Mohit Sharma | |
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Mohit Sharma, 6 april 2012
In all the misery, in all the pain
Beneath each cloud that roared without rain
Within all the virtues, among all the deeds
In those uncanny demand, within every need
Within all the gestures, within all the smiles
On a journey of life that abruptly turned into miles,
Something was there that left behind unseen
Into that blind darkness, where rays of truth has never ever been
It seems that something is left somehow missing
Around the civilization, somewhere within
Although mankind exist, but humanity seems missing
So what those bodies respire, but ‘life’ is something that remained missing within
Sympathy is there, helping hands are missing
Thoughts grown and piled up, actions still stands missing
Nightmares haunts, day dreaming is missing
Materialism flaunts, realness is missing
For some food is there, hunger is missing
For many hunger is there, food is missing
Faith is there, devotion is missing
Isolation is all around, still 'Peace' is missing
Eyes filled with dreams, passion is missing
Love is tentative, compassion is missing
Canvas is there, colors are missing
Surrounding infused with noise, music is missing
“Expressions crave to spur out loud, but they broke as words are missing
Maybe I subsist somewhere amid mob, but in front of the mirror I found myself missing”
Mohit Sharma, 6 february 2012
So what I
can soothe you, I can’t feel your pain
Maybe, I can
quench your thirst but cannot be your rain.
So what I am
with you, I can’t comprehend your isolation
Maybe I can
cherish you for a while, but can’t avoid your stubborn frustration.
So what I’d
guide your ways, but couldn’t destroyed those hurdles
Maybe my
thoughts had feed you, but cannot unwrap your own thoughtful bundles.
So what I
can make you smile, but can’t eradicate the barrier to your happiness
Maybe I can
improve your future, but couldn’t convince upon your past to confess.
So what I
can tap your head, but can’t pour sleep into your eyes
Explored
your inner self many times, yet struggling to unfold those feelings in
disguise.
So what I
can walk along, but never bring across your lost destiny
Maybe I am
there to wipe your tears, but couldn’t absorb your dusky agony.
So what I
can make you visit to mosque, it’s tough to sprout the seeds of faith
Maybe I can
spur my love on you; still it’s not easy to extract love, out of your hate
So what I
say ‘Good Night’ daily, but can’t turn your nightmares into sweet dreams
Maybe I can
reduce that noise around you, but couldn’t suppress your own conscience scream.
Searching
altogether desperately for you, within you
Eagerly
waiting amidst for your dark clouds, to turn blue
You are
trying hard to hide your emotions that are standing undress,
and I am
struggling to incubate new hopes in you, being almost helpless.
Mohit Sharma, 20 february 2012
Neither he was afraid of being diluted, nor was he a shy
Amid his desperate space of words, his untainted imaginations tend to fly.
He was good at literature, but no-one ought to determine
Before he gets rid of that prejudice darkness, his thoughts lost its shine.
He do not like his studies, neither able to handle its pressure
Every time he score less, he justify himself with his owing literary treasure.
But the people around wants him to swim, against his own thoughtful flow
And that unseen competitive stress around him, urging his naïve mind to blow.
He only loved his ragged notebook and nothing else ever amused him to thrill,
He dreamt of being a ‘Poet’, with his more than ordinary and unorthodox writing skills.
A part of world around him was deaf and a part of it is blind,
As neither they able to hear his music of words, nor his works being able to get a ‘find’
He sailed across in his own literary world, with the help of his imaginative oar’s thrust
But he was always criticized and let separated, with that undue and abnormal disgust.
He sometimes felt lost but not at all bound to be defeated,
But his uncertain thoughts always found to stand naked and emotionally untreated.
That conditional gap for him to fill was wide, but for others it appears to be thin
It is almost like separating himself, from his confused and restless innerself within.
Pressure to prove himself started building into his shriveled nerves and brain,
But he somehow convinced himself not to give up and not let out his thoughts to drain.
Thus, one day he decided to capture them all on a clean piece of paper
But his traumatic fear of ensuing failure, couldn’t allow those thoughts to let spur.
That evening was dreadfully silent, with no signs of air breeze
His face looks confusingly steady, as if he'll going to let himself freeze.
“Leave me alone…” is finally what he helplessly wrote,
On the last page of his poetry book, as a noiseless Suicide Note.
-unbound mohit
Mohit Sharma, 12 january 2012
On a confused morning, I woke up in a hurry,
Maybe it was a hangover of that nightmare that sets me on a flurry.
I saw myself struggling for a laugh or even for a smile,
My artificial happiness is due to materialism that was a result of an undue debt pile.
I saw myself struggling to lend my care to a needy.
I doubt whether am I slowly turning to be an enduring greedy.
Never forgot to check my virtual social status and conversation,
Something fake exists for sure, which on me is gaining the domination.
In that blind race, I am nothing but a baffled desperate mind
Don’t know what to achieve still walking in a direction undefined.
Couldn’t recollect the last time when I saw those blinking stars in the sky.
Those days of childhood were good, when I could set my imagination to fly.
I am sharing my innermost appalling, unconditionally and maybe free,
Don’t have enough time to share, the moments of my unforeseen glee.
Being miser as an appreciator, I am blindly enjoying my role as a critic,
Not able to listen to that true inner voice, as something went wrong with my psyche acoustic.
Turning numb towards the feeling of love so as with its perusal,
It’s even becoming bulky for me to differentiate amid the fake and real.
Afraid of loosing my phony identity within that virtual world of mine,
Not able to justify my existence yet living with a hope for my darker side to shine.
My happiness is crying for being lost upon, even in the shape of small packets.
Don’t know for what I am waiting to be cherished, thus to break my life’s claustrophobic brackets.
My body is working fine and so is my brain,
Yet feeling frozen and suffering from an unidentified pain.
I am slowly breaking the hangover to let myself overcome that strife,
It was not a nightmare but a harsh reflectance of my own day to day life.
I am carrying myself knowingly to nowhere with a hope to get thrive,
Lost myself again somewhere, leaving an unrequited question that “Am I alive…?”
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