Galti kar li maine
Yaad ho gayi nani
Do glass chai ke saath
Pi li nimbu pani
Galti kar li maine
Kyu ki itni daring?
Socha tha ‘Wah kya rapchick maal hai’
Nikla bobby darling
Galti kar li maine
Kyu li maine doston ki side
Maine socha woh mujhe dhek rahi hai
Par woh nikli cockeyed
Galti kar li maine
Kyu thi charbi khub saari?
Was thinking office nahi jaye, aaj.
Subha ko muster sign kiya. Agli subha ko exit maari.
-Austin.
A Caution To Everybody
|
Consider the auk;
Becoming extinct because he forgot how to fly, and could only walk.
Consider man, who may well become extinct
Because he forgot how to walk and learned how to fly before he thinked.
-Ogden Nash
Becoming extinct because he forgot how to fly, and could only walk.
Consider man, who may well become extinct
Because he forgot how to walk and learned how to fly before he thinked.
-Ogden Nash
When it is gonna rain this time...
|
I would be floating in the sand.
Digging my feet deep into the water.
When it is gonna rain this time...
I would let the umbrella go upside down.
I would catch the first cloud that agrees to take me to the beach.
I would smile and smile and break the ice.
When it is gonna rain this time...
The girls would giggle to not get a penny.
The boys would hide with their black gloves lost.
The old woman neighbour might complain less.
When it is gonna rain this time...
I would be curled in a raindrop.
Sleeping tight.
No rainbow for me.
For I hate sunshine.
When it is gonna rain this time...
--Payal
|
Inspiration. Ignition.
Something that kick starts.
Speechless like the wind,
And can not be surpassed.
No hinting traces left behind.
All the gone chances,
Now wither in the hind.
Something that kick starts.
Speechless like the wind,
And can not be surpassed.
No hinting traces left behind.
All the gone chances,
Now wither in the hind.
|
From darkness into the light
I saw her face, what delight!
She is a moment’s peace
That cannot be acquired
You can get lucky
But its something not really required
For she knows you
As you don’t know her
You think it is love
But ain’t sure if you can tell her
It is a submission
Where all you take is a given
You try to understand
But there is no reason
Only an open prison, hard to break
Like an ironical fate
You think you’re given, what you take
- Piy
I saw her face, what delight!
She is a moment’s peace
That cannot be acquired
You can get lucky
But its something not really required
For she knows you
As you don’t know her
You think it is love
But ain’t sure if you can tell her
It is a submission
Where all you take is a given
You try to understand
But there is no reason
Only an open prison, hard to break
Like an ironical fate
You think you’re given, what you take
- Piy
English language
|
This is a poem that inspired me a lot and for once made me think,writing poems could be fun.
Some words have different meanings,
and yet they’re spelt the same.
A cricket is an insect,
to play it — it’s a game.
On every hand, in every land,
it’s thoroughly agreed,
the English language to explain
is very hard indeed.
Some people say that you’re a dear,
yet dear is far from cheap.
A jumper is a thing you wear,
yet a jumper has to leap.
It’s very clear, it’s very queer,
and pray who is to blame
for different meanings to some words,
pronounced and spelt, the same?
A little journey is a trip,
a trip is when you fall.
It doesn’t mean you have to dance
whene’er you hold a ball.
Now here’s a thing that puzzles me:
musicians of good taste
will very often form a band —
I’ve one around my waist!
You spin a top, go for a spin,
or spin a yarn may be —
yet every spin’s a different spin,
as you can plainly see.
Now here’s a most peculiar thing —
’twas told me as a joke —
a dumb man wouldn’t speak a word,
yet seized a wheel and spoke.
A door may often be ajar,
but give the door a slam,
and then your nerves receive a jar —
and then there’s jars of jam.
You’ve heard, of course, of traffic jams,
and jams you give your thumbs.
And adders, too, one is a snake,
the other adds up sums.
A policeman is a copper,
it’s a nickname (impolite!)
yet a copper in the kitchen
is an article you light.
On every hand, in every land,
it’s thoroughly agreed —
the English language to explain
is very hard indeed!
Written by Harry Hemsley
Some words have different meanings,
and yet they’re spelt the same.
A cricket is an insect,
to play it — it’s a game.
On every hand, in every land,
it’s thoroughly agreed,
the English language to explain
is very hard indeed.
Some people say that you’re a dear,
yet dear is far from cheap.
A jumper is a thing you wear,
yet a jumper has to leap.
It’s very clear, it’s very queer,
and pray who is to blame
for different meanings to some words,
pronounced and spelt, the same?
A little journey is a trip,
a trip is when you fall.
It doesn’t mean you have to dance
whene’er you hold a ball.
Now here’s a thing that puzzles me:
musicians of good taste
will very often form a band —
I’ve one around my waist!
You spin a top, go for a spin,
or spin a yarn may be —
yet every spin’s a different spin,
as you can plainly see.
Now here’s a most peculiar thing —
’twas told me as a joke —
a dumb man wouldn’t speak a word,
yet seized a wheel and spoke.
A door may often be ajar,
but give the door a slam,
and then your nerves receive a jar —
and then there’s jars of jam.
You’ve heard, of course, of traffic jams,
and jams you give your thumbs.
And adders, too, one is a snake,
the other adds up sums.
A policeman is a copper,
it’s a nickname (impolite!)
yet a copper in the kitchen
is an article you light.
On every hand, in every land,
it’s thoroughly agreed —
the English language to explain
is very hard indeed!
Written by Harry Hemsley
Irregular Stream
|
An irregular stream of dreams is passing by,
The eyes are wide open and the world is in my arms.
There is someone somewhere looking at me,
I am not sure where I am.
Confined spaces, blocked tears,
There is a rather faint smile on the lips,
Someone in my dreams is feeling scared.
I politely dismiss the stream.
Walk in parallel.
Should I float in it?
Should I not?
Payal
The eyes are wide open and the world is in my arms.
There is someone somewhere looking at me,
I am not sure where I am.
Confined spaces, blocked tears,
There is a rather faint smile on the lips,
Someone in my dreams is feeling scared.
I politely dismiss the stream.
Walk in parallel.
Should I float in it?
Should I not?
Payal
something is out of place...
|
It’s not very usual, something is certainly out of place;
I am not yet sure, maybe I've lost something I can’t replace...!
What is a man to think, what is a man to say;
If, on a bright sunny morning, his skies turn all grey?
In the melancholy eyes of memory, I try to dig it out;
But what is it I look for, that still remains in doubt!
What is this feeling, the burden I feel on the heart;
Why won’t it stop, why does it keep tearing me apart?
True love never crossed me, of that I had grown sure;
Then what is it that lends me, this pain of love so pure?!
I am not yet sure, maybe I've lost something I can’t replace...!
What is a man to think, what is a man to say;
If, on a bright sunny morning, his skies turn all grey?
In the melancholy eyes of memory, I try to dig it out;
But what is it I look for, that still remains in doubt!
What is this feeling, the burden I feel on the heart;
Why won’t it stop, why does it keep tearing me apart?
True love never crossed me, of that I had grown sure;
Then what is it that lends me, this pain of love so pure?!
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