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Monday, March 28, 2011

Words fail me


An Enigma's love

ASP.NET was the mother of all exams @infy, due to a psychotic question paper.

My feelings after the exam expressed in the form of a poem



Not a sennheiser clad Rock-star, jamming the guitar

Never a five-point techie, flaunting the nerd avatar

Just a romantic all at sea, stranded without a clue

Who’s only hope is the divine light house in you.

Ya Words fail me, even ASP did, hope you don’t



Not mama’s cute boy, wiping her desperate tear

Never a Versace showstopper, setting the ramp on fire

Just an unshaven freak lost in your love, yet proud

Who’s loving heart, spits blood to say it aloud.

Ya Words fail me, even ASP did, hope you don’t




Not the gory hunk, lifting dumbbells like a toy

Never the rich spoilt brat, or sweet chocolate boy.

Just a clueless poet, with dreams of you my deity

Who’s pen tries hard but fails to paint your beauty

Ya Words fail me, even ASP did, hope you don’t.



Not a fairy tale knight, rescuing the distressed damsel

Never the Angelic man, feeding poor with the last morsel

Just a selfish atheist, filled with darkness and no shine

Who’s now praying to god, hoping He’ll make you mine

Ya Words fail me, even ASP did, hope you don’t.



Who am I?

I am just a dreamer, with nothing but your absence to fear

Who’s not even sure, there’ll be men to light his pyre.

But with you by my side, and tequila shots for aid

(Screw ASP), Even if life fails me,

I will conquer death with pride.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

A Poet's birth




When was this premature-poet born?

Was it the day? When
The abandoned virgin mirror of my room
Blushed at my hour-long stare
As I dressed up for you, just like a groom

Was it the day? When
Your hourglass figure walked past me
I took a swift deep breath
As a conscious try to hide my tummy

Was it the day? When
“Outlook” experienced something very new
Was tired with the countless “refreshes”
As my heart yearned for a new mail from you

Was it the day? When
I recorded giggles and rubbish from your mouth
Tuned them as my mobile ringtone
As it sounded better than Beethoven’s fourth

Was it the day? When
You silently came and sat by my side
Even an atheist’s wish came true
And my six foot frame, grew an inch in pride

Was it the day? When
I collected fragile bamboo words, braving the heat
Tied them as a poetic broom
Hoping to sweep you off your feet.



For this childish style, I have only you to blame
Coz of the desire to be with you,
This premature poet will write without any shame.
And the blood stained red-carpet of my heart,
Waits for your grand entry,
As only your presence in my life and not just art
Will complete me and my poetry.