Raj Barath

Raj Barath Poems

Life’s pivoted on a thorn amidst flames
With eeriness that none tames.
It’s the duel of countries
Deterring the existing pleasantries.

To these whom death again did wed
This grave’s the second marriage bed
For though the hand of fate could force
Between soul and body a divorce

Callous captivation culminated
Freedom’s wings well fluttered
Yet strands still legated
Its legs to the cage, dilapidated.

(A King’s blame on Queen for traitoring his friend’s death)

Kingdoms shared, boredom marred,
Friendship bloomed & seldom gloomed.

(In the dusk of school life..)

Breathing freedom with peace,
Gaining stardom at ease,

With robes of forests undressed
We gleam at the earth that’s nude.
Not anyone is depressed,
For their act that’s rude.

You've overwhelmed me,
I tried hard to forget you,
I succeeded too....

My day is halved,
My life, revved,
My lungs are panting,
For, my heart beats fast,

Life is diverse.
When you grow older,
it’s adverse to you.
When you’ve grown old,

Blackout – that was profound.
Brunt of lethal tranquility prevailed.
Neither the ever howling grey hound
nor the ever rattling creatures uttered a syllable.

Raj Barath Biography

i'm an engineering student from National Institute Of Technology Trichy, India.. I Know i must be tech savvy.. but come on.. i can't help being poetic.. it's so dear to my heart.. i don't write poems for the sake of writing. i write when my heart wishes and my mind wills.. in fact that's a poem.. a window of your heart.. ironically we want others to peep into our windows..: -) : -))

The Best Poem Of Raj Barath

Home They Brought The Warrior Dead...

Life’s pivoted on a thorn amidst flames
With eeriness that none tames.
It’s the duel of countries
Deterring the existing pleasantries.
Their soul sways between life & death
Sparing only their valour, to bequeath.
A few tricky jackals on tree tops,
Pompous commanders with many props,
A few panthers ambushing
And a few hares relishing.
The aura is difficult to introspect
With their emotions difficult to inspect.
They are like chickens in a vulture’s range.
These warriors’ homes are well lit
With their glory that’s difficult to forfeit,
Their dads suffocate in the midst of pride
With vanity for grooming a child,
Who’s a lion in the battle
Unlike the commons who are brittle.
Their moms contemplate their illusion
That’s valorously hanging on the wall
Atop a decrepit clock
Pulsating like their heart
Which would stop
And the blood in their veins would clot.
Hoping for the ‘D’ day of their return
Their lives are as hostile as in Saturn.
Their homes are polarized
With their parents hypnotized.
But at the battle ground the dusk dawned,
For the deceased the rest mourned.

Home they brought the warrior
dead! ! !

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