Mirrors That Do Not Reflect: NaPoWriMo Day 26

“Mirror mirror on the wall,
What to do, should I fall,
Or should I be back again,
To begin just another game”

These words he would ever say,
Every week, and every day,
For every time the mirror reflected,
His own emotions, it projected.

Confidence gave him some hope,
And beliefs would make him cope,
Thus, he would stand up again,
Even after failures, darkness, pain.

But, one day you broke his trust
Confidence, you made it rust.
Broken has that proud miller,
Shattered has his hopeful mirror.

And now among that broken glass,
He walks bare foot, hoping to pass,
Searching for his faith wrecked,
In mirrors, that do not reflect.

This post is for DP Challenge. The poem essentially narrates the story of a boy who always thought sadness and anguish can be gotten over. He expected the world to be limited in context of callousness and cruelty. He was wrong.

The Bucket List: NaPoWriMo Day 20

This post is for DP Challenge.

“What do you want to do?”
“A lot of things” said he.
“How about a bucket list?”
“Yes” he said in ecstasy.

So, Jimmy went to his room.
With the hope of writing a list.
Took a crayon in his hand and,
wrote his future in a gist.

Near the table, under the bed,
On the walls suave green,
He wrote with colorful crayons,
Adding color to his dream.

Bit by bit, one by one,
He wrote a thousand words,
Learn guitar, play piano,
Write poems, own a bird.

When he was done he,
Stood up in happiness,
Determined to lead a happy life,
Esteemed, famous, proud and blessed.

Sixty years have gone now,
And so much has changed today,
The room is empty,
There is nothing that lay.

No longer is there that cartoon print,
Or that old joker’s head,
No longer any furniture,
For Jimmy, is now dead.

Still the same is,
That suave green paint,
And in a familiar corner,
A bucket list, subtle  faint.

Thousand words, thousand desires,
But none fulfilled, not one,
Colors, pale and freckled now,
A bleak past, nothing done.

And, so the list is waiting now,
To be wiped off bit by bit,
For another Jimmy, and
For another bucket list.

Be Happy: NaPoWriMo Day 17

This poem is also for this week’s DP Challenge.

Can you see that cloud of belief,
The one that’s still holding your aura,
And trying to force out that rebel,
Making you believe, in your beauty and flora.

It’s inside you, beyond the wreck,
Yes, it has always been there, away from mob,
Through the fences of seclusion inside,
And it says:
Be happy, cheerful, (don’t sob)

What Hurts The Most

This poem is for WordPress Weekly Challenge.

There once was a boy,
A little young fellow,
He lived in a town call Townsville,
And called by the name hello.

The name was given by the Townsmen,
As they loved one of his habits very much,
He loved saying everyone hello and good bye,
Friendly he was such.

He was so nice and generous too,
And everyone in the town was his friend,
He did everything , all he could,
To help the people that he met,

Everyone loved him very much,
Such was he, a creature,
That anyone who met him was spellbound,
By his gregarious nature,

He too loved the Townsmen boundless,
His love was infinite,
Without them he was incomplete,
Could not pass a single night.

One day he got a call,
From his step-mother in his village,
Though she had been bad to him,
She was now struck ill by old age.

Without delay , hello went to,
The station and boarded the train,
He had just reached halfway,
When it started to rain,

It was a dark and calm night,
Then suddenly it happened,
A loud noise was heard and,
Soon, it all was helter skelter.

It was a train accident,
And so hurt was hello,
He could not think nor move nor see,
Oh , the poor fellow.

He knew his time was near,
He knew it very well,
It was all very clear,
There was nothing more to tell.

Thinking about his beloved townsmen,
He searched for his phone,
With great difficulty he found it,
Dialed them and heard the ringing tone,

Minutes passed but no one,
Seemed to pick it up,
They were either not near,
Or the post office was closed up.

Tired , frazzled and close to death,
No more pain he could bear,
He kept staring at the phone,
With his eyes full of tears.

He closed his eyes and reflected,
His thoughts were heavy, muddled,
He was so unhappy.
Hurt , sad and puzzled.

What hurt him the most , though,
Was not that he was about to die,
But his cruel ironic fate,
That he could not say goodbye.


This poem is for WordPress Weekly Challenge.

It was night and I stood there waiting in silence,
Under the tree by the brook,
For you to come and free me, hence
From the silence of the crook .

But you did not come,
And I waited for hours
The silence consumed me.
And left many scars.

But I did not give up, oh god
For I trusted you will come,
And break the silence with a nod,
But you did not,  you were done  .

I gave up, I had to
And the silence still exists,
But about you, I don’t have a clue,
Your image is in a mist.

The silence has now taken your place,
For you, betrayed me,
You did not break the silence,
But the silence broke me.

If The Hudson Overflows


My second submission for Weekly Challenge.
When I was just a little boy,
I lost my only family – my mother,
And All she left me was a silver toy,
To take care and love her!

The toy, it. was dear to me,
I loved it more than anything,
It was a sign of my mom,
But , I lost the toy and she was gone.

I cried for it day and night,
Looked for it everywhere,
But there, just wasn’t a sight,
Of the toy that had disappeared!

I was a child I let it go,
But didn’t forget about it.
Grew a little more, was thirteen or so
And I forgot about it!

Everything was going just fine.
Nothing now felt bad,
Till came the famine of  ’69.
And I lost all I ever had.

For days, I wandered on the street,
looking for food and shelter.
But there was nothing to eat,
Everything was helter-skelter!

Out of anguish and misery,
I cried out : Why Me?
And there came a voice  from heaven,
Because it is your destiny!

And then , out of no-where,
Came a man with a loaf of bread,
He offered me to come to his home.
I accepted , ate and went to bed.

When I woke up the next morning,
It was not where I slept.
But in a little jail cell,
Where poor children were kept.

Next day I was taken to,
An iron rod factory.
Forced to work day and night,
Till, master said satisfactory.

But those words were never heard,
I was beaten hard everyday,
Forced to work like a cattle herd,
No sleep  and, no play.

Days turned into weeks,
And out of anguish I shrieked,
Why me? Why me?
The man there answered : well,
Because it is your destiny!

Then one day,  I finally revolted .
They slapped and beat me hard.
Threw me in a jail cell,
And locked it with a card.

I cried and wept for days.
But there was no one to hear.
I finally, with much efforts found a way.
To get out of there.

It was dark out there,
But in the corner I saw a little light,
I  walked towards it , to see what it was ?
What was shining so bright?

It was the silver toy!
I touched it with my hands so skinny,
It was back and I rejoiced.
For, it was my destiny!

Eternal: NaPoWriMo Day 16

Other than being a NaPoWriMo poem, this post is also for this week’s DP Challenge.


You may pull out my seeds of integrity,
Buried inside my each and every piece,
You may throw them away out of your cruelty,
You may if you please.

You may blemish them with mud and dirt,
And even torture them with callous sun-rays,
If not satisfied, you may even make me hurt,
Kill me and throw me there, where you threw my integrity away.

But bear it in your heart like an imprint as I say,
That so easily integrity does not die,
I may be dead in my human form but one day,
As a plant I will rise.


If you wish, you may take me and my will,
And then, turn it into dust with heartless pity,
You may throw away on barren lands across the hill,
So, I do not rise like my integrity

You may even freeze the mighty sun,
And let the winds rule the land,
You may even throw away all the water on Earth,
And bind the planet with a poisonous band.

But, bear it in your heart as an imprint as I say,
That my will is made of rock, does not rust,
I may be dead in my human form, but one day,
I will fly as the dust.


Now, you may burn my beliefs and my very existence,
Your minions may bury my ashes through the abyss,
Into the core of the Earth on your insistence,
And out of your cruel habits.

You may destroy the very face of Earth,
Destructing every piece of water, dust and seed,
You may kill every creature, every plant that took birth,
Even seize the winds, the air that we breathe.

But, bear it in your heart as an imprint as I say,
That beliefs do not die, no matter if hurt,
I may be dead in my human form, but one day,
As a volcano, I will burst.

Mostly this poem is misinterpreted. The poem is not a mere emphasis on hope and optimism but also tends to underline the presence of a reason behind everything. The poems shows how the very things that crush you may be later become the reason for your success. For instance, if you look at the first stanza again you will notice how all those things that blemished integrity ( water, sun, mud etc) were in face the very things needed to turn it into a plant and grow.

Original photograph: Simply Blue by Paleontour