Flower

CONSORTIUM’15:THE SOCIAL QUOTIENT

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Important details Event: CONSORTIUM'15 by Rotaract SGGSCC Date & Time: 18th Feb , 2015 11:30 am Venue: Sri Guru Gobind Singh College of Commerce Consortium Page Have you come across a...

The Cure

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My bones have melted, my memory is rusted,  But my heart shines and my spirit can be trusted.  Some images cross my mind, everyday as I sit alone,  A cry, a laugh, a sigh and a yawn,  Remind me of the days bygone.  I remember you friend and miss the fun,  It’s been years since we talked but   Memories faded have none.  In this inconstant life, in this unstable world,  When everything vanishes and no feeling is pure,  Your friendship completes me and it is the cure. 

The Cure

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My bones have melted, my memory is rusted,  But my heart shines and my spirit can be trusted.  Some images cross my mind, everyday as I sit alone,  A cry, a laugh, a sigh and a yawn,  Remind me of the days bygone.  I remember you friend and miss the fun,  It’s been years since we talked but   Memories faded have none.  In this inconstant life, in this unstable world,  When everything vanishes and no feeling is pure,  Your friendship completes me and it is the cure. 

Love’s Labour’s Lost

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Unlike the Shakespearean Comedy that the title is borrowed from, I intend to only reflect upon the minute measures of relationships. It sometimes comes to...

Not a love song 

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He landed up in my world of words.  I could not contain him  In my functional life’s coloured folds  Never did I want to, it seemed.  It was some two years ago,  My eyes wandering to and fro  The dusty lanes and crowded bazaars,  Rested on the waves that lashed   Merrily and mellifluously upon his face.  His locks swayed to the moods of the breeze  And his face hung in solitude like the pale moon.  He was a complete stranger and  Therefore, my thoughts did weave  Character unto him. He existed only in mind?  His springy steps through the lawn  Was like a couplet each paired step at dawn?  Sufficient unto itself and not allowing  The observer to stretch further, thus, halting.  The long standing glance he shared  With the stars while smoke rolled out  To design clouds about them to confuse  The natural order of things,  Remained deeply into the night above him,  And brought back untainted images of poetry.  He was a poem, floating in the lightness  Of many lost thoughts emerging and dying. 

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