Hardik Vaidya Poems

Akhono muhorito praan Amaar
Tor boshonter paagol dibha raatree shomaan,
Mor ontorer Aakash, paataal
Dujone sourobhito tor gourobe opaar
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1 2 3 4
Customers always want more.
1 2 3 4
Customers always make your ulcer sore.
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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.
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What is being creative?
Nature creates, we pro create.
What is being original?
The answer is quite simple.
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He (oh) Ram, He (oh) Ram, He (oh) Ram.
Son of three mothers.
Kaushalya, Sumitra, Kaykayi.
Son of King Dashratha.
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Dariyaa ne kinaare nadee samee,
Halave halave, vahyaan taa kadee.
Taraa, ane maraa pagalaaonee,
Aaa saptapadee,
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In one single word, I have to define.
It is not easy, but to strive is my kind.
To give up, is not in my blood,
To rest on my haunches is not what gives me trust.
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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.
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Walking through a cemetery,
Chanced to see a tomb stone,
Only a head piece,
No grave,
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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.
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