Children

Nandini

Poetry is a music a rhythm if you follow the rules you will
love it. So take a glass of wine or a cigarette and read it

smoothly slowly lovely that’s it.

My name is Nandini
I sell pens in the traffic signal
When the signal gets red
I sell pens long and elastic pens


I move door after door
Carrying bunches of pen

I knock on the door
Five a pen for ten three pens
But no one buys
No one buys
They  tell we have a pen
Small and fountain pen

I don’t know how to write
How to read
But i know how to sell these pens

Someone buy some one buy
Five a pen for ten three pens

Child in door shining pen
Mamma i need i need this pen
Long and elastic pen

How much for a pen?

My age is five
Five a pen for ten three pens

One i sold
Still left in fold

Someone buy Some one buy
Five a pen for ten three pens

Bunches of pen i carry
With each dip of the sun
When the foot paths belong to the rich
In between the short skirts white lady’s
In between the family’s holding small baby’s
I carry pen bunches of pen
Long and elastic pens

Some times
Waving hands discard me
Go away with your pen long and elastic pen
We don’t need your pen
Your dirty pen
Pen

But I have to raise my hands
From the evening till dark 
Because the morning is not going to gift me
A school to use this pen
So i only know how to sell these pens

Someone buy some one buy
Five a pen for ten three pens
My name is Nandini
I sell pens in the traffic signal
When the signal gets red

I sell pens long and elastic pens

Indian Street Writer

Life&Religion

Buddha Said

Poetry is a music a rhythm if u follow the rules you will love it, so take a glass of wine or a cigarette and read it smoothly slowly & lovely.

Buddha Said

Never leave your desire unborn 
else 
You have to reborn
to full fill


May be a little bit more
To seek
else
The pot will fall one day


As
Buddha said

Never leave your desire unborn 
else 
You have to reborn
to full fill

Indian Street Writer

Life&Religion

crucified

Poetry is a music a rhythm if u follow the rules you will love it, so take a glass of wine or a cigarette and read it smoothly slowly & lovely.

Ohh Jesus
You got crucified
Holding the pain
In your smile!!
(2)

My love
You got married to someone
How easily!!

I got crucified
In your memories
Holding the pain
In my pen…

Indian Street Writer

Children

The Stars


Poetry is a music a rhythm if u follow the rules you will love it, so take a glass of wine or a cigarette and read it smoothly slowly & lovely.

Those stars
Will come closer one day, Again
As when it happened
On the day, when the Jesus was born
In Bethlehem
One’s

 God of the star
The holy spirit
Will send us the angels
The messengers
Like Jesus and John
Came into the earth
One’s

Before or after in time 
One day, Again
Another start will come closer
Who gifted this earth
The Prophet
Our Mohammad
In Petra
One’s

Many other stars may have come closer and went
Gifting us various civilisation over the earth
A pattern of life
As religion
One’s



(A Poetry for star beings.)



Indian Street Writer
Bangalore, India

Children

On The Streets


Poetry is a music a rhythm if u follow the rules ypu will
love it so take a glass of wine or a cigarette and read it
smoothly slowly lovely.

Born in black
I squeezed for the white milk
From an unknown Breast
On the streets
I was a month old as a feast (0-1)

I balanced my feat
Raised my hands for a treat
But nobody was there
To give me a warm great
She left me alone
With my future on the streets
But three year old that was least (1-3)

Streets took me to seek
To play hide and seek
I found some nomads
To roll down the tire on the streets
In the circus was the food as a fees
And for the people age six was sweet (3-6)

Cool breeze chilled our finger
White fog took shelter in the winter
Some were our torn clothes trendy in summer
Become first door to enter
We shivered on the streets
To stick to each other was least
Any how we have to pass the time
Because morning is going to gift us a warm shine

But we will find a place
Where we will beg for a sake
Can get some coins with woolen
From the rich people who pray in heaven
And I will sleep with the age of nine
On the streets as lion (6-9)

Run run common fast on the streets
Said an ugly face to mugly face
Huge traffic is there to knock the door
Where I raised the voice as headline as a choice
If u need to know come and grab the voice

Mesmerizing to the god in each festive size
Something should happen somewhere
As I need to sell info with gear
So that at least today we can fulfill our hunger
As this age of eleven is not a big wonder (9-11)

Someone on the streets
Said we need to be protected
For the future of east
They took us to orphanage
Where everything was fine
With a show peace and a show time

Someone on the streets
Said we need to be protected more
For the future of east
So they took us to home
Where emotion was the trade mark
How much work we have to do
In the absence of the lady
Was a big question mark?

They took us as a dirty blood
As the real blood went to school
And we were left in the kitchens
Where broom act as a hunter
In each summer and winter

Blood shreds from the sky
Where each corner tells me to cry
For god sake I need my streets again
To hug my mother for a rain
As this age of fourteen
Is giving me unbearable pain
I need my streets again

I need my streets again

On the streets again……haaaa (14)



The innocent faces of human beings are children. As we got everything in our childhood but some children are ill-fated because they live in the streets and they don’t have anyone to support. I believe they are in lost tracks, so we are the people who need to support them to get them in the right direction. Now if next time a child beg in front of you don’t hesitate, just give them as much as you can. If our life is perfect, can’t we help them too with a little bit of effort in our own way to safeguard their life?


Indian Street Writer

Life&Religion

Sunrise

While reading, feel and hear your every breath that you take slowly gently smoothly.

Wind will blow us one day
To take away as fumes from ashes
But, our Soul will persist
For a long journey
As a migrating bird
Towards somewhere far
For a new sunrise
From a womb of a mother
As a new creature of this earth.


Indian Street Writer

My Lady

Lake

Poetry is a music a rhythm if you follow the rules u will love it. So take a glass of wine or a cigarette and read it smoothly slowly lovely.


Wind in pace
Water with laze
Moved it’s self
Waves

I hailed down my fumes
Deep down it roomed
A face
A shape
Crystal and clear
In Lake

Surface of water
Her face
In Black water

Surface of water
Brown eyes
Deep there in water

Surface of water
Water
your face
Face
I still remember,
There in lake water

Moved my palms
To touch the water
Water
Gentle and lentil
No harm in water

Broken dreams 
Took a shape
Fluctuating water 
Colored lake
Lake
Lake

Waves took her away
As sleeves of past
Went to a way
To never come back

Her face
My ways
Took unknown shape
Unknown race
Swept away
With some sleeves of lake
Some sleeves of lake
Sleeves of lake
Lake….  

Indian Street Writer

To My Lady With Love

My Lady

Come Soon


Poetry is a music a rhythm if you follow the rules u will love it. So take a glass of wine or a cigarette and read it smoothly slowly lovely.

Birds fly in seek of a way 
Where they know there is food for the day  
But you went away leaving me apart  
Not able to drink and eat 
You killed my part 

Birds fly for a comeback, I hope 
In seek of food, if finished there for the day 
I will wait for you with lots of love 
If not sufficient there to fill your heart 

I will seek you each day and night 
As a bird who lost his flight 
Come soon and gift me a way  
If you loved me  
In any gone days 

Indian Street Writer


My Lady

Soulful Nights

Poetry is a music a rhythm if u follow the rules u will love it so take a glass of wine or a cigarette and read it smoothly slowly lovely.


I remember you, In those soulful nights 
When you are here, inside me
As a rising fragment of first rain
From the earth my dear

Under the glossy shine of full moon 
sweeping its light as tears of hope 
That is never going to come home i know. 

I know i can’t touch the stars 
There in the sky, blinking apart
But my rum of this summer 
Had it, to feel the tremor 
Pushed me into an imagination 
Where i got you, for my whole life 
For all weathers including this summer………..

In my home i can see………..to be Continued….


To My Lady With Love

Indian Street Writer

My Lady

Foreign Land

Poetry is a music a rhythm if u follow the rules u will love it so take a glass of wine or a cigarette and read it smoothly slowly lovely that’s it.


To this breezing wind of Arabian sea
I gave my eternity, carried her part
Thinking, someday sometime it will reach up to her
As like this rain, came from her Arabian
land

The wind and waves took my part
To that foreign land, Arabia
As a gift of silence to cover my part

Maybe one day she may receive
I hope, In her deep silence to carry my part 
And a look back if she will make
Into her memories widening race

A lonely soul is still waiting near the bay
Not able to cross, the Arabian kites
A lonely soul is still waiting near the bay
Not able to cross, the Arabian kites


To My Lady With Love

Indian Street Writer