Skip to main content

My King



The football court had enough of them
The dance club had a number to define the best

I wonder if my king is a football camp
Or is a best dancer ( the irony is there are no best dancers)

The canteen had enough hanging on the food counter for egg
Gym friqs
The streets had faces that were difficult to mark as the best
As heart is the only criteria of the best

I wonder if my king spends time with dumb bells
Or is someone like coconut with the softest heart in the core

The place where I come across the men's working on the monitor has many geniuses with and without the glasses
The place where I  wonder in the leisure time
Have many sitting with silent smile and some smoking their sadness out

I wonder if my king is a tech
Or is he someone who is growing with his struggles

At house warming party had met a few bunch playy with kids
And a lot many running from their tantrums but smiling to their smiles

I wonder if my king is a kid at heart
Or is athlete when there are kids around me

At the karaoke had seen few singers humming just for their other parts
And few professionals best with vocal cords and guitar strings

I wonder if my king is a bathroom singer
Or is a rockstar around whom girls dream to wonder

At the writing workshop had met few writers penning life
A few inking love and the rest just penning a secret dairy

I wonder if my king has the moon as his dairy
Or has penned pages with his thoughts

Whatever may be reason for making him shine for the world
If he is mine , he has got the best stars.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The shying words

How do you believe the moon isn't whispering your stories to someone aren't the chance of him whispering it to some writer high May be one of the reasons why you related to the story yesterday on Netflix May be that's how your crushes end up in your favorite color today May be that's how you cleared the interview today How do you know the moon isn't working on his script with your lines If you can believe someone that far How do we end up doubting the skin and flesh besides and around us If we don't hold expectations and grudges when it comes to him Why wonder for years over a message that din come through I don't understand how we whisper our secrets to the mountains and the sea but fear of losing them against the people we breathe with How do we trust the living forms breathing without the flesh over the living we can touch and feel How do I trust the paper with my words and strangers with my smiles With every question I pen I end of writing hope, belief, ...

Meeting a boy

  I ask mom can I go out with him, she says no in blocks caps and everything to make it loud enough So that I don't try to convince her I ask mom if I can go out with her As first like always she says no, but after 2 or 3 attempts  She is fine with the plan  I wonder what is the difference May be she thinks  The she I would be hanging out with Won't hug me Or kiss me Or put her arms around my waist  Or on the shoulders Or come close enough to increase my heart beat Or hold my hands and walk around Or bring me flowers and chocolates and gifts Or take me on a dinner date  Or for lunch Or for a date just with a cup of tea and lots of eye to eye talking and so much of silence  But we will be together all this while But aren't there chance of me falling for a girl But aren't there chance of the boy not liking me and just coming to say hi and a bye  And everything in between it will be about the job and family we both are living with in those four walls...

Fears, are real!

All the fears are real People falling  While walking While dancing While just standing still While looking at someone Failing In the exams With the expectations  Of yours  And your loved once And the strangers Growing In love Out of love Getting old With lessons With scars With open wounds  Being stuck On page for hours and weeks In life for years and years With people till the end In thoughts of your own and the others too. With a blank full of ink but still not working Many others like People giving up on you People not fighting for you You not able to find the old you You missing yourself  While you stand before the mirror With blank thoughts Like standing in a room  On your own shadow Everyday at certain hour of the day All that you fear is happening is someday We just need to breathe through it Crying, yelling, laughing or just sitting through it Or just walking past it.