And I sit by the shores,
Gazing the horizon,
For eternity,
In the embrace,
Of the nature’s fold.
The waves surging with force,
Receding with urgency,
leaving behind some grain coarse,
And the wind prickling my face,
Make my hair flow without its trace.
While the nature,
Keep busy with its exuberant verve,
I perch on the shore,
Giving my mind the tranquility that it deserves.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
My blandishments can inveigle anyone,
And my risible verve can make people believe my words.
I can put any audience at awe,Delude anyone with my mischievous talk.
While I can bring the universe to my knees,
There is someone from whom I can never break free.
It is when you casually glance towards me,
Those eyes I can never deceive.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
Go away from my dreams,
My heart,
And my illusion laced shining gleams.
Leave my world,
My life,
Snap memories that wraps like a curl.
Whenever there is,
A soft pounding at the door,
My heart leaps with an unknown eagerness,
Even when I know,
You will not be there for sure,
Please take your patches of shadow away,
And everything that makes my soul to sway.
For I have tired so many times,
To forget you,
Without any respite,
Have swear so many times,
To ignore you,
And detest your sight,
But all the plans,
Have so far miserably failed,
You still occupy my thoughts,
And haunt me,
On all paths, every trail.
Now, if you can give me one parting gift,
Before we part our ways,
Take the memories with you,
And any hope that you will come back and stay.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
Sometimes knowing your battlefield too well becomes the reason for your defeat. For the anticipation of your opponent moves impedes you to creatively think.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
Often the boundaries our mind creates are far taller than the real obstacles.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
“What do you want? I can give you anything you desire.” Shrieked the king with pride and arrogance.
“If you truly want to give me something. Gift me a pen and freedom to write.” Said the girl with a soft yet firm voice.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
I want to give her wings,
Help her fly,
And release her from the confinement of strings.
I desire to give her the world,
Gift her the beautiful vistas,
And dress her in a gold purl.
And I want to watch her break free,
Like some unstoppable wind,
Spinning wild in her own spree.
But all I can offer her,
Is a genuine smile,
A clear intention,
A beguile thought with no ill wile.
When I saw her through my heart,
She had the wings,
She consumed the universe,
And all its parts,
For she was in possession,
Of every one of desires,
And I failed to see,
Caught in my own entwined brier.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
The belief you have for me in your eyes rattles every vacillation I have stashed in my heart all this while.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
She is different,
Never driven by any set pattern,
From inside she is a beautiful soul,
On the turf she is hardly to be discern.
She loves the rain,
But from a distance,
And when she braved sometimes,
She invariably takes the umbrella out,
Not that she is afraid of getting drenched,
Or the mud puddles carving her thoughts to some violent wrench,
It is just that the pitter patter on the umbrella’s sheet,
Is far more soothing than just sitting on some garden bench.
She adores the sun too,
The late afternoon shine,
That warms her blithe,
And cajole her being,
But when she decides to stroll sometimes just out of the blue,
She takes her parasol along for rescue,
Not that she is scared of getting sunburn,
Or likes her sunshade so much that she couldn’t let it adjourn,
The reason is the polkadots on her parasol,
That matches her mood during the afternoon stroll.
She is unlike any other I ever know,
A carefree lark,
Her soul shining with an everlasting glow.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
He could have waited a lifetime for her return but then he realized life is so unpredictable. If it ditches him tomorrow, the wait would have no meaning. So, he decided to come back to her for her. It would be a shame if she missed getting to know what life had planned for her and all those undertakings would be worth it as he firmly believed it would metaphor to something meaningful. Today she may find it intimidating but tomorrow he hopes she would call it a blessing.
People say love is overrated; it is not love but people perception of love that makes it fictitious. Love doesn’t mean one needs to leave everything for pursuing new hope. It is more of an inclusion than a decree.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
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