We come with knives

we come with knives
me and you,
to know each other a little more
beneath the wood painted flesh
exposing the bloody sinews
peeling a layer at a time
loving and scarring

the stare whips me and the soul
until the knife hits the concrete
the same we breathe in this city
the disguises are getting thin
excuses being torn away from the skin

we come with knives
me and you
to caress the iridescent dreams
and to pluck the memories
those sepia toned threads
knotted into my heart
like a serpent on a twine

raindrops like needles searing
melting the knives we came with
melting the wood paint from our flesh
brand your name on the concrete
of my heart

P.S. I am linking my poem to Imaginary Garden With Real toads

SOULLESS

one day at a time

we live

one day at a time

leaning on our shadows

soulless fingers drumming

on our cells

we live

 forgetting the weight of those classics

 on our pillows

we live

running thoughtlessly 

we live

dreaming black

devoid of our heart

we live

monotonous evenings

disguised as life

we live

butchering our dreams

for those numerical ambitions

we live

undecidedly

uninspiringly

we live

इत्तेफ़ाक़

सामने इत्तेफाक था
कुछ ख़ास था कुछ ख़ाक था
पत्थर  पे लिखे नाम थे
या सिमटे सुकुड़े वादे थे

नींद बेच के कुछ सपने खरीदे थे
गुजरी हुयी मोहब्बतों के कसीदे थे
पाओं संभाल के क्यों  रखना था
जमीं पे यादों का जो  बिछौना था

उधार की जिंदगी थी
या क़र्ज़ की मुस्कुराहटें
कहने को तो बहुत बातें थी
हर बात पे थी आहटें

सामने  इत्तेफाक था
कुछ ख़ास था कुछ ख़ाक था

Found me!!

Pluck the mess out of your head
And watch it floating in mist of oblivion
Or bury it in depth of your healed wounds
Coz far away the rainbow of your
Spirit is fading.


The broken soul will trudge along
The dull heartbeat
Unless you crush the moving past
With a vengeance


Watching your wisp of a life
With quivering eyes
Unblinking soul
Never made you live.
You dont remember
But you were alive
While dancing on the sea
And singing for your dreams.

Finding of my stars

                          

                  

Lets stay awake till we listen the

Whispers of the dawn,

Lets keep taking wrong turns

Till we reach right.

Coz you are the path in my heart

And a finding of my stars

The dream of my wishes

The strength of my power,

Lets walk till the end of the earth

And find a butterfly in lullaby

Lets fill each other with our souls

Coz you are the painting of my stories

And etching on my sighs

The watermark on my courage

The pinnacle of my highs

Banjaara | Hindi Poem by Gaurav Arora

Post by GvSparx.

Ik rahi puchhta hai manzil ka pata
Dooja jaata hai bus chalta chala

Ik darrta hai ho jaaye na khata
Dooja nakaarta hai sahi galat ka kaayeda

Awaargi sa nahi koi nasha
Myekasho ko kya pata

Hatheli pe liye jaan, banjaara chalaa
Dene khuda ko uski muhabbat ka silaa

People on the same road travel different ways. You observe two ways, a crowded one, and an attractive one. An ideal weekend for the crowd of my office is just drinking and releasing, while some like to travel to mountains in SUVs, book a hotel and then drink there. A bad accident including alcoholism with a colleague caused my then manager to say "if your only source of entertainment revolves around alcohol, then you really need to make amends and look beyond". So I wish to say that there are much more fun and adventurous ways to kill yourself. Dying in a drink and drive case is just so effing mainstream. You would barely manage a tiny spot on page ten of the newspaper, which won't even mention if you passed out on Rs. 50 desi or Macallan 1946. I would like to use the opportunity of this guest post on the alcoholic blog of nasheeli Ratika Chauhan, to inspire her readers to take her out on adventurous trips or Jain dinners and drinking only from her eyes.

Written by

Gaurav Arora

Spoken Word Poet| Comic | Host

Gaurav performs poetry loaded with psychology, biology, romance, and a thick layer of humor. He has been writing poems for ten years and performing for the last three with 300+ appearances in cafes, fests, and corporates. He has staged multiple ticketed poetry shows in Delhi, all sellouts. He is the founder of Poet's Mic, a platform for poets to showcase impacting and entertaining poetry.

 

Rebirth

The words, deep meaningful words
fell out of my pocket,
the pretty pearls of my emotions,
clanging on floor, escaping into oblivion
before my thoughts could grasp and chain them back
to my imagination.


The words, sewn carefully through the strings of your love
gleaming with unabashed zeal,
reflecting the charm and your grace
adorning my lips and soul
since eternity.


The stolid, adamant earth hid my words
to write her own poetry,
mocking my helpless stares and glances
her poetry ran from hedge to hill
spanning a summer and an autumn


I stood transfixed
blinking away the tears of shame
of losing my precious to a limbless earth
when a lazy vine crept on me
embracing me in its warmth
I lost myself, melting with the foliage
fusing with the greens
exuding uninhibited courage and unknown peace.
The prevalent chaos was dying inside.

clap

they clap in awe
at her flawless performance
oblivious of her wounds.

The post is written for for haiku heights and the prompt is clap.

Crooked

devils heart he had
cocooned in an angels snowwhite garb
crooked smile stole my soul.


P.s.This haiku is written for haiku heights and the prompt for the day is Crooked

Shrouded night

The sense of loss was
Not evident in your
Stoned visage,
Nor your spirited soul
Reeked of
Disappointed destiny.

I noticed the pattern
Below your frosted bourbon,
The tale of jilted name,
Peeping through the letter,
Your manicured talon traced.

The layered, sparkling gloss,
Unsuccessfully veiling,
The jaded smile.

"Trance it is.",
You blasted my ear,
Clanking your heels,
On wooden floor,
Flipping your wild mane,
Aimlessly at bodies
With name less faces.

The sense of loss was
Not evident in phosphorescent
Shadows.
Nor the neon lights,
Reeked of disappointed destiny.
I noticed the despondence ,
In the dark circles around
Your eyes,
Whispering the romance
Of your sleepless nights.

Truth bared itself
In harsh full moon
When the silver threads
Shook the uncomfortable existence
Of your fragile heart.

Black

Amber coals waiting for them,
little hands scarred by glowering stones,
They have no escape.

The post is written for Haiku Heights and the prompt for the day is Black.

Myth

Of love and its glory,
Courtesan sings with unabashed zeal,
alas! wish the myth breaks.


The post is written for Haiku Heights and the prompt for the day is myth

Teachers.

Of their wit and will
We thrived and fueled our dreams
Gracefully, they faded.



This haiku is written for Haiku heights and the prompt is Teachers.

Ballet

                      Two little feet on wood
               Carving her destiny on rythm
                     Bedazzles gaping me.

                             She moved with aplomb
                           Melting slowly in his arms
                        The floor burned underneath.

The haiku is for Haiku Heights and the prompt is ballet.

khwahish

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 40; the fortieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "MAKE A WISH"

शायद तेरी मिट्टी की किस्मत

मेरी मिट्टी से अलग सी है,

फिर भी तेरी मिट्टी की महक

मेरी मिट्टी की महक सी है।

जो मंजर देखे तेरी मिट्टी ने

वही देखे मेरी मिट्टी ने,

लहू सोखा , पसीना देखा

कुछ आँसू भी सँजोये थे,

माँ के लाल की भूख की खातिर

गेहूं के बीज भी बोये थे।

फिर क्यूँ झूठा जग ये बोले,

तेरी मिट्टी मेरी मिट्टी से अलग सी है

मुझको लगता ऐसा अब भी,

तेरी मिट्टी की चमक मेरी मिट्टी की
चमक सी है।

कुछ हीर इधर रेह गयी

कुछ राँझे उधर बेह गए,

कुछ आँखें यूं ही पथरा गयी

कुछ दिल चुपचाप सेह गए।

चंद लकीरें खीच के कहते

ये जमीन तुम्हारी ,ये उसकी है

आहें समझ रहे है जिसको,

नादान ना जाने सिसकी है।

लकीर के उस पार कड़ी वो देखे मुझको,

उसका एक सवाल रहे घेरे मुझको।

"तेरी चूड़ियों की खनक मेरे कंगन सी है ,

फिर क्यूँ मेरी मिटटी की किस्मत तेरी मिटटी से अलग सी है।

मुल्तान, लाहौर सब तुम्हारे हो गए,

रह गया पंजाब मेरा अधूरा।

जाने ये अधूरा ख्वाब मेरे पागल मन का,

कब होगा पूरा।

लकीरें मिटायें तो मिटायें कैसे,

ये खिंचे बुझे दिल मिलाएं कैसे।

चंद लम्हों की बर्बादी ने बदल दी किस्मत 

मेरे मुल्क की,

जो जमीं कभी थी हमारी,

आज शान है वो तेरे मुल्क की. 

कभी मिले खुदा से,

ये सवाल उठेगा हमारा,

क्या आया तेरे दिल में जो कर दिया 

मेरे मुल्क का बँटवारा।

जब तेरी मिटटी की चहक 

मेरी मिटटी सी है,

फिर क्यूँ तेरी मिटटी की किस्मत 

मेरी मिटटी से अलग सी है

P.S. There are a lot of things we wish for, true love, money, comfortable life, happiness, etc etc,..There are a lot of things we wish we could change, decisions, faults, choices...you name it. But there are a few wishes as common and as gruesome as the fact that partition shouldnt have happened. It has been years and the scars havent healed at all. They remain fresh in our memory. Partition divided our country, and the after effects was a gruesome, gory tale for all of us to remember.

I wish it did not happen.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Participation Count: 06

Escapade.

I kept my silver shoes by the door,
To sprint away from your deadbeat world.
The fragrant sand beckoned me
Adorning the silver shore.

I kept my silver dreams by the door,
To cast off the gloom of your sleepless world.
Washing away my past, the silver rains
So pure.

I kept my silver wishes by the door,
To shun the obstreperous world
Outside my soul.
Silver clouds enticing me
Serenading my very core.

यूँ ही !!!

बाँवरे नैनो में थी एक बाँवरी सी ख्वाहिश
बाँवरे मौसम ने रच दी बाँवरी एक साजिश
बाँवरी सी एक थी शबरी बाँवरी थी राधा
बाँवरी सी हुई ये शब् है बाँवरा चन्दा ये आधा

बांवरी कोयल ने दे दी बांवरी सी कूक
बाँवरी गोपी से हो गयी बाँवरी सी चूक
बाँवरे मन ने है बाँधा बांवरा सा धागा
बांवरी वो शब् गयी है बांवरा जग जागा


बाँवरे हाथों ने थामी बाँवरी एक बांह
बाँवरे पैरों ने पकड़ी बाँवरी वो राह
बाँवरे नैनों ने दे दिया बांवरा एक वादा
बांवरी सांझ आ गयी है बांवरा चन्दा ये आधा

Adhure khwab.

अधूरे ख्वाब दवा है

अधूरे ख्वाब यानि की
अभी चलना बहोत बाकि
नींद गर टूटी
आंख मल पानी मार चेहरे पे
ख्वाब हकीक़त करने के लिए
किस्मत ने खाई दी
मेहनत लगेगी भरने के लिए

कुछ अधूरे ख्वाब रहे
ये अच्छा है
नीरस जिंदगी न हो जाए
हम धार में न बहे
लड़े थोडा स्वार्थी रहे
जब ख्वाब पुरे हो
नए ख्वाब ठान ले

चहकती रहे जिंदगी
अधूरे ख्वाब दवा है
महकती रहे जिंदगी
रुक जाएंगे तो ठंडे पड़ेंगे
सडन हो जाएगी
ख्वाब लालच रहे
बहकती रहे जिंदगी

हाँ मानता हूँ
ख्वाब अधूरे दर्द देते हैं
कभी आँखों को नींद नहीं
दिल में करार नहीं
पर कुछ ख्वाब अधूरे से
मुझे ले आये है
यहाँ हौसला बन के

जब भी अधूरापन खटका
मै दौड़ा पीछे पीछे
पूरा करने के लिए
ख्वाब पुरे हुए
जिंदगी बिना ख्वाबो के
ये आंखे भी क्या करे
चल नए ख्वाब गढ़ ले

मै कुम्हार, ख्वाब मेरे कच्ची माटी घड़े
गर आज सारे भट्टियो में झोक के
सब के सब पुरे हुए
कल न माटी रहे चक्का घुमे
मै क्या करूँगा बोलिए
घड़े नए गढे
बेहतर कुछ ख्वाब कच्चे रहे

Shashi prakash saini.

This is a guest post done by none other than shashi prakash saini who has already proved his mettle in poetry with his e book saamarthya. He needs no introduction. I cant thank him enough for doing this guest post for me. I discovered him through Blog a ton and I have been a fan since then.

बोल

जिन  जंजीरों ने जकड़ा था 

वो टूटना  बाक़ी है 

कतरा कतरा रोज  मरे हैं 

थोडा जीना बाकी है 

उन अरमानों से कह दो 

फिर फैला ले अपने पंख 

 कदम चाल अब बहुत चल लिए 

थोडा उड़ना बाकी है 

शब्द लिखे वो सुने नहीं थे 

बोल कहे वो पढ़े नहीं थे 

ग़ैरों  की अब बहुत सुन चुके 

थोडा कहना बाकी है 

कतरा  कतरा रोज मरे हैं 

थोडा जीना बाकी है 

Divine intervention.

I rest
My trust in you
Pulled me from abysmal ditch
Soaked me in translucent divinity
elevated my dreams at your feet cocooned
I pledge my eternal being to you
Lord I pray to salvage
Mangled soul so
I rest.

This poem is shared with Theme Thursday and this
Is rictameter form where we write in 2-4-6-8-10-8-6-4-2 and
The first and last line is same,this I learnt on
real toads.