Supposed to be quiet
Supposed to be quiet
Ordinary and gentlemen people are supposed to be quiet
It is more or so in case of shy poets
They may try to extract any thought that may try to emerge
What else can be attributed for the self to purge?
What poor poet expects from fellow brethrens?
When her mind is occupied with devotion and no concerns?
What all ideas may be invading his mind?
Single mind to be concentrated and find
Long drawn battle for conceptual acceptance
Is this task not daunting and challenging at once?
He is for peace and stability among people
Life once again to breathe without any troubles
How many thoughts to be discarded?
How many views to be reviewed and rewarded?
So much struggle in mind for beautiful presentation
Not for any appreciation or getting the citation
The flowers boom in beautiful garden
They gain full blossom at maturity even
But how many disappear even at the down of the day?
Who hold their fingers in hand and show the way?
So many poets beat their drum in wilderness
Present their fine creations and surface
Many may be just dreaming about bright sun
What tragically remains in their luck to run?
No one takes note their sad demise
How many pledges were made with promises?
They all are found now useless and hollow
What else is left for them than to lie low?
Not all can reach to great height
Unfortunates may even meet bad fate
Their dreams will be shattered once for all
World may watch their nose dive and fall
Another bright star may be lost
It will not at somebody’s cost
Some good heart may breathe last time
Where do we think or care any times?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
After witch hunt
I don’t go after witch hunt
I have suffered and bore the brunt
Though I succeded in creating the shunt
There was enough of bonding though I was blunt
The thoughts were invading in empty space
The mind was fully occupied with race
There was duality in presenting the face
I was not prepared to go down in any case
I have seen the reasons behind
Anything especially I couldn’t find
It was definitely a tug of war
I was not at all a shining star
I had strong medium to present
All views across the table to represent
Though there was mad rush of conflicting views
It was sometimes drawing critical reviews
The poets are not at all at ease
They eagerly wait for its release
There is tremendous scope for its clash
They appear in mind like flash
It is pure art to put the ideas across
You may sometimes draw the flake or cross
It is pure imagination to have taken real shape
It may get you galore or put restrictions or cap
How it is going to be done is not anybody’s job?
One has to see to it clearly that it is not going to rob
It is traditional thinking coupled with originality
To bring it in new form is real quality
The thought may emerge and fade so soon
Like stars in sky but not seen in noon
The small poets may twinkle on the horizon
They may not restrict to any theory of zones
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Objectified
All beautiful things meet their demise
Flowers in bloom surely will die
Frozen are the wings of the dead butterfly
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Clouds of gray spoil the light of the skies
The ocean must fall in order to rise
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
I knew I was doomed when you first said, “Hi.”
Two ships in the night, we were bound to collide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Four months can pass in the blink of an eye
We lose ourselves without having to try
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
The simplest words become hard to define
You can’t see the truth when you cover your eyes
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Your pay the price to take this ride
Slowly, you find that you’re living a lie
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Pictures of us will fade over time
We become strangers in a world so wide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
You’ll keep on searching for what you won’t find
You’ll lose your faith while I lose my mind
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Sometimes your morals get left behind
It will be too late when you realize
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
poem by Vaida Marea
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A real poet and person
Sometimes person is credited with split personality
He is best known by his integrity and quality
Still at given point of time that rattles the theory
The reasons advanced are numerous and many
Poets are referred to as not real and imaginary
They are not down to earth and true visionary
It is claimed that they are living in dreamy land
Where ships sail without water on sand
The moon will have all the beautiful shapes
Stars may have all the shines under different names
The sky may house them in basket and present
As family of beautiful objects with shadow of crescent
The Poets have heart of living man and not that of goat
Even though referred to as but presents all with fine quote
The God has given him little insight to be romantic
He or she is full of universal love and not that of fanatic
Love may naturally flow through pen or brush
He may prove idealist for ideas to push
No need to hurry up for anything or rush
No standing army required fore rebellion to crush
Do they take all fancy to ordinary persons?
Do they pulsate anything for soil and true sons?
They do have all the feelings for fellow brethren
Most of the time is occupied with main concern
What do they have in their real life to present?
A duality or real face with all the illusions absent
Do they live normal man’s life or suffer under agony?
Do they starve in whole life for the want of money?
I have probed mind several times and have something to state
It may not have been designed for them to have such a fate
Though idealistic and visionary to have realized life very late
It is not as difficult as thought over to maintain the date
In real life they do have lot many concerns to deal
So many aggravated wounds to care for and heal
How can that be done without leading a life with fake seal?
To take part in real show with only aim to cheat and steal
Oh! Still a life to lead on with great motives
To concentrate on earthly things and be selective
No matter how it can be far from real and subjective
The zeal, thrust and provocation is proactive
Freedom of expression and basic rights are no issues
Independent thoughts and presentation of reasonable views
All that vindicates the stand even though called unrealistic
The private domain may remain exclusive and very basic
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Poet not to remain quiet
It is essence of poet not to remain quiet
Even though may not have knowledge considered to be basic
The thoughts and images must reach to the masses
As they may have enough of it to read in classes
The flower may not know what fragrance it has
There might not be awareness yesterday as it was
Still there may be bright tomorrow to celebrate
It may be simple try by poet to project and narrate
The poets are called crazy and thought driven
They do not bother for their appearance even
They eat whatever they get and stay wherever they are
The world is so close to them and not very far
They are part of each living object
They accept it in mind and never reject
They try to feel natural belongingness
And it is there as gift to feel oneness
Not all can feel the impulse of nature
Not all can see the well being of future
Only few can breathe with it and survive
They make it perfect and try to revive
It requires third eye to feel the real soul
You may witness it casually and not as whole
You get hurt when something wrong is done to nature
You express sorrow when over apathy to cure
Not that people are cruel and less sentimental
They may be part of bad set up and very much instrumental
Yet poet is different from others and feels grieved
He has the noble soul and her words are respected and believed
Everybody may be passing through critical phase
There may be mad race and long chase
Yet there may be enough of reasonability in approach
Poet may try to project but not attempt to teach or preach
Some of them may be called nationalist
Some one may be well known as futurists
Some may come out as strong supporters of the liberty
Some may prove very good at prayers of almighty
It is not that only poets do great service
People from many walks of life also suffice
Their contribution is well known and of very good standard
It is the basis for which to go ahead and look forward
But the rainbow can only be seen in poetic heart
By little appearance of natural beauty it will simply start
It will pen beautiful words to please old and young alike
Not all the ideas may occur to all or strike
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Poet not to remain
It is essence of poet not to remain quiet
Even though may not have knowledge considered to be basic
The thoughts and images must reach to the masses
As they may have enough of it to read in classes
The flower may not know what fragrance it has
There might not be awareness yesterday as it was
Still there may be bright tomorrow to celebrate
It may be simple try by poet to project and narrate
The poets are called crazy and thought driven
They do not bother for their appearance even
They eat whatever they get and stay wherever they are
The world is so close to them and not very far
They are part of each living object
They accept it in mind and never reject
They try to feel natural belongingness
And it is there as gift to feel oneness
Not all can feel the impulse of nature
Not all can see the well being of future
Only few can breathe with it and survive
They make it perfect and try to revive
It requires third eye to feel the real soul
You may witness it casually and not as whole
You get hurt when something wrong is done to nature
You express sorrow when over apathy to cure
Not that people are cruel and less sentimental
They may be part of bad set up and very much instrumental
Yet poet is different from others and feels grieved
He has the noble soul and her words are respected and believed
Everybody may be passing through critical phase
There may be mad race and long chase
Yet there may be enough of reasonability in approach
Poet may try to project but not attempt to teach or preach
Some of them may be called nationalist
Some one may be well known as futurists
Some may come out as strong supporters of the liberty
Some may prove very good at prayers of almighty
It is not that only poets do great service
People from many walks of life also suffice
Their contribution is well known and of very good standard
It is the basis for which to go ahead and look forward
But the rainbow can only be seen in poetic heart
By little appearance of natural beauty it will simply start
It will pen beautiful words to please old and young alike
Not all the ideas may occur to all or strike
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Believers
Intro:
I got no money, got no job, I'm just another shufflin' slob.
Well we've all been disappointed, we've had our dreams before.
For with dreams you learn to take your turn
In a world that don't believe in nothin' anymore.
Some believe in Jesus. They don't act like they do.
Some believe in Mohammed. I don't believe that's true.
'Cause they do believe in money, and gold is what it's for.
All the gold can't buy no peace of mind
In a world that don't believe in nothin' anymore.
She is a woman, with a baby child. A sacrificed human. Now she's runnin' wild.
Well her dreams have all been shattered, her dignity defiled.
She has lost her way but she must stay
In a world that don't believe in nothin' anymore.
Some believe in love. Where did it go?
Some believe in children. Even they now know
That we do believe in money, and gold is what it's for.
All the gold can't buy no peace of mind
In a world that don't believe in nothin' anymore.
I believe in you, I believe in me and I don't care what the papers say.
I believe in struggle, I believe in life, I believe that we will find a way.
I believe in hope, I believe in dreams, I believe in luck, I believe in schemes
I believe in fate, I believe in time, I believe what I believe ain't worth a dime.
'Cause we do believe in money, and gold is what it's for.
All the gold can't buy no peace of mind
In a world that don't believe in nothin' anymore.
I'll go on livin', I'll pay the cost. I'll keep on givin' to those who are lost.
'Cause the children will be coming and they'll soon know the score.
They must understand I've played my hand
In a world that don't believe
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts
Mind is pre occupied with thought
No win even after battles fought,
No results even after lessons taught,
No peace despite comforts bought,
Is that we have gone so much insane,
Our prestige at low and efforts in vane,
Roads all clear and deserted lane,
Sky too calm but only noise of plane,
Nothing will improve or find change,
Look even shabby even you arrange,
Does not require outward finish,
It is sign of doom’s day and perishes,
Reforms in thoughts and sincere action,
Will bring all change without any question,
World at large will have joy and benefit,
Simple thought and no brake or limit,
What I am searching in selfish world,
What I look around and develop feet cold,
Do I lack vision or ideas bold?
Do I stand on slippery land and not properly hold?
It is senseless thought war only in mind,
Never parallel in history you find,
Mind vicious and no place for views kind,
All ready to give you push from behind,
Who should I trust and whom to avoid?
Find no excuse or reason solid,
Will have to use mind and common sense,
Must leave behind thoughts and tense,
I failed to distinguish what is wrong or right,
Unnecessary quarrel and useless fight,
Peace will elude and goal not in sight,
Will emerge end of tunnel with bright light
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I write...
How badly a poet feels when his articles go unread?
Get no cooperation from fellow poets for further lead
How narrow interest has shadowed the real talent?
Old poets did so much but today we can only resent
There may be many reasons and probably the time factor
Who has the time to come out in and see the moon in sector?
The moon, stars, and sky have permanence in feature
So nothing to look at them as they don't make our future
What do we find when look at some of the creations?
Lot of confusion with innumerable questions
I find hard going with concept and logic behind
Even so much eagerness on their part but approach very unkind
I blame none but changing scenes
No one can exactly predict and prefer to be seen
Even though they may be interested and very keen
The confinement nature hunts mind or appears to have been
Poet may go on writing but may not find favor
Not that those articles are bad or find no natural flavor
Still some of the poets may go out of the way and appreciate
This gesture somewhat appears to be managing and relate
I would love if little time is spared for emerging poets
They come with full force but find no favor and then remain quiet
It is like river flow in monsoon when in spate
Nothing is sure about and left everything to fate
If stage is decorated for the performance of the artists
And find is no audience to clap each one among the lists
Then no one may dare and ever attempt for another show
The movement comes to standstill and restricts the flow
The creations may certainly find favor if not day then tomorrow
Yet mind should not disturbed and released free or allowed
There is substance in it and it may pull magnetic way
Sun may shine again and find the promising rays
I write with no reservation or wait for applaud
The work itself may speak in volume and very loud
Ears may refuse to believe when one day you may find surprises
The world may clap over your achievements and suddenly rise
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Anything in between
I can’t become anything even if I want to
I can’t attempt simply and pass though
It has certain norm and has to be met
Goal and priority should be decided and has to be set
Nothing materializes all of sudden
If you are sure of it then only it is done
You may get the success or fail
All your efforts may help you to sail
I know how to excel as good poet
I have revolutionary ideas but have to keep quiet
I may have strong will power to change the world order
It may some time result into disorder
How do the ideas enter into empty memory?
How do they develop into in to fine poetry?
Words after words may occupy different position
It may result then into fine composition
Can this lead into conflicting views?
Does the poet get its proper dues?
Can this land him into disarray/
Can this also take readers in to his way?
It is difficult to judge and visualize
Nobody can prejudge and lateralize
It may touch the inner core of the heart
It may land into garbage before entering mart
I have no time to think about all this things
It has to be an honest attempt at something
It may not find place today then possibly tomorrow
Some time has to be given to express the sorrow
It may have premature demise
No one can guarantee or promise
At every step it must be revised
Some new ideas to be set in and formula devised
The poets are small vanes of the society
It must pick correct mood and offer in variety
There s no use to present the which is obsolete
It has to be unique an din it self complete
The poets are not emerging in a day or two
They are subjected to litmus test and have to pass through
Not possible that it may find all the time good favor
The quality and product both must have flavor and fervor
If your ideas resonate with rhythm and synchronize
If it can meet the challenge and people too sympathize
It is certainly possible to have all glory and fame
Otherwise one common thing to share is blame
Nothing goes out of tune in the mind
You must have suitable words ready to find
I must altogether touch the reader’s ideology
There has to be common approach without any bogey
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Beautiful Mind
A BEATIFUL MIND IS A VIRGIN MIND.A BEAUTIFUL MIND THINK NO EVIL.ABEAUTIFUL MIND IS PREACIOUS THAN DIAMOND.A BEAUTIFUL MIND LIVE IN PEACE LIKE DOVE IN THE SKY.A BEAUTIFUL MIND IS PURELIKE OLIVE OIL.A BEAUTIFUL MIND HAS NO PLACE FOR HATRED.A BEAUTIFUL MIND WILL ALWAYS THINK OF LOVE AND CARE AND NOT TO HURT.A BEAUTIFUL MIND WILL PUT A LIGHT IN THE WORLD THAT WILL BE BRIGTHER THAN DAY LIGHT.IF A THOUSAND PROBLEMS APPEARS, A BEAUTIFUL MIND WILL COME UP WIHT MILLIONS SOLUTION.
poem by Tijani Adebowale Destiny
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The sky and stars
The sky is studded with bright stars
Though with little shine but very far
Beyond my imagination and reach
I still go for it and try as such
I find teenagers on line
All beautifully dressed and looking fine
Red cheeks and face with beautiful shine
May not refuse if you politely invite to dine
They may have compelling reasons
It is possible the change might have been caused by seasons
There is boom in garden and flowers smile
All in different colors and zoom in air for while
One such flower appealed me a lot
She was not favorite or but preferred somewhat
It was different from others with lots of appeal
I went very close and urge to pick could not repeal
It presented a very wide smile
I had dread of such a flower for a while
Even though I was aging very fast
An urge from within could not die or last
“How nice, a beautiful presentation but can’t be mine”
I was slipping in sweet memory but got afraid of famine
Will this beauty may die soon or taken away?
Is there no other option open in my way?
There were whispering notes from near by
Flowers of different colors were showing their hands with bye
I was struck there with lots of confusion
I was overpowered with zeal and infusion
I must have at least one to accompany in life
I shall give the beautiful name as wife
Not all flowers are to be seen later on
As nice one has been picked to follow on
The whole garden seemed to me like universe
Heard all applauses for good work and no curse
I had some apprehensions in mind for selfish approach
I found nothing in particular as such
As I said all members are in their teens
Some may be hardly fifteens or sixteen
All out to find their match and very keen
To see the out side world on colorful screen
I offered my love to such beautiful queen
I presumed she was for quite long or even longer may have been
I do not know what had happened to her in between?
But she was desperate even though remained unseen
I thought for a while and decided not to fall
Such relation may be untimely and invite great fall
It would be advisable to go for matured relation
It may be healthy and more over good indication
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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And Not Fade
All the creations that God has made
It will remain in force and not fade
Only some will be liked more and some less
As we are indifferent to see and face
We see the beauty from outer space
Try to reason out and simply trace
Its essence and contents for self use
This makes life difficult and totally confuse
How many children we dropp at orphanage?
Do we ever care about their fate and age/
In which sense they are less than flower?
We have no pity or mercy to shower
We love only beautiful flower
But they may be rare or fewer
We have no love for ordinary but beautiful
That has come up for pleasing us in full
Even cattle don’t harm while grazing
They look at it and consider amazing
They have sense of appreciation
We love in anticipation of relation
Some children may take birth in poor family
Yet their parents may bring them up happily
Not a single thought of deserting them in open
We have become merciless even
They may breathe in open space
Sun rays may not affect their face
Some one may come and look at
Show some love and curse the cruel fate
Not all the children may survive and last long
Something may definitely go against or wrong
So the flowers may fade away in the evening
Their fate and chance may not be brightening
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A deception with conscience
Person can’t be deceived by his own conscience
He has inner instinct to remember and feel the presence
One may be successful in little time period
People may think different of him and avoid
“Did you ever see my profile?
Catch me there for while
It may speak for my self and reveal
There is hardly anything to conceal” I replied to a question
”Poets need not speak for themselves
Their volumes or work may speak itself
It is how you present your life and work poetically
It gets on to the heart of people theoretically” I finished it by saying
You have so much to learn from friends
They may advance from different angles and lend
The valuable support and inspiration
It may its own weight and startling revelation
I find female readers or friends more considerate
They are near to the truth and hold views very moderate
What they present is purely from mother’s heart
They never try to impose or even try to look smart
They may be found in friend, daughter or beloved
Most all feelings are bridged and puzzle is solved
They nearly take you to the dead far end
Revive it with kind and best human trend
I may not see in them only from sex point of view
I try to understand them and give their legitimate due
This must be the secret of any poet and be pursued
So at any time they are not misunderstood and sued
Should I restrict my self to only writing?
What if some one offers beautiful fighting?
Not ending in scuffle but lovely exchanges of words
I always take it as good sign and look forward
what tasks poets are supposed to presume and perform?
Take the readers views in arms and stay informed
this may prove to be great joy for the moment
it may be not only great event but surely good movement
Is it purely a matter of poetical value?
Don’t you think our presence in vital role is due?
What we are expected to deliver at the critical juncture?
Is the future really dependent on well presentation of literature?
I take it as holy task making our presence known on all the forums
We may encounter many unpleasant tasks with future in doldrums
It is how you tackle the sentiments of readers at your heart
The pace may be very slow but you may find it very encouraging from start
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Poets Of Many Types
Indeed they are so many types of poets, and of the poets I would not say anyone is more important then the other.
For the readers each have their desired tastes.
So they're most certainly should beware upon opening the page.
Cause dangers do lurk, some quite perverse.
While others seem to insult either the heart or mind.
The poet didn't write it for you specifically in mind.
But instead just to describe his feelings at the time.
Whether be with his eyes in sight, his nose in smell, his fingers in touch, his ears in sound, and some would say his mind and heart with emotions.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Shine as Bright as that Star
Shine as Bright as that Star
With eyes that shine as bright as that star.
Seamlessly you can be found,
Not the glow, not the light, but the sparkle.
Which causes you to sense that you are on top,
Looking down on that endless beauty.
Entering the room they illuminate.
Can you feel it?
Can you see it?
Can you control it?
But ask me why?
Why do I feel this emotion?
Those stars disappear
Where will you be when morning breaks?
With me?
Peering into eyes that shine as bright as that star?
With a smile that shines as bright as that star.
In passing I caught a glimpse,
Something like that of a shooting flame.
Found, but then lost.
Looking for something that can not again be seen.
Is it special?
Was that the one?
How do you know?
Those stars disappear.
Where will you be that night when it’s lost?
With me?
Sharing that smile that shines as bright as that star?
The thoughts which cause attraction.
Feeling that you want to reach out and find that perfect star.
That star which shows that extra something special.
As the eye causes the mind to believe, beware,
Believing does not always hold the truth.
I can hear the night,
I can see the dawn,
Invisible at break,
You are there to be held and to be taken care of.
Are you with me?
You, the one who shines as bright as that star.
poem by Roger William Studd
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Endless Love
my love,
There's only you in my life
The only thing that's bright
My first love,
You're every breath that i take
You're every step i make
And i
(i-i-i-i-i)
I want to share
All my love with you
No one else will do...
And your eyes
Your eyes, your eyes
They tell me how much you care
Ooh yes, you will always be
My endless love
Two hearts,
Two hearts that beat as one
Our lives have just begun
Forever
(ohhhhhh)
I'll hold you close in my arms
I can't resist your charms
And love
Oh, love
I'll be a fool
For you,
I'm sure
You know i don't mind
Oh, you know i don't mind
'cause you,
You mean the world to me
Oh
I know
I know
I've found in you
My endless love
Oooh-woow
Boom, boom
Boom, boom, boom, boom, booom
Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom
Oooh, and love
Oh, love
I'll be that fool
For you,
I'm sure
You know i don't mind
Oh you know-
I don't mind
And, yes
You'll be the only one
'cause no one can deny
This love i have inside
And i'll give it all to you
My love
My love, my love
My endless love
song performed by by Mariah Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A moon and stars
Oh, little little shining stars
you all stay very far
The sky get lit up with silver rays
we enjoy dark night with nothing to pay
What a lovely scene to be enjoyed by an eye
all narrow thoughts disappear but want to fly
there is now question of 'ifs', 'buts' and 'why'
you twinkle all the times as if feeling very shy
Galaxy with starts function as family
widely spread but as an single entity
beautiful place created by an almighty
hang in balance in a place called very empty
No wind observed with little life on surface
still there is invasion on sanctity with mad race
what a beautiful reflection when struck by light
never seen such glow in deadly night
An open object with beautiful imagination
poets and writers raise many questions
how you look so beautiful yet with black patches
very far from land but eyes to catch
Who has read real reflections?
how can it be termed as dead action?
millions watch over with silent reaction
eyes do not close even for fraction
There may not be single life to be seen
yet beautifully depicted with lively scene
lots of praise and admiration from laymen
only lover's heart can feel pulse in human
You have remained there for centuries
with so many questions and queries
you were never a source of worry
many hearts have wept by expressing sorry
Hand in hand to last forever
many doubts in mind however
yet very cool and pleasant feeling
submission to come very late but almost willing
O moon, o stars, you are close to chest
hearts beat fast when yo move to west
you remain there with never ending show
the sky should illuminate with fine glow
Not a single ray can cause harm
cool in nature yet creation of charm
pulses beat in isolation and feel very warm
birds may soon go up to reach and swarm
Where is fear of feeling lonely?
the nature has manged it solely
they hang in balance but does not loose the height
we crumble on ground with our own weight
We are beautifully gifted with insight
though there may be sweet memory to fight
it may make us sad when see the emergence of moon
all sadness to disappear immediately or very soon
Though mild object with limited role
it has ever fascinated and stole
our mind and heart at regular interval
it has been great moment to watch your arrival
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Years of hard struggle
It takes years of hard struggle
To survive in this competitive jungle
Everybody adore some position and smile
Some of the flowers have to stand alone for while
Who will notice them in wilderness?
Who will grant them togetherness?
They have to gain position for survival
No one may make the way for their arrival
Some one may up by their natural presence
They will be noticed easily by their absence
Everybody may miss rose and its color
Even though others may have good smell and odor
Poets are like “touch me not” and may not seek
Some may prefer to shy away and feel very weak
They want to put their presence on big scale
But small fishes are swallowed by big whale
How many turtle eggs survive in race?
Not many I suppose on rough face
Yet they march to race on for long time
I think over it silently sometimes
So every species has distinct feature
They are recognized and identified for sure
But where is the coming up of infant poets?
Have they been pushed to remain quiet?
This is toughest race in world
You can rule it with hot temper or cold
No sentiments or pure imagery may come to rescue
The highest slot is reserved for only few
The poet is beautiful animal with no horns
If he is passing on road people may warn
May give some piece of advice for ugly show
As he may unaware of self but in hurry to go
Poets are generally termed or knows as whimsical
Their tone may be literary and little musical
On stage they may put different and powerful show
The powerful oratory may excel like river water flow
Hardly few people may know about his existence
That too will be known on somebody’s insistence
The creative work may remain confined to golden books
As beautiful and testy food will not be enjoyed by cooks
I wish poets to have small horns
Small species not to be touched and warned
Let them groom in some unrestricted area
Not to beg to any body and making unnecessary plea
Let us create enough space and free air
Let them breathe in and find means very fair
Let them not bogged down in word jugglery
How the elephant looks giant with ivory?
I wish it not to happen
It comes to them one by one
Everybody has events in turn
How best can we offer in return?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mood
What can be termed as mood?
Can that be called conducive for good?
Situation may not take you out of wood
You may not even like or prefer food
It is perfect condition to emit ideas
Nothing will be heard even good pleas
Good melody may also fall to deaf ears
Perfection may take longer or even years
Mind may set in and take complete rest
Emergence of constructive but thoughts best
Some times may prove hard or acid test
Right time to strike, write and paste
Don’t attempt when nothing appeals
Thoughts may cross and ideas repeal
Allow normal function with gate closed
Gradual entry with no more ideas forced
It is like child demanding toy
Nothing will convince even if you employ
Good alternatives with submitting to demands
Even if you threaten with severe remands
Childish play with funny acts
Got to know with basic facts
Simply arranging with current scene
Facts to be reflected as never before seen
Poets are whimsical and funny
Care not for any more penny
It is simple presentation of views
May not head to any more clues
It is not magic or creating words
Simple notes and looking too forwards
It may not have head and tales
Poets are many as sea have whales
Poets may create new concept and waves
Beautiful ideas which may produce heroes and braves
It may not be drive powerful wagon
Certainly a sharp and double edged weapon
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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