My Drop in the Ocean

Under the dark sky filled with stars,

I walked the shore of life.

Only to find, the washed-out stars,

That belongs to the ocean of life.

 

So, back to their home, I threw them,

To see them live again.                                                                                                                                      

My joy was found in it,

Hence, I did it again and again.

 

A broken glass, I came across.

It would pierce my leg I thought.

Thus, to the ocean, I threw it,

To keep our legs, clean of blood.

 

How would I know?

That I was not the only one,

To dump our problems, to the world of theirs,

Which could pierce their loved one!

 

I gave life to one of them,

While I took away from others.

Without knowing what my drop did,

I dropped in both life and death.

 

Let’s add the drop of life,

To the world of theirs.                                                 

Let not the drop of death,

Make an ocean of death.

A Gift of Mine {This poem was inspired from the 2011 Fukushima accident}

The loud announcement was heard all around,

For a volunteer to enter the womb of terror.

No sound was heard in the surround,

For the fear of radiation from the reactor.

 

Should I be the one, an old man?

To sacrifice my comfort for others!

Should I do it for the love of all men?

Or at least for my child and of others!

 

Here I write it for you, my child,

To let you know that I have lived my days.

And I lived it for you, my child.

Now I am ready to die for your days.

 

I know not what awaits in there!

Yet, I go in to shut it down.

To save all hearts from death’s terror,

Which for long has held us down.

 

Soldiers lay down their lives,

For the country of theirs.

Today, I do the same,

For the humanity of ours.

 

Don’t spend your time, my child, in shedding tears,

For you got it, with the ransom of mine.

Don’t let it waste in vain with tears.

Rather make it, the best gift of mine.

 

Human in woman

She knew her end was at hand,

When she saw stone in their hand.

She was dragged into the day light,

For she was caught in adultery last night.

Before a man, she was brought.

For a judgment on her, he was sought.

But he was busy scribbling on the ground.

So, she thought, “Is he different from men around?” 

They persuaded him for the judgment.

So, he straightened up for a moment,

And said, “Let he stone her,

Who has not sinned so far.”

He scribbled and scribbled on the ground,

As stones dropped from the hands around.

They dared not to fight their conscious and stone her,

Who was awaiting death, so near.

She felt freed from the trap of men,

As she caught the gaze of that man,

Who seeked from her no gain,

But only asked not to sin again.

She prayed, “For the sake of woman,

Let the world know this man,

Who is not caught in the world of men,

For he sees human ever in the woman.”

The King's Ring

Once there lived a King, 

Who in his youthful age,

Loved to wear a ring,

That was gift from a sage.

He wore it day and night, 

Both at times of peace and war. 

For sage said, “It is your might. 

It's your strength in war. ” 

He conquered far and wide. 

Yet his heart knew no rest. 

For he was possessed by pride, 

That said, “You are the best.” 

So, with thirst for more land, 

And with greed to be world's king, 

He attacked the great island, 

That was ruled by a fierce king. 

Kissed his finger as a custom of war, 

Only to find no ring of charm. 

Without ring, victory seemed so far. 

The mere thought of it weakened his arm.

With ease enemy struck him down, 

Like a butcher, slaughtering a sheep. 

They conquered his land and every town, 

While putting him to an eternal sleep.

When to see the dead king came the sage,

All said, “Ring had the curse and the grace.”

“Curse and grace were not in ring,” said the sage,

“But king's faith made it curse or grace.”

The poverty line!

Even before my child saw the light,

I dreamt his future to be bright.

I worked hard day and night,

Only to see him growing right.

To make him work, I thought never.

But poverty seemed to consume us forever.

So, he went to work to make a better liver.

Thus gave up his education for ever.

He worked hard day and night.

Rarely did he meet my sight.

For he found his work to be his delight,

But I saw his future to be a dim light.

Will he escape poverty's trap? I wonder

Lose of his childhood I ponder,

Only if I had a magic power,

I would at least make his future better.

There are million children at work,

Whose future seems to be dark.

With mere education right.

Can their future be bright?

Without the stomach being fed,

Can the mind be fed?

Thus can they have a slightly better life,

At least above the poverty line!

He is a refugee.

I know that man, you see,

Filled with grief and misery.

He was forced over the sea,

Like his fellowmen in the history.

While hidden in that boat of hope,

He has known the days of dark.

Journey taught him to cope,

If not, death indeed, without life's spark.

Landed on the shore of scope,

Only to wander from place to place.

He found no home to stop,

And to feel the warmth of an embrace.

After the days of march, he stopped indeed,

Only to realize that he need not flee.

Now he looks for opportunity to feed, 

Embracing that he is a refugee.

The last of its kind.

The last of its kind.

(I have written the lyrics from the point of view of a person who has never seen a tree, clean water and animals. He longs to see them, but they are no more.)

Walking down the road 

I am looking for a tree

Where is the tree?(2)

I am asking you, you and you all.

Where is the tree?(2)

It's no more here

We have fallen it

Oh! No (2)

What's the matter?

It was the last of its kind.

Rowing down the river

I am looking for a clean water

Where is the water? (2)

I am asking you, you and you all.

Where is the water?(2)

It's right here 

We have turned it black

Oh! No(2)

What's the matter?

It was the last of its kind.

Running down the hill 

I am looking for an animal

Where is it?(2)

I am asking you, you and you all.

Where is it?(2)

It is no more

We have killed it

Oh! No(2)

What's the matter?

It was the last of its kind.