Sinful

Your mouth waters just looking at the cakes
-chocolate sponges with chocolate fudge and vanilla flakes.
As the baker heats your slice, you can hardly wait
The inviting aroma now makes you crave for chocolate.

The cake is served – fresh, soft and warm.
You lift the piece, sink your teeth and realize its charm.
The warm nectar slowly melts in your mouth
And now… for another bite you reach out!

You like it so much that you order one more.
And it’s just as delicious as the one before.
To wash it all down you order chocolate shake
-Cold chocolate, whipped cream and all that you can take.

You like this so much that you return every day.
Sometimes you buy éclairs to relish it on your way.
Dear friend, now you see how your tastes may saturate.
You loved chocolate, but now no more – a game played by fate. 

You have now stopped visiting the café.
Any toffee offered now you’d give away.
You’ve had enough of chocolate, you want no more.
It no longer has the charm as once before.

Vanilla, pineapple or strawberry would be your choice for a while.
But someday perhaps, chocolates would serve you again that smile. 

Note:  Originally titled as ‘An Overdose of Chocolate’

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Where is the poet?

Are you a poet?  You say that you’re not.

I’ve read the verses you scribbled and then forgot.
So where is the poet? I shall now search.
There shall be a branch where the nightingale may perch.

Is it that boy with tears in his eyes;
– a few lines about life and he walks away and sighs?
Or is it that man at his desk, his food now stale,
as he composes day and night the rhyme of his tale?
Perhaps it’s he who wrote those letters to his love;
hoping to earn that radiant smile of his turtle dove?
Ah! Such inspiring lyrics for her lovely song!
She cares only for her passion, not if her language is wrong.

Are poets just the like of Shakespeare and Elliot?
So did poetry end with Romeo and Juliet?
Let us walk through the world of this passionate painter
whose brush sings to life stories of that patriotic soldier.
You may call it noise, but even a hammer sings.
Crunching leaves are some of such musical things.
Sad is that man so stoic in nature.
There is a poet in him… chained to his chamber.

Do trees sing and sway in praise of their creator?
Are such hues and fragrance poems of nature?
How comforting could the chirping of birds be?
Just listen to the cricket play his love such melody.
The lake simply reflects the sky so blue.
If I called this poetry would that be true?

It’s best to express your feelings sometimes.
Often, a true poem never rhymes.
Despite what little time (or society) permits,
when an idea strikes, a poet persists.
You say you’re no poet? You couldn’t be more wrong.
I can feel your heart’s emotions so strong.

Tell me, who decides what is poetry?
A few lines could cover the entire sea.
A poem need not be so profound,
as long as one gives his words a little sound.

Now I conclude, for my search comes to an end.
If there is a poet, he lives in you, my dear friend.

The Laws of Conservation

In search of wealth, in times of old,

the alchemists tried to convert lead to gold.
But substances remained as much as they always were;
and so came to prove the great Lavoisier.
With the most primitive methods that he employed,
he proved matter can neither be created nor destroyed.
And this simple law brought to science a great revolution;
it was Lavoisier’s Law of Mass Conservation!

But even back then no theory had stated
that different forms of energy were closely related.
And another surprise came the day
“They are related indeed!” said Faraday.
And so in any form may energy reside;
energy can neither be created nor destroyed.
And this law was yet another sensation;
it was the Law of Energy Conservation!

About every law, scientists have debated,
proved and disproved each theory stated.
Thus two worlds (of mass and of energy) existed,
whose quantity of contents always persisted.
But none did realize that the two worlds were joined.
There existed a bridge, only one man could find.
Thus he derived an equation so fine,
and he was none other than the great Einstein.

Facebook

Facebook! Oh glorious vanity page,
Obsessive entertainment of the modern age!
One desperately scrolls down his walls
for pics and tags and pokes and lols.

I’ve hundreds of friends I may not know,
from a hundred places I may not go.
Oh social network who art so complete,
who rendered Orkut obsolete!

Thou art the Hub for all gossip,
where privacy is now a sinking ship.

Where one feels wanted, with a million invitations

requesting him to join all lousy applications.

 

Where status messaging is the fastest helpline

and the next stranger I add could be the Divine.

Another crazy wall pic where I’ve been tagged;

another photo of us where we all look stabbed.
‘Microeconomics’ may be the book’s label,
but Facebook mobile is underneath the table.
I log in to thee every break session,
eagerly expecting my next notification.

I shall post this note and tag them all.
So that comments shall come and fill my wall.

 

The Songbird

Just a page from her book
between whose lines I am lost.
The world perhaps may never listen
but the heart shall speak at any cost.

Her words, I fail to understand,
silence all those written by my hand.

A bird sings, one can only guess why;
Perhaps in praise of the glorious sky?

I’m overwhelmed by words so profound.
Her poetry by rhyme shall never be bound

So fly away, dear bird, fly away.
I’ll open this cage and set you free today.

A Crush

Note: The writing in italics describe her.

Entering, gracing, sitting beside…
Wanting, assuming, my heart shall abide.
Smiling, laughing, talking, so charming…
Following, hesitating, feelings I’m hiding.
Playing, enjoying, responding so boldly…
Watching, waiting, craving so madly.
Curious attraction or desperation and lust?
Too early, too late to do what I must?

. . . No! Perhaps not.