Archive for July, 2006

The Child

July 22, 2006 14 comments

Gloomy dawn and heavy skies

A dying mother and a weeping child…..

How important few more pounds can be? Ask the weeping child not me!

For a few more pounds can save his mom,

Take the grief of the weeping child and the pain of a dieing maid.

He runs house to house for few more pounds,

Pitiless rain makes it hard,

As the soft feet cut on the obdurate stone

How chilly can the December wind be? Ask the shivering child not me

But few more pounds can save his mom,

Make his life shine with joy and bring a smile on the dieing maid.

On the street is an apparatchik lord,

“10 pounds a day, to yell and tell how great the mayor is…..

Stick the flag on the shirt and run the city for a fee”

How do you stick a flag on a shirt? Ask the shirtless child no me

But a few more pounds can save his mom,

Let him be a child he is, on the warm hands of the dieing maid

“Don’t have a shirt my lord, but for half the fee I can yell and run
The good sir read, all his rules and gave a look at the little boy….

“My poor boy! Flag has to be”

How do you stick a flag on your chest? Ask the bleeding child not me…

But a few more pounds can save his mom

Take the pain off his chest and the tears of a dieing maid

All day long the child has run,

with a flag on his chest and smile on his lips

Yelling how great the Mayor is…..

How does one yell with a bleeding chest? Ask the smiling child not me

But few more pounds can save his mom

Bring some light into those rident eyes and a life in to the dieing maid


As sun simmers down in the west the west

And rain is tiered raining, the child runs to the lord and says….

“Six pounds is going to save my mom and four let there be”

The mayor calls the child and shows, a banner on the tree

Stick the flag on the shirt and run the city for a fee

“How can one pay without a shirt?” Thou shall not ask me


As the sun sets and birds return to the nest…..

The child lies with a wounded chest

As his mother lies in a wooden chest

I ask “How important few more pounds can be”
sunil varma

This is a story that i have read when I was a kid, dont know the author. It was something that was resident in me all these years and i wanted to write it in my own way.
Due credits to it original autor.


July 12, 2006 15 comments


Mother waits, neonate grins

Flowers wait, the bees spin,

Dew drops wait, pristine dawn,

Groom waits, bridal lawn, 

What is life, but a string of endless waits?

Beetle waits, spiders’ claw,

Innocence waits, corrupt guffaw,

Widow waits, bygone way,

A grey beard waits, judgment day,

What is life, but a Sting of endless waits?

Bliss and dolor, the cross of Lorraine

Like the leaf and the thorn, on a thicket vein

Each can’t stand one another

One is imperfect without the other

I stand await to ask you straight,

“What is life, if there is nothing to wait?”

Sunil Varma….

Source of Photograph

Categories: Poetry


July 5, 2006 3 comments


As words fade………..intentions, dazzle my eyes.
As words sear………..convictions, sting my nostrils.
As words intoxicate…adulation, assault my senses
As words thunder……abomination, split my eardrums.
“Words words words …..”

As words slowly drip,and their meaning slither my back.
These tiny winged words,perched on my lobes
urgent relentless whispers
Words Words Words ….” 
What are they but grimy patina,on a gleaming surface
scrub hard
and you will yourself feel. . .
the chaste emotion laced with hard nut shell. . .

                                                                              Sunil Varma

Categories: Poetry Tags:

Love…Can we define it…….

July 2, 2006 2 comments

Love…Can we define it…….

A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.

Would that be it… A single sentence to define the complex emotion that we call love. i often wonder if there is anything sui generus about it. Is it as comlpex as we are all made to beleive, or is the exhilaration just a reaction to what we beleive we should be feeling, based on our chemera about the whole thing.

A scientific explanation of the entire thing is a set of chemical reactions inside our human body which are triggered bacause of an external stimuli. Though the learned men of science have been able to explain these compleax organic reactions they have been unable to draw the equation that determines what triggers these reactions?
(go through the link there is a funny explanation of the same)

After going through few other sites which were of the similar type i started to wonder “hey is it that mechanical, if it is why do we look for it like a holy grail and always are disspointed that we have never found it.

In the few years i have been on this planet i have met a lot of people who claimed they have found the love of their life. I feel happy for them at that moment even though i find the same people looking for a new love a few years later. Now that confuses me for i was made to beleive Love is one time phenomena. So…..what is it… do i identify that what i am feeling is love.

Or is it worth all the trouble, should i be thinking at all?

Tiny Droplets Shine and Jostle

July 2, 2006 5 comments

Tiny droplets shine and Jostle….

Tiny droplets shine and jostle, Windy night

Whishpers’oft, as the light flickers, to tease….

a smile, from the tumult of your eyes, like the smell

of clove, in a strepitous bazaar.

Tiny droplets shine and jostle, Aureate dawn

recreant darkness, as the flowers bloom, to steal….

a smile, from your saturnine heart, like the scarlet blush

of nymph, in a sequestered hallway.

Tiny droplets shine and jostle, Clarion noon

drowsy mute, as the bee buzz, to squeeze….

a smile, from your sanguine soul, like the anxious wait

of bride, in a tranquil aisle.

Tiny droplet shine and jostle, mawkish dusk

marching seas, as the birds nest, to nudge….

a smile, from your crimson lips, like the yearning song

of canary, in a hermetic wood.

Tiny droplets shine and Jostle, windy night





Categories: Poetry
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