Earth

I come up against the unmovable, unshakeable, the mountain,
I wonder if it’s worth your effort, to bear its strain,
And whether it was always a part of you, or a recent outgrowth,
One that has for ages, known no diminution, and alas, no growth.

I try to reach out, and you stonewall yourself into a rock,
One even the fire cannot melt, or wind cannot unblock,
And yet, my tears that flow, like water over your jagged edges,
Turn them into pebbles, cascading themselves over your ridges.

Though speak, you cannot, you nevertheless nourish,
Those blossoms, whose fragrance I everyday cherish,
To reach me, your thoughts disintegrate into the dust,
To be carried by the wind, the only messenger you trust.

Through my moods, their expressions and feet, everyday I kick,
And yet you bear it, not a single groan, though it makes you sick,
Although firm, sometimes my feet into your heart do sink,
And yet you carry me, always holding me, from going over the brink.

- GUPTA GHOST

Fire

I stand as I watch, its progress, an unstoppable blaze,
And I wonder, if there is something that you cannot set ablaze,
And burn in your frenzy, as if beyond containment,
Devouring everything and yourself into extinguishment.

At times, those eyes of yours, they potently simmer,
And just when they almost burn me, they slowly glimmer,
And I believe, I will be scalded, if I so much as even touch,
For, more than the distance, it’s the heat, that divides us so much.

And I think, is there any way, to bridge this gulf?
A way, that your fiery self can never ever engulf,
And it seems to me, that every time you cringe,
Your arms will envelope me, and begin to singe.

You rise up, steady and straight, just like a flame,
One that purifies, one that obliterates every shred of blame,
And you pursue, throw me off guard, with your inflammable charm,
Which never ceases to make doubt, if love is really so warm.

- GUPTA GHOST

Air

Blowing across the land, an unstoppable gust,
You kiss this earth, and take away its dust,
It falls back, and you continue, like the wildest gale,
You keep returning, to caress me and regale.

Like the midnight breeze, you arrive every night,
Cajoling my heart, and everything else in sight,
You lift me onto your wings, up into flight,
And carry me aloft, till morning’s first light.

Every time you brush past me and my cheek,
I wonder, if there is something more you seek,
Seeing you amidst swaying flowers, people think you meek,
And yet against your seething best, there’s nothing not weak.

You waft in, through my every breath, and leave,
And bind me forever, by this life, that you thus weave,
One day, forever you will leave, when my time is due,
A day when I will lose, love, and most of all, YOU.

- GUPTA GHOST

Water

Floating like a boat, on the waters of your heart,
I feel like a captain, one without his dependable chart,
I have no choice, as I am swept along with your flow,
I only wish, these moments could atleast go more slow.

Tippling and swaying, I don’t feel the need to float,
For, isn’t yours the love, that always keeps me afloat,
Every time I try to set foot, my feet you always wash,
For in you, is not my every thought, already awash.

You flow in, through me and out, a relentless tide,
Lashing out with a gentle ferocity, never out of stride,
Although all over me, you never cease to drench,
Surprisingly, you never spill over, onto the bench.

You are the flood, in which I will keep swirling,
As long as in this love, I see you smiling,
For love is like water, one that never breaks,.
One, on whose pounding, the very earth shakes.

- GUPTA GHOST

<..

Sorry for the delay of nearly a month. Was a little short of inspiration, although there never was a shortage of concepts. Was really difficult to find some inspiration after such a beautiful one on Aparna. But poets must move on, and muses change. Not for long though, am sure she is strong enough to pull me back in a few months, till then I have some interesting ones coming up.

The current series is one on the elements, and the metaphorical representation of love through the various facets of the elements that we know as the building blocks of life on earth. Next on the menu(probably in a few days), is a set of three poems about a hypothetical story narrated from the other person's eyes(for those who must have got tired of my girl-bashing, here's the answer, coming up), it was something I promised somebody more than a month back, so I hope, the posts in a few days will satisfy that person.

..>

Shadows

People discussing them may seem out of place,
They themselves are never found out of place,
They walk with you, and run with you, all the way,
Yet they seem to vanish by the end of day.

Alive or dead, we shall always cast these aberrations,
For, of our own selves, are they not true reflections,
They change with our feelings, change like our mood,
Longer when in glee, and shorter when we brood.

When the light goes out of our dark lives,
It is not in darkness, that the shadow thrives,
It leaves you not, it just envelopes itself around you,
And walks with you, for longer than you knew.

It absorbs nothing, and it dissolves into nothing,
For it is not material, this slippery shadowy thing,
It moves against the light, like an actor in a play,
Yet that is the simplest, of the games it does play.

It is the image of the fears and troubles you carry along,
The ones that will make this journey seem more long,
And yet, it contains also the hopes of getting more strong,
To choose between the paths, right and wrong.

- GUPTA GHOST

<--Dedicated to Dear brother Satyajit, who had some reservations about shadows-->

Yesterday's Gift

Yesterday’s Gift, is the posterity, that it gives,
The permanence for a while, that memory can grant,
Before the sentinels of change produce their warrant,
And put an end to this unwarranted rant.

Yesterday’s Gift, is the mirror, that it gives,
To look into, and see, your yesterday’s face,
And all those moments, how did you face,
When you never knew, they were, but a passing phase.

Yesterday’s Gift, is the experience, that it gives,
Of knowing the consequences of the moves you made,
Ones that hastened those goodbyes that you bade,
Though all the while, your intellect, from doing so forbade.

Most of all, Yesterday’s Gift, is the power it gives,
To change the way each person today lives,
To ponder over the actions that always repeat,
And to begin the dance again, albeit, to a new beat.

- GUPTA GHOST

Teardrops

It begins at birth, and the pangs never end,
With shrieks and sobs, the air they rend,
Though more often, they live in silence,
They signal a plea for attention and deference.

They well up in times of joy and happiness,
And flow out at the onset of sadness,
They cling on for further existence,
Yet show no signs of your inner resilience.

As they run along, they skim the surface,
And look for the undulations on your face,
That allow them to live a moment longer,
Until your emotions can get much stronger.

People say teardrops are just salted water,
That its just plain expulsion of matter,
But teardrops aren’t just a pack of secretions,
They hide behind them, bundles of emotions.

Times when you are sad, and dejected,
Times when you are angry at being rejected,
Times when words can no longer express,
The feelings inside and their distress.

They are droplets of your pent-up agony,
They are droplets of your life’s disharmony,
They are the heralders of your pleasure,
And also reminders of a lost treasure.

They are your dreams rolling down,
Upon receiving the world’s frown,
They are your joy spreading around,
Upon reaching the pinnacle of solid ground.

They are the syllables of the heart,
One that is mute, and torn apart,
And needs a voice that can be seen,
And a representation of what you’ve been.

They fall off, and dry up even more soon,
Yet they leave behind their signature boon,
A memory that shall always call them back,
For forgetfulness is something teardrops lack.

- GUPTA GHOST

Pray For Me Brother

You have always been busy, with your everyday life,
To earn and provide, for your children and wife,
To go up the ladder, whence you can provide even more,
But how much do you need, how much can you store.

When your plate and belly are full, what more can you eat,
When clothed for today and tomorrow, what more will you wear,
When sheltered from the elements, the rain and the heat,
How much more space do you think is really fair.

Throw that extra food down the drain, you paid for it,
Atleast the next time, think of how much I needed it,
Build yourself that palace of your dreams, that apartment,
Atleast some day, think of me on the adjoining pavement.

Buy yourself those coats of mink and many a fancy trinket,
Atleast remember, I could always do with even a torn blanket,
Break all your belongings in fits of anger and depression,
Atleast remember, I never even had such a possession.

Never mind if you just cannot spare or even share,
Mine is a sorrow somebody always has to bear,
Just happened to be me for today,
There were always others, and always will be, everyday.

I ask not for your savings, I ask not for your pension,
All I ask for is awareness, and a little bit of attention,
All that I wish is that you know, that there’s someone like me,
And then its your choice, to decide how to let things be.

Your effort can make a difference, even if only to one,
Yet all I ask is a prayer, for you, me and everyone,
That this message reaches someone who would really care,
Someone with a heart, an extra pair and a desire to share.

- GUPTA GHOST

<--Thanks to A.R.Rahman for the inspiration and Blaaze for the Title

Hope people listen to the song "Pray For Me Brother". Its Really awesome-->

A Flickering Lamp

Walking in the night, the moonlight as a guide,
I feel as though I have abundant time to bide,
Looking around, I find no place to safely hide,
From the growing anxiety underneath my hide.

From all sides the forces are closing upon me,
Recasting doubts on what my mind can see,
From the edges of twilight you suddenly appear,
Like a resurfaced apparition of a long-drowned fear.

Floating on the top of my mind’s deepest recess,
You seem to laugh at my life’s horrible mess,
At the turmoil and pain, that seem in excess,
Yet permitting through them, patches of success.

My mind tries to revolt, and run away fast,
As I consume myself to breathe till you last,
Walking away, you leave my hopes damp,
Counting my time, like a flickering lamp.

- GUPTA GHOST

Tomorrow's Yesterday

I look up at the rain drops that hit my eyes,
Just like the teardrops that roll down my eyes,
I instantly close them as the ensuing sunlight strikes me,
And I realize I no longer find myself in me.

Images and events of life are jostling for my mind’s space,
As with this itinerant flow of thoughts I try to keep pace,
At once I am a child, eagerly wanting to be a scientist,
Long since then, I have grown to nothing more than a pessimist.

As a teenager, I longed to be a computer whiz kid,
Alas, I have since then lost count of things I did,
As a graduate, I dreamt to manage a business empire,
But I still languish in drudgery and unfulfilled desire.

All my tomorrow has become a long forgotten yesterday,
And I still await to become someone, someday,
I realize that life takes away more than it gives,
That itself is a measure of how long each one lives.

- GUPTA GHOST

Teardrop

To feel the teardrop pulling at your eye,
To trickle down your cheek it knows not why,
Yet hanging on brow’s edge, it seems to die,
For the fear of making you seem to needlessly cry.

Once on its course across the valleys of your face,
It sprints against itself, in an unintended race,
Obstructions on the way it will scarcely face,
Yet scared of drying up, if slackening in pace.

Starting humbly, the journey as a self-propelled drop,
It runs along, exhausting itself to a stop,
Consuming itself to create a narrow new way,
A way along which its successors would gladly play.

You are compelled by stimulus to brush it aside,
And it finally leaves, having enjoyed the ride,
To the observer, it makes no pretence to be coy,
For, the teardrop in itself, signifies neither sorrow nor joy.

- GUPTA GHOST

School Days

In life, during rainy moments of gloomy recollection,
School Days stand out, surmounted high in joy and emotion,
Of boundless fun and frolic, they present an unfurled reflection,
Happiness outbids all else in these days, in obvious selection.

These days of humour, sportsmanship and sound advice,
In troubled times of life, these memories help to break the ice,
In life it matters, if these memories in our minds we record,
It brings about unity, when our life runs amok in discord.

Between juniors and seniors, students and teachers, existed a special bond,
In difficulties and despair, this special bond did effectively respond,
Of petty troubles and little fights, these days helped us to get rid,
School Days disciplined us into citizens of a country's future grid.

Sorrows and setbacks, the course of streamlined lives do alter,
But not for us, since School Days are our Rocks of Gibraltar,
These memories and moments enrich you, when life turns grey,
For, School Days, like sun's rays, on your reflective mind plays.

- GUPTA GHOST

Orchid Garden

I haven’t seen a thing, as meaningful as an orchid garden,
With its beautiful blooms, there is no mind it will harden,
An orchid in its full bloom, is a sight to be beholden,
No matter what praise be given, to the hands by which it was moulden.

As far as your mind can judge, it fully covers,
All your thoughts, with its multiple colours,
You will never again see a world so diverse,
That so resembles the difference in the Universe.

Yesterday’s buds soon blossom forth into flowers,
The mesmerizing flowers turn themselves into fruits,
Today’s fruits turn into tomorrow’s seeds and roots,
Laying the foundation for the future’s flowers.

So much philosophy in so little may seem strange,
But from afar, however long , you will never see them change,
It may soon push you headlong down the precipice,
If you agree that all things of beauty come at a price.

- GUPTA GHOST

In The Name Of God

To many people, life seems great, in the ‘Paradise on Earth’,
Of nature, beauty and transcendence, there is no dearth,
Only shortage of Peace, Love and Happiness,
As we live each day in fear of unexpected loneliness.

Our children wake up, not to the song of the cuckoo, but gunfire,
They make their way to school, the path paved with blood and barbed wire,
They grew up, not by reading about squares, triangles and spheres,
But by attending daily, the funeral of ones near and dear.

We live on, not for survival, an unreliable, long-forgotten word,
But for mending each others spirits towards a promising new world,
The scars have remained, like the echo of gunshots in the valley,
Behind closed doors, as each day we pray, for a lesser death tally.

As each year passes between snowfall and sunrise,
People don’t change and none the better for the wise,
Even God who knows no hate, would surely despise,
People, who in the name of God, innocents terrorize.

- GUPTA GHOST

This poem was inspired by the video of a song in
the first Indian movie to be listed in the UK Top Ten.

Friendship

In the making of their world, it played an important part,
It was the greatest among, and easiest among all arts,
At the highest of prices, it was still unavailable in any mart,
For, in all its simplicity it consisted of the bonding of their hearts.

It primarily enlivened the cause of their creation,
It created an understanding among their relation,
It helped to express their every thought, every sensation,
It enriched and embellished the purpose and need for association.

It formed an association of understanding, a reputable company,
In sadness and happiness, in life and death it will always accompany,
Misunderstandings were scarce and differences hardly some,
It depicted the blossoming of unity, in a picture wholesome.

Each existed for the other, a matchless golden era,
The bond grew by leaps and bounds, challenging the power of Ra,
Open wide apart, were the golden gates of heaven,
In assent to the association of these fellow brethren.

It was at a time when all seemed fine,
And the association was set to blossom and shine,
It was then, that the potion of acidic destiny began to brew,
Each passing day witnessed conflicts, which only grew.

The understanding of thoughts of many days turned to difference,
Love and reconciliation were treated with equal diffidence,
Thrown to the mercy of the winds was to be the relation,
The group seemed to await its forced sordid cremation.

Then it happened, unmindful of which direction the wind seemed to blow,
The mighty river into streams in directions different began to flow,
One single moment had the infinite power to totally devastate,
Goals that took days and months of understanding to cultivate.

The weak minded had sold the secrets for not a mere pound,
Wiping away memories and moments with feelings abound,
Drowned in their selfishness and non-self-motivated attitude,
To their association in faith, lacked in even gratitude.

- GUPTA GHOST

Discipline

Glass since centuries has symbolized items fragile,
Its crystalline shine makes it visible a mile,
Its place in civilization wouldn’t have got,
Had it not been moulded and blown red-hot.

If there is one word that rules the world,
Atleast for mankind it undoubtedly is gold,
For most of us gold wouldn’t have really mattered,
Had it not been melted and finely hammered.

The one substance that reflects maximum light,
Is a diamond that sparkles scintillatingly white,
This diamond wouldn’t have cost as much as a nut,
Had it not been repeatedly polished and cut.

Away from laziness and disorder, a student must live,
So that to many in future, sustenance he can give,
To teach him definitely that hurry makes you worry,
Discipline in a student’s life is very necessary.

- GUPTA GHOST

Dearest Mom

My experience with you is like a rain of moonlight,
Soaking my memory in an enchanting grip so tight,
Like the blanket you covered me with, while I slept at night,
Sleeping by my side, guarding me till the break of daylight.

Guiding me in life, helping me make the choices right,
Yet stepping aside, when I am under the spotlight,
You have struggled day and night, with all your might,
To fulfill my every wish, the challenges despite.

This body of mine, is a gift from you,
The wealth I have, is all because of you,
While I carelessly laughed and played,
You were busy, you cried and prayed.

I always tremble in my heart, standing before you,
Trying to explain, the difference made by you,
You listen and return, with your special from the stove,
I smile and think that all I can give back to you is love.

With your care and concern I have been nourished,
With your blessings and advice I have flourished,
The one thing that strikes me, when I think of you mother,
Is that God couldn’t be everywhere, so He made Mothers.

- GUPTA GHOST

Dearest Dad

I have known ever since I first opened my eyes,
One man, who would always be the most wise,
Whose bubbly effervescence never ceases to surprise,
Like the unfailing clockwork of the tireless daily sunrise.

One man, whose hairline although constantly receding,
Shall never lose the born appetite for always succeeding,
To make all of us happy, is your every effort dedicated,
Only upon its fulfillment, is your anxiety vindicated.

You taught us that worrying doesn’t improve the situation,
And only a step forward will take you to the destination,
You showed us that a mountain is too small an aspiration,
And for that matter you shall always be an inspiration.

The more we grow, the greater is the world’s expectation,
So for each little deed, you showed the greatest appreciation,
Over the years, I may be able to surpass you in height,
But I can never ever become as large as your heart.

God made Fathers’ to lead us all with a guiding hand,
And put us on their feet across the burning sand,
And fulfill our unreasonable wishes with their smiling wand,
For, without fathers’ we would all be in no man’s land.

Dearest DAD, I may not get another chance tomorrow,
And today I don’t have anyone else’s words to borrow,
I have always been trying everyday to somehow tell you,
That no matter what, I shall always continue to LOVE You.

- GUPTA GHOST

Damn Those Marks

Like a veritable demi-God walking the earth,
And accomplishing the objective of his mortal birth,
High marks bring such awe-inspiring treatment to a person,
Since every parent is madly proud of such a son.

Without them, a person is looked down upon like a sinner,
None looks into their eyes, to see within a future winner,
Just give them another chance to try and warm,
And they’ll soon take the whole world by storm.

One wants to be a doctor, another an engineer, a scientist,
But their poor marks lead them to being out of the roll list,
There are bouquets and parties for the damned topper,
And brickbats for the failure, looked on at as a pauper.

They didn’t have marks, those people considered greatest,
It shows that you don’t only need marks to be the best,
“Get more marks ” is all that the blind world barks,
But I shall forever continue to say “Damn those marks”.

- GUPTA GHOST

Call Of The Valley

In life the only wish we had, was for the pleasures of peace,
Our hearts don’t agree to violent deeds, that break life into many a piece,
For all their dastardly propaganda, innocent people are the ones who suffer,
For our little children, don’t we have a better world to offer?

Of what use is togetherness, if it cannot abate,
The feeling that runs among hearts like ours, hate,
Remind them of love, that so very like a sand dune,
Spreads in every direction that the winds play a tune.

In You is our faith, our refuge, as we count our hours,
In this world of Yours, there is nothing to claim as ours,
Where else can the prayers of our little children go,
Placing their heart in Your hands, everyday to school they go.

Whether things change for the better or not, we will never depart,
As long as we can see You, hidden though in our heart,
We have come together, across religions, for our life’s rally,
Please O Lord, answer the call of the valley.

- GUPTA GHOST