Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Love is our breathes

Strange indeed the way life
Every little thing plays a distinct note
As we step forward to collect the future
The past we rarely forsake no matter what may come.
Could it be that we love the past more than the future?
I surely do not know the answer!


The love I yearn may not be the same as yours
Yet one thing is certain,
When in pain love appears the same,
With conditions imposed as fence
Love can never flourish sanely,
In a relationship
Cracks and holes can still make way
But when we loved with a love that was more than love
The barrier of conditions evaporate
And, with love everything becomes LOVE.


We travel along this life
Unknowingly with love in our hearts
Along with occasional hatred and vengeance
Lets throw all that aside
And hand in hand let us march together
Beyond the reach of race, religion and language
Because in the end, I wish to share this
We travel nowhere in this life
But from the little self towards bigger self
And we grow only when
We loved with a love that was more than love


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Friday, August 21, 2009

Rickety Life


When a journey begins badly

It rarely ends well,

And, the rickety sounds of a loosened wheel

Shall follow one all along his life.

Like the misty ray of the sun

That struggles hard to penetrate the clouds,

Like the stream at the edge of the village

That screams loud at the height of suffocation,

Like the night’s enveloping darkness

Marked with apoplexy,

A journey begins badly too

Rarely ends well.

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Sunday, August 09, 2009



Over the deprived emotions
When everything runs against us
And, because of someone we love
Our happiness become sorrow,
Under the weight of our shadow
We stand lamenting the fate, created,
By people we trust so much in life

Befuddled and confronted with pain
The fingers we point at those who cause it.
Human nature intrinsically sick at times
In expectations life is motioned daily,
Failing to see dreams fulfilled
Hatred we raise in place of love
Because we think we know
The ones we love
Until usurped by their selfishness
We smear oil on our palms
And try to climb life’s pole.

We think we know
The ones we love,

Whom we know not
Whether we truly love.

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Tuesday, August 04, 2009



Life offers not just wonders

Beyond that lots more to ponder.

The enigmas like onion layers

Lay on one upon another.

We stumble across many mysteries

And, all become part of our story.

The glorious morning smile of the roses and tulips

The welcoming sun that rises from behind the hills

The shy trees that dance gaily

And the wind that plays hide and seek

Expanding arms of the hills,

A woman with her child on a bicycle

Beautiful batik sarong she wears with terompah on her feet

Cycling cheerfully dreaming of delicious food

To the market she heads with a rattan basket in her hand,

Children scurries here and there with kites flying high

Signs the signature of delightful childhood moments,

Broken car halts in the middle of the road

Passersby energized the push forward

The driver sweats profusely

Though in driver’s seat he is comfortably seated,

Young girls and old women hand in hand

Walk with wild stories on their lips

Before the destination reached culmination

Of whatever intentions they have,

Young boys’ adrenalin races high

At the sight of the beautiful girls

And each side grin to the best

Their mouth can no more stretch.

In a corner sits the old beggar

With tattered shirt and baggy pants

A piece of old towel spread across

Silently prays for good return of the day.

The dogs wagging at the scenes

Expecting someone to be kind

And the birds chirp to the best

In celebration of a fine day,

So much to be told

Yet so much I have to hold

Because the story is in the journey

And not the destination

And my book can contain no more

Like a river the story shall swell

And overflow.

And, the journey through the story

Take me towards my destination

The diary.

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Errors under your tender care.

Mistakes are mine.

Corrections are yours.