To My Sister

She is an angel of the night

And with her she brings the light

That has been so very bright

To let away that fright.

With her she brings the flowers

Whose fragrance can reach the towers

Of the dim and lonely hours

That cheers all, with her powers.

Her visions are of the drop of the water,

Her words are engraved and so graver,

Her voice is music ever so soother,

Her care is nothing less then a mother.

She cares nothing but for me

And her love is so heavenly,

If I ever wanted anything so dearly

Would have been a sister like thee.

To a Daughter

Her tears are full of fears

Of the weight all she bears

Pushed in the shoe box

When the world to her, mocks.

Answers she to everyone

Fury in heart kept to burn

Yet she lets it all go

With her head raised so low.

Love she wants, love she gets

For a moment she always waits

To be free of all the cages

And just not to be on the edges.

A Prelude

It rests in my heart,

Don’t know where did it start.

Residing in some dark corner,

Now grown with all pride and honour.

It takes all what makes me smile

And pleases me with all worries a while.

I tell it not to follow

With triumph it resides in dark hollow.

Visions so blur, tears in vain,

So does now happiness refrain?

Tell why friends and foes are in me,

Fear of fear shall it be?

With the pen and the paper

The pen and the paper are in the front

It is the ideas that I hunt.

When I sit to write,

No ideas seem so bright.

Longing for interesting thoughts,

Fades into the distraction of the lot.

In the library where I sit,

It is a place where ideas don’t knit.

I stare so hard till I penetrate their head

And yet nothing much can be led.

I sit aloof and nothing is learnt

When the pen and the paper are in the front.