[saket77]

Out of the City Blues

In the past mid-night hours
When the coffee machine has ceased
and pain has refused to ease,
guess its the time to believe,

when hands of clock advance through these big city late nights and early mornings,
tryin' to heal the wounds of pain, with countless drops of tears but no mourning,

With the life where discomfort and pain plays the lead
I look down my window to the world beneath,

Look down my window just to see the streets of gold stretch endlessly
In a life where life pretends some bliss...& funerals of bliss burning timelessly,
To a moment where breath holds itself and probably life exists to cease,
Don't know why I feel like suffering permanently from a hopeless disease,

With the midnight oil in the lamp waiting to be burned,
Out of the city blues, into the highway, I look back just to see where you might have turned,

From the discovery of solitude...and from solitude to loneliness,
the journey seems like that of thousands of miles, from miles to inches

At times, I wake up to find that I cried in my sleep,
Time and again, I find myself strong and too strong to be weak,
blood mixed with tears roll down before putting me apart,
I have held the knife this time so close to my heart,

In a show where clouds hover, fog trails and mist creeps,
When the whole of the dead world keeps itself awake to sleep,

Denying to see what's lies ahead and failing the truth to bestow,
like everyone tryin' to hide a secret, a secret they all know,
afetr racing ahead while following the life,
now I feel more dead than alive,

With my repeated tries of pain which fails to ease,
With the drug, the coffee machine questing to cease,
I look down my window to know in these big city nights, how one sleeps
lights on street, the streets of gold,
seems like they never reach their desination,
neither for others, nor for their own.

-Saket

[The_Wanderer]

I actually wrote this during the Uttarakhand floods last year, with floods now in J&K... have the same feeling this year too ...

"The Lament"

So much destruction of lives and lands.
Of the overflowing tears or the swollen rivers,
Of the falling mountains or broken bridges,
Of the razed homes or the ever young blighted woods...

Cruelly cut down - man to go first and nature next
We never seem to learn, we never seem to stop.

one side - its nature's triumph over all,
another it just squeezes the heart... at the tragedy
We don't need to see this, we don't need to face this
our mother nature -
not to be played with, not to be teased nor to be ripped.
For she will always have her way,
we didn't see that yesterday nor we see it today.
Yet, We never seem to learn, we never seem to stop...

Only pray for a greater power than humankind
to teach us, to guide and embrace our follies,
to forgive us our games, our treachery "to protect us from ourselves"
and let life flourish..!

Yet, we never seem to learn, We never seem to stop...!

[subraiyr]

This one is quite sad, but then a lot of poems are. This was written for my uncle who lost his daughter in the Kanishka crash in the early 80s.

Kanishka

A pair of hungry eyes, looked at him
With bright happiness
A myriad of thoughts struck his brow
And creases formed to wipe away the frowns
She was ready, to sail alone, away into a new world
Dreams of colors and smell, wandered around her
As she stood atop the stairs, for a last glimpse
Of her home

He picked up the phone, it was two
And he knew before he spoke, the news
Something macabre, a poker in his heart
The flight had landed
In sea, in motes
And survivors, there were none
The metallic voice pierced into his ear
Repeating a single message, sublime

He stood stunned, turned
All of six foot, stooped
The transformation quick,
An old man had risen
Tears failed his eyes, face contorted
A cascade of emotions swept past his creased brow
He sat on the couch, the bear looked at him
Gleaming dark eyes, beseeching him of whatever

He turned around, looked back
As his eyes swept the room, trinkets many
Lay strewn across, on the mantle, a picture
Caught in low light, a glow on her cheeks
The vase standing tall, daffodils still fresh
Gave him a furtive glance
Cushions thrown on floor, a distant reminder
Of the morning scrabble

His hands now trembled, as he picked up the shawl
Her perfume lingered, creases, where it was draped
A lone reddish glow came out of the room
A room he would never enter now
A last glimpse, he pleaded to himself
As he raised his arm, for the time
His back stooped, sobs racked his chest
As his watch glared back at him

Happy Birthday Papa

[/FONT]

[KD007]

From a small child (oh well not so small about 7-8 years) who liked "Funny poems (hasya kavita)" to someone who moved to "Black humor / Satire / Sarcasm (Vyang) and then to sad shayaris in teens.

The love of writing since then been long forgotten with intermittent bursts of random thoughts and off late with some new inspirations the novice poet has woken up again.

Sharing my thoughts and an attempt to create few lines where i can express and the reader can relate



Mere dil ki baat koi samajh nahi pata
Main ehsaas likhta hun, woh alfaaz padhte hain


Kya dekhun apne in haathon ki lakiron main
kuch khoya, kuch paya, bas silsila chalta gaya


Likhne ko jab bhi kalam uthaye
Na jaane kyu zindagi ke dard hi yaad aaye


Ab toh zindagi kharch rahe hain, duniya ke dukaan main
Na do paiso main gham bika, na chaar paiso main khushi mili


Karwaton ki daastan, bistaar ke silwato main chupi thi
Aaj phir aankh khuli, aaj phir tum yaad aaye


Yun toh palat kar jab dekha zindagi haseen lagi
Tere aane ke pehle, tere jaane ke baad, kaafi kuch kami lagi

[mukul32]

Well, I do indulge in a bit of poetry occasionally, and when I was a schoolkid, among my other poetry, I wrote a couple of poems about automobiles. I wasn't a BHPian then however, and with time and increased pressure of studies and other stuff, I haven't been able to write another piece of poetry in a long time. Anyway, I happened to find the old poetry notebook now, and thought of sharing my work here:

This poem was written way back in 2012, when I was just 13 years old. I remember, I had written this one in a school recess, in about four minutes! So obviously it is not very long, and given the age I wrote it in, it's not very mature either, but it's all heartfelt, I promise. And I hope you guys put up with it.
It's about a Jeep, and as a matter of fact I've never owned or driven a Jeep, neither do I have my driving license yet (still 17 ) and I've sat in a real 'Jeep' all of twice in my lifetime. Yet it makes me emotional every time when I read it. I hence admit I really envy all those who own Jeeps, and drive them, tune them, and take them off the road. It really must be something incredibly special. Or as they say, 'A Jeep Thing!'
Anyways, enough with the intro, here goes:

My Ol' Jeep
My dusty old Jeep,
my trusty old Jeep;
Lies in my garage,
like a big metal heap.
My dusty ol' Jeep......

It's went across mountains,
it's clambered across hills;
It's swam across waters,
like a fish having gills.
And yet it started always,
with just a crank and sweep;
My trusty ol' Jeep......

I've used it like a Taxi,
I've used it like a truck;
It's bounced over rocks,
and glided through the muck.
& it stood by me every time,
no matter how high, heavy or deep;
My dusty ol' Jeep......

It's always been there,
it's always done that;
It's been my muffler,
and my raincoat, and my sunhat.
but now that it's not running,
I can't help but weep;
My dusty, trusty ol' Jeep......





Hope you liked it. Please tell me how you found it. Criticism is welcome too. It'll help me get better in the future.

PS: There's another such poem, that one's about a Merc. If you guys like this one, I'd love to post that one as well, sometime later. In fact, now that I've started this thread, and am an active BHPian, I don't mind writing a few new ones either! I plan of hopefully writing some more about Indian cars, the Indian market, and Indian car scene in general. If you've got some of your own, please share your pieces of automotive poetry with T-BHP too, and tell me how you found mine.
Thanks!

[lucifer1881]

Something I had written a long, long time ago (in college, to be precise):

Alexandre Quixote

I am Alexandre Quixote, the world’s greatest lover I am
Don Juan De Marco was but a sham
This happens to be a true account of my story
Through which I hope to regain my last glory
That women were his cuisine Casanova once said
Catherine, the Great of Russia died when the harness supporting a Stallion broke over her bed
To them love or lust were two sides of the same coin
If you ask me, they had their brains in their loins
Hence, without taking anymore of your precious time
I begin my story, which is nothing less than divine

My father was a knight in the service of King Henry IV
My mother, a nubile young woman, lived in a village by the shore
It was a fine day, for my mother and father of course
Not too fine a day for the rascals who were slain at their throats
My mother says that it was on a fateful moonlit night, when she was alone
In the grape garden at this hour, she was helpless as a stone
Blackguards that they were they thought of bringing her disrepute and dishonour
For the full moon had hidden itself behind the clouds casting gloom

They approached her from behind and seized her wrists
And spoke to her in a manner befitting not even the anti-Baptists
My mother tried to get away but to no avail
She let out a cry that was very frail
The scoundrels laughed for they thought for help none would come
They could not have been more wrong for my father was just away a fathom
Knight in shining armour that he was, he could not leave a damsel in her sorrow
He got there on his mare faster than a bow shoots an arrow

Though taken aback, their hands went to their swords
Before they could draw them, my father had slit their vocal cords
My father’s rapier was in a flash back to its place on his waistband
To my blushing mother, he offered his right hand
In the beautiful sunshine, danced and danced did they
Well, mid-morning it was is what my father used to say
The following day they were married in a pristine chapel
And, lived happily till my father was summoned for the battle

It was for two years that the conflict raged on
No one seemed to know which side was on song
My mother says that I was born a year after my father had gone
But, then I must have fought really hard to stay within her womb
Either that or the man who came home often soon after my father went
Was a little more to her than just being a friend
The reason behind I could never comprehend
The man’s disappearance on my father’s advent

I knew that I was God’s gift to womankind the moment I was born
When she had to depart, my nanny was lovelorn
And, when my father put me in school
All the girls there would upon me drool
It is not that my charm victimised only the girls
My teachers, too were taken in by its powerful swirl
Things went so far that my headmaster had little choice
I was ousted from school and put under the tutelage of Mr. Dice

For five years thereafter, I was in the care of my private tutor
More than him I was looked after by his wife and two daughters
I remember during the annual village fair
How all the women on me had fixed their stare
Being a knight, my father attempted teaching me the art of war
He soon realised I could not tell a sword from a scimitar
I could spot a rosebud in a woman’s hair from a mile
During combat, though, I was betrayed by my guile

By 12, I had made a fortune collecting a gold coin each
From every girl to plant a kiss on her cheek
I was a man by the time I hit sixteen
To every maiden’s chamber in the hamlet I had been
I learnt a valuable lesson in my seventeenth year
Avoid married women for their husbands might be near
I nearly lost my head when unexpectedly returned Lady Baton’s man
As soon as I heard his horse, I grabbed my coat and ran

By spring next year, my fame had spread itself far and wide
There were numerous proposals from prospective brides
But, marrying one would disappoint the rest
I could not have lived with that load on my chest
However, the calamity befell when the stars were shining bright
On a cold, clear, winter, new moon night
I saw her, a maiden so graceful and fair
That the sun seemed dull compared to her glare

Her eyes were deep, deep as the ocean blue
Caressed by the wind, her golden strands of silk flew
This time, though, I had beckoned the monster loch ness
For she turned out to be this kingdom’s princess
One day she made me an offer I could not refuse
It was between her and my soul that I had to choose
The fair sex of my village had no solace
From the moment they learnt I was off to the palace

I had never thought that anything could be as big as the castle
The walls were done up in various shades of pastel
The staircases seemed to run around the earth
As far as women were concerned, there was absolutely no dearth
A hundred of them serviced the King’s bedchamber
The courtesans’ faces glowed the colour of ember
Her Highness, the Queen was all beauty and grace
If only there were more of her, blessed would be the human race

At the Royal banquet on my wedding night
As I was sitting beside my beloved wife
The King held in his hand a glass of red wine
And, made me a toast which I did not find benign
‘To the man’, he said, ‘Who has married the princess this day
Who is faithful and fidel, otherwise he be slain’
I could not catch the humour, but his henchmen guffawed
The courtesans stopped dancing, my mother-in-law could not have looked more appalled

The next morning I was invited to breakfast with Her Highness
She seemed overtly concerned about the apple of her eye, the princess
She said, ‘I know my daughter has not acted right
‘By forcing you to make her your bride
‘You are a man, whose spirit is free, free as the bird in the sky
‘It cannot be chained, hard as the King or the princess may try
‘And, with the King having threatened your life should you be infidel
‘I am not sure how much longer you should stay in the castle’

I was born to love many women, so invariable I knew
That what Her Majesty said was absolutely true
But, where I could go was something I could not understand
After all, who would give refuge to King Henry’s outlawed man?
As if she had sensed my thoughts, Her Highness continued
‘Of course, it won’t be easy, but I will see what I can do
‘Till such time, I’d say stay out of danger
‘And, do not cast your eyes upon the women of bedchamber’

Even as she said it, my mother-in-law had known
That keeping me from the bedchamber was akin to moss growing on a rolling stone
I could only afford a week of abstinence
Then I was hit hard by my fluttering conscience
Not that my wife was not beautiful, she was lovely as can be
But, there are other beautiful women, too, in this world you see
To my great dismay, I found that in the palace word did fast spread
If I did not escape now, I would soon be dead

I turned to Her Highness, she was the only one I could think of
Who could help me before the situation grew more morose
Fortunately, she had made all the arrangements of my leaving the fort
I found myself in a cargo ship travelling up north
The sailors knew who I was but they were well enough paid
To drop me off on the island that their eyes first seemed to gaze
It took them a month to find the first piece of land
I was not too keen to get there for it seemed not one soul had set foot upon that sand

I protested, but the men were not about to relent
They left me there for me to alone for myself fend
I had some supplies to last me till such time
Another ship came, and agreed to give me a ride
After a decade went by I gave up on any hopes that I had
Of seeing another human being, a lass or a lad
Thus, in a bottle my account do I send
For someone like you to find and to history make amends

[KD007]

wrote a few more

Na mile hain hum tum, kya Pata kab mil payenge
Ek chahat hain zindagi ki, ek aas zindagi se


Rakhne wale ne bhi aisa naam de diya hain.. aye smita (smita = muskaan)
Ki khusi main bhi smita aur gham. Main bhi smita

Tu nahi, tera ranj sahi, teri guftgu bhi nahi
Mere ranjo-gum ki siyahi ko ek smita ki talaash hain


Haan abhi hamari baaton main wazan kam hain
Par tere jaane ka ilm bhi toh abhi naya hain

Khuda shayad baksh de meri is khata ko
Par abhi mujhe kya pata uske insaan ki raza kya hain hu


Itne shikan se na dekhe, hamare likhe alfaaz ko
Sanjidgi ki kurbat abhi honi baaki hain is nandan pe

[supremeBaleno]

My son Aman (8 years) is currently bitten by the poem-writing bug, though I had to tell him that quality matters more than quantity. A poem he wrote last month :

Water

In the seas,
In the rivers,
And in the ponds, we see these gold,
Which is useful and precious, but not sold.

They make the wonderful rainbow that we love,
with beautiful seven colors.

In the seas,
In the rivers,
And in the ponds,
We see our precious water like gold.

[Engine_Roars]

I miss my home, my child hood, often. There was a ground in front of my house and most of my time, after school, was spent there playing cricket. The ground is half gone and friends do not come there to play anymore.

I miss that place. So, here is the lose translation - Had been to the ground hoping to see my friends. Neither they were there nor was the ground.

Gaya tha us maidaan mein, apne puraane yaaron ko dhundta hua..
Na yaar miley, na hi maidaan mila..

[ToothyPetrohead]

“If you can park it and not turn around to look at it as you walk away, you haven’t bought the right car”

An averment, we Team Bhp members can empathize for sure. I have consistently been into cars since as far as I can relive. Cars are part of my genetic nature is what I fathom. I'd like to share a poesy I penned down a couple of days ago about my triennium owned taffeta White Honda City. Those who have or had one can associate with my write.

My Cherished Honda City

Cars have unceasingly been an enthrallment
Heck, was the first sonance when little.
Always loved one in particular,
That started in the late ninety’s.
A dream to own one someday,
That came true in two thousand and Fifteen!
My pristine Honda City.

The chassis has changed shape over a period of time,
But that Petrol Heart the same, now more refined.
My City neat in taffeta white,
A heart leap, happy panic runs thro’ me at her sight.
Practical, fast and convenient take your pick,
Spacious cabin and loads of sensible touches that
Make it so easy to live with.

Ergonomics, light controls, a slick gearshift, easy maneuverability,
A pleasure to drive be it highway or city.
A boot so amazing that,
It can swallow your airport or holiday kitty.

Feather touch climate controls that,
Keeps the cabin cool be it in the front or rear,
Even a hot summer’s day never sweaty or Spartan.
Sitting inside her cabin with magnetic shades it feels so cozy,
Chiliadal kilometers driving, still feels fresh and rosy.

Driving her feels like floating on a cloud,
Silent, smooth and munches miles like nothing
Even with skinny rubber her alloy rims are wrapped in.
Many dislike her alloys she comes with,
But heck I love them as,
Just simple and so easy to clean and maintain them.

She comes with a rear view camera that I dig,
To prevent a rear bump in.
Has an antenna at the rear roof top also,
A Sleek shark fin.
Yeah, she does have her noises and squeaks,
For three years now
Hell she’s dandy to live with.

- Colin

"She's not just four wheels and an engine, she's Abode!"

[ToothyPetrohead]

As we all forge ahead in life there is someone or something that creates mark that remains for perpetuity one of such being my 2002 WagonR VXI.

After reading a post earlier by another Team Bhpian (DCEite), I felt the wish to share this. A variation of love for the WagonR.


“The love between a man and his car can only be understood by those who felt it.”
Fellow Team Bhpians correct me if I am fallacious.

My darlin’ Wagon R

I treasured her so much,
Ruffled I’d get if anyone would touch.
Populace belief she was boxy,
Howbeit to me she was truly sexy.
Ever so often she’d be a bit sluggish,
‘Cause that darn gear was offish.
But she’d always go that extra mile,
Always gave a cheek to cheek smile.
What I didn’t like was her wobble,
Astonishingly never tumble.
In the city she was light and nimble,
On the expressway she’d just tremble.
She was worth every penny
Oh! I miss my little honey.
I loved her so from the day I got her, till today,
Was really sad had to relinquish her that May.
Miss you my Whitey sweet heart,
You are one true piece of ART.
- Colin

[prateekswarup]

Surprised to see this section!

My contribution to the thread:

The Journey

Wake up in the morning,
Just as the sun is stirring,
Breathe in the cold, fresh air,
Ready, whatever challenges dare.

Excited to hit the road,
Take a break from the bored,
The wind blowing through the hair,
The sound of tarmac, without any care.

The path painted bright green,
The routes that have never been,
The road a mix of asphalt and gravel,
Seducing me to further travel.

A snapshot in this moment of time,
Disturbing the peace, indeed a crime;
The companion silence of the journey,
The destination, I don’t want to see.

As man and machine trudge on,
Symbiosis in its best form,
How to capture this exhilarated feeling,
This catharsis, this physical and mental healing?

Humbled like a speck in space,
Nature, in its expanse and grace;
Take a break, leave the hustle behind,
Out there... there’s plenty to find!

[gkveda]

Below is Sanskrit shloka on corona I composed in my WhatsApp group of high school friends. Written very casually to pull legs of one of my friends

ನಮಸ್ತೇ ಕರೋನ ದೇವೀ ಶಂಘಾಯಿ ಪುರವಾಸಿನೀ |
ಸಕಲ ದೇಶ ಸುಸಂವ್ಯಾಪ್ತೇ ಜನಪ್ರಾಣಾಪಹಾರಿಣಿ||

ನಿಶಾಚರಾಭಿಸಂಜಾತೇ ಸರ್ವಲೋಕಭಯಂಕರೀ |
ಶ್ವಾಸೋತ್ಕ್ರಮಣಾದ್ದೇವೀ ಜನಪ್ರಾಣಾಚಮನಂಕರೀ||

ತ್ರಿಮೂರ್ತಿ ಪೂಜಿತೇ ದೇವಿ ಮಮ ಪ್ರಾಣಯುತಂ ಕುರು|
ನಾನ್ಯಂ ಸ್ಪೃಷಾಮಿ ಪಾಪೋಹಂ ನಾಘ್ರಾಣಂ ಕರೋಮಿ ಹಾ||

ಹಸ್ತ ಪ್ರಕ್ಷಾಲನಂ ಚಾಪಿ ಪಾದ ಪ್ರಕ್ಷಾಲನಂ ಸದಾ |
ಗೃಹೇ ತಿಷ್ಠಾಮಿ ನಾತಿಚರಾಮಿ ಚತುರ್ದಶ ದಿನಂ ತಥಾ||

I can explain meaning if any body is interested. Mostly it is self explanatory

[srini1785]

I composed this choir a few years back, but the pastor would not allow me to sing:

So close, no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters
Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don't just say
And nothing else matters
Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters
Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
But I know
So close, no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters
Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
But I know
I never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don't just say
And nothing else matters
Trust I seek and I find in you
Every…

[AZT]

Originally Posted by gkveda

I can explain meaning if any body is interested. Mostly it is self explanatory

Can you post a translation.