The Unbroken Cloud.

In the dark empty sky,
strolled a lonely cloud.
little by little, it flittered,
by the thunders falling around.
Amidst grey storms, he moved,
weathered and frightened!
wiping the countless tears,
he Breathed under the fears.
Astonished were his eyes
for what he witnessed
a beautiful peace in chaos
spread the charming gloss.
Oh lord, what really was it?
was it the wonder of heavens,
or the dawn of the universe?
But Winds knew her well,
that crescent of the moon;
that princess of the night;
that lovely damsel of light.
She was as if the colours to a blind,
the shelter to a time
the breath to a dead,
and the rhythm to a silence.
She saw the cloud,
and Kissed with her gentle light,
oh now, Gone were the storms,
there was a story within the hearts.
a rainbow shoots from his heart
and Darted into the waste sky.
the Colours of love spilled,
those voids now were getting filled.
But How long could things go well,
so the Cloud fell deep somewhere
because thunders had to rumble,
to leave the life an unplayed gamble.
The time then was bleak,
god was there, but silent in the mist,
even the thunders were shut,
not even the darkest hours left.
But something gushed within,
the winds from the sorcerer’s wand,
that fragrance of life came again,
the cloud was now fallen as a rain.
He fell into the small brooks,
into the thousand thirsty mouths
deep there into the  cold seas
and Caressed the burned trees.
Still Lying on the ocean he sees,
her light beyond the horizon.
will he be the cloud again?
to reach there far.

January Fall.

these frosty winds of winter,

hold the untold secrete.

the secrete,

that resides deep in my heart.

but now they know it all;

the story of January fall.

above, the sky of the distant lights,

the sun that hides in misty veils of nights,

and bright moon that swims in a cold sea

only they know it all

the story of January fall.

even the falling star wished for it

those rolling leaves craved for it

streets summoned for a brisk stroll,

they want to hear it all,

the story of January fall.

these seasons are the blink of time

summer and rain waiting to chime.

but the winter,

winter knows it all

the story of January fall.

a cuddle of flame has a touch of snow,

my heart yet to know,

whether these fires  or embers,

who will tell her all,

the story of January fall.







Residues Of Life

An Old man in the queue,
Waited for his turn.
Time was ticking hard
But he yet serene and stern.
He knew these shadows,
Amidst which he moved,
Every wrinkle was its virtue
And wisdom was the only residue.
He knew Life is a game
of those destined cards.
Whether next would be of his name
Or just another one in hands.
For him, love was piece of solace,
For which he once desired to breathe,
But then it faded without trace,
And his heart smothered underneath.
But a light and a dark,
Together made his day,
And Smile as his companion
Never betrayed him anyway.
He turned sometimes back
To look how far he walked,
His eyes were amazed,
For How well he trudged.
now soon it will be his turn,
in this inevitable queue.
yes, he lived, loved and lied
these residues of life would never die…

whom to love.

whom to love,

to the one who loved you,

or to one who mocked.

thought they had been lied

love all them as a blind.

spread love as a holy fragrance,

in every dark corner here.

even evil would embrace,

with remorse full of tear.

malice for none and love for all,

not the bleeding grudge,

and with not any retaliation

which cause humanity to fall.

someone has been counting,

how munificent, generous you are,

yes, the invulnerable one,

who breath in your heart, nowhere far.







When your emotions bleed by stabs,

Someone leaves you with deep sobs.

When wiping tears become meaningless,

Then it is better to be a heartless.

Wisp of solemn in qualmy love,

Those false vows to lonely dove.

When the promises become tactless,

Then it is better to be a heartless.

In twilight of love and hate,

That heaved thou in eerie fate.

And when faith seems worthless,

Then it is better to be a heartless.

When things goes against you,

Only you need is light to go through.

To break the shackles,

And to be relentless

You have to be a heartless.

Suraj Kadam

Missing Marbles. (reviving the childhood)

Striding little tyke with pocket full of candies,

Chasing the ventures with friendly taunting.

Kingdom of sands and the wooden swords,

 The Furious rides with dulcet chords.

Falling and tripping was a bit limper,

Though thee smiled with adorable dimple.

The little rifts that never bruised loyalty,

The friends we got by complete serendipity.

Usurped marbles were secret treasure,

And scribbling pencils were true pleasure.

The shade of oak was tranquil piece,

Dangling on it made fantastic beasts.

Memories are floating in vehement ode,

   reviving them from immortal lode.



The world’s cacophony over his tiny screams,

No one to listen except his dainty dreams.

In the darkness with brimming fear,

And the god who forgot his bead of tear.

He sifted the love in his empty pocket,

The only that he got was black rose bouquet.

His fierce desire is only a glimpse of family,

Who left him alone and doomed in murky tragedy.

His grievances which left unsaid,

Who will listen until they were fade.

He reminisced, how he was dandled,

Now his adorable tantrums won’t be fondled.

Time has never been the same,

He could reach the zenith of his game.

He will be veteran of his destiny and fate,

Wake up and climb it is never that late.

Suraj kadam