Better

Better

I knew myself as a person,
always better than the other.
For my words: I expected respect;
For others’, I never offered a bother.

Being a poet with my pen
fueled by wiser thoughts.
I learnt to cast: myself as an Orchid;
others as the yields of droughts.

‘The One’, bestowed to the civilizations,
with a mission of urgency.
‘The One’, who has to change the world.
Regarding self as ‘The One’ better of supremacy.

Then there were persons to be met,
there were some words to be read.
The words which made me realize
and reconsider what I previously said.

Realizing that I was better.
Better to a person who was ‘Good’.
I was ‘The One’ who was better,
Not the Best, I later understood.

‘The One’, with a mission in hand.
To be accomplished with integrity
‘The One’, who has to bring changes to self,
before blaming the fraternity.

***

Savla Viral L.

Obstacle

Obstacle

Marching to get there,
steps aren’t to be count.
Broke my pace and I halt
for there was a little mount.

An old tree, stood and waited,
to mend mislead minds like mine
“Climb onto me and have
a view, better and fine.”

“So go, conquer the hills
climb and get right at the tops.
look how far you have to go,
refuel your hopes.”

I needn’t fear the barriers,
realizing it after it had gone.
before the conquer, it was an Obstacle,
now it is another milestone.

There shouldn’t be failures
take it just as an Obstacle in your way,
get over it, and
you will for sure succeed someday.

***

Savla Viral L.

Poetry in Paints..

The Two Sides of Everything

Searching for the Sun(with a candle)

________________________________

________________________________


Walking alone by the way,
all in a bulk of crowd.
I shout with a squeak
to be heard aloud.

Then suddenly, I realize,
the time has not yet come.
When not in the crowd,
but, I would be amongst the some.

Far away, I can see a mountain of success
and the long rocky way to go.
Other side, an island of success,
and a mischievous sea to row.

I am not supposed to sit,
enjoy and just admire the view.
Instead, march forth, work hard,
strike glory and be amidst the successful few.
***

Savla Viral L.

Hopes

Hopes

I hope, I am not the wrong one,
because I doubt if I am correct.
I hope, I expect better,
because things aren’t as I would expect.

I hope, I am not drunk,
because I don’t sound Sober anymore.
I hope, I do possess some wealth,
because I just feel like a popper, at core.

I hope, I am blind,
did not wish to see this occur.
And now I hope, I am dumb,
so there’s nothing that I remember.

I hope, I am happier,
but my lips do not picture a smile.
I hope, I am not crying into tears,
I hope, I am not that fragile.

I hope, It is not one more time,
I hope I have not changed again.
I hope, I am not started again.
Because, I know I am hard to stop then.

These hopes are so beautiful, like glass artifact.
What if I crush them hard, intend to cheat.
I will probably break them, cruelly.
But then, I hope they don’t pierce, hurt my feet.

***

Savla Viral L.

The Other Side of It

The Other Side of it

At the arctics or at a desert,
As you would try value the sun.
You will definitely end up being wrong,
For adjudging it, the same one.

Won’t you love to take a dip in a stream,
So as to ignore the rising mercury.
Won’t you love to stay away from it,
From the flood’s fatal fury.

Friends, family love and life,
Is all fake and namesake.
But we all want to be a part of it,
So that less we give, more we take.

While being pictured,
you would prefer to ignore but don’t actually realize.
The frame will be hung on wall, someday,
To count your “beloved” demise.

The world is always ready to be,
the way it may never appear.
It might possibly generate a rainbow,
By passing light through a drop of tear.

The jigsaw of this,
that you just couldn’t complete.
Until your senses realize, that there exists,
The Other Side of it.

***

Savla Viral L.

Meaner

Meaner

No sooner did my eyes dash
onto the frame on that wall,
than I just felt like to smirk
over his stature, so small.

The picture so coloured
So as to resemble of his portrait
which is the ugliest as I remember
of all, till the date.

I can’t stop laughing at his face,
so ugly, pale and faint.
And can’t stop praising
The Artist’s difficult job of paint.


He appears haunting
In his horrible hair.
Intolerable to an extent,
that I could had tore mine in despair.

Oh he just looks a kid,
though a fully grown.
His eyes so forgetful for self,
that he can’t even mimic for own.

For all of my words spoken hitherto,
I realize a few defects.
It never was a portrait in paints.
But a mirror, which reflects.

Perplexity shouldn’t be blamed
for the mirror that day was cleaner.
I don’t dare to speak more.
But the reader in a word was “meaner”.

***

Savla Viral L.