(c) Shilpa Sandesh Her gaze is set, At the wide spread ahead, Lights glimmer, Racing motors on the road, And noises undefined, From far away; But no landscape can collate, With the bruised patches, in her heart; No motors are at par, With the speed of her hastening thoughts, And no clangor as loud, As the shrieks of her caged soul; Blaming is like, Plucking the petals, of a blossoming flower, To take the blames, Is like being pushed, To walk bare foot on thorns; It's a puzzle, it's a jumble, Her inner self is, Disarrayed, cluttered, It's a muddle; Those moments are no more, When she was, Besotting to his eyes; When her tears made his eyes wet, When seeing her in pain, His heart ached; She is a reflection, Of the fate's rebound, In the broken mirror; She walks, On the scattered glasses, And Oh! My feet are in blood!
Walking on the sidewalk, After running on the tracks, Breathing slow for a while, Blaming the fate, Since the dreams got hacked, But it's okay, It's fine, Happens........ And then a huge cloud absorbs me, Each one of us have suffered or are being subjected to one or the other kind of hardships. These tough times are very intriguing. They bring us to tears, followed by rage and mostly ending with blames and curses on one another. But isn't blaming the easiest thing to do? It might seem quite unacceptable a thought at first, but eventually, a willing contemplation would definitely take us to the core of it all, where we shall see the words 'Forgive and Forget' accompanying the rivals 'Blame and Curse'. It is not a mere statement or a piece of preaching but a purely self realized trait. I have been amongst those who chide and complaint when crestfallen whether due to my own wrong decisions or an imposed arrangement. But gradually a moment comes whe
My beloved, Do you know what makes Love different from True Love? True love comes with the promise, of keeping promises, And before it puts you in dilemma, Let me say, I know not what is Love, For every molecule in my body, Moves echoing your name, The shade of my blood, is not red, It is your name, The colour of my skin, isn't white or black or brown, It is your name, My tresses aren't golden or black or red, They are your name, My eyes, they are the seven colors of rainbow, Forming the seven letters of your name, The words and verses I pen, are not my thoughts, It is my soul, And my soul, is your name, I am not me, I am your name.... (c) Shilpa Sandesh
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