SIGNS

(This poetry has been inspired by the numerous plans that has back fired in my life and to know that signs are everywhere, and I had been ignoring them. I am submitting myself to those signs and letting fate control whatever it has in store for me...once).

My ink ruined the parchment.

Of a beautiful story I planned.

The paintbrush on the canvas,

But I did not know and alas,

Heavens sent a downpour,

Spoils my dreams and nigh.

Would have been okay if I,

Took a shelter of any kind.

But a shelter I did not find.

The signs that deplore,

What is not meant to be,

Shall never end a happy.

And signs demand acknowledgement.

That only fate shall command.

                                                                                   peace-dr.Diksha

Laughter.

Today I am lonely,

Tomorrow I will be alone.
Silence answers it all.

Warm wind hits my face,
Makes me close my eyes,
My lips curve in a smile.

A smile makes me forget,
The bad times we had,
Good times are lacking.

Laughter were at a scarce,
When you were with me,
Now it is all back again.

I laugh more and smile more,
Thinks you it will wrinkle my face,
I love the lines the love leaves.

Wizened but loved,
I rather be,
Then pretty and sad.

Make me laugh,
I am all yours,
Laughter breeds love.

Of Loving The Wrong One.

You cornered my heart,
You cornered me as well.
My soul it was shaken
It left my bones and skin.
I changed then onward.
But to love you I was akin.
Left everything my heart once etched.
What had loving you to me fetched?

The passion burnt me and my desire.
My heart was warm, my soul on fire.
The heat destroyed me and me alone.
I knew better to cease my loving.
The affection and the day dreaming.
The people started to mourn
For the dying person I had become.
My iridescent sadness it outshone.
Outshone the love I had for you.
The sadness in me now pellucid.
With anger that could not be hid.
Anger was alive with myraids of emotions.
Red and blue and black and grey.

I leave you now. Regret will follow.
I have steeled my hear and barred my soul.
Eyes averted and nose away from you.
To a path of self discovery.

                                                                 pE@c3-dr. Diksha

Angry for what reason.

(Expressing my anger and frustration. Maybe someday I would write a poem that genuinely ignites the pain of anger to my readers, not that I write so well).

Pernicious heart yield lethal results

The poison in me has spread.

Awakens the deadliest of the cult

(Of course its all in my head)

And even though its all the play of my brain

And I can absolutely control what I think

But never what I feel and so I maintain

This growing anger that doesn't shrink.

It is fed with the on-going confusion.

Many a times I find myself slow

I try to work, to play, to reason.

It's just that I keep falling down below.

The toxicity that poisons me has spread

I am no longer myself I am lethal.

The longer the feel stays in my head

It cripples my heart and apocryphal.

The burden doesn't go it has excoriated me.

                                                               pE@c3-dr.Diksha.

The Grim Reaper and the Old Man.

DISCLAIMER: This is a long poem. Overall not so bad.
By Poetess- Diksha Chhetri.

In the darkest hour of the night,
When the stars are shining and the moon is bright.
Came the grim reaper to reap the soul,
Of a five year old boy as he had been told.

The darkness spread in his presence.
He had taken souls for eons and eons
Of many unsuspecting souls.
He was only doing was he was told.
His eyes glimmered a bright bloody red.
Scars and stories made up for his head.
His faithful scythe he carried in his hand.
And scoured the living unknown land.
His cloak was black and his face
Showed no anger, no love, no hate, no grace.

He finally reached the little house.
Where the little boy lay tucked in like a mouse.
He lay entombed in the the cold.
The doctors had told he would not grow old.
The reaper had come to reap the soul.
Of this little boy as he had been told.

The house was small and dirtier were the mats.
There was only this little boy and no other brats.
Their furniture were creaking old and bad.
Where sat the worried sad old grand dad.
It was a cold chilly winter.
But they had no room heater.
Nor was there any fire at the fireplace.
To set the grim reaper ablaze.
The old man in his late eighties,
Made soup of cabbages and pieces of fish
For his darling little grandson
Who would not grow old enough to be handsome.
The owners of the house,
Were not even rich enough to feed a mouse.
They had gone out to do the odd jobs.
Which would only earn them corn cobs.
Such were the conditions under
Which the little boy was to surrender.
Out of this sad world of greed and hate.
Of poverty and demolition, where poor men prostrate.
Where the evil men eat and be merry.
Where the good men are losing their dignity.

The reaper entered their tiny home.
The old man sensed him like a storm.
He turned around and met those blank eyes.
And the scythe-it was the reapers device.
The moment then completely froze,
Pointed to the boy and said, "He goes,
With me to the eternal land.
His time is up. I hope you understand."

It hit the old man like a lightening had struck.
It was a sign of sheer bad luck.
Then he gathered courage and finally said,
"He is just a little boy, please take me instead."
The reaper still expressionless,
Said he did not want to create a mess.
Old man your time has not yet come.
But the boys life is over before it even began.

This is an absolute injustice.
Take me away, spare my boy please.
The reaper considered this for a while.
But there was no goodness in him. He was vile.
So he said this time with anger,
Old man I am taking this young boy, you cannot wager
Yourself in exchange for his dear life.
Such is the law of nature and it's strife.
The old man scared he was a lot!
There are many things I have brought
in my life. This is my final wish to buy
My grandsons life. I do not want him to die.

My friend suggested these instead of THAT LINE!

The reaper annoyed very much now.
Shouted out like an angry cow.
Brandished his scythe at the old man.
And said, "Very well then stop me if you can."
And he went right through the door.
"I have never met any one like you before".
The old man immediately entered the tiny room.
Where lay his grandson in his doom.

The reaper determined to reap this boy.
And take away the man's bundle of joy.
He said to the reaper once again.
To take his soul, it would be a better bargain.
He had got everything in his life.
A decent job and a beautiful wife.
Loving children and all those little happiness.
A lasting love that did not regress.
I am poor and unable to afford healthy food,
Or else my grandson would be health-wise very good.
I am poor and so my grandson suffers,
But he is a darling boy and be buffers
Al the badness in this world.
He is smart and uncunning and very bold.
He helps everybody in his little way.
He can brighten up anyone's day.
He is good to his fellow mates.
Oh reaper, I am your suitable candidate.

The reaper tired now of the man's perseverance.
Turned away from the little boy and hence,
asked the old man if he was sure.
The granddad nodded and made it clear,
He was a good man, a good granddad.
This little boy was everything he ever had.
He wanted this little boy to live.
A good life being a good man with faith and belief,
That this world is not only dominated by
Bad men and this unruly lying alibi.

So the reaper reaped the old mans' soul.
He did not do as he had been told.
He was not as vile and dreaded.
As people had branded him with hatred.

The old body flopped onto the floor.
The poor couple returned at around four.
Their little son lay in his warm cot.
Rosy cheeks and a good life his granddad had bought.

The poem ends in this final verse.
With the decoration of the old mans hearse.

If I was a Super Hero now.

If I was a super hero now, would I have been a medical student?
If I was a super hero now, would I be in my room studying so late?
If I was a super hero now, would I have been out on the streets in my supercool costume?

The superhero Diksha.

I would be big and green
And a beauty Queen.
All the boys would respect me.
My hair would sway as I would walk by
And I would be the awesomest of all.


I would be out there fighting that big bad guy,
Instead of crouching before a big fat book.
I would be the apple of Batman's eye.
And I would be the nightmares of all the crooks.
Then Superman would greet me as a colleague.
And Wonder Woman and I would fly together.
I would be a member of the Justice League.

Spider Man would come to visit me.
I could help him with his web or two.
Instead of getting tangled with the medical degree.
I would be flying around the dark streets.
I would dance to the hip hop beat.
And 

Time to end my fantasy, although I can keep going on and on. 

The exam has rendered me insane (not that anybody would care).

Bruno the Wonderful Dog.

I discovered Scribd and here is my first post with the scribd embedding. This is a poem about my pet dog Bruno and I have to be honest, the poem is not excellent in its language though in its content it is very rich. Happy reading. (The poem is not too long so take a look).

Bruno