Tag: philosophical

The Crusader of Faith and Love

The Crusader of Faith and Love

She stood there like a mountain,
Against the wind that blew harder,
She stood there with the feet cemented,
For the cause that she felt right to stand for.
The world rejected her completely,
Flay her with curse words,
But still, she did not kneel,
As she stood for faith and love.
Her faith in the action against the wrong,
Her love for the devotion to the right,
Both together in her, versus the injustice,
From which she derived the strength to stand.
Her life inspiring than of mighty Gods,
Her present that would be a glorious history,
But all she needs some more faith in her and some more love,
So that the strength does not dissolve in this crusader of faith and love.


The Photograph

Its been long since this was taken.
It will always be long from that moment.
It has been still and unshaken,
With time passingĀ  never losing its scent.

The paper which was blank once,
Has colours of life from the past;
Smiles, joy and other feelings in tons,
All captured in a moment very fast.

It is reminiscence of the old time;
Of those days, of those years sublime,
Its not just one moment in prime,
But linked are other memories chime.

Its been long since this was taken.
It will always be long from that moment;
The photograph in theĀ  hand still maiden,
Though old and faded yet without a dent.

The White Paper

A clean empty white paper,
Looks beautiful, empty, peaceful bearer.
If written good, it shines the words,
If painted good, it befriends the colours.
What if written horribly poor?
Beauty dies like dying flower,
What if painted bad with squirting brush?
It can bring anyone a red flush.
Its always the white paper which bears,
The action of the writers or painters feelings and fears,
Which could have been the same old,
Beautiful, lovely, peaceful white gold.
Some say life as a white paper,
They even know about this dapper,
Still just play seriously funny,
May be thrown into the dustbin tummy.
Some lived the white paper sweetly deserved,
Their names then written on the white paper preserved .

The Boomerang

With the vast open fields,
Around the shadows cast by the trees,
The evening emerging after noon,
And together visible the sun and the moon,
I was playing as it was time,
For any child to enjoy after the hard day’s regime.
That day I had no friends as they didnt come,
All alone not too far from home,
Was thinking of what to do with the thing in hand,
Which was called the boomerang.
I threw it first across the bent,
Ran to it, after it fell, afraid of dent,
It annoyed me as it didnt fly good,
Threw it again, not being rude.
This time along the bent or the curve,
Took a nice flight as it got the right serve,
That excited me to try for more,
As it came back with smile on me in store.
What goes around, comes around,
It always left me spell bound,
The phrase with philosophical meaning,
At that time just a playable thing.
I am reminded, as it is being used again,
As my child is happy and plays with her gang,
Even alone she is with the boomerang bound,
As what goes around, comes around.