Lonely is a soul,

 That Knows not,

That Love exist,

 From one self,

Extends to another soul,

 Who Knows or knows not,

 How magical it can get


Lonely is the hand,

 That Knows not of giving,

 And From the heart,

 Yet knows to receive,

To add to others,

Knows not when to stop

Because it is what it’s trained to…


Lonely is the mouth,

That Speaks ill,

Of A neighbor or a friend,

 Even of the good,

 It speaks ill,

Even smiles about it, just

To be heard speak



Lonely is the eye,

That sees not,

 The Beauty of the creation,

 Right at disposal,

Only sees the darkness,

That is hidden,

 In The deepest secrecy


Lonely is the foot,

 That hurries to evil,

To record failures,

 But For good,

Moves not,

As it interests not,

Feels no pain in so doing


Lonely is the ear,

 That opens to gossip,

Clears way for evil,

Taps not,

 The Goodies of the wind,

 To save the world,

 And redeem the other lost one

And lonely is you,

Who sees not the good,

Gives not the little

Taps not the required

Feels not,

The Significance

Of what is offered,

Right In front of you, and

At your anytime disposal…





Am thinking out loud,

On something so sound,

Just like a cloud…


What makes papa proud?


If it were not him

I would probably not be me

It can’t be disapproved

Scientifically I would be

Someone different

In a different locality

On a different planet maybe


We often talk about mama

Write about mama

Think about mama

Recognize mamas’ efforts

Narrate about mama

Credit goes to mama

Although it seems okay

But we always and ever forget

The man, behind scenes.

We always forget, Papa


He sleeps hungry

So that you eat

He dies of thirst

So that you can drink

He gets home late

So that you don’t get late

His sleepless nights

For your peaceful nights

He walks in the dark

You walk in the light

And always we forget, Papa


We are cruel

We do not notice him

Or his works

Reason because

We have it all

Its combined effort

Mostly one way

Mamas pressure the worst

He still smiles back

Gives all he has

Yet we always forget, Papa





I would say much

Which wouldn’t be enough

Good enough …

The right words

To describe

The most beautiful thing

The most special thing

In the entire universe


I would say much

And I’ll try

Just a few words

Representation of a novel

A novel of love

A novel of affection

Unending spirits

Ever seen in this universe


I would say much

But no appropriate words

To incorporate all

What I would call

An angel

Heaven sent

To unworthy me

A small universe I say

I would say much

And write a story

Unending story

For you mum

No one like you

Nothing like you

Nothing to replace you

Unlike anything in the vast universe


I would say much

In a love letter

As an expression

Of what is true

What is real

And exceptionally unique

From the bossom of my ♥

A true universe gift


I would say much

And I will say it anyway

I won’t care

What you will think

What you feel

Whether you like or not

It’s only you mum

I love in the entire universe.

I would say much

Things never  said before

And if said,

Not genuine

A scripture

Of a perfect sculpture

Not an imitation

Unscripted image of mum


I would say much

Mum my love

Mum my friend

Mum my sweetheart

Mum my honey

Mum my treasure

Mum my morning 🌟

Mum my everything





Could be a term

Crafted and defined

Long before ages

By people who felt

That touch

Of another’s presence



Could be a touch

Felt and verified

Decades ago

By ancestors who felt

That one voice

Of a special one



Could be a voice

Distinct and outlined

Centuries ago

By our long gone mothers

The different melodies

To their special little ones



Could be a melody

Sang and heartfelt

Since the beginning of time

By our long gone fathers

The special sensation

To their one at heart



Could be a sensation

Ample and profound

Undefined timeline

By our sole beings

The distinct love

For the specifics



Could be just love

Obscure and yet renowned

Undefined but still understood

For uncertain recipients

But also for all




Violets are blue,

That’s your favorite color;

Roses, red as they are,

A Valentine’s Day choice;

But I wish I could see you,

Just one more time;

Because it’s crystal clear,

From how you walk the talk,

You are a champion.


That gaze,

That innocent look;

When you are silent,

I wonder what you are thinking;

That smile,

That breathtaking laughter;

Looks like a gesture,

The meaning is a riddle;

Like an empires’ prince,

The fame; victorious.





An innovative mind,

The world of intellects;

A gifted soul,

And a loving heart,

 So like supernatural;

That genuine hug,

Under beautiful sunset rays,

Without a single word,

But comforts the troubled souls;

Heroes  first choice.