So, which one do you think, is the best News Channel in India?

27 Sep 2012

"THE CYNOSURE" - (by Rahul Sharma)

...And that was she,
Who came into the scene,
Truly bizarre,
And people did stare.

None has seen her before
And she was extremely beautiful.
Her eyes were shining,
And her face was pale
Crimson red, were her lips,
And also had beautiful hair.
Probably at her late teens,
Anyway, was really fair.
The crazy youngsters did ogle
While the nutty oldies did askance;
But she did never seem to care,
And was in a little haste too.

Neither a muse,
Nor an angel;
But she was gorgeous,
And has already become the cynosure,
With her polite beauty that was hard to measure.
Her eyes were weeping
Her nose was reddening
And her face was crying.

For instance,
The crowd including me,
Did forget that, it was a funeral,
And the man lying dead,
Was a prominent stage actor.
But who was that?
The girl who wept,
people wondered
As their minds were swept!

"He was her patron..."
Said somebody from behind;
"No, she's his daughter
And never proclaimed..."
Said another voice.
"A flagrant actress,
Of early days, was her mother..."
Whispered a cranky fellow.

And that was his funeral,
People did never care for,
Deeply boasting,
Curiously gossipping.

But I did never feel,
Any resemblance for the beautiful girl,
With the dead man either.
"No Chance", uttered my mind.

The mortal of the great actor,
Was being showcased;
Photographers came along,
To make their frames with pride
And men and women came along
To pay their homage;
To take their last glance,
Some did simply stare
With neutral faces;
While  some bemoaned.
There the girl was sitting on a chair,
At some distance;
With her legs crisscrossed;
And her face within her hands, sobbing.

And an hour later,
There gathered,
The kith an kin,
Of the dead man.
And they took the body
To the funeral place.

And then, the girl was'nt found anywhere,
As if she disappeared into thin air
My eyes were searching for her everywhere,
Felt this was so unfair
And I found her nowhere.

And the question still remained,
About her, and her connection
With the dead septuagenarian actor,
Whose life was always a mystery,
And now he left the stage,
Leaving something at the proscenium...

The role of the man did end here,
Without an epilogue to clarify,
And none could guess anything as sure,
About the weeping girl,
Who became the cynosure,
At the funeral.

Life may make some twists,
Which could always freeze our mind;
The sun was about to set,
And the crowd is now dispersed.


- RAHUL SHARMA  (all rights reserved)

31 Aug 2012

The Photo Album (by Rahul Sharma)


Troublesome and Monotonous....
None to help me either,
For my sake,
Today, how I don't know,
My lips were smiling at me,
When I found myself,
In the midst of a gang of friends,
From an old group photo.

I realized that,
Nothing else,
Could really help me,
Than the old photo.
Nostalgic and enigmatic,
I framed it in my mind;
Along with the instances, decades ago,
Flashed!
Memories Flushed!
Which kept shouting at me,
That still I'm a kid!

Slowly, I recognized that,
I'm not being atrophied;
Since the album wasn't a flash of dreams,
But was just a piece of solace for me!


- Rahul Sharma  (all rights reserved)

Being Captivated (by Rahul Sharma)


I came along
Just came along- solely,
Not unversed
Though dispersed,
Dismantled myself!

I wonder
When people think that I'm complete.
Nobody to check me,
They didn't even care for me,
But I still remain captivated
In the cage of freedom.


- Rahul Sharma   (all rights reserved)

PENUMBRA (by Rahul Sharma)



Being captivated;
Within her shadow;
I'm a drop of tear,
In her eyes of fear.
Remain cuddled...
To her remnant thoughts,
Entangled within.
Umbrage upon umbilicus;
Either of'em are unaware...
That yolk itself is chick,
Yet prevails unnecessarily sick,
Gets cleared for sure,
When the moon of sarcasm,
Slides across latitudes....
Filled with pulse,
Unattached for love,
Light comes, to promote,
Evergreen love and peace forever.


(-Rahul Sharma - all rights reserved)

[This is something when we find the relation between any mom and child gets impaired at teens which is later re-established from both ends, more strongly, where realities are to be analyzed through soul phase, at times...]

CURSE (by Rahul Sharma)


Time is killing me,
Don't know what to do;
Days are getting harder;
Can't even go for a quarter;
And now I wanna shatter,
Everything improper.
Need some forbidden corner;
Wanna get some sleep.
Hates on you my life,
Thou raced with time and tide;
The ride was full of pride.
Ardent wasn't me,
But it was thwarting life to me!


(- Rahul Sharma (all rights reserved))

God's Gift To A Solitary Poet (by Rahul Sharma)

God' gift to a solitary poet 
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I don't know who you are
I don't know how we got in touch,
I was alone, wandering somewhere,
But couldn't reach anywhere.
.
Sole was my mind,
Even soul couldn't find;
But my dear sister, 
You found me, from nowhere;
And followed me everywhere....
.
I did neither see you,
Nor did talk to you.
You did neither hit me,
Nor did hug me indeed.
But I could feel your presence,
As soothing heart touching words,
That gave me strength;
When I was about to fall.
.
You were that spirit, my dear sister,
Whenever you did make fun of me,
I was just forgetting myself,
It hurts me a lot, only when you beg pardon for those, I say.
.
I wish Words aren't enough,
And eyes aren't so tough,
For a brother and a young sister.
It doesn't happen by birth,
But it just happens, through sense,
And let it remain forever, ever and ever.
I wish one day, my words will take me along,
To you, and I am sure, if I fail,
Your words will take my soul along, sister,
To the chamber of death of mine, and, there,
I will be waiting, for a drop of tear, with love,
That could vanish my thirst,
I did pay sincerity to my words,
And poems indeed,
For which, the God of poems,
Gifted me an angel of poems- a beautiful poetess,
And its my sister.

-RAHUL SHARMA (All rights reserved)

The Hammer And The Nail (by Rahul Sharma)


Our heads do collide
With each other;
To accomplish
Someone else’s desire!

And there the mighty fixtures,
Buildings and holdings,
Remain as wonders
For human minds.

Thus our sufferings,
Reach Neither Hell;
Nor Heaven,
But how I wonder,
Their preaches,
Often reach
Destinations….

And, when they become guilt
For their sole built;
When it hit their fame,
We are just made for the blame!



- Rahul Sharma (all rights reserved)

[.... just an abstract description regarding the selfish intentioned human minds, from the perspective of some non-living things such as tools which he use often! I gave life and thoughts to these objects and just tried to personify them as the pall-bearers of human strategies! And thus some feelings just came out as floating verses!]

Myself - Spanking New! (by Rahul Sharma)


I don't know, how
I got changed like this.
I don't know whether I am lucid,
Enough, to think about it.

But, I started searching,
For myself,
In the inner whirls,
Of my mind!
----------------------------------- ------
Thoughts complicated;
And deeds replicated;
And I got rearranged,
In a better way,
And as i checked out,
I Found me there:

I started loving rain,
Once, when I lost my umbrella;
I started loving tears,
When I wanted to cry aloud;
And I started loving myself,
When others started hating me.
And let'em hate me Forever;
Since, I want to hate me Never.

I am awake... (by Rahul Sharma)


Oh my Lord!
Give me a way out,
To break-out and sprout;
To catch my will
Without any frill.

Oh my Lord!
Give me power...
To make a wish
And to vanish...
Into myself...
And to emerge again;
With an energetic Strain;
For thy sake,
Remember,
I am not fake;
And still awake...

I have thirst;
And do have thrust;
To hold it on...
And to get on.
Help me...
For I am here...
Without fear.
I am ready,
And steady.
And want to stand,
Walk, and run and fly,
Without being shy,
Until my breathe ends...
I remain awake....



- Rahul Sharma (all rights reserved)

[Announces that I am active and able to live....
But give me a chance please...]

to a friend..... (by Rahul Sharma)


Life is like a lonely boat;
In the open sea of mystery;
And in the midst of this daily cry;
I got, a friend like you from history.

When I’m about to sink;
I cried aloud;
And called them all;
And somewhere in the distance;
I saw a star’s blink.
And that was you;
A helping hand from history;
And played a role in my story;

I don’t know the past;
And I don’t know the future;
But I know the present;
And that too a little;
So, my dear friend;
I can’t offer a bunch of flowers;
For you;
Since those aren’t mine;
I cannot offer a dinner for you;
Since I’m starving too;
Both of us are poor;
But we remain rich;
As long as we remain
As GOOD FRIENDS;

BEST WISHES;
BEST WISHES;
BEST WISHES;
BEST WISHES;

These are words which all can say
But what I could do is only pray;
I have no special powers;
And I’m not the mighty God;



But just his creation;
And as I said;
I’m unaware of past and future;
And I’m not at all concerned about it.
So I could wish you nothing;
More than our eternal friendship;
And that is just more than this life;
A spiritual satisfaction;
A mental relaxation;
A way to avoid grief;
And I can say it in brief.

FRIENDSHIP
It keeps my boat moving;
Moving , moving and moving ;
I want to row my boat;
Along with that of you;
Till the end of eternity;
With FRIENDSHIP as our fuel;
TRUST as our steering;
And WE as captains;
Thus our roles in the story;
And I need it to be a history;
A constant friend like you ...is truly;
A great mystery….




- Rahul Sharma (all rights reserved)

[This is my weird concept regarding an eternal friend. Actually, when I was writing this poem, none of my friends did come into my mind... the poem just came from my mind .... I don't know how, but that was my first poem, and I wrote it when I was about 13 years old!]