The Golden Necklace

The golden necklace long and sleek,

sleek as a thread and equally meek, 

meekly subdues to the ups and downs, 

down the desert's folded gowns. 

The gowns bordered in sparkling beads, 

beads that house the perfect meads, 

meads made out of inhumane deeds, 

deeds of the rich and greedy breeds.

As far as the hovering falcon can see, 

the sea beyond being the end to thee, 

the necklace adorns the lands free, 

free from the humanity's selfish glee. 

The glee in the shiny bead is clear, 

clear from the mask of natural shear, 

shear we attribute to our earth dear, 

dear we say though we consciously fear.

Trees we plant along the paths to travel, 

the travel to the shores of fine gravel, 

gravel wherein the stories unravel, 

unravel the tales when there was no gavel. 

The gavel of nature is inaudible tonight, 

tonight when she sings her weakest plight, 

plight to back off from the wildest fight, 

fight that shall end man's glory's flight.

Planting trees in the driest of deserts, 

deserting forests in the richest soils, 

soiling the faces of earth so strange, 

strangest shall be our race to her.

The golden necklace and emerald beads, 

may look pretty on the bride who leads, 

but shall hurt when you kiss her neck, 

and you would be turned off in a speck.

Rusted strings

It had just been a week, my heart had been rendered weak. 

The long terrible one year streak, of being a single independent geek, 

had been put down by your grace, one more time did my heart race, 

Love was in the air I could trace, I finally lost my regular grimace.

It is too shallow now again, but the feeling is not in vain, 

I realize it's my mistake to train, against the heart over the brain. 

I feel as young as spring, for you pulled the rusted string.

I wish to last longer, this thing, that again made my heart sing.

The fate has decided against me, and my will is keeping the company. 

I wish miracles out of the sea, living in the city that knows no tree. 

I will try to buy one chance, under the table, out of the glance.

I'll be left with my dull single stance, in case we won't do the smoother dance.

You are wasted, spoilt am I, but you're beautiful to my eye. 

Darling, can we dream a sweeter lie, against our fate that's always sly?

Writers' block

You and I, we try to tell a tale,
we don't know why, it turns out to be pale.
We love and cry, and write it in the ink of tears,
we smile and try, but end up penning our fears.

The devil lives, brooding in the adjective detail,
gloom he gives, with his curly pointed tail,
We try to fake, a world out of a tiny infinity,
we bake a cake, out of brown rice off the city.

Beautiful shall be, the fairy tale of castles and princes,
but you tell me, to believe in such glimpses?
Don't you see, it is clear as muddy water,
Wont it be, your mistake of you falter?

Go get a life, you people with fake stories and smiles,
or I'll get a knife, to let your blood flow the miles.
The crowd aren't fools, though you and I too act like one,
it cognizantly drools, making you believe that you won.

Welcome to the new age, to the smart brainy logic,
stop being a sage, orating like we believe in magic.

Clouds

I'm a windless cloud, stuck in the desert so proud, 

a thousand eyes stare at me, so were we destined to be. 

I was sent to wet and drench, but I flood them into a trench, 

a trench of joy and wisdom, in a desert of studies' boredom.

Four years since it had started, teaching this innocent cute dumbhead, 

understanding how her eyes speak, how her words into the worlds seek, 

to be my such sincere student, Oh how I wish she wasn't, 

for loving her is my obsession, someone get me this concession.

All the day a river flows, up and down as it goes,

it sees the cons and glows, life and death all it knows, 

your name nature, your form god, 

you bless me happier, you fill the heart.

A dream holiday

The sky is clear and painted azure, clouds are scattered and the bliss is pure. 

The sun is shining like a red ruby, into the perfect gold it was set to be. 

The white sands are exquisitely carved, by the bristles of wind the sun starved. 

The blue waters cool from the sea, would dance in waves in front of me. 

Into the dark teak woods is my bar, tending is the man with the sharp old scar. 

In the parking, standing alone is my bike, Oh!! That exhaust, the music I like. 

The Palm umbrella gives me the shade, as into the sands my time does fade. 

Chilled beer cans that would never end, and joints of hash in the right blend. 

Not a sound but the nature's song, all day long and all night long. 

I lie thinking on and on then, oh then go pause the Big Ben. 

I want every such thought to drain, I want to clean my fizzy brain. 

I'd wait for that forever long weekend, when my life would be relightened.