New Delhi, India

Through a poet’s Eyes

A poet see what an ordinary eyes see
But the poet pours thing into their tender heart
while wondering thro' different lanes of bazaar

A poet could see a little mouse crossing the busy road

Racing with the life for a small chunk of produce

Her piercing eyes could also see the crow

Satiating his cravings on leftover dough

A poet could also vouch for the delicacy
of the dancing Rohu in a fisherman’s tub

A poet's eyes appreciate the friendly cloth vendor

Greeting everyone with their cheerful gesture,

'kashmiri suit wala shawl wala'

The eyes of a poet maps the aged man's feet
slouching towards the mosque

Marking his commitment to the Almighty

It's the eyes of the bard that perceives your pain
engulfing inside their soul they sobs alone

A poet's eyes rolls like  Owl’s in the dim lit room
Pondering over innumerable thoughts and
praying secretly to fulfill the unfulfilled

Those are all poets and prophet's companion
who prays for other’s blessings

And feels shattered by their sufferings

Am no poet nor any philosopher,

I just tune in with the harbinger of peace.

Silence is counted cruel

Silence is counted cruel

When it’s merely a silence

For silence has its own language

Vocabularies

Of bigotry, treacherousness,

Intolerance and rivalries

Silence is hauntingly cruel

When you feel pride in prejudices

Close mouthed on neighbor’s keening

And blindfolded on human sufferings

What shatters your ego?

Do let me know!

Some old wise man once said:

They too stand on the same queue,

Who spoke not against the Pharaoh.