A Tear-Straight From The Heart

 It would be worth my while to die,

If I could see a tear in your eye.

A token of love fom you at last,

To smoothen all the hurts of past.

 

A touch of sigh,for the days gone by,

A tinge of sorrow,for a different tomorrow.

A bit of regret, to make you fret.

A heartfelt pain?No I hope in vain.

You so cold,so aloof, so serene;

could there be a current of warmth unseen?

Was there a glance which pierced your armour?

And then forever usurped your ardour?

You do well to remain in  supreme disdain,

Of feelings humane,pleasure or pain.

Slowly I find I become one of your kind,

Though embers do glow underneath the rime.

This grip of melancholy now holds me like a vice,

And the vigour of life slowly turns to ice.

This is a crossroad-I have to decide,

Was I born to live or cast like a dice?

Though the swell is past and waters abate,

Why emulate what I fervently hate?

This would surely be the worst kind of treason,

To desert myself in the fall of the season?

Oh God forbid that there should be a day,

When my own tranquility should cause me dismay.

When love's gentle call would no more enthrall

Cause if I gave all I would also loose all?

When timid overtures would no more reach.

The inner space all gone to seed.

Therefore I say God let me die,

PERHAPS I could see a tear in his eye.

The Ebbing Tide

The jabs and jibes
ultimately subside
an ebbing tide
makes one wise

who can give me
sorrow or pain
I only got
what was ordained 

bitterness or rancor
no more pinch
but from future
I sometimes flinch

the road ahead
is not so clear
murky waters
burgeon fears

the future however
was always dim
come what may
I shall win. 

This Long Road

Step by step,how far we go!

This long road
away from home
did I know

when I first stepped out

what it was

going to be like?

smooth or rough
or strewn with stones
gentle curves 
or twists and turns
hot and dusty
or cool and shady
steep uphill climb
or a slip down ravine?

and the companions-
friends or opponents
kind and encouraging
or sharp and stinging
empathetic and true
or vile through and through?

no,nothing of this kind
crossed my mind
I just stepped out
and plunged headlong
as the day advanced
reality dawned
this was no dance
nor a walk in the park

a mixed platter
had been served to me
and the making or breaking
now rested on me
it was a test
to do my best
for this exam
and also my nest
so much the better
without a flutter

from where I stand
what used to be home 
is  nowhere in sight
only the road ahead
and this fading light
step by step
breath by breath
how far I have come
from my sweet old home.

A Gazal In Which You May Find Shades Of Your Own Sentiments

आज मैं आपके साथ एक ग़ज़ल शेयर करना चाहती हूं  जो मैंने २,३ साल पहले पढ़ी  थी.शायर हैं शकील उद्दीन. तो लीजिये आप भी इसका आनंद उठाइये:--

गमे  हयात उठाना हंसी मज़ाक नहीं.'
फिर उसपे हंस के दिखाना हंसी मज़ाक नहीं.

बदलते देखी है तकदीर  हमने शाहों की,
किसी के दिल को दुखाना हंसी मज़ाक नहीं.

मैं अपने हाल पे खुद कहकहे लगता हूँ,
मज़ाक खुद का उड़ाना हंसी मज़ाक नहीं.

खुद अपने ख्वाब बिखरने का खौफ रहता है,
किसी को ख्वाब दिखाना हंसी मज़ाक नहीं.

तस्सुरात वो चेहरे के पढ़ने लगता है,
बहाना उससे बनाना हंसी मज़ाक नहीं.

न जाने कितने मराहिल किये हैं तय लेकिन,
तुम्हारी बज़्म में आना हंसी मज़ाक  नहीं.

This gazal was penned by Shakeel Uddien.

The Bitter Truth

To tell you the truth
I have no hometown
There used to be one
My heaven on earth
A safe cocoon
A warm embrace

I grew up assimilating 
It's different vibes
Never knew that life 
Also has a flip side
Which revealed itself
When I left it's side.

I went to it again and again
To recover lost treasures
And be my old self again
Like all good things
This too came to an end.

What is a hometown
without a home
And what is a home 
Without those loving souls
What used to be my hometown
Is now a deserted town.

गर्म हवाएं

तीखी चुभती  गर्म हवाएं 
दिल को कभी बहुत  झुलसाएं  

लाएं ऐसे ऐसे  बवंडर 
बिछुड़े लोग और भूले मंजर 

हर इक पल की साक्षी थीं ये 
तब तो मेरी साथी थीं ये 
लेकिन अब तो बैरी बन कर
आग लगाएं गर्म हवाएं

कर लूँ बंद सभी दरवाजे 
मैं न सुनूं इनकी आवाजें 
फिर भी कहीं से आती जाएँ 
तीखी चुभती ढीठ हवाएं

इक पल इनके पीछे भागूं 
दूजे पल फिर  वापिस हो लूँ 
पल में कहाँ कहाँ पहुंचाएं 
तेज बड़ी  हैं गर्म हवाएं 

दिल करता है बहुत सा रो लूं 
दिल के सारे ताले खोलूं 
कुछ  भी करूँ पर हल्की हो लूँ
बोझिल  हैं ये गर्म हवाएं 

तिनका तिनका कर जाएंगी 

क्या क्या छीन के ले जाएंगी 

घर से बेघर कर जाएंगी  
   बेपरवाह बेदर्द हवाएं 

आसान  नहीं होता है भुलाना 
छोड़ के सब कुछ आगे जाना 
चल ही दिए तो मुड़ना कैसा 
नादाँ हैं ये गरम हवाएं 

Man Ki Patang

मन की पतंग 

सुबह से उड़ रही है 

झेल के आयी है कितने ही ताप 

पहुंची थी जाके कहीं सूरज के पास 

खींच लिया मैंने उसे अपनी ओर 

शुक्र है अब तक पक्की है डोर

पर इन हवाओं का क्या है इलाज 

भटकाती रहती हैं इसकी परवाज 

कब तक उड़ेगी ये कब तक तनेगी 

सर्द गरम मौसम ये कब तक सहेगी 

रुकेगी तो काँटों में फस जायेगी 

के क्षत क्षत ये हो कर बिखर जायेगी 

उड़ती रहो फिर यूँ उड़ती रहो 

सम्भालो मुझे खुद संभलती रहो। 

Light Shining Out of Darkness--- by William Cowper

William Cowper was an English poet and hymnodist.His life was scarred by misfortune and sorrow.He suffered bouts of  depression and insanity, and thrice,he attempted suicide.He was even admitted to an asylum.

Yet,consider this poem below and you cannot but marvel at his positivity and of course,his literary prowess.

Light Shining Out of Darkness

God moves in a mysterious way
    His wonders to perform;
    He plants His footsteps in the sea
    And rides upon the storm.

    Deep in unfathomable mines
    Of never failing skill
    He treasures up His bright designs
    And works His sov’reign will.

    Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
    The clouds ye so much dread
    Are big with mercy and shall break
    In blessings on your head.

    Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
    But trust Him for His grace;
    Behind a frowning providence
    He hides a smiling face.

    His purposes will ripen fast,
    Unfolding every hour;
    The bud may have a bitter taste,
    But sweet will be the flow’r.

    Blind unbelief is sure to err
    And scan His work in vain;
    God is His own interpreter,
    And He will make it plain.

Source-google search.

The Crossroad

 The future is inscrutable

The crossroad has been left far behind.

Submerged forever in a dark ravine.

Uphill it's been,since that very day,

Pebbles and thorns all the way.

I wonder about that other road,

Was it shady?Where did it go?

Barren land or lush terrain,
Welcoming arms or quick disdain?

Widespread meadows,beckoning flowers,
Serene satisfaction of happy hours.

 A symphony resonating all around,
Filling the air with joy unbound.

So easy to picture a perfect place,
Omitting all,that we truly hate.

But nature has some definite norms- 
Want the flowers?Deal with thorns.

Image courtesy google.

Priceless and Precious--Lost for Ever

Voices heard years ago

Now lost,

Forever and more.

Do they linger
In the air?

Not heard by me,

But very much there?

I ache to hear

Once again,
My name,whatever,

In voices dear,
Priceless and precious,
Lost forever!

Yesterday I had a very vivid dream of my mother calling out my nickname.I was upset throughout the whole day and then I wrote down the thoughts which were churning inside me.

Oft In The Stilly Night--by Thomas Moore

Oft, in the Stilly Night (Scotch Air)
BY THOMAS MOORE

Oft, in the stilly night,

Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,

Fond memory brings the light

Of other days around me;

The smiles, the tears,

Of boyhood’s years,

The words of love then spoken;

The eyes that shone,

Now dimm’d and gone,

The cheerful hearts now broken!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere slumber’s chain hath bound me,

Sad memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

When I remember all

The friends, so link’d together,

I’ve seen around me fall,

Like leaves in wintry weather;

I feel like one

Who treads alone

Some banquet-hall deserted,

Whose lights are fled,

Whose garlands dead,

And all but he departed!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,

Sad memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

Ek Bhool Kafi Hai--A Poem From My Collection,Very Touching and Poignant

इस कविता को महेश संतोषी ने बहुत समय पहले लिखा था। यद्यपि यह बहुत ही त्रासद है और मेरे फलसफे से मेल नहीं खाती ,फिर भी यह मुझे बहुत पसंद है,जाने क्यों। 

एक भूल काफी है 
याद भूल जाने को एक उम्र कम है पर, 
एक भूल काफी है उम्र भर रुलाने को !

एक सांस जीवन में एक बार आती है, 
बार बार लेकिन क्यों आँख डबडबाती है ?

मनचाहा आँचल तो मुश्किल से मिलता है, 
इसी लिए आंसू को धूल बहुत भाती  है !

रूप के बढ़ाने को लाख फूल काम हैं पर, 
चार फूल काफी हैं अर्थियां सजाने को। 

कुछ तो मन मृगजल के पीछे भरमाता है, 
कुछ मन का मेघों से मरुथल सा नाता है। 

आशा ही आशा में होंठ सूखे जाते हैं पर
कौन बुझे प्राणों की प्यास बुझा पाता है।  

प्राण दान पाने को एक बूँद मुश्किल पर, 
एक बूँद काफी है जिंदगी डुबाने को। 

प्रात कब हंसाता है,सांझ कब सुलाती है,
किस किस से साँसों की कथा लिखी जाती है। 

समय सभी घावों को पूर नहीं पाता है ,

दबी हुई पीड़ा भी उभर उभर आती है। 

दर्द के मिटाने को सौ सौ सुख  काम हैं पर,
एक दर्द काफी है लाख सुख भुलाने को। 

Hum Jaante Nahin

A short poem from my collection:--

Andhkaar ke peeche roshni!Hogi,hum jaante nahin.

Path mein keval tam tha,aage keval tam hai,

Paar kahin andekhi chandni!Hogi,hum jaante nahin.

Ek andheri chadar,jis par kuch likha nahin,

Yahin paas rangon ki ghata ghani!Hogi,hum jaante nahin

Chalte hi aaye hain,chalte hi jayenge,

Door kahin jyoti ki saray bani!Hogi,hum jaante nahin.

Andhkaar ke peeche roshni!Hogi,hum jaante nahin.

By:--

Anand Mishr

Takdiren

तकदीरें 

ज्यूँ  रेत  पे लकीरें। 
गहरी कभी इतनी क़ि दिल चीर जातीं। 

कभी इतनी धुंधली , समझ भी न आतीं। 

अभी अभी आंकी थी खुश हो किसीने, 

क्षण भर ही ठहरीं,फिर न देखी किसीने। 

सीधी कभी तिरछी, कभी यूँ लहरातीं ,

बीती हुई बातों के गम को भुलातीं। 

कभी फिर अचानक ये खुद ही खिंच जातीं, 

टेढ़े मेढ़े रास्तों पे बढ़ती ही जातीं। 

बनाये नहीं बनतीं,मिटाये नहीं मिटतीं, 
अनदेखे हाथों ने खींची लकीरें। 

Related posts :--
http://jeeteraho.blogspot.in/2013/02/me-and-my-destiny.html

http://jeeteraho.blogspot.in/2012/07/it-happens.html

http://jeeteraho.blogspot.in/2013/12/passing-momentslost-moments.html

http://jeeteraho.blogspot.in/2014/04/dawn-at-dusk.html

To My Grown Up Son

My hands were busy through the day,

I didn't have much time to play

The little games you asked me to

I didn't have much time for you.

I'd wash your clothes;I'd sew and cook

But when you'd bring your picture book

And ask me please,to share your fun,

I'd say,"A little later,son."

I'd tuck you in all safe at night,

And hear your prayers,turn out the light,

Then tiptoe softly to the door,

I wish I'd stayed a minute more.

For life is short,and years rush past,

A little boy grows up so fast,

No longer is he at your side,

His precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away,

There are no children's games to play,

No goodnight kiss,no prayers to hear,

That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands once busy,now lie still,

The days are long and hard to fill,

I wish I might go back and do,

The little things you asked me to.

By Alice E.Chase.

The Catalyst and the Chrysalis

She was waiting for him,

To say a word.

All she said,

Had gone unheard.

A sapling transplanted,

In new environs,

Hoped for an anchor,

To just hold on.

The hostile soil,

Did not oblige.

Harsh winds sucked,

At the succulence inside.

But the seed below,
Was rearing with life.
Tender roots clung
To deep earth inside.

Thus began a saga,
Of  patient evolution,
She was her own support,
Her own destination.

Dawn At Dusk

Sometimes you know,

Dawn breaks

At the end of the day.

After the toil

Has taken it's toll,

After the sufferance

Turns into tolerance,

The fire and fury

Finally subside.

Ultimately,

You come to terms,

And then realize,

That all this strife,

Was only meant,

To test your might.

Slowly the anger melts away.

That is when,

A new dawn breaks.

Image courtesy google.

Vacant Eyes

Vacant eyes staring at me,

Trying hard to position me,

In a desolate vista, 

Of forgotten faces 
And faded memories.

No expression or recognition,

A difficult battle 
Has but been lost.

What harrowing pain, 
 Must accompany that loss.

The twinkle and shine
Have turned to rime,
Only vacant eyes,
Staring at me,
Staring at me.

Omar Khayyam,Once Again!

Omar Khayyam's exquisite quatrains require no introduction and Edward Fitzgerald's translation does full justice to his verses.Please enjoy....

One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,

 One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste---

 The Stars are setting and the Caravan

Starts for the Dawn of Nothing---Oh, make haste!

'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days

 Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:

 Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,

 And one by one back in the Closet lays.

 The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,

 But Right or Left, as strikes the Player goes;

 And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,

 *He* knows about it all---He knows---HE knows!

 The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

 Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

 Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

 Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

 And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,

 Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,

 Lift not thy hands to *It* for help---for It

 Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

If you liked these verses you may also appreciate the following posts.....

http://jeeteraho.blogspot.in/2012/11/rubaiyats-of-omar-khayyam.html

http://jeeteraho.blogspot.in/2013/06/omar-khayyam-some-gems.html

Sourced from google.

Passing Moments.....Lost Moments.

Every moment is slipping by,

Like carriages of a train whizzing by.

Loaded with stuff no one can see,

Desires worries and memories,

Hope anxiety and agony.

A lamp post on way shines some light,

And so, the carriage perks up bright.

Into the jungles, and then again,

Darkness black resumes it's reign.

A cool breeze sometimes brings reprieve,

Then turning to gusts,it sows unease.

Take care,the signs of a brewing storm,

Hold tight to all you cherish and own.

Thank God the storm has passed away

Not taken you too,along it's way.

But the journey still is far from done,

All kinds of weathers will test you on.

Many carriages have dropped by the way,

And new ones are added every day.

What was dear and intimate,

Is now swathed in distant haze.

Onward goes the march of time,
Who can ever lag behind?

My own destination I do not know,

 In my hands, to heal and grow.

Image courtesy google