Whispers of Heart

  The pride, the wealth, the ties strong, What matters who was right or who was wrong? The coffers filled for what sake, When the body lying in coffin does not shake? The disputes, the commitments, the anger held, Somehow, on death, it all get settled. The emotions, the tragedies, the occasion remain memories, Once we cherished, the joy of eating cookies.  Yet, the God existing or non existing, remain the spotlight, For it is believed, he makes one fly high and he cuts the kite.  For the pain, regrets and anxiety, No consolation remains available, The wealth, status and the world seems nonsense, If the minds could be checked - 'unstable' would be the label.  Amidst all the mess and trauma, The only truth of Death dominates, The mind becomes the yard Where thoughts of fear and grief together skates.  The death of the loved ones cause deepest pain to human hearts, It takes courage to build our pieces together for a fresh start. Yet, Death remains the most harsh an...

A friendship devoid of begging, judgements, and partiality, Bond that keeps you fixed to the reality, Where no 'mine' or 'yours' exist, Meet ups! Uff, we can't resist. Where tears find no place, We uplift each other, woah, such grace! No scope of letting each other down, We are women, We carry our own crown. Where you don't need to call They are at your doors, Of course, they're lovely, They are only two in crores.  The bond that has touched the worst and the best is yet to come, Our bond is our addiction, no need of rum. We are there,  At the time of adversity and delight, Where everything is mutual and understandable, No fight of who's wrong or right.  Yeah, somewhat wise, and we are somewhat crack, Haha, Welcome, welcome, the one and only -  V3 is back!

When summers arrive, yet winter rules the heart,  When everything seems like ending With no hope to restart. When old friends feel like new, And you're understood by only a few, You are perplexed. You question each bond, life and soul, The bonds that once felt like the whole, Now seem stranger, distant and partial.  The breaths - you even dislike to breathe, The  voices, invoices, the sound of the clock- Everything frustrates; it all creates havoc.  You sometimes crave a shoulder to cry on, Yet you now believe in the art of not expecting.  O Pity Perplexity, You seek yet you deny, You adjust yet you complain, You feel wisdom, yet you turn insane.  Maybe the inner chaos affect the words, create commotion.  Maybe the untimely cries express unresolved emotions. Maybe expecting a happy you when the world is upside down Is too much to ask for. What brings peace- Solitude or crowd? A lifeless life or shroud? We have no clue.