Nature was God until Humans thought they could take control.
Calmness was free until ego set out the chaos.
Acceptance was viral until selflessness read about “being yourself”.
The dynamics of it all, we will never find a balance.
But, are we really looking for it ?

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My Rhythm and Meter

My poetic rhythm is in resonance with the vibration of my heart!

It syncs with inconsistencies of emotions

Sometimes it’s ‘la di da di da’!

Rarely its ‘lub dub lub dub lub dub’!

And also the ‘thump baboom thump baboom’!


Its meter is a dictator of my own gestures

It harmonizes with the weirdness of my own movements,

Sometimes, it’s a poker-face to the question asked!

Otherwise it’s a smile when the focus is in requisition!

Rarely it’s the forehead-lines accurately depicting the pondering-over!

And also the subtle teeth reveal for an extended smile showing pride of being appreciated!


Its foot is the reverberation of my own unspoken words!

It is just a heavy sigh with the words held moment before the tongue initiates its process!

Falling into the abyss of my soul!

Important is what needs to be heard!

not what I really want to say!

P.S: Rhythm is the pattern of stresses in a line of verse.

Traditional forms of verse use established rhythmic patterns called meters (meter means “measure” in Greek), and that’s what meters are: pre-measured patterns of stressed and unstressed syllables.

Feet are the individual building blocks of meter.

To read more about Rhythm, meter and foot –

Daily Post – Daily Prompt – Rhythmic



Kuch dilchasp si rooh hai unki

Baat karte hain to labon se inqilaab jhalakta hai

Pehnaave se sufiyaana rubaab jhalakta hai

Andaaz se Ishq-e-haqiqi aur tabiyat se rohaana shabaab jhalakta hai

Ankhon se dil ka hisaab kitaab jhalakta hai

Harkaton se junoon-e-khaas aur barkaton se ehem kirdaar jhalakta hai

Laut jayenge hum vapas is manzar se

Aisa ab mushil-e-halaat lagta hai

Vakhviyat (Urdu)

Vakhviyat nai chahiye

Ahmiyat ke bhi pyaase nai

Killat to zindagi ki hai

Bejaan se jie jaate hain

Zameen se nikle vakht to kafi nikal gaya

Lautne se pehle ulfat bhi niyamat hui

Zindagi ke kagaz par kuch kharochen si hain

Un par malham kiye jaate hain

Hare kagaz ki kuch numayish si hai

chamkeele pathron ki guzarish si hai

Fakiron se guftgu jo hui

To zindagi ki keemat maloom kiye jaate hain

Aaj ghar se nikle to hain yeh sochkar

ki vakht ke maayne rakhkar hi lautenge

Par vakht ne kab kiska saath diya hai?

Lagta hai jaldi hi intekaal hoga!

Almost Immortal!

Living so long, almost being immortal!

Too young to be too old

Too old to be too fresh

Too fresh to be too stale

Too stale to be still alive

The wise with their wisdom

The naïve with their ignorance

The special with their weirdness

And the nothings with their emptiness

All perish with zilch to spare

Only a few days, and then nobody care

People living, people dying

People stabbing, people burning,

People hating, people loving

From liking a candy bar to hating the society

From loving the soulmate to hating oneself

From the scratch to the deep wound

From pain to healing to the deep agony again

From seeping to oozing blood

From creeping to lunging heartbeat

None and all of it matters!

The time acts like a frail little turtle

Seems like forever to be alive!!


Daily Post – Word Prompt – Frail!


Sitting in a bar, I said to him

” You see how these clouds keep passing us by?”

“Hmm”, He said

I continued….

“The clouds keep travelling miles and miles

Do you ever look at a cloud and find it familiar?

Do you ever realize that you have seen it before?

May be it keeps coming back to look at you, your situation!

May be it keeps coming back to put shade on you, and you never realize!

and may be it pours on you when you crave the season’s first rain!

and may be it steps aside, when you need the sunshine in your life?!

Do you ever imagine that?”

“My sky is devoid of clouds”,he said


Back in the hot summer days!

Mangoes dipped in a bucket of water,

Hands dripping mango pulp and mouth filled with it,

The morning’s invitation of friends to start a cricket match,

The afternoon’s sun scorching over the head making me miss precious catches,

The golas and the chaat papri’s mouth watering treat,

Mother’s warning to put out the bed in the cricket field itself,

The dip in the local water canal with friends,

The non-existent tantrums of the school, because Summer Holidays!

The visit to the grandparent’s farmhouse,

The fun of rambling around with cousins aimlessly,

The red, green and blue of the sun, fields and the sky,

Those were the summers etched in my memory!

Never to return, but always remembered through the sands of time!

Daily Post – Daily prompt – Summer!


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