Nomad Scholar

 She's here. She'll sing me a song. She's here. She'll make me feel Like I belong. We'll hold hands. She'll smile occasionally.  I'll talk And she'll listen patiently. Heaven's last mouthpiece  She'll sit next to me In solitude. She'll teach me To enjoy my recluse. Sad if I feel She'll comfort me. And if I cry, She'll wipe my tears. If I feel lonely, She'll snuggle into my arms. And my heart will skip a beat, As she rests her head on my chest. She's here But she'll leave When I turn the lights on. She'll leave  And ask me to hang on Till the next night.

  Found our first memoir. The first day we met, I was hesitant, And asked with a gentle tap "Can you spare a pen?" You smiled; Browsed through your bag, And handed me a pen; A black Flair with a golden cap. Just a couple strangers; Just a soul who happened to cross by. We wrote the exam together; Me seated behind you. Exchanging answers, Almost got caught once Smiling at some silly answer you gave. The final bell went off; Never before did I want an exam to last longer. "Here's your pen." You handed it back to me, "Until next time, partner." Today I still have the pen But there won't be a next time. This poem is about someone whom I lost recently. Keep making good memories because you never know which might be the last one. Peace out, friends.

  A voice never heard; Yet I can recognize. A verse never written; Yet I feel otherwise. A sight never seen; Yet clearer than ever. A scent never perceived; Yet it doesn't waiver. All this time I had been blind- Numbed by the material world. All this time I never found a home. The light I was seeking Had always been in me. The faith I thought was lost Was hiding in me. The one I was looking for Had been me all along. Today I'm grateful To all who helped; To all who let me down. You've made me what I am.

  Sleeping on an empty stomach, Eviction notice; Waking with a sore back, Not knowing what the reason is. Dragging myself to work, Putting on a happy face; Living where the shadows lurk, The world is a haze. Vague were the promises Of joy and prosperity. Vague were the wise words Of abundance and fertility. Predictions of growth, Promises of development; All lies... I'm done with the manipulation; Done with the campaigns; Done with your sick tactics Once and for all. No matter how you roll the dice, I know One day we'll rise. You divide us; General, SC, ST, OBC. That day We'll write our own odyssey. We'll shout from the Himalayas; The oceans will rumble. The world will know us For the great nation we are. We'll be the resistance And you can do nothing about it.

No melody, No verse, No piece of prose Does justice to your beauty. Like the first sun After a storm; Like the first giggle Of a newborn; Like the first green bud After fall; Like the ecstasy Of an infant Learning to crawl; Like the first gift For a couple newly wed; Like blooming immortelle In the laps of the dead; Like a nightingale Singing for his love; Like an innocent kid Feeding a dove; Like a poet Finding his muse; Like a mother Tending to her child's bruise; You're heaven's mouthpiece, Aphrodite incarnate. Your presence is a blessing; Without you, I can't see straight.