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STARS

Stars uncounted in number
Some are dazzling 
Some are sombre 
Some shoot slow
Some fall fast
And some deserve to be so
Some are made to be so
Some are dead
And lost within black hole
Still some are dying
Unattended and unlamented
But all these are stars
Of different constellations

TERRA INCOGNITA

The present and future
Both enjoy the past
But the past Stands alone
Down the bottom of the time
Among these three
Future is a happy mystery
While present veers fast
Towards the past
Past is not though symmetrical
But for the GREAT only
Millions of mysteries holding
The past stays opening
And closing like catacombs
The store house of either
Responsible to hold light 
Even upon the dark matter
That constitutes ninety six percent
Of the present and future
Of a cosmos with all constellations
And galaxies wrapped within 
A balloon of myriads of Gondolas
Man always measures the space
Oblivious of if it is a well
Inventing quark gluon and neutrino
To claim to coruscate  the remote past
But the final find looks like goners
No one can get at one
When energy converts into mass
But ferreting the facts from the myths
Soul converting into body is known
And this soul is claimed by spiritual scientists
As the finest of the finest even of gluon
What Cryogenic Hadron Collider
Looks for since the first atom was discovered
By Rutherford,Neils Bohr,J.J.Thomson
And William crooks all strove to explore
The finest of the finest particles 
 Without knowing the fact 
If that one is sought out 
The outcome will be the soul
Applied scientific figment is tried 
Upon the anvil of spirituality 
But the virtual quest of these appliances
Is nothing but the soul
Yes what sages did in the interior past
Our scientists do the same today
Finding the sixteen dimension 
Is nothing but a great vindication
Of the happy mystery  hidden in cosmos
 Sensing warmth with sizzling sense 
Is also nothing but terra incognita 
S.P.SINGH
DAV 

LIGHT AND DARK OR TRUTH OR LIE

Light is the insignia of knowledge
That leads to truth 
Though invisible scientifically 
Yet is seen through the reflection of light
Getting collided against the particles
What lie in the dark 
Dark is the product of lie
Lie can never be detected 
Till the light unravels it
Light is the combination of 'VIBGYOR'
But with the limitation of Argostron range
We cant see at the dark night
Though however we try
The lie moreover hides like a virus
And it gets detected when we apply the light
But when tens of persons in tonal symphony
Sing in unison denying the entity of lie
The lie thus flourishes among 
A community of the corruption
When ever a scandal comes to light
Persons belonging to the same feathers
Start their shouts making the scandal 
A rumor what virtually gets to be farce
The law abiding persons rue and recant
For they get behind in the race
Of the wealth accumulation 
Time and space are so intertwined 
That one is dead away from the other
The existence of lie is on the crux of truth
The time plays varied roles in the society
When a saint in ancient times penanced 
In the jungle he was called the greatest
When a person though lunatic but a philosopher
Was hailed in high esteem 
A scholar wearing ragged attire 
Was held to be the most noble person
A poet though well haggard hanging in illusion 
Was respected in the society 
But today all these persons are lost
Within the nonentity 
But a class of corrupt people accumulated
Infinite wealth is regarded respectable persons
Coming to the the inference the time changes 
But the space stands static 
And so the definition of greatness 
Varies with the variegated venues of life.
S.P.SINGH
DAV 

DRIZZLING OF POETRY

When it starts drizzling
A difference in ones gait 
Is construed candidly
The more fast pearls 
Shining in the sun
The more your steps
Running in the fun
Reading the lines 
Across the poem
You remain blowing,floating
Since imagery is soft and tender
waiting once and getting ahead 
Or make a recourse to take by
Ah the sensation is sublime
The perception is peculiar 
The recollection is reverberating
And the recrudescence is rendezvous 
The depth is didactic delight
But the flight is formidable
Sharpness soars to sheer simplicity 
Imagination indulges in imagiries
Feelings fathoms the fore front of the fundamentals
All these travel more than neutrinos 
Quite confined within ambience of the poetry
At times a poem is acrid not palatable enough
To be digested easily
For its each fabric is fornicating like fuck
Getting blocked over the blinker 
The poet fights to break it into fragments 
And squeeze  away every bit of nectar 
That it hides within its nucleus
Poet is a man in millions 
While the rest are understood reptilians 
Measuring a poem makes no destination 
For the poetic destitutes whose dreams 
Die before their births  
S.P.SINGH
DAV

THE SLEEP THAT DOES NOT COME

When sleep does not come
The memory vexes
And pines all through the night
The silent ooh echos the valley
All across  the lonely life
The melody that reverberates
In serenity soothes the heart
That got lacerated and burnt
To ashes and cinders  
Again the resurrected  heart 
The solitude singing 
The song of suffering
On the failure of arrival of the sleep
The bonafide  passenger waits for her
But she is always late
Like a train on schedule time
By some certain days
When the train comes 
Some thousands unauthorized passengers
Board the train and the train slithers 
My station is some ten nights away
And if she gets late it is a fortnight
But who to be blamed
And why to harbor grudge 
Against that damsel nymph
A rule has been enacted by the nature
That the real lover will be left in the lurch
Her arrival resounds the realm of the night 
While I watch her walking into the lane
and puffing at a cigarette 
Turning ashes with the ever burning life
That goes on an endless journey to the grave
I am happy with all those sleepless nights 
Of the sleep of the shinning sin 
But files to carry before I sleep
Before I sleep and before I sleep
S.P.SINGH
DAV 

MAN IS NOT OLD ENOUGH TO DIE

Man is said to be old enough
And so gets to be deceased 
Though never get diseased
Yet bound to get frozen
 Man never gets old
For this world always holds things
Quite gorgeous to unravel to him
That look to be quite novel
And man on the verge of death
Takes all these in surprise
As if he never experienced these
And craves more to see
How tragic the life moves on
Only the fads are varied
While one wishes to die
Life gets drawn distant
But who wishes to live 
Snuggles and screams
Life outlives him
This temporal world runs fast
But certain vacuum or the void
Never gets replaced by ...........
Suffocation tinged nostalgia
In a nook pulsates in the heart
And heaves what is lost forever
 No tears wash out the sore
Nothing can efface the face
Saved in the hard disk of heart 
When one gets left the half way 
And other goes ahead the way
The left one languishes 
For the half one gone
That is two "I"s makes a we
Yet one of we goes away
And the half we stands and wait 
the way awaying beyond the world
Is the last truth that we face 
To regret  upon the actions performed
You are sad secluded quarantined 
Dying some millions of death
While puffing ruing at gloom 
No matter birds are still chirping
Flowers shine in tender bloom 
Butterflies serenade here and there
And serene is the world with dances
Songs and kisses and cups of wine
Again go and celebrate another valentine 
S.P.SINGH
 DAV

UNKNOWN FEELING

I see feelings fluttering 

Walking across chattering

To get entrapped 

Within the tentacles of strangers

I too stand and stare their way 

But like every other day

I return all unfeelingfulness

Well sad and subdued

The wait and waiting 

Are my transitory deaths

I cannot claim  

What are meant for others

I cant be others

For i am their own

And so my way goes alone

I curse myself

And see towards the void

Till stars start their play

And i watch them all 

They are happy go lucky

While they enjoy 

I am the spectator 

For they capitalise upon 

For i pay the pampered persons

By watching their dirty games

And feel their actions to be feelingful

 Among my unfeelingness

S.P.SINGH

DAV

DEPARTURE

On every departure
A vacuum sprawls
And remains widening
Till the arrival of the next
Evaluation of both
Leads to either of the two
Whether joy or moan
If joy enjoy-if moan bemoan
Hail the arrival seeking novelty
Or sigh the broken continuity
 Of the exotic beauty of lost spring
Winter with spiky leaves
Drunk with the mischief
To rule the roost of life
Sultry winter spans for long
The fragile springs shortens
Hence hundreds of summers
And springs render no respite
If relished one goes away
The void though get filled
Yet heaves to be occupied 
That goes to stay ever blank
S.P.SINGH
DAV

my muse gallary

The quest of poetry

some millions of faces 
i could come across 
they were paragon of beauty
they were all damsels
many of them were superb
handsome,smart and elegant
persons wearing faces
bearing seduction in races
but i stayed searching poetry 
among all these gorgeous faces
i wonder how Byron could compose 
"She walks in Beauty"
getting close to their psyche
i found nothing more ugly
than what they were 
it's not like my search ceases
i carry still it on to find one
who may be ugly 
but bearing the pathos of poetry
how morose i turn my home
with empty eyes 
sometimes i blame me only 
my eyes,my psyche got defunct
i cease to see what looks to be
but i swear all are clever
they know the art to know you 
never ever
they all know minting money
out of the means all unfair
they know to tell lies
and belies their own words
i feel secluded and curse me
but they are the creations 
of the same god
and perhaps god forgot me
the drops what the world brought
even nature has shed its Lustre
what Wordsworth  visualized 
life is so fast only accidents
wounded humanity bleeds last
Shelley crooned in his clamourous 
dejections as no one extended
a hand to help the helpless 
the distance between grave and home
is how far is too far or no far
the competitive world fleets fast 
flicking of the moments of respite 
to think of the past with no quest
once end remains alive in actions 
but the action is no more an action
other than plundering killing hurting
and thus the man ascends the ladder
and shouts at the top of voice
to lure the attention of the attainments
hence where is poetry 
i set out again in her quest 
she is virtually found
within the ambience of a Mandir
holding a bowl begging and prying 
straight into the faces 
as if she were also searching poetry
with cries of unlimited woes
for a confluence of poetry
here the beggar poetry 
old tattered worn out lying
among zillions of millions 
never got composed by poets
for they are the bad patches 
among the crimson gems
 S.P.SINGH
D.A.V

MY POEMS 2

MY POEMS

MY MUSE

MY MUSE
Again it is stifling heat
In the Arabian sea
Tears are withering fast
Evaporating to the light
Drifting with the wind
Blowing to the north east
And overcasting the sky
To downpour there
A deluge of feeling is caused
And myriads of  vortexes of emotions
And the poet remained getting down
And up so much repeatedly
That virtually constricted to be
A living walking cadaver.
The after math unravels
How dreams got dreaded and be dead
Corpse of aspirations all scattered
Recanting and raving
But on whom is known
To God only
Separation is the way of the nature
SPSINGH
DAV