(Copy right reserved by the poet.)
What's the use of this life?
I think and drown myself into solitude.The stream of my thought flows always.But, two thoughts never meet.They run
together.One is full of optimism.The other is pessimistic.I'm torn between these two. more »
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Neela Nath Poems
A River Of The Will
A river of the will, Plays in my mind. I call her to come out, But she stays behind.
100s Of Years
Trees can live for hundreds of years, They well know to live together! They tuft to earth, as child's to mom, Light, water, and air they do share!
My stupid I, do not know, the sight of the falling snow.
Walk With Me A while
Walk with me for a while, Throw your glum, and please, smile- Our heaven is not very near..... See there a grove of pine,
Long, Long, Long, Long Ago
Long, long, long, long ago, There lived a man named Santiago He loved to play his pipe day long, By the rivulet and hill along.
Silence tells more than words. When you have to tell more, Throw silence towards, And close windows and door.
Never Try To...
Never try to mirror, My image thru your Words and face! I know how to kindle,
Her eyes are blank, Clothes torn, ragged & patched Beauty has taken renunciation long past; She has no rank,
Lend Me The Light
Lend me the light, From your soul; Lend me the celestial Spark, to get into the
There's No Heaven
Now, there's no heaven between me and my bygone days of past. It was only the shady shelter of my mother's veil, the
My Dream, My Pet
It lies and sleeps with me and wakes me up, in the morning. It sweeps my gloomy sky and mops the soot of mind's every corner.
No Star I Can See
There is no star, Which I can see From my window... Boundless darkness
Bloom Where They Are Planted
Let bloom my desires, where they are planted. I know that each prayer, can not be granted.
I know, this is incredible. Home does not walk at home. If one moves, another Stands still, stands still.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
A River Of The Will
A river of the will,
Plays in my mind.
I call her to come out,
But she stays behind.
She flows and says-
O, let me do the thing,
Which I desire;
I'm now a spring.
Just telling this,
She jumps from myself,
Riding on a cloud,
She flies like an elf.
With a pensive mood,
I sit by the window,
It starts raining outside,
My room gathers shadow.
I think, where's my will?
She isn't in the sky-
A whisper comes in my ear,
I can't believe my eye....
The drops of rain fall there,
Wetting my hot face,
Tell me-'Dear we are here, ...