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| Mohit Sharma |
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Mohit Sharma, 10 may 2012
the broken dream...
Holding firmly the breath, it seems
Someone, somewhere, somehow lost his naive dream
That silence broken into a mournful shout,
When that dream turned numb, before it tend to sprout
Neither anyone cried nor even felt sad,
Living deserted, those emotions around appears dead
Eyes betrayed that shy and innocent tear
By throwing it out, inspite of that unknown fear
Smile veiled that emotion standing almost undress,
Nerves paining high, outburst hard to suppress
Silence hindered slowly as the heartbeat is going loud,
Feeling himself lonely, even within the crowd
Echo within the ears almost went uncontrolled,
When his innerself remain speechless and stood amid unfold
It says, “Every time a dream broke on earth, someone left dry
Equally a star falls and lost upon, from that dusky and thoughtful sky”
-unbound mohit (c)
Mohit Sharma, 6 april 2012
...is missing?
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, 20 february 2012
Suicide Note...
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, 6 february 2012
helpless...
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, 12 january 2012
am I alive...?
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…?”
Mohit Sharma, 3 january 2012
Not for Me...
'In the midst of this world, where the others thrive
I kept on walking alone as a part of my own strives.
Though pricey but often it sold for free,
Maybe I am overlooked as that happiness doesn’t make me glee
My beginnings were fragile, so would be my end
Why those veiled pains of mine couldn’t allowed to be mend
The flamboyant mankind nurtured almost in a form of tree,
Maybe I’d secluded out as the same is not for me
Those gestures look good when someone falls in love,
So what you love someone but what matters most is you being loved
Even I wants to be loved atleast to escape that flee,
As only able being adored thus the same is not for me
The desperate journey of mine seems so long, maybe I’ll manage
To justify my own virtues within that haunted disable cage
All I want now is, neither being discriminated nor thy sympathy,
So what I am disabled but my thoughts n dreams remains free
I want to be with everyone and envisage everyone’s with me…”
Mohit Sharma, 3 january 2012
Let me live, I don't wanna die...
Maybe i am not afraid, i am not shy,
but i often start my day in a bit hue n cry.
though sprouted but my dreams are big and aims high,
but before i quit...i convince myself to give at least a try.
but these winds of hatred are harsh, they often blow dry,
it seems no one around wants me to touch this thoughtful sky.
i feel blue and i feel like cry,
but why should i always beg to this world...that;
'let me live, i don't wanna die...'
so what, i don't have wings and i don't know how to fly,
still my inevitable existence bears the courage to be justified.
i know the race is long and hurdles are high,
but i believe in myself, although its hard to imply.
its all about keep moving and not to stand by,
even this nature teaches me to live, then why shouldn't i
i hope you understand the meaning of life,
'coz it's not about you, it's not about i...
it's for the whole mankind who pleads with invisible tears in their eyes.
it's all about cherishing life and happiness to comply,
it's about letting lived and not being died.
Mohit Sharma, 3 january 2012
I'll be back one day
Yet another day fades down in a dusky way,
I am still speechless, I don't know what to say.
I am walking on a path that seems so dry,
though feeling like a numb but will not going to cry.
this endless path is taking me along in such a way,
wondering if I could be back to you on any day.
forgive me love and please don't cry,
may be in any form but I'll be back one day...
Neither feel alone nor feel betrayed,
don't look towards that road, as those footprints will going to fade.
I'll shower myself on you whenever those clouds goes blue,
just feel my inevitable presence, I am always with you.
may be you can't see me, even with your vision's deep,
but I'll appear as naive dream, whenever you'll going to sleep.
those days were golden, when we got paired,
I'll try to fulfill those promises and dreams, that we've shared.
my death is not an end, I'll prove it one day,
may be in the form of air you respire, but I'll be back to you one day.
Mohit Sharma, 26 december 2011
till I die...
"Heard this quite often but never ever tried,
that ‘life is too short, just go n live it high.’
almost fallible that urged to be rectified,
wish to live life a bit differently, till I die…
imaginations to be freed and ideas to let fly,
dreams to be ignited and passions to diversify.
egos to get buried and sorrows to be dried,
wish to quench the life’s thirst wholly, till I die…
that past has gone and the future is unknown,
on this life’s canvas, my existence is yet to be drawn.
goals to be achieved even before that last try,
wish to prove my life’s meaning once, till I die…
the unknown fear of mine needs to be cured,
want to play my music once in order to listen that 'galore roar'
wants to cultivate my literary efforts,
before the cloud of thoughts goes dry,
wish to relive those childhood dreams again,
before I finally shut my eyes..."
Mohit Sharma, 26 december 2011
Where am I going...
'On an undefined path
isolated thoughts are growing,
I often ask this question to myself
that...Where am i going?
I do own a bunch of relations,
so do I have friends,
still my heart seeks for those
who dissolve together like true blend.
this odd journey of mine
seems so long,
I don't know how my destiny takes me,
where I belong.
the childhood dreams had gone
I don't know where,
yet trying hard to justify my existence,
somewhere to be there.
that road is rough and dry,
all I see is an endless horizon,
the distance is yet to be covered,
feeling helpless as this world is soaked in illusion.
My boat is battling a midst waves
and all that matters now is, how fast am I rowing,
still I am wondering that, is it this a true path
where I am going...? '
Latest comments:
22 december 2024
violetta
Ciepłych, Zdrowych i Wesołych Świąt :)
22 december 2024
Może odzywają się echa przodków :)
22 december 2024
Jaga
I dla Ciebie Weroniko, która jeszcze :)
22 december 2024
Belamonte/Senograsta
piękna
22 december 2024
czyli ośmiornice są przodkami ludzi
22 december 2024
poeta powinien zmieniać majtki
22 december 2024
Ach, a ja miałem taką teorię, że to echa
21 december 2024
Weronika
Dobrych Świąt, Wszystkim którzy jeszcze!
21 december 2024
I czytam, fajne te opowiadania
21 december 2024
Dla wyglądu i samopoczucia:)
21 december 2024
muszę wrócić :-)
21 december 2024
kobiety nakładają maseczki bo można się przy
21 december 2024
wiesiek
21 december 2024
Jaga
20 december 2024
wiesiek
19 december 2024
wiesiek
18 december 2024
wiesiek
17 december 2024
jeśli tylko
17 december 2024
jeśli tylko
17 december 2024
wiesiek
16 december 2024
wiesiek
14 december 2024
Jaga