break,

From tedious workload .

I drown into thoughts momentarily,

About work , life and future,

But come back instantly ,

To zone of  tranquility,

Living every moment at the present .

I still have few minutes ,

To do nothing,

And think nothing,

Except lie on the couch,

And enjoy the moments,

Of doing nothing,

False media

They paint lies,
With deceit and guile,
To please their greed for a while,
And keeping their false pride high.

They manipulate innocent,
In the name of religion ,
By presenting truth as fiction,
And tolerant as intolerant.

They promote dishonesty,
Corrupt and false truths,
And fabricated proofs ,
In form of stories filled with tragedy.

They brainwash youth,
Against the nation ,
By reality fabrication,
And painted truth.

Let’s unite as a nation,
And fight against these grifters,
Swindlers and fraudsters,
Painting false pictures of our nation.

The Lock down Poem

Life slowed down,

With markets rates dropping down,

Business and schools shutting down,

When Government announced lock down.

Panic spread like fire,

With people going haywire,

Buying everything more than they require,

While poor and old watch them in horror.

While I write this poem peacefully,

My neighbor's pressure cooker whistles sharply,

Notifying me and others(neighbors) that my neighbor is cooking finally,

After years of ordering food outside repeatedly.

The lit up houses,

Look like shiny stars

On warm cozy nights,

With bonding in families,

Getting better with coming days.

Children are happier,

Watching their family come together,

Praying God that time stays like this forever,

And ever and ever.

Life may have slowed,

Businesses may have closed,

Relations have been mended,

Earth has healed,

But pray that sick and infected,

Get recovered soon. 

Inspirations

Inspirations are dreams,

A dreamer dreams,

With eyes closed,

Or eyes open wide.

Inspirations are ideas,

Sometimes vague or sometimes clear,

That pops in minds,

Like a striking thunder bolt.

Inspirations are solutions,

Emerging from problems,

One faces in their lives,

Filled with challenges and dangers.

Inspirations are discoveries,

Of new found technologies,

That may aid human efforts,

Or enhance their life expectancy.

Inspirations are hopes,

Within us,

For better future,

And increased strength.

Inspirations are other's victories,

Earned after many struggles, 

Several defeats and hardships,

And never giving up attitude.

Inspirations are plain inspirations,

Born out of hope,

Built from an imaginations,

To form a vision,

From a dream,

A dreamer dreams.

Seasons and moods

Seasons are like moods,
Of a child,
Always changing,
With free will,
To suit their demands.

The season of spring,
Is like a happy child,
Always smiling and twinkling,
Bringing joy to everyone,
Watching them play.

The season of summer,
Is like angry child,
Always screaming and hollering,
To fulfil unwanted demands,
And satisfy their terrible tantrums.

The season of autumn,
Is like child,
Calmed down,
After terrible storm,
Or planning their next mischief.

The season of winter,
Is like gloomy child,
On verge to break down,
And in desperate need,
To be hugged and loved.

As the cycle of season ends,
New year begins,
With new challenges,
But cycle of seasons remains the same,
Like the moods of a child.

That old dusted books

That old dusted books,
Lying in corner,
Of one of the racks,
Of your closet,
You hardly visit.

That old dusted books,
Remains neglected and abandoned,
By your gracious touch,
And sharp gaze,
That shines with excitement,
When you read every word,
Written from that old dusted books.

That old dusted books,
Hides treasures,
Of precious stories and enchanting folktales,
That ones excited your mind,
When you first picked up the book,
From your favourite book store.

That old dusted books,
Were once your devoted lover,
Caring your curious mind,
With new words you never heard ,
And lessons you will always cherish.

That old dusted books,
Once helped you forget sadness,
And hardships you faced in lives,
Making you smile brightly,
Even if it was for few seconds.

That old dusted books,
Sits on one of racks,
Of your closet,
That you never visit,
Waiting to be held,
By your gracious hands,
Like you held it,
The first time.