Biography of Hardik Vaidya
The geography of my biography is under constant creation and erosion. Geography gives way to geology. Sedimentary rocks of my life on being chiseled reveal fossils, Dinosaurs come alive. Out crops the world of ferns, where no flowers bloomed because none had evolved. Soon jumps life from the oceans to land, it stops crawling starts running, stops running starts walking, learns the power of erection. Learns the power of the gift of the gab. Learns to cultivate opinions. Plant ideas. Grow civilisations. In this whole saga my biography is a small scratch on the reed of papyrus.
Hardik Vaidya's Works:
People with such biography don't get publishers soon. Then the publishers have to wait.
Hardik Vaidya Poems
1 2 3 4 New Nursery Rhym...
1 2 3 4 Customers always want more. 1 2 3 4 Customers always make your ulcer sore.
Let's Bin The Cliche On Womens Day
It is time to bin an old cliché. Behind every successful man is a woman. In front of every fulfilled man is a woman. It is time to evolve the new cliché.
Creativity / Being Original
What is being creative? Nature creates, we pro create. What is being original? The answer is quite simple.
Dignity Of A Better Lover A Poem In Bang...
Akhono muhorito praan Amaar Tor boshonter paagol dibha raatree shomaan, Mor ontorer Aakash, paataal Dujone sourobhito tor gourobe opaar
Ram Navami - Birthday Of Lord Ram
He (oh) Ram, He (oh) Ram, He (oh) Ram. Son of three mothers. Kaushalya, Sumitra, Kaykayi. Son of King Dashratha.
Saptapadee - Gujarati Poem - English Tra...
Dariyaa ne kinaare nadee samee, Halave halave, vahyaan taa kadee. Taraa, ane maraa pagalaaonee, Aaa saptapadee,
We are farmers, we agree to culture. Farming opportunities in deserts, Through the windmills of our efforts. We trap the sun in our eyes,
Squeaking Wheel Gets The Oil
I have never understood this spoil. I was never raised to ask and soil. To live through fire and ice, were my choices, my signature toil. When I was young, and you are always young,
A Pen's Wish
Let my poem kiss you, Before the Skies seal your lips. Let my poem pour into your eyes, Before the oceans drown in them.
A Poet's Prize
A poet's prize is not in recognition. A poet's prize is not in his poems publication. A poet's prize is not in how long he is remembered after his death. A poet's prize is not his poems earning him his bread.
A Poets Cenotaph.
Walking through a cemetery, Chanced to see a tomb stone, Only a head piece, No grave,
How much is plenty of fuss. How is such that much is must. How is must perpendicular to lust. How is lust at tangent to trust.
Vasant Panchami - Onset Of Spring
I was born on 26th of December, I will Die for certain that's a no brainer. The Muncipality will issue a death certificate is also a given, And the date will be between January and December, if you give your kind permission.
'Darshan' - An English Poem But No Engli...
I was sleepless, and then morning dawned. In the middle of dark well before dawn. I finally stumbled on the meaning of the word "Darshan" I do not seek love, lust, flesh, or anything such.
A poem was always a window,
Not your world, words or verse.
But to and through mine.
It is not your right to delete.
Not yours to asphyxiate it under your rules.
Posts never have been governed,
By servers kings or saints.