Sing it With your Heart

When you know that feeling
That long lost feeling
It’s coming back to you now
When you don’t know when’s it going to leave you
When and how

Sing it with the heart
To never part
Sing it at the start
Of this life of yours
Cause you never know where it goes
Sing it with your heart

There are times of pain
When you know that its gone in vain
Do not condense and strain
Jump into the fastest lain
Like the fastest train
And pull your heaviest cart

Sing it with the heart
To never part
Sing it at the start
Of this life of yours
Cause you never know where it goes
Sing it with your heart

And when your gloomy or low
Let the memories glow
Stand in front of the row
See her coming to you
Don’t believe but it is true
This is your new start…

Sing it with your heart
Life is not at the edge of a dart
Sing it with your heart

Roy

You Listener You

Cause she’s a listener
Listening all the time
Listening to my every rhyme
She’s a listener
Listening all the way
In her mind will she dance and sway
Cause she’s running away with me
In the month of May

To be timeless and free
Will she say
That she’s going to stop
She going to pop
And drink the last golden drop

She’s a peace keeping love covet
There’s nothing to cry or fret
She’s going to eat the rest
Because you know…
Oh yes you know……….
She’s going to give her best…

She’s a listener for my soul
Listener to make a person whole
She’s a listener…
A listener….
Listener…
A super ammo-ed peace giver…
Roy

The Cold Indian Romance Part 5

Fanny I wondered? Was it a person, a friend or foe? Was that the name of her daughter? I thought not to think anymore because I was expecting too much, expecting the unexpected was my expectation but it eventually did not turn out that way.

I tried not peaking into the lady’s room but I could not resist the temptation. But I dared not to. The last thing I would want is to be accused of stealing or breaking one of her rules. I stepped outside, thought about that violent girl, if not love; she as sure as hell got my attention, I thought of asking her name to madam. I had started to imagine what kind of life I would have here up on the hills, maybe I could get permission to go down to the town once in a while, buy some items, explore; but duty first.

I look at the gate opening with Madam looking all flustered, a huge German shepherd pulling madam inside. It stopped looking at me stunned. Madam was quietly telling, “Fanny nahi (no)”, the snarl gave me the shivers, madam asked me not to run. But I thought otherwise, it was a reflex action to run away from something that could tear you apart. I ran and so did fanny after me. I sprinted so did fanny accelerate her engine. I ran to the backdoor, to the garden and into the pool leaving me wet, then ran towards the crops where fanny got a foothold and did not leave until my leg would tear apart. The snarl, the saliva and the ferocious attitude was going to kill me. As I lost my will to live, I looked at other means. I took a twig and started hitting her, did not work. I took some mud and threw it on her face, did not even break her concentration, I could feel the blood coming out. I cried for help, I was facing the dark soil like a dark oblivion seeing my end at hand, I could hear madam trying to pull fanny back, the last ditch of effort left me nothing but to beg fanny to leave my leg, I don’t think even she understood that she would bother. After a lot of screaming, fanny let go. I was violated, motionless and was left to think pointlessly. Madam didn’t help me up as she was pulling fanny away into the house; I on the other hand was crawling on my belly trying to reach out to the pool as if I had been stranded in the desert for centuries trying to reach out to the oasis. I did and I just blanked out splashing my head into the pool.

The next thing I noticed was that I woke up with a sharp pain of fire on my left leg, spirit and some ointment being put. Madam was kind enough to take care of lowly like me.

“Sorry beta, fanny kabhi aisi nahi karti, naye ho na” (Sorry son, fanny never does this, your new right that’s why”)

I couldn’t stand up straight on my feet as I had to limp.

The war between me and fanny had commenced, she played her hand and now it was time for mine. If we were to live together I knew I had to make peace with this monster from hell.

I limped to the porch as madam allowed me to take rest until I recovered, she also allowed me to sit on her rocking chair. I went out to do so but found fanny on it, I tried moving but the snarl came back again and I backed away.  So I went to the other side of the porch and sat on the floor. It was difficult but I tried not looking at fanny, but I didn’t want to intimidate her. Little did I know about her, and this was a recon mission, to research and to explore. But fanny kept her distance as well, I was lower in terms of caste in the house since I was the outcaste, but getting bullied by dog just shows what kind of character I am.

 

To Be Continued …

The Cold Indian Romance Part 4

She asked me to quiet down as she meant no harm. She opened the door and asked me to come in as well. The house was bigger from the inside, with a fire place, sofa sets; the atmosphere was a fusion of last night’s warmth and today’s cold fresh air. It smelt of wood because the whole house was made of it. She asked me to wait by the hall as she went into the kitchen, I hope she’s not getting a knife out of there, it’s funny why are my thoughts so deviated on being killed or attacked upon, sends me into a panic frenzy mode.  I see the picture frames on the fire place, a lot of her husband and her daughter’s pictures; I should have known that such a titular name could go to an Army official. He had a lot of badges and merits on his shirt, while his daughter on the other hand looked pretty but never smiled in any of the pictures put for display.

“Mere photos ache hai ni?” (Aren’t my photos good?)

“Haan ji ache toh hai, ye apke…” (Yes ma’am they are nice, this is you’re…)

“Haan mere pati the, Col. Raj Veer Thakur” (Yes, he was my husband, Col. Raj Veer Thakur)

I could see the pride in her eyes, with her small body standing erect while saying her husband’s name.

Aur… (And…)

“Ab ye sab chodo, tumhe kaam chahiye tha ni? Mere ghar mein kaam karoge? Kuch zyada nahi hai, kapde dhona, saaf safayi, khana pakana, khetibadi. Kar sako ge? (Leave all that, you wanted to work right? Will you work in my house? It’s not much, washing clothes, cleaning the house, cooking, and a little farm work as well, can you do it?)

“Ji madam, khana pakana toh zara mushkil hai magar baki sab kuch mein kar sakta hoon” (Yes madam, cooking food is a little difficult but I can do the rest)

“Achi baat hai, mein khana pakana sikhadungi, aur mahine ke liye ek hazar milega, tankhua tumhara”, tum sharab toh nahi pite ho ni? (Good, I will teach you how to cook, and for every month you shall get a thousand rupees, that is your salary, you don’t drink do you?)

“Nahi madam, mein nahi pita” (No madam, I do not drink)

“Oho, toh mere pine se problem nahi hai na?” (Oho, so you don’t have a problem if I drink right?)

“Nahi madam” (No madam), I reply with a lot of awkwardness and confusion.

She gave me a tour of the house, the first was her room, she asked me not to come in there at all. There was another empty room with a lot of bags and furniture, and eventually it was my room. There was the kitchen beautifully decked up, with herbs by the window, and a back door leading to the back yard. The back yard was the best. A huge land of crops, trees, and a view of the hills, and in the center was a small little pool for the birds to drink water. It was a lush garden. She could see the awe in my face so she let it soak in. I had such a rough day and to end it with this kind of note was more than satisfactory.

She asked me to settle down and get ready for work as she was going to get Fanny.

 

To be Continued…

Links for the previous Parts.

The Cold Indian Romance Part 1

The Cold Indian Romance Part-2

The Cold Indian Romance Part-3

 

Working Class Poet

If there was  meaning to poetry
I would say that it never did add meaning
It always led to an unending reasoning
No matter how good my poetry may sound
For me, i’m the worst poet that is around
But this is my true language, you sycophantic linguistics
There are so many great poems down in the logistics
i want mine to fly around like the leaves when in Autumn
If Elliot is the face, then i’m the bottom
A low working class poet is what i am
Slowly building my poetry dam
Because i’m going to build it high and wide
It’s going to be neat by the side
And its going to be colorful all along the way
So that nice little people would say
“Hey!” ha ha ha what an expression,eh?
Sometime’s the colors might become grey
And my damn might leak and my imagination may run a stray
Because all the laughers of laugh will laugh all the time
To my every sentence and even to the littlest rhyme
I don’t care as i am doing it right
According to my heart,mind and soul
Building this dam, is my biggest goal

Roy

Sunny and dandy

Wings Of Color

Just in the mood to take a swim in the different colors of moods going about this world.

sky

A dark sky may seem devoid of hope
But skies are incomplete without the flickering lights
Lights will guide you where you ought to go
They will take you to a place that’s right
The sky is where you have to be
Amidst the stars you’ll be a light
A red light with all your wounds
You’ll be a saviour and many troubled souls you’ll have to sooth.
Because this silent sky speaks the best
It puts your buffeted mind to rest
When you reach up there, a million eyes will look at you
Filled with awe and admiration they will want to be with you
Your purpose will be fulfilled then
When the thoughts the people humm
Will become your music and rhythm.
In such a silent dark sky
You’ll will shine with your light
Flickering, struggling, fluttering but living
You’ll be up there free as a bird to fly
Then you can spread your wings and sing your words
For you’ll be in a world that will sooth the disturbed.
You can heal your wounds and learn to smile
You will live your dreams and you’ll live your life

Neha Jain

Neha Jain is an amazing poet, with her own twist of words, expressions and a flamboyant flow of creativity. The first co-writer for my blog, deeply honored to publish her work here! The Depth of imagination is immense. More to come. 

 

An Introduction to The Moth Diaries

When i seem to loose my way
I see no signs or directional grass that may sway
I am a lost soul
But that doesn’t mean i cannot be whole!
I may be in the darkest hole
Doesn’t mean i can’t light up a cigarette and lighten things up
I may be a sad little guy
But i can find happiness in bidding sadness goodbye!
I may not hate you like you want me to
But i may just love you just as you love me do
I see i have tempted you
By saying what is true
I take this world as it goes
I’ll plant my seed and see how big it grows
Cause it shows
What you do, what you give, it grows
And what you give and what you get
And when you pass out and fret
You’re going to want to know
How hard you got hit, how low?
Because i’m a guy by the sea
Drinking a hot vodka tea
With a cocky little eye
I smoke away
As i welcome this changing world
Day by day
Roy

Stay tuned people. A little something i’m coming up with. The Moth Diaries is a little more than just the usual fiction, its close to the heart. 

Love to all my fellow followers for baring with my every post! 

PhoenixOfAshes 

Moon Spirit

Tonight’s Moon!

I believe that when the world corrupts itself full of tyranny and the balance needs to be sorted out, the moon acts as a reflection to what the earth has become, with its dark craters and clear surface; one can describe the moon to be nothing but a mirror for the earth. Maybe we need to send the people who are hell bent on destruction and tyranny to the moon, maybe then would they understand that a home like this is so precious than paper, temporary comforts and entertainment. To see the beauty of the Earth from the moon, would make you feel so small, so humble and it would reflect upon your purpose and your life’s work on the planet that you belong to. The moon, a mediator, the bridge between two worlds.