To one and all who have been here and ones are to be here

Democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for the people.
Oscar Wilde
He is one of my favourites, the best writer in my books.
I love reading books, no matter how crappy they are.

Same with movies, Ilayaraja and A R Rahman are my favorites in music.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Wings of Occurrence

The human bird that flutters in the air, in pleasant hours of twilight,

With a heart and mind akin to its own,

Flying from one windowsill to another, why?

It sat on the one nearby me, while curiosity arises,

The bird was in arm’s distance, looking at me.

Wondering what I will do, I stretched my arms,

One final moment the wings took off,

The feathered returned back, and eluding its capture several times.

Until I gave up, upon nightfall.

The next day, it woke me with the call of coo.

A friendship without words unfurled.

My hostile nature has won the heart of the feathered,

The wings that eluded me, gave a silent conversation every morning.

A bond that grew with the wings of occurrence.


By

Daniel Aloysius Raymond

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.

The Lines not Crossed

The dream went a far, the one that made me weep,

The unreal which I wanted it to be true, the path I dreaded to tread,

I was swaying in a seesaw by myself; I wished the fragrance to be there.

The moment thundered by, but why be persistent on a hollow.

Dreamy days of courtship was not meant to be,

Was the damsel the soul mate? No never and forever.

The mind is practical says it is over, but why is the heart giving hope,

The purity of heart says there is only one side, but in reality.

Heart is just a path that wants only victory, defeat is also a path.

A path that is hard to tread, but still a better one.

Where life unfurls itself a new beginning,

With last moments of farewell, and a tearful goodbye,

Finally, I’m over with my untruthful dreams.

With a hope, I would not cross the lines in the new beginning.

By,
Daniel Aloysius Raymond

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

The Crushes, the Loves and the Soul-Mate

Little did I realize that all humans are not the same?

The fiery ages of boyhood, the damsels were part of differencing attraction,

One of them bore constant thoughts in the growing existence,

Her groovy eyes inside rimmed glasses, splashing hair and the dazzling lips,

Dreams were not the least of the expected, but life grew on these,

As days passed with admiration, was this is it?

Mortality brings you changes.


Little did I realize that all attractions are not the same?

The precarious ages of adolescence, the damsels turned into maidens,

The constant thoughts moved, but fondness grew,

Her pinky cheeks, moist fragrance and passionate dearness,

Dreams were still there, but visible company was the need of the hour,

As days passed with flirtatious talks, was this love?

Mortality brings you changes.


Little did I realize that all fondness is not the same?

The adolescence continues, the damsels were still maidens,

As fondness grew to a new one, love was in the air,

Her striking similarities, tender parlance and the pretty appearance,

Dreams turned into sands of time together with the one flame,

As days of yearning togetherness passed by, was this my soul mate?

Mortality brings you changes.


Little did I realize that all love is not the same?

The resolute age of adulthood, damsels and maidens spiraled to elegant girls,

Love is yet to blossom, the ones that would last a life,

Her! who is this her? What oneness did I seek from her?

Dreams are of the past and the future; the one should complete me,

The days are still yet to come, the search is so wonderful,

Mortality brings you changes.

By

Daniel Aloysius Raymond

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

A Beautiful Evil


A rainy morning, never so bewitching than a strode along,
As I floated in nature's scent, into a mystical world,
Or was it just nature itself showing mirages of dew in thin air?
As I delved deeper, there was a Spider,
Who said "How do you do?"
Was I in Far Far Away? I kept along,
My eyes drew to a display of sensational colors,
The strands from Spider's web glistened to the darling Sun.
The arachnid gave me a fright, with charm,
Eight legs, made my hair raise in fear and splendor,
His steps did not trammel the petals nearby,
But never did he spare a bug that invaded his woven Home,
The dance to death was seduction of life itself,
A grace and a delicacy that was brutal,
An nimble architect's home that snares the life of a bug,
Yet the bug danced its way, to give life to this surreal intent.

By
Daniel Aloysius Raymond

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.