I watch helplessly, as the sun goes down
just like I watched you go.
But the sun I know, will come again,
Of you, I never know.
It was you I loved and trusted in,
it was you I ever thought of.
But it was you who left me stranded,
and it was me you made a joke of.
Oh! the hours I spent in loving you,
the double I spend in tears.
All the dreams and hopes I ever had,
now haunt me as my fears.
I know of love, for it lives in me.
but you will never know.
You'll never feel that joy in you,
it will never make you glow.
For love is meant for gentle souls,
not for the likes of you,
who trample over loving hearts,
and bruise them black and blue.
Of me, you need not worry,
for life is kind and just.
She helped me build myself again,
with bricks of faith and trust.
I now live contentedly,
a life that is truly fun.
You, I know, will have a nasty end.
For me, life's just begun!
I know I will live and love again,
far better than i did before.
For you, I hope, someone will come,
And leave you bleeding and sore!!
~Maithili Desai
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Poetry
Poetry is not the juice of a fruit,
that on squeezing it must flow.
It is like a little feather,
it’ll fly, when the winds blow.
Poetry is not for the genius alone,
or only for the ones who write,
She lives in every beating, feeling heart,
she is every living soul’s right.
Poetry is not only the words,
written on paper with ink.
It is that collection of thoughts,
that you think when you don’t think.
Poetry is not just a nib,
scratching away on paper.
It springs forth from the heart,
and reaches much deeper.
Poetry is not just a string of lines,
entwined in a touching scheme.
It is the language of the heart,
to share it’s unspoken dream.
Poetry is not a ladder or crutch,
with which you reach the top.
She is the one, who stays with you,
no matter if you rise or drop.
A poetry and a poetry alone,
can tell you what a poetry is.
If you liked and understood what you just read,
well, then a little poetry this is!!
~~Maithili desai
that on squeezing it must flow.
It is like a little feather,
it’ll fly, when the winds blow.
Poetry is not for the genius alone,
or only for the ones who write,
She lives in every beating, feeling heart,
she is every living soul’s right.
Poetry is not only the words,
written on paper with ink.
It is that collection of thoughts,
that you think when you don’t think.
Poetry is not just a nib,
scratching away on paper.
It springs forth from the heart,
and reaches much deeper.
Poetry is not just a string of lines,
entwined in a touching scheme.
It is the language of the heart,
to share it’s unspoken dream.
Poetry is not a ladder or crutch,
with which you reach the top.
She is the one, who stays with you,
no matter if you rise or drop.
A poetry and a poetry alone,
can tell you what a poetry is.
If you liked and understood what you just read,
well, then a little poetry this is!!
~~Maithili desai
Timeline
Never put on a jewel from someone else’s crown.
Do chase your dreams but don’t be the reason for a frown.
Look beyond yourself and learn from every sight.
Keep what’s good for you; it may become your might.
Measure every word minutely, before it escapes your lips.
For you’ll be solely responsible for every heart that it rips.
Never bring home a stolen broth, even if it means hunger.
Don’t touch the hem of luck’s cloak, but hold on to faith’s finger.
If you can’t climb to the top, don’t pull down the other climbers.
Walk; strive on to your ends even as the world slumbers.
Because remember, till today,
Every word you ever spoke, every step that you ever took,
Have been neatly recorded in time’s little note book.
~ Maithili Desai
Do chase your dreams but don’t be the reason for a frown.
Look beyond yourself and learn from every sight.
Keep what’s good for you; it may become your might.
Measure every word minutely, before it escapes your lips.
For you’ll be solely responsible for every heart that it rips.
Never bring home a stolen broth, even if it means hunger.
Don’t touch the hem of luck’s cloak, but hold on to faith’s finger.
If you can’t climb to the top, don’t pull down the other climbers.
Walk; strive on to your ends even as the world slumbers.
Because remember, till today,
Every word you ever spoke, every step that you ever took,
Have been neatly recorded in time’s little note book.
~ Maithili Desai
The Ideal Land
There is a land,
Somewhere beyond the rainbow, where it is all peace.
All is as calm as the unhurried notes
flying from a piper’s pipe.
Some words don’t exist there.
Words like ‘hate’, ‘war’, ‘revenge’……
Words which we use here everyday,
with ease and fluency.
There is the perfume of love
In the air, constantly.
bubbling laughter graces every street.
And smiles line every by-way.
No tongue has learned
To be insulting or injuring.
No hand has ever even thought
of inflicting pain on a fellow being.
Yet, a myriad of colours exists there,
Together, complementing,
Not competing.
It is so beautiful….oh this place,
it seems like a bit of paradise….
If it could only be brought here…
~Maithili Desai
Somewhere beyond the rainbow, where it is all peace.
All is as calm as the unhurried notes
flying from a piper’s pipe.
Some words don’t exist there.
Words like ‘hate’, ‘war’, ‘revenge’……
Words which we use here everyday,
with ease and fluency.
There is the perfume of love
In the air, constantly.
bubbling laughter graces every street.
And smiles line every by-way.
No tongue has learned
To be insulting or injuring.
No hand has ever even thought
of inflicting pain on a fellow being.
Yet, a myriad of colours exists there,
Together, complementing,
Not competing.
It is so beautiful….oh this place,
it seems like a bit of paradise….
If it could only be brought here…
~Maithili Desai
Of peace we talk
Of Peace We Talk…
We talk, in our plush living rooms,
Of things like world peace.
We talk of it as we would,
Of the moon or the sun
or other things of space,
which exist but far away.
As if it doesn't affect us,
Not in the slightest manner.
As if, we become wise men
in our homes and talk of these phenomenon
like astronomers do about the stars.
But unseen by our self-blinkered vision,
Peace is slipping away every hour,
Like grains of sand from a lax fist.
And soon, when all is lost,
We won't have
the wise men’s rooms any more,
to hide into and pretend
that it is not happening to us,
but to someone
who is far from connected to us.
~Maithili Desai
We talk, in our plush living rooms,
Of things like world peace.
We talk of it as we would,
Of the moon or the sun
or other things of space,
which exist but far away.
As if it doesn't affect us,
Not in the slightest manner.
As if, we become wise men
in our homes and talk of these phenomenon
like astronomers do about the stars.
But unseen by our self-blinkered vision,
Peace is slipping away every hour,
Like grains of sand from a lax fist.
And soon, when all is lost,
We won't have
the wise men’s rooms any more,
to hide into and pretend
that it is not happening to us,
but to someone
who is far from connected to us.
~Maithili Desai
Call For Return
Wait!!
Hold it right there, I say to you.
Loosen your hand on that scabbard.
Sheath that sword you have drawn.
Vacate the barrels of that gun you hold.
And,
Cleanse your mind and heart
Of the hate you’ve polluted it with.
Now lay down all these corruptions
and look beyond,
at that child playing in the street.
At that youth, with his dreams.
At that mother as she watches
Over her children as they play.
And at that maiden,
Who shines with a requited love.
And at those million men and women,
Who each day live,
In the hope of seeing many such days.
Now look in their eyes,
And you will find,
An ocean of love, of joy,
Of life.
Now again I say,
Lay aside your gun and hate,
For they have made a stone of you.
Cast them away and come to us,
For with open hearts and arms,
We welcome the Lost Sheep,
If only the sheep seeks to return…
~Maithili Desai
Hold it right there, I say to you.
Loosen your hand on that scabbard.
Sheath that sword you have drawn.
Vacate the barrels of that gun you hold.
And,
Cleanse your mind and heart
Of the hate you’ve polluted it with.
Now lay down all these corruptions
and look beyond,
at that child playing in the street.
At that youth, with his dreams.
At that mother as she watches
Over her children as they play.
And at that maiden,
Who shines with a requited love.
And at those million men and women,
Who each day live,
In the hope of seeing many such days.
Now look in their eyes,
And you will find,
An ocean of love, of joy,
Of life.
Now again I say,
Lay aside your gun and hate,
For they have made a stone of you.
Cast them away and come to us,
For with open hearts and arms,
We welcome the Lost Sheep,
If only the sheep seeks to return…
~Maithili Desai
What went wrong....
A sheen less moon,
weeps silently as she watches
over the red rivers that swallow
the Earth whole
wondering, what went wrong…
How did this happen…
The sun from a distance,
frowns as he watches the plight,
as the last bits of life,
crumble and fall.
He wonders what went wrong…
How did this happen…
The stars try to twinkle
and look in vain towards the earth
to see a speck of it’s former life
but are looked back at, by Death.
And they wonder what went wrong…
How did this happen…
They had all been witnesses,
to how Destruction, had unfurled his wings
and made their Earth burn, hell like.
But yet, now as they join
the funeral procession, they wonder…
What went wrong…
How did this happen…
~Maithili Desai
weeps silently as she watches
over the red rivers that swallow
the Earth whole
wondering, what went wrong…
How did this happen…
The sun from a distance,
frowns as he watches the plight,
as the last bits of life,
crumble and fall.
He wonders what went wrong…
How did this happen…
The stars try to twinkle
and look in vain towards the earth
to see a speck of it’s former life
but are looked back at, by Death.
And they wonder what went wrong…
How did this happen…
They had all been witnesses,
to how Destruction, had unfurled his wings
and made their Earth burn, hell like.
But yet, now as they join
the funeral procession, they wonder…
What went wrong…
How did this happen…
~Maithili Desai
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