Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal Poems

I was stepping in to become young
I thought it is nice journey but too long
I am afraid and take care not to go wrong
I was expecting everything for song
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All dreams may not come true
All credits due may not accrue
But with true reflection in mind
Ideas newer and newer may emerge and find
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Never but at cross road,
Are we at cross road?
Is there any load?
Why not we meet?
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place called "home" is to feel homely,
God's creation standing by to look so lovely,
May be she is with all her elegance,
Everything for sure and no pretence,
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All hopes dash against hopes
It is like tight walking on simple ropes
We may counter stiff resistance at high slope
Bonding may not be possible even if you elope
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Brown eyes with sparkling light,
Standing before me just to right,
Inviting me near but not to fight,
May be closer views and clear sight,
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You suggested to me let us meet anywhere,

A place Where HE is not there,
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It is darkest hour in our history,
Dark nights shrouded with mystery,
Keeping under heels and making mockery,
Liberty torch shine but under label of slavery,
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Learned poets have said "beauty is to enjoy"
Like fresh flowers always give you joy
Don't attempt to pluck or destroy
Not to play with it as simple toy
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Blood spilled all over on ground
Bodies scattered and in mutilation found
Fresh wave of violence gaining round
Hatred, distrust reign with system sound
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