Ram aur Ramzaan

Kal ke lad baithe hum do bhai
Mai Ram, mujhse bada Ramzaan
mitti, aag, dahan mei lipte
mera bhai jale ya mai
roti ki har kaur ke liye
Maa ke aanchal ki chav ke liye
toote khilauno ke purzo ke liye
lad liye
har daud, har jeet, har haar mei
mai aur mera bhai...

kaun hai kisko
kisse zyaada pyaara
kiski jeb mei itra ka pyaala
lad lad ke bachpan guzara
socha ik din hogi sulah
par jaane kab ho gaya batwaara
...
us raat jab hum muh mod ke soye
kisko pata tha Ramzaan aur Ram
ek suraj ki roshni saath dekhne ko tarsenge dobara

Shringi
26 September 2010
Not sure if I know the meaning.

Andy doesn't care

I make a haptic glove
that can feel virtual objects
but guess what
Andy, doesn't give a damn

I write a thesis of a million words
hold out surveys on human subjects
Hah!! Is that special
coz Andy would never care

I slog in for months in a Biometric Research lab
and work, listening to all kind of Scottish slangs
No big deal?
well, even so; Andy breaths a different feel

I solve mathematical issues that Erin had
I talk to technicians who think I am crap
I sport to be an ROVs guinea pig
I breath in smoking resistors stink
I stretch the limits of a wire which claims to have muscle
and try my best to solve an amplifiers puzzle
is anybody, anybody clapping yet?
make it loud ;Andy is sleeping, I bet
for those who wonder what miseries of a master's dissertation are
meet Andy, he is my supervisor.

Shringi
21 September 2010

Writers, there is ground.

Writers and poets
learn to write and appreciate
long after they are boundlessly proud of themselves.

Shringi
21 september 2010

Busy window

I sit by my window
and count the passersby
I pin them in my story
and hold them from passing by.
...
I sit by my window
and sip my morning wine
I think I hallucinate
when I see the same people ofttimes go by

there is nothing outside my window
other than ruins of the characters I built
but I sit by my window
for only I know they are alive.

Shringi
20 September 2010

Death never comes

They all look fun -

the mostaccio man with his frail gun;

the big fat lady with her tiny girl;

the professor who preaches while his students run;

the maid with a dying rose in her bun

... they all look as though they will never die;

they all seem to have some work to be done.

18 september 2010

The mirror had something to say.

I looked at the mirror and saw
very old eyes in a face full of scars
I asked the mirror what was going on
It cried and said
"till when could I pretend
and stop you from knowing who you are"

Shringi
16 - 09 - 10

Relief

"Are there any more charges against me?"

depressed shapes
now settled as my footmarks on that beach
I escaped the...
...accusing reflections of the sea.
how could you handcuff my shadows?
how could you mistake my scent for me?
there will be another day
when they will learn where I hide
once like before, you wont be the one to bring me relief

Shringi
090910

Why cant I?

Why cant I write something without being austere
Why cant I be in love
and write lovely love things
Is sarcasm bitter
maybe.
These are not poems. are they?
these are a mad person's attempts
Soon I will write about crisis and smiles
in an honest way
NO MORE SARCASM FROM TODAY.

Shringi
090910

I will play for you

can I not just see you in my dreams ?
because excess reality
artlessly mucks up the feeling
that touch is good
but it's thought is way more mystique
well, we all fall in false love
I will play for you
when you facilely admit to what is unreal
ok, unfold a little more
I have seen you crying and confused
you seem sad and lost when you talk
.... skip it.
As a hallucination
your miseries promise a lot more appeal

Shringi
07 -September- 2010

Poetry that's real

amongst flying words of fantasy
you find a poem
more real than poetry