Turn!

Turn once, I say

As I pass by,

Your bustling day.

Turn, when your work is over,

As my skin is burning,

In your scarlet fever.

Turn, when your mood swings,

To lay your face

On my tepid wings.

Turn, as I move

To meander and flow,

In our moony groove.

Turn, when your peace is around

For a day lost, or a day found.

Turn today,

As moments are passing,

Don’t fret me 'way,

Why art thou shunning?

Turn, for once

For am still here.

Thirsty my dear,

For just a glance.

Turn, still there is time

My days are drying,

I fail to hear day's chime

Turn for me

So I can see.

Those benign eyes,

To set me free.

Sit!

Now I can hear your voice,

Breaching all shades

Piercing all noise.

You sit there still.

With your gathered will,

Your knowledge vast,

With a spell cast

A vision for me.

I see your eyes.

Benign and gentle,

Kindly enough,

You pour!

A drop of manna in thy grail.

But you speak heedless,

Of our present,

And all I wish,

Is to cease your pace.

You are the toughest hue to hold.

An antidote to me, as they told.

You are a road to me, I cannot take.

You are a poem, I cannot forsake.

So you sit for time,

Rhyme on rhyme,

Weaving narrations

For me, sublime!

Triumph!

Blessed with a leaf of life

Initiate a walk,

And speak to some soul

And some we mock!

Crowned by knowledge in every bend

Some original, some just lent

Progress in crafting our perspective

Building us differently, as we live

Thriving further, we crave for power

In diurnal course, in our earthly hour

Flaunting our sword

We slay some unkind

The potion of triumph

Makes us blind

We incline to think

That our present is brink

Hence cradle our measured step

To form a policy and give it shape

We manipulate life

Making the subaltern a passé and strife

As we are charmed to win

Encompassed by ruckus and din

Breaking down somewhere inside

Something weeps bitterly in fright

Where is the conscience?

Where is soul?

All we see, is a big hole!

It is deserted,

And stands alone

Drinking the potion of triumph

Displaying our talents finely honed

What is this potion of triumph?

Breeding in the mental lump

It's a half-hearted grain

That has no self-restrain

O my world of angel souls!

Why do you feed this pungent roles?

If triumph is a immortal potion

Let me see it fight the death's ration

Let me see it take the food of life

It brings no cure

It drives no purpose

It is a mirage

A potion of daze!