Skip to main content

Stream of Emotions

In the whirling of emotions
Things start centering inside
There were so many, implicit and explicit
Fictional and real; dirty and Neat
Words are so feeble to let it out
Heart is restless to clear this doubt
When you are delicate inside
An apparent-stoned-layer rounds outside
Might be it is a nature’s way
To resist the hurtful-feelings and to keep it away
Or might be it is a defensive approach
Which disorients your outside and inside so much
You are dumped into saddening-schizophrenic-hell
To hear your own mournful-melancholic knell
Put out the garbage that has choked the stream of emotions
And the layers that have hided your heart from the rejuvenating ray of sun
Love cannot bloom in the drenched-barren-deserted soul
And without ‘love’ you cannot immaculately enact your role

Dear friends...I am going to be again active in Blog-sphere...My Training has been almost completed now. I have been posted in Bangalore...From this weekend I would be in Bangalore...


Yayaver said…
Nice poem Amit. And welcome back in the blogosphere :)
Guria said…
Welcome back! Wonderful conflict of emotions and words! I'm eager to read your fictions too! All the best with your new job! :))
Singh Amit said…
@Thanks :)
I would try my best to be regular in blog-sphere from now on-wards :)
Singh Amit said…
Thanks Guria..:)
Will write fiction soon :)
divsi said…
welcome back!!!!!:))
n congo for completin ya trainin!!!:))

lovely poem...beautifully expressed!:)
Singh Amit said…
Thanks a lot :)
Vikram Karve said…
Lovely Poetry
Good to see you blogging again.
All the Best.
Keep Writing.
hi amit, nice post & good blog, i think u must try this site to increase traffic. have a nice day !!!

Popular posts from this blog

Women-Empowerment (A Short Story)

Her spectacle ridden red eyes were trying to run away from the crowd as soon as possible. Every person was looking so alien, so dreadful.  Her heart was pounding so fast, it felt it could come out anytime. She closed her eyes; took a long-breath; chanted a prayer, perhaps to stabilize her trembling soul. But it was of no use. In the high decibel of the noise she had already lost her ability to hear her own words. Somewhere at some meters away she found a corner.  She moved towards the corner with her shuddering legs but alas! Her blurring eyes were proving too difficult to keep open. She fell down and in a few hours she was laying against white bed-sheet in the government hospital. She didn’t know who took her there.  She moved her eyes everywhere to search some known faces. But there was no one. Finally she closed her eyes. So how are you feeling now? She heard a male, soothing yet concerned voice, but not sure if it was for her or someone else. She opened her eyes slightly...As the ima…

Begging Future

Scientists believe that after a certain period especially childhood, our mind does not develop; it just gathers knowledge, makes it experiences and learns new things.Freud, the father of psychology claims that till that age, the way our mind gets shaped; it lasts for our whole life and defines our behaviour and character. So, the important point which I want to draw is that childhood is the most crucial period which decides and defines our future.
To grow a child, is an art, the most beautiful living art of existence. But unfortunately, everyone doesn’t want to reveal his art as they have never felt the joy of this art Or maybe they would have work more prior to this. So their creation is not perfect. A child needs care, love, humbleness, spontaneity; which most of people would be mistaken by fulfilment of economic needs. Well, a good school can substitute the role of parents to an extent but not completely.
In case of India where good schools and perfect parents are a distant fantasy f…

LAKSHMEE- A short story (Guest Post)

Many years have passed since she left this imperfect and unjust world, but still she floats around in my memories time to time. Today I have decided to tell the story of Lakshmee as was perceived through my eyes. Lakshmee was born as a first child in a family which had seen a girl child after two generations. Although a boy would have been more welcome in this case also, Her arrival in this world was tolerated or I dare say welcomed in much better way than many of other girls had in my village. At that time you could guess by the silence and gloom at home that a girls had arrived or by noise of celebration that a boy had been born. A feast was arranged as celebration for her birth which was generally reserved for boys. Her grandfather christened her Lakshmee, consoling his son that she will bring prosperity, material and money as well as many boys to family.
She was a very lovely child with plenty of smiles and comfortable with anyone wishing to carry her in his/her arms. Since she wa…